Dad made sure we wore our best for Mass, no exceptions.
Id been ready since nine the morning, a full hour before we needed to leave, and as a reward for my prudence, while Sis was still eating breakfast, I got to glue myself to the television and watch Kosuke Himichi give one of his rare TV interviewsthis time, on The Paul Tarson Show.
The interviewers face was a ships prow, rising up stalwart and manly from his deep blue blazers collar. Tarsons pearly teeth and gelled, slicked-back hair glistened in the limelight. Himichi sat on the stately dark green sofa beside Tarsons lacquered desk.
The interview had been going on for a bit, having begun with a discussion of manga and animation, and other details of the art. Mr. Himichi given a bit of his personal history, explaining how hed started out as a film student for whom drawing had been a mere hobby, only to devote himself to drawing and animation as a way of coping with his wifes untimely death.
Animation is to live-action film what painting is to photography, Himichi said, continuing his explanation. It is the purest cinematic artform. And manga is but film in slow motion; we see the individual frames, rather than the cinematic gestalt that emerges when they are paraded in front of us at a brisk pace. And, pulling his pipe out of his mouth, Mr. Himichi chuckled, you dont have to deal with actors and their troubles.
The audience chuckled at that.
Paul smirked. After that, I believe Evangeline Henrichy now has your full attention.
The audience laughed at that. An entire generation of tabloids had grown up around Mrs. Henrichys scandalous escapades.
Clearing his throat, Paul tidied up the stack of green cue cards in his hands. If I may ask, what motivates you as an artist?
Mr. Himichi smiled cryptically. I make what I make because I want to be god.
The manga master stroked the tip of his short, black goatee. His brown beret hardly moved as he tilted his head back, nose up-turned.
The crowd had mixed reactions. Some laughed, others tut-tutted, heckling with disapproval.
This was part of Kosuke Himichis allure. His every movement was a thousand planned subtleties all at once. His mere presence was a kind of performance art. The pipe, for example, was entirely pretense. The man didnt smoke; it was actually a bubble wand. He never drank anything harder than tonic water.
Paul Tarsons shiny teeth showed as he grimaced at the artists words. Thats he laughed nervously, daringly blasphemous of you, Kosook.
Mr. Himichi kept one leg crossed as he leaned forward and pointedly corrected the host: Kosuke. Koh-su-keh. The u is phantom; its barely even there.
Tarsons eyebrows rose. You sound like my high-school Munine-language teacher, only nicer.
The audience laughed.
Himichi leaned back into the sofa. There is a vast chasm between what is said and what one hears. This, for example, is why divorce exists.
More laughter.
The blasphemy is in your ears, Paul, not my mouth. Himichi chuckled. But, I admit, my choice of words was intentional. He turned to the audience. This is Trenton, after all; you cant get anywhere in show business here without a little bit of blasphemy.
Laughter and applause.
Alright, Paul said, leaning forward in his desk, if Im misconstruing what you said, why not tell me what you meant?
Himichi grinned. Gladly.
When we speak of godhood and the Lasseditic Godhead, I imagine most of us think about the Godhead as the almighty creator; that which fashioned the heavens and the earth. He arced an arm upward, and then down low. God is a maker of miracles.
Paul nodded. I think everyone would agree with you on that, yes.
In that case, all of us are already gods. DAISHU was our apotheosis. Himichi pulled a Pocket Computer out of his pocketa Pocket Computer being a predecessor of the modern Consoleand waved it in his hand. This nifty little thing right here? It alone makes us into gods. With it, I can speak with a man on the other side of the world. I can order medicines to treat illnesses. We have probes that spray nanoparticles in the air to seed the formation of clouds, bringing rain to parched lands. Compared to those who came before us, we are gods, and they would think of us as such, wouldnt you agree, Paul?
The host nodded hesitantly.
I have no need to make the heavens or the earth, Himichi continued. No, the godhood I seek is far more elusive. Stuffing his Pocket Computer back in his pocket, the manga artist stuck his pipe in his mouth and blew, producing a spurt of bubbles.
At this point, kid me was beyond delighted. I was over the Moon.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
He removed his pipe. I want the power of eucatastrophe. He nodded somberly. The power of happily-ever-after. That is the power I seek. All of us seek it; thats the human condition in a nutshell. Its why happiness is so evanescent and beautiful. We yearn to control that which is not yet ours to command. And so, we turn to artand to narrative, most of all. Through art, we become god. Paul, I can give my creations their happily ever afterstheir eucatastrophes with but a stroke of my penand so can you, should you choose to take up the craft. I can save the dying child. I can end the war. I can give the troubled soul peace; I can give love to dreaming hearts. Beneath the limelight, tears glistened in the corners of his eyes. I can make life into what I would want it to be. And that is why I want to be god, Paul. I want to give peace, and joy, and fulfillment. If I could bring them to lifeto our livesthat would be glorious. But I am a son of man, Paul, just like you, and our lovely audience, smiling, Himichi tilted his head at the audience, and so, unfortunately, those powers are not mine to have. I would save everyone if I could, Paul, but I cant, because Im just a man. Instead, I do what I can do. I give my characters their happily ever afters, and hope that, in doing so, slivers of peace, happiness, and fulfillment might find their way to the people that care about them, and, perhapsin the fullness of timemy efforts might help make our world a better place, if only because they helped a troubled soul find solace, and the knowledge that they arent alone. And he smiled. That is what I would do if I were God. Now, Mr. Tarson, what would you do?
The hosts mouth drooped open. The audience was utterly silent. No one really knew what to say. Paul nervously shuffled the interview cue-cards in his hands, though they soon spilled out of his grasp, rustling slightly as they settled onto the table.
An excellent interview, Mr. Himichi mumbled, nodding to one in particular. Turning around in his seat, the manga artist pulled a bag up from behind the dark green sofa, leaned forward, and plopped it onto Tarsons desk. The bag was filled to the brim with free copies of various Himichi opuses, and all of them were autographed. Then, he got up, walked up to Mr. Tarsons desk, shook the perplexed hosts hand and walked out the door, and by the time the stage crew realized what was happening, hed already stepped out of the studios back door and vanished into an unknown taxicab.
Young me had watched the whole thing grinning like a madman.
What happened next? Andalon said. I wanna know what happened next! Her words ripped me out of the memory and back into the clockwood.
I smiled slightly. They were sold at auction, and for very high prices. Himichis stunt caused a media bonanza. Id always wondered how many of the people in the audience ever actually read those graphic novels, rather than treating them as status symbolsmere commodities.
From her perch on the branch, Andalon nodded. Hes super cool.
Yeah, he is, I said. I think hed make for a pretty interesting god. Hed certainly be a creative one.
Suddenly, Andalon appeared on my branch, standing beside my crossed legs.
I think you can do it, Mr. Genneth, Andalon said. You wanna fix things. You like to make them better. Then, with a nod, she hugged me. I trust you.
I sat in place, unsure of how to react, filled with a confused mix of emotions.
Eventually, Andalon stepped back.
You really think I can do it? I asked her.
She nodded. Yeah! And, if anything gets scary, you got the en-gee chainslaw!
I supposed I did.
But what if I goof it up again? I asked.
She looked me in the eyes. Then you try again. You try and try and try. Do whatever you can do.
I clenched my fists. But how can I get them to listen to each other?
We were blinded by our self-regardour pleasures and our pains. The Plotskies certainly were. They were mired in their irreconcilable differences.
Some said those chasms were unbridgeable: that wed never be able to fully understand one another, be it for the limitations of our perceptions, or the supposed fallibility of the fallen human spirit. I was circumspect toward the limited-perception argument, and my burgeoning wyrmhood was proving me rightthough, even if the Green Death had never come upon us, Id like to think that technology might one day enable us to bridge the gap.
But, as to that other reasonthe human malfeasance to fully rebut that, youd need to assert that, deep down, all people were truly good at heart. I very much wanted to believe that was true, but I just didnt have enough faith to make that leap. And, even if I didespecially if I didI didnt think it was my place to make that judgment. But, I did believe that all people had the capacity to do good. And for me, that was enough.
But would it be enough for the Plotskies?
How do I get them to understand one another? I added.
Well, Andalon said, when you show me stuffs from your head, I feel what you feel, Mr. Genneth. She smiled. It lets me know how nice you are. And AndalonBig Andalon I know she learns stuffs by lookin inside the peoples in the wyrmeh. Maybe She pursed her lips in thought. Maybe you can show the Plotsies the peoples inside each other?
Holy fudging shirtballs.
She was right. I could.
I shook my head, growing more anxious by the second. B-But, what if I mess up?
I dunno, Andalon said, but she looked me in the eyes, if you dont help them, who will?
I exhaled sharply.
Fudge, I muttered.
Whats wrong?
A very smart man once said that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again while expecting a different result. I smiled. By that definition, I guess I really am crazy.
However afraid of failure I might have been, the thought of doing nothing terrified me more than anything else. I had no idea what I was doing, and it wasnt okay. But thats why I had to try. I had to learn, and practice, and experience and grow, otherwise, Id always have no idea what I was doing. And that really wasnt okay.
I guess I really am doing this, I muttered.
Its like I said: I was addicted to helping people.
I traced a finger along the air in front of me, in a line of light that cut a slit in the sky. I knew the Plotskies memories like the back of my hand, and if they werent going to acknowledge one another for who they were, the least I could do was show them in their stead. I imagined there was a good chance this would end horribly and blow up in my face. And, strangely enough, I took comfort in that.
If being human meant being messed up, then no amount of wyrm transformation could ever take my humanity away from me. If anything, it might even enhance it.
You gonna do it? Andalon asked.
I nodded. Yep. Whats the worst that can happen? I added, sarcastically.
Andalon smiled. Miss Leen and her family get so mad and sad that they turn into demons and go with the Darkness and everything becomes horrible for them for ever and ever, and Mr. Genneth and Andalon will be very very sad and stressed.
I cringed at that.
Fudge.
Chuckling, I wagged a finger at her. One of these days, Andalon, Im going to explain the meaning of sarcasm to you.
She hopped in place. Andalon is excited!
I smiled. Hold on to that attitude. I stared into the slit, and the light and sound and memory and soul that poured out from its ethereal edges. Where were going, well need it.
I offered the little spirit girl my hand.
Lets go try to save some souls, I said.
And we stepped in.
75.1 - Leert eure goldnen Becher zu Grund!
As large as it wasand Margarets personal service elevator was quite largethe ride down to Forty Feet Under was a cramped one. Verune stayed behind in the penthouse, saying hed take the next ride down.
There will be plenty of room, Margaret said.
I beg to differ.
Shed tried to convince him otherwise, but hed refused to budge. Literally.
Margaret found refusal sexually appealing in men. So, shed stopped bothering.
At first, she hadnt quite understood what hed been getting on about. You could fit a small car in the service elevator with room to spare. But then, the elevator and its travelersRufus, Eyvan, Margaret herself, one of Eyvans trusted bodyguards, and the freak known as Lizziereached the lower floor of the skyscrapers underground parking garage and picked up one last rider, and in that moment, Margaret found enlightenment.
In hindsight, the elevator might not have been big enough, after all.
The rider was long and utterly inhumanat least below the waist. Above the waist, he had the head, torso, and arms of a man; below it, he was all snake. Dark, scaly, maroon-colored snake. Actually, his chest and torso were more inhuman than they looked at first glanceassuming your first glance didnt include freaking out about how big they were. The guys chest and torso had lengthened and broadened by what had to be half and again their original span. The base of his neck had started to widen to match that same span, as if his shoulders were preparing to move to either side of his body, rather than atop it. As for his tail, it continued at his waists thickness for much of its length, except as it began tapering to the point at its tip.
The snake-manSteyphan, Eyvan had called himwas long enough to coil all the way around the elevator and then some. This made it obligatory for Steyphan to be the first one out once theyd reached Forty Feet Under. There was no chance in hell that Margarets wheelchair would make it over the sheer girth of Steyphans tail.
The Lizzie followed behind the big snake-man after hed slithered out of the elevator. Rufus, and Evyans bodyguard had followed after them, with Eyvan and Margaret herself in the rear.
Whoever said money couldnt buy happiness must not have had that much money after all. Money could absolutely buy happiness. There were only two things money couldnt buy: satisfaction and eternal life. DAISHU was working on fixing the latter, and, as for the former, that was what having more money was for. Big spending kept the boredom at bay.
Margarets big spending definitely brought her happiness. There were many things she loved about having her very own secret terrorist compound in the bowels the skyscraper she lived in and ownedto say nothing of all the other nefarious things she had tucked away in the thousands of properties she owned across the city through her majority share in the Revenel Construction Companybut the dive bar was far and away her favorite. Her accountant had found a loophole in the tax code which allowed her to avoid both taxes and the internal revenue services meddlesome inquiries by claiming all of the income from the bar went to charitable causes, which it did; every penny went straight into the Innocents war chest. Every cent that didnt fall into the governments grubby hands was one more sliver of cash the Innocents could devote to doing the Angels work of ridding the world of the heretics, infidels, and atheists.
Forty Feet Under also had some really killer club sandwiches.
But, today, her favorite bar was a shadow of its former self.
Margaret gawked at her surroundings.
By the Godhead she muttered.
The bar looked as dead as Margaret felt. Maybe worse.
On any other day, the place would have looked great. It had an antique feelearly Prelatory; it looked like the joints Margarets grandparents might have canoodled in. The ceiling was mottled in grays, blacks, and whites in an impression of owls plumagea bit of dark augury humor at the patrons expense. The bar was lit by several bunches of wide-mouthed glass jars scattered around the room, suspended from the ceiling by cords, giving the impression of improvised chandeliers. The LED bulbs at the end of the cords glowed in the colors of candlelight, giving the bar floor the warm hues a night by a campfire in the woods.
But today, the lighting made things feel like hell warmed over.
Instead of resting neatly in their usual placesbunched up against the minimalist bar, or by the small, tall tables that dotted the bar floorseveral of the wrought iron stools had been haphazardly knocked over. A trail of dried stains drizzled the floor, as if someone had been carrying a leaky bucket filled with filth. The place even smelled wrong. Its usual musk of booze, fries, cigarettes and lemon wedges was absent. In its place, a faint, sickly sweet aroma clung to the air, like the one that hung over Verune, only even stronger. It stung like toilet bowl cleaner.
No one had collected the dishes. The establishment was littered by the plates and cups from patrons meals, complete with rotting leftovers. Weird-looking mold covered every bit of food. It was disgusting, and downright slovenly, though Margaret remembered to temper her anger (somewhat), reminding herself that, unlike shed initially thought, the pandemic was actually real, and not their long-sought dream for an infidel-killing bioweapon finally realized.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
One plate even had a glowy bulb thing rising up from rotting leftover fish.
Margaret rolled forward with a push of her joystick. Outta the way, she said, waving her hand.
Lizzie and the snake-man slunked off to the side; Steyphan coiled up against the back wall.
What happened here? Eyvan asked.
The wheelchairs motor whirred in soft spurts as Margaret followed the trail of stains on the floor, navigating past the overturned stools. The trail led into the kitchen, right up to the base of the cupboard built into the false wall that hid the hydraulic door into the Innocents compoundfive inches of solid, reinforced steel. Someone could fire a gun on the other side of that thing and you wouldnt hear a peep.
Wheres this compound of yours? Steyphan asked. His voice echoed through the establishment.
Behind a hidden door in the kitchen, Eyvan said.
But Margaret wasnt listening to them.
No, she was looking at the trail of stains.
They gave her a bad feeling.
ALICE, she said, open the door.
Nothing happened.
Uh, ALICE what gives? she asked.
Im sorry, Lady Margaret, the AI said, the door appears to be malfunctioning. Something is wrong with the motor. I cant say whats exactly wrong with it, though. Diagnostic systems arent giving me anything useful. You might want to check to
Fuck. Margaret bounced her head off her wheelchairs headrest. Then, with a groan, she wheeled out of the kitchen and back onto the bar floor.
Whats wrong? Rufus asked.
Use your damn ears, Rufus, she huffed. The doors busted. Margaret shook her head. Shit, this is bad. She looked over her shoulder.
Steyphan, Eyvan said, maybe you can use your powers to help us with our door trouble?
That depends, the snake-man said, what kind of door is it?
Lizzie made some more of those eerie organ-music noises with her snout.
If thats what all the divine beasts sound like, Margaret thought, I really hope Im going to be able to understand it eventually, or things or going to get real awkward real fast.
I mean, I could, Steyphan said, responding to Lizzie, though Catherine would be better at it, to say nothing of his Holinessbut, Im an engineer. I like to know these things, you know?
What? Rufus asked.
Eyvan looked up at Steyphan, his face full of wonder. The divine beasts possess supernal powers, Eyvan explained. They can rip objects apart and blast things away. And soon, Margaret will, too. He glanced at Margaret.
Well, the Lassedite can, Steyphan said. He looked at Lizzie; she sat in one of the stools. Were still learning.
Can you do it or not? Margaret asked.
Ill certainly try, Steyphan said, shifting his coils. Though, if I cant do it, you should ask Anne or Catherine. The Innocents should be helping them get into the service elevator by now. They should be here soon.
Well?, Margaret demanded. Im waiting She twiddled her finger on the tip of the joystick.
Steyphan nodded and then slithered into the kitchen, his underbellys scutes brushing against the threshold as he moved from the smooth brown floor to the kitchens white tiles. His lower body knocked several stools aside, and he winced as they clattered to the floor.
Lizzie said something in response.
Steyphan twisted his body like an arm as he turned around to face her. Try making that joke when youre the one with the tail, he quipped.
The dragon-headed girl tilted her head to the side.
Cmon, Steyphan said, waving his arm, youre gonna want to see this, he said. Itll be good for your training.
Lizzie got off the stool and followed behind him. She had to wait until Steyphan pulled himself into the kitchen before there was enough room for her to walk in herself.
Scales rustled on the floor as Steyphan turned around and stuck his torso out of the door. Wheres the secret door, exactly?
Behind the cupboard, Margaret said.
Which one? he asked.
Groaning, Margaret twisted the joystickswiveling her seat aroundand then rolled toward the kitchen door, raised her arm, and pointed. That one. Third from the back.
The snake-man looked behind him and then nodded.
Margaret rolled out of the way as Steyphan slithered up to the false wall.
Alright, he said, here goes nothing
A second later, the cupboard shattered. The kitchen appliances on the shelves crumpled like aluminum cans as the secret door buckled. For an instant, the metal groaned, and then blasted away, imploding into the room behind it.
And then everything went to Hell.
Maybe half a dozen figures streamed out of the open doorwaythey moved too quickly for Margaret to count. All of them were rotting. Their skin was necrotic. Fungal growths crowned from their heads and limbs. They were frenetic. They clawed and frothing, screaming as they tumbled and scurried, scrambling like rabid insects, bone crunching as hands and fingers and feet broke inside their skin or broke through and snapped off their bodies as they pushed and shoved.
Demons, Verune had called them.
Everyone screamed. Margarets wheelchair toppled over, shoved aside by a demons flailing limbs. Eyvans bodyguard screamed Run! as Margarets world tumbled head over heels. She heard panicked yells and pistol fire. The percussive spurts made her dead ears ring.
The mad infected swept through the kitchen like a human tide. They crashed into the back wall and tumbled to the floor, and then shrieked and rasped as they got onto twos and fours and skittered toward the kitchen door.
Toward the bar floor.
One of the demons made a cabinet topple over. A kitchenware cacophony spilled onto the ground.
Margaret pushed off the kitchens tiled floor. She grabbed her overturned wheelchair and pulled, tugging herself up right as another volley of bullets shot through the demons, splattering black and green on the walls and floor, andwetlyonto Margarets face. The surfaces hissed as the green powder began to eat away at them. It made her face tickle.
The mad infected charged at Eyvans bodyguard before Margaret had even wiped the ooze off her face. Several of them threw themselves at the bodyguardat where he stood in the kitchens open doorway; others barreled past him. His scream made Margaret flinch.
The wheelchair groaned, the plastic and metal deforming as Lizzie grabbed it and pushed off it, darting out of the kitchen. The dragon-headed girl swiped her claws through the air, grasping at the monsters, trying to stop them from leaping over the bar. She caught one, but two escaped, flinging themselves straight at Eyvan and the Archluminer, who scrambled to escape, but failed.
They screamed, joining the bodyguard, though his screams cut short a second later.
Margaret screamed, and then shrieked as the walls seemed to move around her, only to realize it was the snake-man moving out of the kitchen, slithering toward the bar floor. The backs of Steyphans hands bumped against the ceiling, jostling some of the jar-lights as he raised his arms and said some gibberish that Margaret couldnt understand.
Fleoganin stan.
75.2 - Leert eure goldnen Becher zu Grund!
The words were barely out of the snake-man''s mouth when an invisible force swept through Forty Feet Under like a great wind, exploding outward in every direction. Three of the infection-demons were instantly torn apart, their bodies splitting apart at the joints. Tables and stools toppled, sharding porcelain and sending silverware clattering to the floor. The jar-lights over the bar swung wildly, clinking like chimes. Many shattered from the impact, raining shards of glass onto the bar, the floor, the stools and the high tables. The naked LEDs at the ends of the chords whipped around like hair in the wind.
The infection-demons shrieks fell silent. Margaret stared, wide-eyed as the screaming continued.
It took her a moment to realize it was her companions.
Margarets ears still rang from the bullet fire as she pushed herself off the overturned wheelchair and hobbled out of the kitchen. She muttered in horror at what she saw.
Sword stab me! Steyphan yelled, slithering forward. What the hell is happening to them?
Eyvans bodyguard lay on the floor in the doorway between the kitchen and the bar floor, twitching uncontrollably, frothing at the mouth. He had two of those demons on him. Theyd bitten his arms and chest. Theyd stuffed their rotting fingers into his mouth and nose.
Moonlight!
The demons flesh pierced through his. The demons bodies withered slightly as their mass and vitality flowed into him.
Margaret gasped.
The infected bodies were fusing with him, amalgamating into something unholy.
Bones crunched. Tendons snapped.
The three bodies moved along the floor as onea slow, slug-like creature.
Margaret didnt know what the hell it was. It didnt seem to have the least bit of interest in her, though, and that was all that mattered right now.
The doorway Steyphan had broken down had gore splattered everywhere. The door must have crushed one of the demons when Steyphan had blasted the door off its hinges.
Somebody help me! Rufus screamed. Get this fucking demon off me!
Staggering through the doorway, Margaret screamed when she got a good look at the others. Holy shit!
Though it looked more to her like unholy shit.
Lizzies right arm was fusing with one of the infection-demons, starting with where her claws had made contact with its back, plunging into the plague-ravaged flesh. It was like with Eyvans bodyguard, but with one difference: where the bodyguards body had been overtaken by the demonsincorporated into their fleshthe exact opposite was happening to Lizzie: she was converting it.
She let out eerie organ moans as the demons body deformed. Its limbs lost their definition. Bones broke as the corpses legs wrapped around her arm. Mass flowed from the demon into Lizzie, lengthening and thickening her neck and torso, sucking the mass out of the demons body. The bodys facial features melted away, and, with a sickening snap that flicked fluid everywherethe skull split into three pieces. The pieces lengthened rapidly, developing joints.
Turning into fingers.
Margaret was almost relieved when trails of dark red scales rippled over the mutilated body, covering up the horror. In less than twenty seconds, a dead human man had become Lizzies right arm. Beneath the scaly covering, the leftover biomass smoothed out, distributing across the limb just as claws burst from the three, newly formed fingertips. Lizzies man-sized arm flexed with its first motion.
Huh, Steyphan said. It happened again.
Margaret looked up at the snake-man beside her. He towered over her like a tree trunk.
By the Godhead, Rufus screamed, help me! Help me! But then he gasped and his yell got a second wind.
Margaret saw something metallic get raised.
Eyvan? Margaret thought.
What was he doing?
Wait, Rufus yelled, no! What are you
The metallic something glinted as it struck downand Eyvan screamed.
Margarets legs trembled as she walked around the bars countertop. Eyvan came into view just in time for Margaret to see him bring a steak knife in his hand down onto his left arm. Everyone screamed as Eyvan cut off his own limb.
By the Godhead Margaret muttered.
Eyvan sat on the floor, wrapping a tablecloth around his arm to cover the wound; hed amputated himself just below the elbow. A severed head still clung to Eyvans equally severed left arm, having bitten into his wrist. Red blood blossomed on the white tablecloth.
Eyvan looked up at Margaret, his eyes twitching. That was a close one, wasnt it, Marge?
He must have grabbed the steak knife from one of the overturned tables.
For Angels sake, Rufus screamed, dont just stand there, do something!
Rufus had also been bitten, though far more extensively than Eyvan.
Rufus looked up at Margaret from where he lay supine on the floor. Just get it off me already! he demanded.
A dead woman held him in a lovers embrace. A one-armed lover; the explosion had ripped off the corpses other arm.
Before succumbing to her death, the demonic woman that had flung herself onto the Archluminer had bitten into Rufus neck just below the jaw. Her arm wrapped around the side of his head, to jam one of her fingers into his ear.
Margaret continued to stare.
Whawhat is it? Rufus yelled. What is it? His voice filled with terror. He tried to push or roll the corpse off, but to no avail.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
Margarets legs felt weak. Uh She shook her head. Youre not, uh, looking too good there, Rufus.
As she spoke, Margaret saw a network of fungal roots spreading beneath Rufus skin, growing out from where the womans other fingers touched his head.
At that moment, Margaret found herself getting very hungry, and not for the first time since awakening as a dead woman earlier that afternoon. And to her horror, the unholy things around her looked unreasonably appetizing.
With a groantrying to push the corpse off himself, not realizing that it was fusing with himRufus managed to reach around the corpse and bring his hand to his head, where his fingers trembled as they felt out the contours of the fungal veins slowly crawling through his flesh.
If the Archluminer had been screaming before, he was in full hysterics now. He flailed and shrieked, flopping on the floor, digging his fingernails into the nearly naked corpse, desperately trying to claw it off. Bits of his fingertips skin ripped off wherever he touched the fungus corrupted cadaver, drawing blood that splattered in small droplets all over the floor. As he writhed, Rufus knocked into Eyvans severed arm. Suddenly, the severed arm flexed on its own, bouncing off the floor and onto Rufus torn shirt, where it reached and touched him. Fungal roots grew out from its palms and plunged into him. Rufus screamed as he tried to pull it off, only to scream again as his hand fused with Eyvans limb.
Everyone was so horrified by the sight that they failed to notice the flesh-slugEyvans former bodyguardslither out from between two stools and flow onto him like wandering lava. Rufus screams petered out as the flesh-slug subsumed him. There were barbaric snaps as the dying Archluminers arms popped free from their sockets and flowed along the flesh-slugs flank. Rufus arms twitched and flexed as they settled into position on either side of the flesh-slug. Rufus legs faced the same fate moments later.
In less than a minute, the flesh-slug had gained four limbs of its own. It flexed them in an ineffectual effort to move itself.
M-Marge, Eyvan muttered, youre drooling.
Margaret brought her fingers to her lips.
Oh God
Drool was trickling down her neck.
You seem hungry, Steyphan said.
For a moment, Margaret did nothing, too confused,and afraid to make up her mind.
So her hunger made her decision for her.
Seconds later, she was on her knees, suckling at the flesh-slug like it was her mothers teat, devouring it, bite by bite.
And it was the best damn dinner shed ever had.
Time passed while Margaret fed. She felt like hours had passed, but, somehow, she just knew it had only been about six minutes. Six glorious minutes. As a woman of simple pleasures, Margaret would never deny the truth of what felt good. Feeding her hunger felt like an orgasm that wouldnt end. The pleasure Margaret felt during and after her meal was the best lover shed ever bedded. It was rapture and blissand power, power overwhelming. She hadnt moved while she fed, but she felt like shed soared into the cloudsthough you couldnt tell by looking at her.
Shed eaten every last bit of the flesh-slug, and her stomach had grown to accommodate the extra mass. The amalgam of four dead human beings now lay comfortably in her belly, and it showed. Margarets stomach and chest were now a soft mattress the size of two and a half men, maybe more, cushioning her underside as she lay flat on the floor. The edges of her gargantuan stomach went past her feet, though it was getting difficult to tellshe seemed to be losing feeling in her lower extremities. She couldnt tell where her knees ended and her stomach began.
Yet her stomach wasnt static. She could feel her changes advancing. Warmth, life, and feeling was percolating into her stomachs contents. Her body was growing something that felt like roots, and, even now, she could feel those roots infiltrating her meal, converting it into a part of her body.
But then she heard the elevator doors open, and the sound jolted her back to the present.
Your Holiness! Eyvan said.
By the Godhead, what happened here?! Verune yelled.
Margaret couldnt see the Lassedite, but she recognized his voice. Wanting to be involved, she tried to push herself up off the floor, but her bloated body weighed her down. She didnt have enough strength in her arms.
So she settled for yelling.
Whats going on?! she demanded. I cant see whats happening!
Then a patch of the floor below her about an inch or so in front of her face rippled and transformed into Rufus face.
What have you done!? the Archluminer screamed. What happened to me?!
Margaret screamed. She tried to get away from him, only to wobble helplessly on her body, and then she screamed again as she felt a force wrap around her and lifted her off the floor. Her inner ear did a somersault as she flipped over, turning belly up mid-air.
Margaret, Verune said, please stop yelling.
She stared at the Lassedite, at first not understanding, but then realizing that he was the one making her levitate.
Okay, she said. Margaret tried her best to sound calm. Okay. No more yelling.
Verune nodded graciously and lowered his outstretched hand. Margaret felt the floor gently press up against her back as the Lassedite set her down. Her shirt fell limply to the floor on either side of her, having been ripped down the middle by her growing belly.
Angel, I really have let myself go, havent I?
Her stomach was a giant, pitch black jellybean, stippled in scales. Bands of thick, dark gray scutes spanned it in horizontal bands like the grippy parts of a rubber tire. Margaret could still hearthough not feelRufus face screaming, muted though he was.
She wondered if Rufus was now haunting her. She wouldnt have put it past him. The man was needy as hell, always requesting more money.
Gradually, the reality of her situation dawned on Margaret, and she screamed.
I see you have, hmm finished your dinner, Verune said, with a bob of his head.
Margaret flailed her limbs as she looked up at him. What the hell is happening to me!?
Exactly what I said would happen, Margaret. He pointed a claw at her. You are one of us. Your transition into your new form has begun. Soon, you will be a divine beastan agent of God.
Margaret followed the Lassedites gaze as it wandered over to the corner of the room. Steyphan sat in the corner, coiled like a cobra. His head bumped against the ceiling as he moved. There was hunger in his eyes and drool on his lips. Lizzie lay against his serpentine flank. Her arm was nearly asif not biggerthan she was. The snake-mans massive lower body made for an excellent arm-rest for her man-sized arm.
Margaret glanced back and forth between Steyphan and Verune. What did I miss?
Steyphan was informing me of what transpired here, the Lassedite explained. It must have been a hellish scene. He turned to Steyphan. Where is Archluminer Umberrige?
Lizzie said something with those noises of hers, and, curiously, this time, Margaret could almost imagine she was hearing honest-to-Angel words in the soundswell, not in the sounds themselves, but, in her mind, as if Lizzies speech came with subtitles.
Lizzie said something about her having eaten poor Rufus.
I see.
But, please, your Holiness, Steyphan said, let me continue.
Verune nodded.
It happened againwhat happened to Lizzie back at Lct. Stoneways-at-the-Rousas, Steyphan said, both to Lizzie and to Margaret. Its just like you said: our bodies absorb the evil.
What urgency is there in telling me what I already know? Verune asked.
Steyphan slithered forward slightly. Some of his hair fell off his head, rubbed off by contact with the ceiling. It also goes the other way, he explained. The demons can absorb the infected or one another, much like how we can absorb them.
Truly? Verune asked.
Lizzie raised her head, and made more of those noises of hers.
This time, it was something about assembling monsters from the bodies of the dead.
Verune made the Bond-Sign. It is worse than I feared. The horrors of Hell are truly a terror to behold. He shook his head. It is imperative that we move forward with our plans. We must devour the Green Death before Hell uses it to build a monstrous army. Verune glanced at Eyvan before turning back to Steyphan. What about Margarets compound?
Eyvan raised his voice. Until now, hed been sitting quietly atop a stool by one of the tables. Thats why we called you down. He glanced at Margaret. While Margaret was eating, we decided it would be best if we brought you here first, your Holiness. His gaze turned to his amputated limb and then wandered over to the kitchen doorway. We havent gone in yet. We dont know what well find.
Margaret didnt quite agree with that. As Verune lumbered over to the doorway, Margaret bent forward as best as she could. Now, wait a minute! she snapped, looking at Eyvan. There had to be, what, eight of them, at most?
Verune turned to face her.
Last time I checked, she said, Errol had a good twenty souls down here. So where are the rest of them?
Eyvan shook his head. Its safest to assume they changed into demons like the others.
The Lassedite nodded. We shall find out together.
75.3 - Leert eure goldnen Becher zu Grund!
Margaret was about to ask how they were going to do that when she was basically a bloated sausage with arms and legs, when Verune waved his hand and her body levitated off the floor. He used his powers to pull her alongside him as he waddled into the kitchen. They were halfway toward the broken door when two men stepped out of the doorway, with guns in their hands.
The two men were clearly infected: their eyes bloodshot, their skin wan and sickly; their expressions haggard. But, unlike the first batch, these two still had their marbles. The looks on their faces told Margaret they were scared out of their minds.
She recognized one of them: Brock; the blond hunk. He had a better physique than Eyvan, except for his ass-cleft of a chin. Alas, he lacked her young lovers brains, and that deficit was on full display whenover the sounds of Margarets startled screamshe pointed his gun at Verune and pulled the trigger.
The Lassedite raised his hand. Fleoganin stan.
Brocks bullet came to a standstill, hovering about a foot in front of Verunes face. Brock fired two more times; both bullets stopped alongside their sibling.
Brocks companion staggered in shock, falling onto his backside.
What the fuck? Brock said.
Insolence, Verune muttered.
He flicked his claws at his attacker.
The air sang as the three bullets blasted into Brocks face. They pierced clean through his skull, leaving three holes bored into his skull. For a split second, Margaret could see clean through to the other side, and then Brock toppled backward, dead as doorknob.
A voice screamed. Brock!
It came from the secret doorway.
Stop! Margaret yelled. Stop shooting! Its me! Its Margaret
Mrs. Revenel!? Brocks companion bellowed. He gave Margaret a wide-eyed stare. What the hell happened to you?
His words drew more folks out of the compound. Each and every one of them staggered in shock and terror as they laid eyes on Margaret and Verune.
Is. Is sh-ee floating? one of them said, emaciated and breathless.
If you value your lives, the Lassedite said, set down your weapons and surrender.
One of them, a young man, suddenly lowered to his knees.
What are you doing? another asked.
The young man pointed at Verune and hissed. Thats the hummingbird robe!
Indeed it is, Verune replied.
But thats not Lassedite Bishop!
Lower your weapons, Verune demanded. Now. His voice rumbled through the kitchen.
Listen to the man, Margaret said. This is Mordwell Verune youre talking to.
Gasps rippled across the room.
The missing Lassedite?
The one and only, Verune answered.
Thats not possible!
Verune thrummed in amusement. My child, with the Angel, all things are possible.
Verune offered a demonstration. Waving a hand, he lowered Margaret to the floor and then levitated several of the Innocents in her place.
Much to Margarets relief, the next sound she heard was the clack of guns being set onto the floor as the Innocents lowered to their knees.
The missing Lassedite is missing no longer, Verune said. I am the Lassedite Returned, head of the Last Church, agent of the Godhead, and an incipient divine beast. By the Angels hand, I was plucked from my time into yours. The Last Days have come. This plague is a thing of Hell itself. But the Angel has not abandoned us. We changelings are the Chosen Blessd. By the Godheads power, we are being transfigured into divine beasts, gifted with the powers of the Hallowed Beast Itself. We shall lead the fight against the forces of Hell, and guide the righteous to Paradise.
Divine beasts? someone asked.
By the Angel, Margaret thought, is that Connor? She stared at the speaker.
The skin on his arms was starting to peel off.
How can you be divine beasts? Youre monsters! Man-eaters! Connor asked.
Verune shook his head. It is basic theology. To the wicked, good seems evil, just as evil seems good. Even the Lass herself could not stare at the Suns holy Light without burning her eyes. No one is without sin, not even the Lass. Only God is perfect and unblemished. And, so as with the Sun, so as with us as well.
Verunes words resonated through the chaos of the roomthe toppled cabinets, the spilled kitchenware, the smears of blood and ooze; the broken limbs.
If we seem monstrous, he said, it is only because you see the horror of your own damnation. Part of our duties as divine beasts is to devour the bodies of the wicked and the unworthy. Our strength comes from its destruction. Only the righteous and the faithful will see us as we truly are, for that majesty is a presentiment of the glory they will know in Paradise, once we carry their souls beyond this world. And, it is my privilege and honor to lead the Godheads army of divine beasts, and to see the righteous borne away to Paradise.
Margaret shivered, thrilled.
The power. The glory.
It would be hers. She would get her just reward.
She almost considered eating the Innocents just to speed on her changes. Yes, they werent demons, but, as Verune had said: no one is without sin. And she would eat that sin and destroy it, and grow strong.
And, to that end, Margaret interjected, Lassedite Verune is going to be using the compound to train and guide divine beasts like me. She shook her head. At least, thats what the plan was. She looked at her terrorists. What happened here?
The Innocents looked at one another. Eventually, a young woman stepped forward. Margaret recognized her as Diane.
Follow me, Mrs. Revenel, she said. She bowed to Verune. You too, your Holiness.
Diane led Verune and Margaret through the secret doorway, into what had once been the foyer of the Innocents compound at 1337 Petta Drive. The room had been redecorated; its minimalist furnishings were bedazzled in human carnage. The metal door lay in a crumpled wreck against the wall, dripping with fluid. It had crushed several bodies when Steyphan had blasted it off its hinges, splattering black ooze, dried blood, and green spores splattered all over the room. Dried infection ooze bound bits of fingernails and fingertips to the walls where mindless hands had eroded them with rabid clawing.
Some of the gruesome new dcor had taken a life of its own. In several places, the fungus was growing along the walls and floor, spreading out like roots from the handful of intact corpses that lay on the floor, utterly motionless. Fruiting bodies had begun to crest up from the corpses.
Eyvan, and Lizzie entered behind Margaret and Verune, with Steyphan coming up in the rear. The Innocents gasped at the sight of the snake-man, and then yelled as he stopped in the middle of the doorway and shouted. Lass! What the hell is that?
The Innocents compound was a grid of square rooms, connected to one another four to a side, except for the rooms at the edges. All of the doors could be sealed independently of one another.
Not counting the doorway behind them, there were three others in the foyer, and of the three only the one opposite the entrance was open; it led to the lounge.
That must have been where this group had been hiding.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
It was also what had made Steyphan scream.
The Innocents watched in terror as Eyvan and Lizzie approached the open door. Steyphan followed behind them, cautiously slithering forward.
The lounge was a messnot as much of a mess as the foyer, but still a mess. There was food packaging everywhere. But that wasnt what everyone was staring at.
They were staring at the door on the other end of the lounge.
All of the doors had built-in plastic windows.
In the silence, Margaret could just make out wild, thumping sounds and jagged, rasping screams. A shiver tickled all the way down her belly.
Beasts teeth Eyvan whispered, making the Bond-sign.
Verune made the Bond-sign as well. Not a word left his lips. He lowered Margaret to the floor with a wave of his hand.
By craning her neck, Margaret caught glimpses of feral infected bashing and the door. Trails of black ooze trickled down the plastic where the rabid things attempts to break through the doorway had snapped their fingers off their hands.
Lizzie said something to the effect of, Shit, there are more, and Margaret couldnt agree more.
Verune turned to the Innocents. What happened here? he asked.
One of Margarets Innocents launched into a cough-riddled explanation.
It was a horror story through and through.
Apparently, it all started when one of their more recent recruits, a young man by the name of Willem had arrived at the bar after-hours, several days before. Hed looked like a corpse on two legs, stumbling into the bar, collapsing on the kitchen floor before hed even made it into the compound. Hed been taken into the compound for medical attention right away.
Wed hardly closed the door behind us when he exploded. The green stuff was everywhere, Diane explained. Coughing, she shook her head.
We couldnt get out, someone added.
As Margaret listened, she noticed that, slowly but surely, her stomach was shrinking. The biomass was being distributed across her body. She could feel it crawling through her, lengthening herfeeding the growth of what she was pretty sure was a tail.
That green stuff is spores, Steyphan explained. Theyre highly caustic. They must have damaged the doors hydraulics.
Is that why we couldnt get out? someone said.
The snake-man nodded gravely.
The people who were in the room rapidly fell ill. It was like the life was being sucked out of them.
But not Jon Goldmouth, Connor added. While everyone was getting sick, Jon seemed fine.
You shouldnt have let him in, Diane, one of the guys said.
Diane coughed terribly. She wept in pain. I already told you, I didnt know. How could I?
What happened to this Mr. Goldmouth? Verune asked.
Connor stepped forward. He started saying he was dead. He wept. We didnt think much of it at the time, but then more of us fell sick, and then, Holy Angel then Beatrice died
And we caught Jon eating her dead body in the middle of the night! someone interjected.
Thats when he started to change, Connor said.
For future reference, Margaret said, thats pretty much what happened to me.
What happened to Errol? Eyvan asked.
He ordered Jon to be locked away, Diane said. And anyone else who displayed changes or hunger or whatever got locked away with him.
What happened to the people in the room with Willem? Steyphan asked.
They turned into monsters.
The ones we killed, Steyphan muttered.
They were honest-to-goodness zombies!
Verune cocked his head, puzzled. Zombies?
Animated corpses, your Holiness, Eyvan answered. They are a staple of horror fiction. Often, its because theres a virus or some other contagion which turns its victims into zombies. Zombies exist only to spread the contagion to others.
Perhaps the demons are using the Green Death to create these zombies, Verune said. He turned to Steyphan. Considering what you told me, that would seem to be an ideal method for Hell to raise its armies of darkness.
The Innocents nodded, murmuring in agreement.
But how did they turn into zombies? Margaret asked. What happened? Did it just start all of a sudden?
Diane just stared. I dont know. It just started. She trembled.
It was because of Errol, Connor added.
Errol? Margaret gasped. He became one of those things?
Shit, Margaret thought, does that mean I just ate my second-in-command?
Diane shook her head. No. As he lay dying, Phyllis started eating him.
What? Margaret said. Shed managed to sit up against a wall.
Connor shook his head, too, looking down in dejection. She was hiding her condition from us, Mrs. Revenel. Jesse shot Phyllis, he said, killed herstone cold dead. Then Brock retaliated, shooting Jesse in the headPhyllis was his girlfriend. That set off a fire-fight, and, before we knew it, everyone in the other room with Willem just went crazy. Clawing. Roaring. Screaming. Bashing against the doors until their bones broke.
And where were you when this happened? Eyvan asked.
Connor pointed at the room behind them. In the back rooms.
Margaret heard more of the demons noises: their unearthly howls; their limbs slamming against the door.
But then what about them? Steyphan asked, pointing at the zombies behind the door.
Diane shook her head. When the shooting started, Errol and a couple other of the guys who were really sick they turned into those things.
Steyphan nodded. Its almost like the fungus is defending itself, he said.
Verune nodded slowly. I see. Turning around, he looked at Eyvan. Please, Eyvan, wait outside. You are injured.
Eyvan obeyed. He nodded and then left without a word.
He pointed at Connor. You there, Connor, is it?
Connor nodded.
Show me where you put the changelingsGoldmouth and the others. I must speak with them.
Connor did as he was told. He led Verune into the lounge. The Lassedite didnt levitate Margaret along with him, but, by that point, Margarets stomach had sufficiently deflated that her arms could actually reach the ground again, so she followed after them, dragging herself forward.
Do you, uh, need help, Mrs. Revenel? Diane asked.
Dont touch me! Margaret snapped.
Diane backed away, and kept her distance.
Dragging herself forward like this was exhausting as it was humiliating. But Margaret Lerchblock Revenel isnt going to take handouts from anyone, she thought.
She crawled into the lounge just as Connor opened the door to one of the side rooms.
That must have been where theyd put Jon and the other changelings.
I really need to figure out how to do those magic tricks of
But a collective gasp interrupted Margarets thoughts. She groaned as she turned to look, spinning herself around on the floor like a walrus on the beach. She let out a gasp of her own as she saw what lay beyond the door Connor had opened.
There were three changelings in the room, one woman, and two men. One had no arms, and the other two had only one arm left each, though much of the skin was missing.
None of them had any legs.
For the first, brief time in her life, Margaret found herself feeling bad for someone who was not her. If it was out of character for her, it was only because she was so keenly aware of the struggles of dealing with a changing body.
It was obvious where their missing limbs had gone.
Theyd eaten them, out of desperation.
Margaret would probably have done anything to make that hunger stop.
Unfortunately, eating their own bodies didnt give them the nutrition a growing divine beast needed. Deformed, slug-like stumps grew out from their bottoms, in between the nibbled stubs of the parts of their thighs that they hadnt been able to reach. They had no clothes; theyd probably eaten them first. The mens genitals were goneeaten, as were the womans breasts. Theyd eaten each others ears and noses and hair.
The three Angelforsaken horrors were clustered around a hole in the wall. They gnawed away at its edges, licking and sucking like starved ticks on a mangy dog. Cracks shot through the sides of the hole where the drywall was softening and crumbling.
The three changelings turned their sunken, emaciated faces to their watchers.
Verune made the Bond-sign. By the Moonlight, what horror is this!? He gave Connor a furious stare, but then turned away and strode into the room, as if to rescue them I am Mordwell Verune, he said, lowering himself to the ground, staring them in the eyes. I am here to guide you. I swear, I will make this right.
The three changelings gave him blank staresmystified, awed, and overwhelmed.
Please, Verune asked, which of you is Jon Goldmouth?
One of the two men flopped onto the ground. He dragged himself forward with his single arm, with only his thumb and index finger to help him. The rest were gone.
Lowering himself to his knees, Verune pressed his claw-hand on Jons back. Your suffering has ended. Here, he nodded, let me give you a proper meal.
Without turning around, Verune reached an arm back toward Connor, as if to ask him for a wrench. Halfway through the movement, the Lassedite pointed his fingers up, holding them like the petals of a lily while muttering under his breath.
Something about twine?
Then he twisted his hand, turning it at the wrist, and Connors head spun around, snapping off his body like a twizzled twig. He dropped dead, spilling dark, ooze-tainted blood on the floor.
Eyvan, Verune said, in a loud, clear voice, lock the kitchen door.
The other Innocents screamed. The door slammed shut a moment later.
Quiet! Verune snapped. Once again, he didnt bother turning around. Instead, he lowered his head. I will place your fates in the hands of these three, he said. One after another, he looked the three changelings in the eyes. He levitated Connors corpse into the room with a wave of his hand.
Jon drooled as he stared at it, stupefied.
The other two changelings rushed toward the corpse, but Verune held out his other hand. Forgive me, he said, but it will be quicker if you feed one at a time. I promise you, you will not need to wait long. Your lessons must come first.
Le-lessons? the female changeling stuttered.
Verune glanced lovingly at the feeding changeling.
Margaret couldnt help but lick her lips as she watched.
Yes, Verune nodded. Look at what Jon is doing.
Hes eating Connor, the man said.
No. The Lassedite shook his head. He is eating evil. That is why the Angel is giving us these slivers of the Hallowed Beasts power. The plague brings out the evils within mankind. We devour that evil. We destroy it, utterly.
As Verune spoke, Margaret noticed a beautiful, gleaming fluid drip down the sides of his head like multicolored wax. Mysteriously, it evaporated before ever hitting the ground.
The zombies in the next room screeched and raged.
The demons will be your sustenance, Verune said, turning toward the sound. Each of you must eat at least one of them. It is essential that you recover your strength. You will need it.
As he spoke, the wounds on Jons body began to heal, filling themselves in with scaly, dark blue hide. His lone arm thickened, sprouting a new finger which immediately exploded into sausage size, as did the other two digits. Margaret watched in fascination as Connors flesh fueled the growth of a new arm from Jons shoulder, to replace the one hed lost.
As for the others, Verune said, turning to face the astonished changelings, eat them if you see fit.
Jon wept tears of joy as he fed. He stopped eating just to stare at his reforming hands. He clawed two hunks of flesh from Connors torso and tossed them to the other two changelings, who devoured the bloody hunks right where theyd landed on the floor.
Your lesson begins now, Verune said. You do not need to worry. The demons in there cannot hurt you. They are there to feed you. They will make you stronger.
Then, lifting his arm, Verune flicked his hand. Metal groaned and snapped as the door to the zombie-filled room flew out of its socket and the feral infected spilled out into the open.
76.1 - All in the Family
Danas sense of humor was about as sophisticated as the jokes printed on popsicle sticks, and I wouldnt have wanted it any other way. She was especially fond of formulaic jokes. Knock-knock; You have two cows; lightbulb jokes, and so on and so forth. She collected them, hoarding them like some kind of comedy dragon, only she had no reservations about sharing.
One lightbulb joke of hers ended up becoming something like a mantra to me. Had I been an onmiyoji in an anim, it would have been my chant for calling upon a barashai to help seal away a malevolent spirit. The joke went as follows:
Question: How many psychiatrists does it take to change a lightbulb?
Answer: One, but the lightbulb has to want to change.
The joke was as bad as it was true, but even then, it didnt cover all the bases. Desire was like faithindeed, faith really was a form of desire, after allit, on its own, was not enough to reforge a person into something better than what they had once been. Be it to conquer ones fears, or turn your deeds toward righteousness, a desire for change wasnt enough to make that change a reality. Id like to think the world would be a much happier place if it were. Desire was nothing without action. And yet, desire was an almost inescapable prerequisite for change from within.
And yet, there were some people who, it seemed, could never be reached. Why? Id pondered that question for a long time. Maybe their perceptions were at fault; for one reason or anothertemperament, learned behaviora person might see the world in a certain way, and that vision would always reassert itself to the detriment of any possibility of change. Perhaps the person was lost in their own subjectivity, with a runaway ego that numbed them to anyone elses point of view. Or maybe they were just coal-hearted, with spite so deep that the whole world was eternal Night, void of any hope or joy.
But what if you could reach them? What if you could widen their perceptions? What if you could get them to leave their I-lands and see the world as another saw it, if only for a moment? Quite a few of my colleaguessuch as Dr. Rathpalla, for starterstook the pessimistic view and asserted. It wouldnt make a difference. But I believed that it could. And now, that ideal was about to be tested unlike ever before.
The ghosts souls were open books in my mind, their pages mine to peruse at length. With the Plotskies, I tried to stay out of the most intimate moments, but, my respect for their privacy could only go so far. Was it wrong of me to read through the sordid details of the Plotskies private lives? Probably. But I chose to leave it to others to judge the merits of my decision. At the very least, if it ended up failing spectacularly, I wouldnt be likely to try it again. I wasnt sure if that would be enough to assuage my scruples, but it was the best I had on hand.
Id be lying if I said I wouldnt have asked for this power, had I known it was available. To see a person in this way, to unfold them, core and all it was just a painful reminder of the barriers that people raised to keep themselves from fully knowing, or from being fully known. Going through the Plotskies minds gave me an appreciation for the profundity of the abilities Id been given. With but a thought, I could ferret out the essence of a persons being. I could suss out, down to the nanosecond, the moments that birthed their demons. That was an extraordinary responsibility. With that knowledge you could use save a personmake them anewor you could tear them down in a kind of torture that would make the demons in Hell green with envy.
I was trying to save these people from a Hell of their own making, and then from the depths of the very real Darkness awaiting to swallow them once theyd given in to their despair. I desperately hoped it wouldnt come to that. I didnt know how I would live with myself if it did.
As a wyrm-to-beby the Angel, I would never get used to that!it was my duty to be Paradise for the spirits housed within me. If my values and morals meant anything at all, I couldnt allow the Plotskies or any other of my head-mates to remain hateful and miserable for the rest of eternity. I didnt want to be their Hell. I didnt want to be responsible for any more suffering. Thats why I had to believe that if I could get the Plotskies to see each other in the way I now saw them, thenmaybe, just maybeI could help bring them the peace that their lives had not deigned to give them.
Or, I could screw up, get them to hate each other for all eternity, and consign them to the Darkness.
So no pressure, right?
I sighed.
Time to get to work.
Of all the places in the Plotskies collective memories, one stood out among the restan ulcer on their recent memories. And so, to it we went.
As I stepped into the rift in the world in my mind, I reached in and pulled out the familys wriggling souls. Then, with a flash the souls left my hands as the void within the rift consolidated into a time and place. The Plotskies spirits melded with the scene as Andalon and I found ourselves standing in a cramped patio surrounded by the lathe-and-plaster walls of the house of a man who hated the world. The house of Yan Peshka was a rectangular gob of mortar poorly poured between horizontal slabs of flagstone, and topped in a red-tiled roof, because why not? The clan was gathered at the big, round glass-topped table in the half of the patio that lay beneath the solid-roofed pergola in the patio, next to a brick-paved garden with its overgrown cacti and wilting geraniums housed in big terra-cotta pots that drank up the summer sun. The nicest thing in sight was the fountain at the far wall, decorated with pretty ornamental tiles. The tiles depicted floral abstractions in bold colors. The fountain flickered between different states of being. Sometimes it was filled with dark, murky water, buzzing with mosquitos and their larvae. Other times it was bone dry, its basin littered with dust and dead leaves, and flaky layers of what might have been pond scum, once upon a time. The owner had paid off the mortgage by committing insurance fraud, claiming non-existent damages endured in an earthquake on a separate property that he owned and mismanaged.
This place was important. It was a crossroads; a common denominator of all three lives. The Plotskies were unified in their revulsion of the place, reacting to it like the sight and smell of an open sewer. Memories and information flooded into me, leaving me overwhelmed and dizzy. Pictures of scenes of the past winked in and out of existence across the patio and the house beyond. Activity flashed across time in that place. They rose and fell in a convection current. People moved and talked and agedin both directionsall while the dinner party sat in place in their seats around the glass table. I saw a little girl laughing as she hopped in and out of the shower, reveling in the way the magnetic door snapped as it closed, much to her grandmothers dismay. I saw a smug, facile cousin running out the front door with tears streaking through her dirty-blonde hair after her grandfather told her that she was a faggot because he thought her boyfriend looked like a faggot, and that meant she had to be a faggot, too, because only a faggot would date someone who looked like a faggot. And he wasnt even a doctor!This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
Yan Peshka was the father of the daughters three: Babra, and Mabel, and Kaythe. Yan had once had a son, but no one spoke of him because the young man killed himself at the age of twenty-two. Even so, Yan still brought his suicide up every now and again, just to remind everyone that it was the only good decision that good-for-nothing painter ever made. Mrs. Peshka was heartbroken by it, just not heartbroken enough to ever try talking her husband down from his perch. Besides, she was afraid of being alone.
It was a textbook example of an abusive family dynamic. Babra felt fealty toward it, even though they didnt deserve it, and neither Jed nor Ileene had ever understood why she felt the way she did. This laid the foundation for a great evil. A quiet evil, but an evil all the same.
In a way, quiet evils were even more insidious than the loud evil that brashly trotted across our lives. Both were seemingly unconquerable. Both cried out to the Angel for justice and resolution. But, unlike their loud siblings, quiet evils all too often passed unnoticed, so silent and subtle that they could only be heard if you opened your ears in the deep of Night and listened to the stifled sobs of a child crying in the dark as they waited for sleep to come and make them forget their pain.
I, of course, knew the reason Babs felt the way she did. It was a horrible reason, one that made me sick to my stomach, and I knew that neither her husband nor her daughter understood it. That created a wall between them, and I couldnt think of a better way to start than by tearing it down.
Andalon watched, wide-eyed, as I waved my hands like I was conducting an orchestra. Heck, a baton appeared in my hand; thankfully, Id had the honor of once conducting an orchestra in high school for a concert, so I just went with it, hoping for the best. Even from within the memory, I could feel the Plotskies attention on me as our concert began. I imagined their memories unfold in the spaces in my mind like a symphonys opening flourishes. I gave the cue, and the memory Id chosen came rushing into the foreground, flooding the twilight skies with white.
We were elsewhere and elsewhen, in a large room with plaster pilasters on the longer pair of its four, whitewashed walls. Casement windows in between the pilasters let the congregation bathe in the sunlights full glory. The Angel gazed down upon them from the image in the stained glass above the windows, focused on the altar next to the spot at the chambers center where the ceiling Eye let in high noon. I did not need Babras memories to know what this place was. There was no mistaking the rows of heavy-set wooden pew-like seats that surrounded the Eyes light. The shelves built into backs of the seats housed copies of holy scripture, available for use for the students seated in the desks behind them. The desks were meant to be leaned back until they pressed up against your seat. They had legs, and you pushed your feet down on those legs to hold the desks in place, as if they were feral rocking chairs, wild and untamed. The priest stood in a lectern built around one of the four supporting columns surrounding the Eye. He read aloud, expounding on the writings of the Elder Voices; that was the only way to be sure that Sessions School students were properly catechized.
The priest spoke.
We heed the Voice of Blessd Wybert, Fifth Lassedite, of the Righteous Five, who said: as man is to the Godhead, so is wife to husband, and child to parent. We are tools in the Angels hands, and to us He has given, in His perfect wisdom, the ties that bind us. To all things, there is a season and a purpose, and it is in that purpose that we know Love, both in one another, and in those who watch over us. Through our obedience, Love finds us, and in our noble servitude, we find it.
A little girl sat in one of the seats. Her legs were just barely long enough for her black, buckled shoes to hold the desk in place. Her tight-fitting dress was as gray as a raincloud, and she worried the Angel would be upset with her because her white stockings had a small tear in them and there hadnt been time to fix it before school.
Little Babra worried about many things. Father Ode was not one of them. She loved the way the priest led their readings: the kindness in his face, the warmth of his words. He answered every question she ever asked, and always gently, and with a smile. He seemed to know all that there was to know, and he was always happy to share it with her. Every day, without fail, he told her how much the Angel loved her, and how that love was tucked away in every inch of the world around her, just waiting to reach out and greet her. Somehow, when Father Ode spoke, everything made sense. Life was simple. She knew what to do. And, in her heart of hearts, Babra knew that as long as she followed the Angels commands, she would be like Father Ode. She would blessd and happy and peaceful. Life would be a dream.
And shed finally make her Deddy happy.
It was a struggle to maintain my composure. Young Babras heart was filled with comfort and grace, and it flowed into me, the phantom conductor at the back of the hall. Both then and now, Babra didnt understand that she really had been blessd. The blessing was already there, in Father Ode. From what I knew of the man through Babras memories, he seemed to be the paragon of all that was good about the Church. He was kind and wise and patient and noble. When Babra was in Father Odes presence, she felt like she truly belonged, and I envied her for that. Id never been lucky enough to feel that way in my own catechism class. I think my life would have taken a very different turn if I had.
But this was just the first melody; a second one had to follow. It came in a different key, one that had no warmth.
The scene changed. A thousand days and nights rewound before our eyes, carrying us deeper into Babras childhood, to when she was little more than a toddler, clad in a little red dress, with little, laughing curls springing all the way around her head.
And then a shoe slammed into her belly.
Babra landed with a thud against the white stucco wall. The bathroom light shone through the doorway out into the hallway. Her soft arms and bare feet brushed against the roughness of the fancy-looking floor rug. But her feet they were dirty and smelly, all covered in brown, like the filth-smeared tiles in the bathroom floor.
Stupid girl! Deddy Yan screamed. You shit yourself! You shit all over the floor! I pay so much money for the housekeeper to come clean, and you shit over my floor!
He kicked her again.
Use the toilet! Use the fucking toilet!
She tried to tell him she was scared of the toilet; scared of falling inscared of drowningbut he was so loud. That was what the little girl told herself. Deddy was too loud. Too sad. He couldnt hear her, thats all. Thats why he didnt know he was scared. Or maybe it was because he couldnt see her; those big, stinky cigars made so much smoke, you couldnt see anything!
The violence made Andalon shudder and recoil. She covered her ears with her arms and her eyes with her hands, burying her face into my side.
Sorting through the different emotions was constant work, figuring out which reactions were mine and which werent. As much as it shamed me to admit it, I had to put some distance between myself and that awful, awful memory. Otherwise, I dont think I could have gotten through it, otherwise.
Id have broken down, myself.
The brunt of Babras pain made Ileene quaver, but it did not soften the young womans heart.
Behind me, Mr. Plotskys spirit whispered. You you never told me he kicked you.
Jeds words shattered the memory. The stream of pain and confusion flowing out of Mrs. Plotsky subsided, even thoughjust like in her lifeit never fully disappeared. It submerged, returning to its lair in the depths of the womans soul.
76.2 - All in the Family
Andalon and I were back outside the house. The air was thick with an acrid, herbal stench. Jeds memories identified the source: Yan was too miserly to purchase a bug-zapper. Instead, he bought these huge, cheap, head-sized scented candles held in shoddy aluminum buckets whose stink supposedly warded off the flies and mosquitos that swarmed in the torrid heat of an early evening at summers end. The inland valley we called the Drylands were only three-hundred miles to the southeast of the citya little over an hour by Expresswaybut they might as well have been on a different planet. The climate was warm and dry, instead of the Bay Areas perennial moisture. The bugs liked the heat.
If only the candles repelled bloodsuckers of the bipedal kind, the ones that gossiped venom when they werent busy insult-bragging about which one of them had stuffed their eye-holes full with the most ill-gotten lucre.
These memories are sad, Mr. Genneth, Andalon said, shudderingsniffling.
That was an understatement.
The man of the house kicked his children. It set a low bar for the quality of this familys family life. The family dinner playing out on the patio before me, however, didnt even make that bar.
I dont like it, Andalon said, weeping gently. I dont like it. And she was absolutely right to feel that way.
Family dinners were surprisingly important. Study after study in the likes of the Journal of Family Psychology or the Journal of Evolutionary Psychology attested to this. There was something primal in talking with family while dining together. The bonding that happened during those regular meals helped strengthen family ties, leading to less dysfunction and a greater sense of shared love than those households who, say, ate dinner with their eyes glued to their wide-screen TV. Had the authors of those papers seen this family dinner, theyd have retracted their papers and wiped their consoles hard-drives clean before going door to door to every family therapist in the country begging for their forgiveness.
You knew a group conversation was rotten to the core when its members didnt know the difference between talking and bullying. Conversations were brackish insults and ganging partisanship whose only concerns were finding the weakest links among them and tearing them to shreds.
Ileenes feelings tinted my thoughts with their spicy aftertaste. I saw and felt and tasted the scene through Ileenes eyes as well as my own. The events playing out in front of me had happened barely a year ago, but, still, it had managed to wrap itself around the young womans soul like chains of burning light.
When the three sisters had been girls, the Peshkas had almost always given Kaythe the biggest allowance to spend, on account of her having the plumpest breasts.
So, Yan began, my friend from work tells me about his brotherbig plastic surgeon. Whenever you see a beautiful face on TV or in the movies, yeah? He made them! And they pay him. Ho-ho, how much they pay him! Yan chuckled, shaking his mug of beer, the ice clinking against the glass. But then I say, my grandson, Lanihe so smart he going to work with big bankDAISHU bankand make more money than any piss-pot surgeon could ever dream of. And he gasp, and I laugh. Cause thats how it is. Thats what matters.
The man was like a grotesque reimagining of my great-grandmother (fathers mothers mother), accent and all. Gaga Vetta had immigrated from Polovia to Trenton during the Prelatory. The Naters ended up fouling the economy, and cheap immigrant labor basically kept the country on life-support after what remained of the Republics gains had been fully squandered. My great-grandmother worked as an underpaid shop-clerk at a department store, which was how she ended up meeting my mothers father. She was a kind, quirky old woman, devout to the core. During the Prelatory, you generally didnt get allowed into the country unless you demonstrated deep Lassedile piety, though Vetta had no need to falsify her beliefs for the sake of getting through customs. I only vaguely remembered the ancient woman; I was quite young when she died, though Grandma Liza was more than happy to fill in the blanks about her mothers life and time.
Thinking about my own family unbalanced the scene, and suddenly, we were thrust into one of my memories: this time with Grandma Liza, an odd little old woman with a big heart and a stern glare and a tendency to double-click her tongue when annoyed. Despite being a second-generation Polovian immigrant, she had been living proof of the old adage that, theres no such thing as a diluted Polovian. Back when we were young and she was still allowed to drive, from time to time, shed come over to watch us while Dad was away on tour, and if there was ever even the slightest shindig going on down at the Polovian Heritage Club on Brightvine & Moore, you could be certain that we would attend it. The way that woman smiled at the sight of Dana and I dressed up in traditional Polovian dressbold blue and reds, a shirt and tunic for me, a dirndl for Dana, and high-tied boots for us allwas enough to make you think she was being naughty and getting away with it. My first taste of Greater Polovia stood the test of time as one of the most surreal experiences of my childhood. I was very impressionable as a child, you see, and my sister had gotten it into my head that the strange clothes and charming dances were part of a ritual to awaken our secret wizard powers, and, swear by the Beast, I believed every word of it. And, with shtudtelka (Polovian creamsweet beef) as good as grandmasshe used Vettas recipewho wouldnt?If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
But then the memories of bright clothes, bouncy music, and creamsweet beef shattered as Ileene burst out with a cry of, Thats not fair!
The scene in Peshkas patio burst through my memory, swirling back together around the glass-topped table, laden with hand clothes, oils, sardines, lox, and undercooked burgers covered in overcooked mushrooms and onions.
You got good grandparents, Ileene said, I didnt. I got a fucking asshole. Thats not fair. Its not right!
Ileene! Babs spirit snapped, dont say that about your grandfather!
Ill say it. Ill say it again. Ill keep on saying it until the sun burns out and we all freeze in Hell. Its because of him that I
But I intervened, silencing the raging spirits, letting them sink back into the scene, where I laid their thoughts side by side.
The froth and bite of their memories had given me a feel of the geographies of their psyches. I could see how they related to one another: the callouses, the cankers; the galls and the corms. Ileene was like one of the sea-urchins from her childhood memories, only turned inside out: the soft flesh pointing outward, vulnerable to all, while the vicious spines turned inward and pricked her with feelings of worthlessness.
I had to proceed gently here. Otherwise, theyd just turn into monsters and try to tear each other to shreds all over again.
One of my most striking discoveries was that, between Ileene and her mother, it was Babra who suffered the most dysfunctionand that was saying something, seeing as her daughter had run off to join a bunch of terrorists. Yet, if Ileene knew her mothers memories like I now did, perhaps she might understand. There was a rock-hard core of cognitive dissonance deep inside Mrs. Plotsky, festering like a half-passed kidney stone. It blinded Babs to much of her daughters plight. Ideally, Id be able to remove it, but that was easier said than done. It would take a strong push to eject that bit of blockage, buteven if I succeeded in doing soif Ileenes hostility toward her mother were still going strong when that happened, it could end up making their emotional states even worse than they already were.
I needed to play to Ileenes sympathies. I needed to get her to open her heart to her mother. Scanning Babras memories, a detail of a memory caught my eye, like a striking book cover in the e-readers digital library.
Duncan Breszmil?
I previewed the memory.
Beasts teeth
Well, youd have to be dead inside not to get riled up by that.
I gave the memory the cue, starting up the second movement of the Plotskys psychological symphony: a grim scherzo. Yans patio blurred away, and we found ourselves thrust into Dressfeldt Court at the heart of the city, in the thick of a crowd gathered on one of Elpecks rare, sunny summer days. This latest trip down memory lane had taken us back to the time when Id been a teenager; right the time Danas schizophrenia first started to show itself.
The Summer of 93.
It was a time of political unrest and bell-bottom pantsand not the first time, either. Multipurpose high-rises girded the park at Dressfeldt Court. The gathered crowd spilled out of the parks wheel-spoked walking paths and onto the carefully tended grass, waving their hand-made signs and banners. The neatly ordered palm trees laid out in the park seemed to shiver as the crowd chanted and brayed.
Lassedile Land is Sacred Land!
Bomb the Biyadi!
Down with terrorists!
Far across the sea, the peoples of Araka and Dalus were at war: irregular combat, the kind where a grenade might crash through a window of a measly apartment unit right in the middle of prayer before morning breakfast. The two great powers of the Odasan continent had been mired in lukewarm warfare since before I was born, but 1993 marked a new low; the conflict had been more open than ever before. After Mu, Dalus was one of Trentons closest Old World allies, but whereas Mu was allied with us because of economic and cultural ties both past and present, Dalus was allied with us ever since our Second Empire helped the ban Majnoon dynasty rise to power in the mid-1700s and convert the people of Dalus to Angelical Lassedicy at frothing gunpoint. Araka, on the other hand, had been seemingly impervious to missionary work since the Second Empires outset in 1626. Meanwhile, in the mountainous highlands between the two nations, you had the Biyadi, a semi-nomadic people who just wanted a country to call their own. To the Dalusiansand all other faithful Lassedilesthe Biyadi demands for a separate nation-state was tantamount to abandoning a thriving part of Lassedicy to paganism, and, of course, to someone like Duncan Breszmil, the only people who would be in favor of something like that were hellbound folks like the pagan Arakan mongrels, or traitorous atheists.
But that was why the crowd was there in the first place: to hear Breszmil speak. The man himself stood at the head of the crowd, dapperly dressed in a suit and tie. His suavely combed black hair was nearly as dark as his shadowed, five-oclock jaws, roaring invective into his megaphone.
This was another of Babs memories. She was Ileenes agea year and a half youngerstanding in the crowd, holding a banner of hate and death. She was there because her sisters were there, and because her father had seen the potted bonsais she grew in the garden at her Elpeck Polytechnic sorority and thought that they made her a slant-eyed Munine gentile instead of a true blue Lassedile woman. Babs couldnt keep her eyes off Kaythe and Mabel, nor their smiling faces, proudly waving their flags and banners, shouting praise at every word coming out of Breszmils mouth. Babs wished she could hoist her banner with the kind of zeal her sisters showed, but there was weakness in her that said no, and it held her back. Part of that weakness was a desire to talk to Father Ode again, but the man had died several years before, succumbing to fatal prion insomnia, slowly going mad as rogue proteins reshaped the poor mans brain until the only sleep he would ever know was the long sleep without end. Babs remembered how much it hurt her when Father Ode died, but the priest at her high school chapel agreed with Deddy that Father Ode must have done something to deserve it.
Thats disgusting, Ileenes spirit said. I know, Im a hypocrite, and I thought worse, but that she was aghast, how could anyone call for the death of an entire people? Thats not what a good mother does! Thats not what a good anyone does!
And to this, Babra said nothing. She wanted to say the Godhead makes no mistakes, like her mother had, but she couldnt.
76.3 - All in the Family
The scene melted away, and we were back at the dreadful dinner in the Peshka patio.
With a smile, Kaythe fluttered her fingers in front of her face like a handheld fan.Lanis been accepted into that international finance mentorship in Tvala, she said. He tells me he might even get to meet with some of DAISHUs hedge fund managers!
Yan raised his beer mug and nodded in approval. If all my grandchildren were as smart as Lani, I could die a happy man, Yan said.
Mabel and her husband Clarke grimaced in response.
Lani better be careful, Kaythe, Mabel said, slicing into her burger with a knife. He might end up canoodling with one of DAISHUs desperate interns.
Oh stop it, Mabel, Kaythe said, tepidly playful. She shook her head with a dismissive wave of her hand. Lanis smart. Hes on the lookout for a good girl, maybe Trenton born, or a well-raised Polovian. Someone nice and faithful, not one of those slant-eyed butterflies.
Not butterflies, Yan said, hawking up gunk at the back of his throat, Ants. Munine are like ants. They want to make whole world hive, and they think they can buy their way to whatever they want. But not me. He raised a defiant finger. I know best. When I came to this country, I was not like them. I have only one groat in my pocket. I work hard, and look at me now! he stretched out his arms to either side. Big success! His eyes made a round of the guests. Thats how you do it! But he added, People forget. Whole country forgets. Everything goes to hobno.
I wanted to stop the memory and slap him, but I knew I couldnt do that. Not yet, anyways.
Tell that to those nuts in the National Diet, Mabel said.
Multiple voices murmured in approvalthough, notably, none of them were surnamed Plotsky.
Theyre crazy
I know, right? Kaythe interjected.
Mabel nodded. But especially if they think people are going to stand for screw-ups and criminals getting healthcare before people who actually work for a living and contribute to this country.
And, what, Kathe added, do they think weve got money going up the wazoo? Its just unconscionable. Its like the Naters all over again. You dont go around telling people what to do like that.
You know, Babs said, meekly, I admit healthcare reform has a steep price-tag, but revisions to high-income bracket tax rates could make up for a lot of it. And, in the long run, if the population is healthier, the economy would benefit from it. People cant readily spend money when theyve got insurance payments or medication co-pays or bills for deferred hanging over their heads.
Smirking, Mabel shook her head. There she goes, again. Batty Batty Babs.
You know, Babra, Clarke said, chewing smoked salmon. Youre not an economist. Just because you took a class or two in college, it doesnt mean you know how the whole world works. Mind your own business, and appreciate what you have.
The balding man had a face like a woodchuck, gnawing teeth and puckered lips, only without any fur to cover it up.
Yans gaze fell upon his middle child. Dont say stupid things Babra. I raised you better than that.
Serves you right, Mom, Ileene thought, in the memory.
Do you still feel that way? I said, asking Ileenes spirit.
Its not like I want to.
Few of us ever want to, Ileene, I said.
The past swelled; I pulled out another memory. The practice Id gotten in my journeys through Ileene and my clockwood world were making a difference here. Without them, I would probably have already crashed and burned.
This next memory was a mutual one, shared between Babra and Jed, fondly remembered by both. It congealed into a comfortable spring morning out in the Drylands.
Even as a young man, Jed had been active in politics, following his parents example. Handing out flyers for the Distributist candidate for the their districts seat in the National Diet was a good job for a young man to have; it would certainly look great on a college resum, and it never hurt to have connections in high places, even minor ones. But, while many kids in the Drylands saw it as just another opportunity to rake in some community service points or pad their allowances, Jed actually believed in the cause. Healthcare needed to be universal, guaranteed to all. When you had more money than you could ever spend in your lifetimewhen even your off-hand remarks swayed the stock marketyou needed to be taxed up to your collarbones. No one person deserved to have that much unaccountable power.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.
Jed would never forget stopping by the Peshka residence, nor would Babra. Even decades later, Jed still wasnt quite sure what about her had caught his attention. Was it her poise? Her intelligent regard? Her forthright attitude? Or something else altogether, perhaps even something that went beyond words.
The details werent important, Jeds spirit said, in the now, all that mattered was how I felt.
Babs feelings were much more specific. To her, the young man with the messenger bag slung over his shoulders stuffed full of fliers was the first person shed ever met aside from Father Ode who thought that civilized societies had a responsibility to provide for their people.
Young Jed cleared his throat. Im surprised you say that, he said. Thats not a popular opinion out in the Drylands.
Young Babs flashed a smile, trying to hide her unexpected embarrassment. It had come out of nowhere, and it just wouldnt go away. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed hold of the door frame and leaned into it.
Well, keeping bonsais isnt that popular in these parts, either.
Jed chuckled nervously. I dont see the connection.
Babs smiled. Youd be surprised at how political some of the articles in Bonsai Quarterly can get, she replied.
Somewhere in the house, a voice bellowed.
Whos there, Babby? Yan said. Is it solicitors? Tell them off!
But, for once, Babs didnt listen. She just closed the door right in his face.
Shed later find out where he lived, and give a lengthy, stutter-filled apology.
The memory ended, but there was no mistaking its aftertaste. Ileene recognized it; she knew it all too well, herself.
It was love.
Back in the memory of the dinner on the patio, Mrs. Plotskys face went taut. Her next words stuttered their way out between her lips as she dared to show a hopeful smile.
Would a batty person get you a knee brace to help you with the post-op soreness, Deddy? Speaking of which, Babs added, hows it knee feeling? She leaned in attentively, her sisters watching with softly glowering eyes. If theres anything I can do, just ask.
Babs father waved his hand dismissively. He groused. Eh its okay. What matters is that this is the pain of a real man. All those years down on lots, doing work, measuring steel beams, telling the hloopy construction workers to get back to work. Thats how you do it.
The rosy tint of alcohol on Mr. Peshkas cheeks was lost beneath his swarthy face, baked and hardened by years spent laboring in the Sun. He rolled his eyes over to Babs and her daughter.
Angel, please, just leave me alone, Ileene thought.
Babra, I said, imagine how she feels. Now, feel it for yourself.
The spiteful scherzo passed into an earnest, heartbroken trio. A collage of little indignities paraded before us, magnified through the lens of Ileenes resentment.
As a little girl, Ileene had a favorite outfit: a blue blouse with a plaid skirt hued in kelpy greens and sea-struck blues. She loved the way the skirt looked, and the blouse was always soft and cozy while still looking really pretty. Shed loved wearing that outfit, but then, one morning, without the slightest warning, her mother had thrown it out and replaced it with a new one, all because Yan had rambled on during a videophone call that he hadnt liked Ileenes dress when the family had gone to visit the Peshkas in their house in the Drylands. Babs Deddy much preferred the one Kaythe had gotten for her daughter Ilsabel.
We watched through Ileenes eyes as her cousins laughed at her when they learned her first boyfriend had dumped her, but because the laughter had happened over a family dinner with Ileenes aunts, uncles and grandparents overlooking, Babra hadnt so much as lifted a finger to set her sisters kids straight. If she stuck her head out for her daughter, Babra knew her sisters would put her in the cross-hairs, and she didnt want to be ridiculed. Mrs. Plotsky already felt bad enough about herself as-is. Everything she did seemed to upset everyone around her.
The mothers feelings intruded on her daughters, but I let it pass without interference. They were communicating with one another, bit by bit.
I called up the next memory: Ileene, left out in the rain, cold, wet, and alone, all because her mother forgot to pick her up from school one day, because Babs was too busy trying to wrangle some affection out of her own mother. Ileene was filled with memories like that. We saw so many. The saddest part of all was that, no matter what happened, Babs nearly always chastised her daughter for falling short of the example of piety she herself all too often failed to keep, as if that, and that alone, was the source of all of the young womans problems.
Ileenes feelings made her feel like a child again, and it made her mother feel the same way, much to Babras dismay.
Babra, Yan said, back on the patio, if you really want to know what I want, he pointed at Ileene, I want to know that my granddaughter is not going to waste her life.
Ileene felt her grandfathers gaze burn into her. She wanted to look awayor, better yet, get awaybut she couldnt.
So, she chose to fight. In case you didnt know, grandpa, she said, Im going to college. Im going to become a marine biologist!
Even without the benefit of the familys memories, Id seen enough of this den of vipers to know that Ileene had just made a catastrophic mistake.
Never confront a bully on his home turf, and if you do, make sure youve got allies to back you up, or a heck of a big gun.
Preferably both.
The grim scherzo roared back to action.
So you have decided on a major! Babs said, pleasantly surprised.
We felt her worry that her daughter would never find her life-path.
But Yan Peshka just scoffed. Marine Biologist? he said, bristling his mustache. What is that from? Thats stupid, he said. How is marine biology useful? Have you ever heard of any big-shot marine biologists? No, and you know why? Because it isnt real work, and when it isnt real work, you dont make good money. You couldnt make it work, even if you tried. You should find a good man, Ileene. Thats the best work you can do.
The scherzo ended in calamity.
Jeds soul ached at the sight. Babs, he said, you didnt tell me it was this bad.
You should have been there, Jed! Babs retorted. If youd just set aside your stupid feud with my father, none of this would have ever happened!
Stop saying that! his spirit cried. Its not my fault! Its not my fault.
Jed stopped going over to his father-in-laws house precisely because of situations like these. We felt his anger, his indignation, and his grievous, grievous guilt.
I should have been there. His soul wept.
It wouldnt have made a difference, Ileene said. He soul stabbed ice picks at her mothers ghost. Its her fault. Its all her fault.
Calamity and desolation.
All of us ached.
76.4 - All in the Family
And now, the finale. The transition was seamless, and without pause. It began with warmth, a solo for two, like a prayer from the noble brass.
The house of Yan Peshka warped before our eyes. The darkling sky turn bright, smiling in blue and fog and gray. The floor repaved itself, like a serpent shedding its skin. Bricks gave way to a plain pattern of mortar and canyon-hued terra-cotta. Great, colorful pots, glazed and shining sprung up from the transfigured ground. Through little Ileenes eyes, they loomed like the iron-bellied galleons of the Second Empires privateers, spewing up plants like smoke. Exotic trees creaked up from the towering pots, with twisting trunks and artful branches that reached up and out, making a roof for the sky. Soon the gnarled wood filled out, green and full, with broad deciduous leaves and the needles of stoic pines.
Soon, the last traces of Peshkas manse evaporated into the ether of their memories. Instead of chaos and quarrels, silence. A hear-a-pin-drop peacefulness hung beneath the sky, over the patio of the Plotskies house in posh Flanders Ridge. A bevy of bonsais lay side by side on a moldering wooden bench. They were large in Ileenes child-eyes. Her mothers words about the plantsfacts and fancieswere like enchantments in the girls ears. Then something moved, green and odd shapeda praying mantis, hidden among the leaves of a pomegranate tree. It startled Ileene as it emerged, but her mother showed her the way. Gently, Babra guided the insect into her own palm, to show Ileene there was nothing to fear. Goodness and beauty were all around them; they only needed to reach out to find it.
All the doctrines of tradition and scripture on filial piety wilted before the tenderness of that moment. It made them seem like little more than moldy thoughts on the pages of a crumbling codex.
I know that feeling, Ileene, her fathers spirit said. I shared it with my own father. It wasnt bonsais, though; it was fish and potato fritters. We always had them whenever Dad took me down to the Wharf to run errands.
The finale was accumulation. A climax of beauty to be reached through an inexorable climb as everything warmed and brightened, rising to meet the Light.
He was connecting. They all were. It was just what Id hoped for!
Youre doing it, Mr. Genneth! Andalon said, with a smile. Youre doing it!
It was like playing the clarinet. And the more I realized the connection, the easier the navigation became.
I let Jed memories sweep us through the next cadence, out to a once upon a time in a caf on the Wharf, where a little boy giggled and burped as he gulped down orange soda, sweet and fizzy. Both the boy and his father greedily eyed the caramel apples they saw for sale in the cart of a nearby street vendor.
Jed remembered it with nostalgia and longing. And we all felt it. He didnt have many more memories of his father; illness had taken him before Jed had even turned fifteen.
And we all felt it.
Thats what love tastes like, Ileene, Jeds spirit said. It tastes like orange soda and caramel apples in a lunch with Dad on an afternoon by the sea. Treasure your moments, your memories. Theyre gems.
And Babs felt it, and wept.
I wish I could have met your father, Jed. Hes But she couldnt bring herself to say it, but she didnt need to. We all knew what had been going through Babs mind. Jeds memories showed the kind of father shed always wished her own to be.
Robert Plotksy died of chronic Engoliss disease. And though Jed and his mother were spared Roberts fate thanks to swift treatment by benznidazole, the agonizing questions raised by his death would not be so easily felled. The man was loving and faithfulin every sense of the world; there was no logical reason for Jeds father to have contracted the sexually transmitted condition.
More memories trickled out from Jeds spirit. We watched a scene from a little over a year ago. Jeds trembling hands reached for a paper notebook hed stumbled across at the bottom of a forgotten box among Robert Plotskys belongings. The notebooks yellowed pages held the one and only diary entry his Jeds father ever wrote.
We all felt the tightness in Jeds chest as he read the words and learned the truth.
At the age of thirteen, Robert had been molested by a priest: Father Nicholas Borkly. With a bit of research, the riddle of Roberts death was unraveled: Father Borkly had succumbed to Engoliss disease several years before Roberts passing. The circuit was complete. Yet it brought the opposite of consolation.
And then, only a few months later, Ileene ran off to join the Innocents.
The memories coming off Jed thickened, the rivulets coalescing into a stream. The symphony rose, passing through the dark night of these souls. I let the memories take the lead, and the scene changed again. We found ourselves in the depths of a Church, floating above a vivid marble floor. Shadow, Light and stained Light intermingled in the Churchs quietude, disturbed only by the resonant whispers of Jed and his priest. Jed and the Father sat among the pews; Mr. Plotsky had invoked the rite of Surceasea kind of counseling, if you will, only with theology instead of psychology.
Jeds voice got caught in his throat, mixed with the thick spit that curdled on his tongue. He felt guilty at disturbing the Churchs hallowed stillness. Jeds instincts told him bringing this terrible trouble to the Church was almost tantamount to blasphemy. But he had to speak.
I couldnt escape the pain, Jed said, in the now. Even here, his spirit trembled. I dont know what hurt more: the abuse my father had suffered, or the fact that the abuse was covered up. The Church cared more about its stature and its reserves of land and treasure than the holy Light vouchsafed it by Angel, Beast, and Queen. His spirit quavered. The Church was supposed to make us better people. It was supposed to help, not harm.
Father, Jed asked, in the memory, why did my Dad have to die? Why did he he trembled, why did the Moon punish him for having been molested? He didnt deserve Engoliss! He was a good man. Why how could the Godhead allow something so awful to happen? Its evil! The man who did this to him was free to live as he pleased. The people that protected and enabled him have not been brought low. How can the Church claim honor when it has none to hold?
The symphony plunged into fugue.
The moment duplicated itself. A second image superimposed itself atop the vision of Jeds past. A different church, a different priest, and a different believerand, yet also the same.
We saw Babra on the verge of defeat.
Mother, she said, asking her priest, my daughters mind has been snuffed out. She was the candle of my life, and now shes darkened, forever. I want to know why, Babs pleaded. Why did the Angel let this come to pass?
Mrs. Plotsky wept, both then and in the now.
My father, she said, he says it was punishment. Ileene hadnt lived a life of faith, and so she was brought low, and that Im to blame. Do you know what its like to hear that? I dont care if its true or notwell, I do care, she shuddered, but I just cant
Oh God.
Do you know what its like to be told, as a mother, that its your fault that these evils came upon your house? Its not like I didnt try to instill virtue in her. Its all Ive done. All Ive ever done has been to bring her closer to the light of love and goodness. She wept tears like a bleeding wound. Thats all Ive done for everyone. Im trying to do whats right and bring joy where I go. But she shook her head, why would the Angel let my works amount to nothing?
Why? the voices asked.
Then the third voice joined the round.
We saw Ileene, burdened with life in a world that never seemed to give her a fair chance.
I keep trying to choose the right, Father, she said, to follow the good. But its never enough. I dont understand. I always end up getting sold short. Why does this happen to me? I didnt ask to be made, Father. I didnt ask to live. I didnt ask to be broken. Why would the Angel make us so broken and miserable? Its not right.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Why? the voices asked.
Then the priests responded. Their answers layered atop one another, fugue matching fugue. Their words echoed through the serene emptiness in those churches of memory, like a spoken hymn.
Only the Godhead is perfect, they said. This world is full of pain and sorrow. It is a vale of tears, and we are to blame. Because of our disobedience and sin, the world is fallen and broken. We brought death and sin into the world. We separated ourselves from our Creator and His Will. There is no Evil here. What we call suffering are but shadows; the aches and pains of a world that has been broken off from the source of all Light, Truth, Goodness, and Beauty. No good thing can exist without God. Human beings made the world impure and unclean; the Godhead cannot dwell amidst corruption.
This is why your father died, Jed. It was no ones fault; no, we are all to blame.
But why? the spirits asked.
This is why your daughter suffered, Babra. It was not your fault. Not all will be saved. Those, like your daughter, who choose to reject the Angel and His Light consign themselves to the darkness. The Angel loves us; He will not twist us to make us love Him. That would be a terrible thing. All we can do is hope that Ileene chose the right before the final end, and chose to dwell in Paradise rather than cast herself into endless Night.
But why? the spirits asked.
Ileene, if your life seems broken and empty, it is only because you have not opened your eyes to the Truth of the Godheads Love. The Triun is all-powerful, all-knowing, and all-loving. They know all the possibilities. They cast us out, and break us, and show us our culpability so that we might know Their Power. They send us low so that They might reach out in Love to raise us high. We are pebbles in the river, my child. Marvel at the waters, Ileene. Surrender yourself to them. Open yourself to the Angels love. Surrender to Gods will, and God will make you whole. And through the Glory of divine might and goodness, you will come to know the Angel for yourself.
I was about to contradict the priests, myself, when Ileenes spirit rose above the tumult and spoke her truth.
I did open myself to the Angel, she said, in the now. I did surrender. Thats how her voice broke, thats how I lost everything. Her voice fell to a whisper. What happened to me was my fault and mine alone. So either the Angel couldnt save me, or her voice broke, He did not think me worthy of it.
Revulsion crawled up out of Babs soul, and we felt it. It clambered over our spirit-faces like flies and slime and rapsing slugs. Her daughters words were sacrilege. They assailed something beautiful; something immaculate. And we knew more: we knew why the woman felt the way she did.
Babra needed the Angel. With all that she had done, all the troubles she had caused, all the mistakes she had made she needed the Angel. God was the only one left who could still love her. If there was no Godhead to love her, she would be forever alone, unloved and un-known.
Words rose up to the surface, words Babra had learned long, long ago. The Godhead does not punish us; by rejecting Its Love, we punish ourselves, cutting ourselves off from the source of all Light and Goodness. The Angel respects our choices. He does not force those to be with Him who dont wish it; that would be agony for them.
If that were true, I said, speaking at last, calming the fugue, if we really are broken beings in a broken world, why not let us stay in this mess of ours following death? Why not let us be reborn? Maybe we might finally learn our lesson. Why do we have to suffer above and beyond what life already forces us to endure? If the Godhead is everywhere, and if It can tolerate mankinds fallibility while we live, why not also in death, as well?
And then, words came from my memories.
My son, as much as it pains meas much as I wish it werent truethe revelation of scripture is absolute. For her obstinacy, your sister will suffer torment without end. This is the fate in store for all of us who spurn Gods free offering of Love, and it is as terrible as it is inevitable. No good can come except from God.
Dana had been an atheist for as long as I could remember. In the wake of her death, such had been the words in the mouths of the priests who tried to console me, and instill newfound faith in the ordinances of the divine that supposedly kept the world whole. They said Dana was going to suffer, because she had rejected Gods forgiveness.
Mercy isnt transactional, Id said. Love gives all, while asking for nothing in return. A gift that is withdrawn if it is not accepted and praised isnt really a gift at all. You give a gift to make someone happy, not to extol yourself. And to punish someone for not acknowledging a gift freely given? To make things worse for them than they already are? Thats not love, its manipulation, and its not forgiveness either; its graft and cruelty.
Babras spirit was aghast. How could you say that?
Maybe because he thinks its true? Jed said.
We all felt Babras loss and confusion. Jed?
Jed felt it; he wanted to stop it. And so, he did.
I stopped believing a while ago.
What? Jed? You
And when Jed answered, we all felt his words the way he felt them. Wife and daughter lost their subjectivity, if only for a moment.
When my father was a boy, Father Borkly raped him, his spirit said. Was that because Borkly was an evil man, or just a man plagued by evil? I dont know. I cant know. But my father did not deserve to die when he did, in the way that he did.
We saw and knew and felt Jeds agony as his father unbecame and wasted away. We felt terror at the mans meaningless rage; we knew the young sons torment as he watched his father dissolve into a meaningless tempest, vaulting between wild-eyed giggles and despair too deep for any kind word to break. We lived the young mans grief and as his father faded, immured by paralysis in the coffin his body had become.
No one deserves that, Jed said, not my father, not Prelate Zoster, not Nighttouched Sakuragi, nor Lassedite Athelmarch. That was when I realized the priests were wrongor, at least, that they werent right. Evil wasnt an absence of good; the world wasnt forsaken. The bug that caused Engoliss disease existed long before human beings came onto the scene. Our world isnt fallen, nor has it ever been exalted. It just was. It is what it is. Free will isnt really free at all if it is allowed to break things, but is denied the possibility of fixing them. Thats why my fathers fate hurts so much, Ileene. Thats why thats why your fate hurts so much.
The grown man cried a ghosts tears.
The world is what it is, he said, but we dont have to be. We dont have to be selfish. We dont have to be cruel. Its a choice, and its one where we actually can choose the right.
Daddy?
We felt the child in Ileene reach out. Her fingers grazed our hearts, gracing them with her yearning. Turning, Jed stared at his daughter, seeing her as if for the first time.
I didnt know youd felt so lost, Ileene. For what its worth, he said, in your mother did choose the right, in the end, and in a way that really, truly mattered.
Now came the coda. The swell. The radiance and the glory.
Twin streams of memory flowed from Babra and Jed, filling gaps in their daughters knowledge. I didnt have to lift a finger. They were doing it on their own!
I smiled at Andalon, and she smiled back at me.
We watched through broken eyes as the fragile invalid was rolled out the hospital to meet them. We wept cold sunshine with them as they gazed at the slack-jawed puppet perched atop the wheelchairs seat and realized the haunted, crumpled thing before them had once been their daughter. Their wrinkled, stinking hands were one with ours as they lifted Ileenes body out of soiled diapers and carried her into the bath and gently cleaned her with soap that smelled of blueberriesher favorite fruit. We walked with them through the park at Dressfeldt Court and across the city, watching Ileenes empty eyes look up in befuddlement at the dance of sunlight through the cypresses and the palm trees. The Plotskies had forsaken Mass and Unction that weekend. Rain was expected to fall not long after noon. They would have preferred to have bothto renew the Bond through the Suns Holy Light, and to spend a day with their daughter, having fun, but not all possibilities come to pass. So they had to choose, and they did, and no matter how much guilt Babra felt at skipping Unction, something told her that things would be alright, somehow.
But but but
Ileenes spirit stammered, not believingbut desperately wanting to.
Babra answered her daughters need. A memory surfaced from her. It was a recent one; one of Babs talking to her father on a videophone call through the console mounted on the wall by the kitchen sink. The memory was like a door opening; banal, almost unworthy of notice. And yet, it was everything.
The kettle whistled atop the kitchen stove. Babs was looking forward to some strawberry peach tea. Shed just finished loading Ileenes soiled clothes into the washing machine.
And her father called. Yans face groused through the console on the wall, by the sink.
What are you doing now, Babs? he asked.
She answered him, explaining how the lobotomy had left Ileene incapable of caring for herself. For Babra Plotsky, taking care of her daughter was now her round-the-clock job.
You know, Babs, the old man replied, clicking his tongue, this he shook his head, this is not a good life you have for yourself. I wish you could have done better, Babs. It makes me look like a fool of a father. A failure of a man.
Babra turned off the fire on the stove and then stood in the middle of the kitchen, facing the console, and then took a deep breath.
Deddy for so long, I tried to make you proud. I tried so hard, and her voice broke, because of that because of me, a tear crystallized in her eye, Im never going to hear my daughter laugh ever again. Im never going to see her smile.
Her words were definitive; exhausted, but definitive. Every last straw had broken a thousand times over. Her words passed through the consoles speakers to the failure of a father staring back at her through the liquid crystal window. He heard every single word. They went in through one ear, and out the other.
Ileene made her choice, Yan said. She threw away her health for sake of heretics. And now is too late. She died in sin, and she will freeze in darkness.
At that moment, in the memory, Yan Peshka ended the call. But, for once, Babra didnt step aside. Instead, she rose to the occasion. It was a simple thing; simple and clear, but it was golden and brilliant. It was a eucatastrophe; it was dissonance resolved. It held Illeenes soul spellbound
In the memory, Ileenes mother called her father. She wasnt going to let him have the last word.
As Yan Peshkas face popped back onto the console screen and grumbled What is it?, Babras spirit reached into the memory and grabbed hold of her bitter pater and pulled him out of the memory and into the present. He was an insubstantial creature; a memory of a memory of a memory, photocopied into an ugly oblivion that matched the grotesquerie within his heart. She glared at him with anger, but only for a moment, because it quickly melted into bitter pity.
The man had had a hard life. That wasnt his fault, just like it wasnt his fault that he was awful and cruel.
But
It was his fault that he did not care. It was his fault that he did not try to be better.
His and his alone.
In the now, she tore through him, her hand morphing into a great feline paw, its claws unfurled. The malicious specter broke up and disappeared, sliced to ribbons.
In the memory, Babra stepped forward, finally rising to the occasion.
Ileenes spirit flamed.
Deddy, Babs words echoed through the memory, I didnt have the courage to say this then, but I should have. She pursed her lips. Youre an asshole. Youre a viper. And youre a shit father. Im sorry for having hoped you could have been better. The love I thought I wanted was the love I could never get, and she barely held back a sob, The love I thought Id lost was the one I should have listened to, and embraced.
I swear, Mrs. Plotskys next words made the sky split in two.
I just wish Ileene could hear me say this. But now she never will. And then she ended the call.
M Mama? Ileene was all eyes and mouths at that moment. All were gaping and wide. You. You told him off? She shivered. I never I never, ever thought youd
He deserved it, Babs replied. Ileene, Im so sorry. Im so, so sorry.
We returned to the patio in the balmy night.
Ileenes form precipitated out from the aether. Her mothers words painted her back into existence by her mothers words.
She wept. I I miss my baby. Ileene tottered about on her feet. I wanted to be a mom.
Jed Plotsky melted into view.
Babra inhaled sharply, smiling through her tears. I think you would have been a wonderful mother.
Mama Mommy Im sorry, Im so sorry
And weeping, the family embraced, to be parted nevermore.
77 - O glaube, mein Herz, o glaube
Chapter 77 - O glaube, mein Herz, o glaube
The Plotskies night of quiet desperation dissolved brick by brick, until we were left floating in the void. Andalon had dissolved, as had I. I was the void, and the void was me. The Plotskies, too, had changed. Transfigured. The scales fell from their souls. They did not shed their bodies, so much as they absorbed them, shrinking into a triune stillicide of light and love. Their life-pain was still there, and it always would bebut, like their souls, it had been transfigured. Now, it was but one voice in a greater harmony, and it ruled them no longer. The souls refulgence shone upon the darkness, slowly rising higher. But this was not midnights darkness. It was the last breath before the smile of a new dawn.
Andalons words reverberated through me.
You build worlds for them in your head, and thats where theyll be, forever, safe and sound, instead of in Hell with the darkness.
I wanted that for them. The Plotskies had suffered enoughbut Id be lying if I said I knew how.
You just do it, Mr. Genneth, Andalon said, I know you can!
But how?
You go! she answered, gleeful and encouraging. Andalon didnt need a body to shine.
I spent a moment in thought, pondering the vistas of this familys life, but only a moment. I chose one almost instantly. It was a no-brainer. Call me presumptuous, but I was pretty sure I knew what would comfort them most, and that was because it was the same thing that I wanted.
To go home.
Id seen the Plotskies home in a memory, but I didnt dare send them to that painful recollection. Instead, I took the memory and fashioned from it something that was old and yet new. The scene reified one layer at a time. The void brightened as it turned the bluea windswept sky. The brightness unified and ignited, shining tender, mid-morning sunlight through the drifting clouds and over the grassy hills and the glittering seaside as the land unfurled from the line at the horizon
A home coalesced in front of the Plotskies. Its architecture was just at the edge of the old new, and had been built with love.You could see it in the roofs bold, blue, barreled tiles, and in the lathe-and-plaster walls that held them up, the color of honeyed cream. You could see it in the ornaments dibbled along the walls: a grid of tiny niches; here, a round windowa porthole for the skythere, a diamond window, in the middle of the veranda. Floral patterned tiles framed the garages rickety old door. Grand windows on the main wall let the sun peer in and greet the family as it faced a new day.
The rest of the neighborhood quickly filled in. It started with the adjacent properties and then spread in an outbound wave. The details became fuzzier with the distance, just like in the memories from which Id pulled them.
In a moment, I stood before the Plostkies once more. Within this mental realm, their forms were now fully physical, though they differed from the ones Id known. They all looked a little younger, Babs and Jed most of all; they must have shed a decade, each. Standing there left me feeling a bit lightheaded. I wasnt just seeing with my mental bodys eyes, I saw the mind-world as if through the Angels eyes. Every nook and cranny of their home was clear to me, inside and out, and all at the same time.
The neighborhood was rife with tall trees. It was a potpourri of species and scents: cypress and cedars, dogwoods and elms. Birds chirped peacefully on the branches. The sunny breeze soughed the through the leaves and needlesa soft serenade.
The Plotskies looked at themselves, and then at one another, and then at their surroundings, and thenat lastat me.
Did you do this? Ileene asked. She couldnt quite believe it.
I nodded, chuckling nervously, running my fingers through the hair at the back of my head. I guess I did. I fidgeted my lucky bowtie.
Andalon watched the proceedings attentively, though not without shyness. Shed set up a highly defensible positionstanding right behind meand she was constantly peeking out and around from my legs.
I met Ileene in the eyes, stammering. I uh I made this for you, I said. You can live your lives here. You can be happy. I nodded. I spread my arms, showing off my construction. Welcome to, um the afterlife.
It was a beautiful day. But, as beautiful as it was, save for us, it was empty.
That wont do.
Its kind of empty, isnt it? It was Mr. Plotskys voice, but it took me a second before I realized he hadnt said anything at all. Those had been his thoughts.
Im hearing his thoughts?
Id need to figure out how to change the settings responsible for that.
But, first things first.
As long as I was going to be playing god, I might as well give the Plotskies some company. The results left much to be desired. Babs soft yelp of alarm made that painfully obvious, as did Ileenes poorly concealed snickering.
Beings had popped into place all across the land. The best looked like statues pulled out from a river after a thousand years erosion by the current. Others were beveled, faceted like gems. The shoddiest of my creations looked like stick figures in dire need of a diet. These pseudo-people went about their day, speaking to one another in hackneyed niceties, walking pets that didnt always look like dogs. I was pretty sure I saw a giant green polygonal chicken walking down one of the more distant streets, and I had no intention of exploring whatever part of my psyche was responsible for it. That could wait for another day.
There, I said, trying to sound resolute, now youve got some company, in case you want it. Briefly, I averted my eyes.
I felt inadequate.
Andalon poked out from behind me. You did good, Mr. Genneth. Focus on the poslitives.
The positives, eh?
You can watch any of your favorite movies or shows, and any ones that Ive seen, I said. I scratched the back of my head again, and then bowed. I apologize in advance if things look off, or if surfaces have the wrong texture, or if the NPCs feel stale. Im still new at this. If you need anything, just ask.
Wait, do they even have a way to ask? I guess it would be another item I could add to my to-do list.
Then Babra Plotsky stepped forward and pecked a kiss on my cheek, and all my bad feelings went out the window. I also blushed beet red.
You sweet, sweet man There were tears in her eyes. Thank you. She whispered. Thank you for giving me back my daughter. Babs turned to look at her husband and daughter. And thank you for giving my daughter back.
The other two Plotskies nodded in agreement.
Im sorry for calling you a demon, Dr. Howle, Ileene said. Then, stepping forward, the young woman bent down, slightlyresting her hands on the knees of her tomboyish jeansshe turned to Andalon.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!
The little hands brushed up against the back of my coat suddenly clenched tight.
Im sorry for attacking you. I was hurting. Ileene closed her eyes. I was afraid. I know its no excuse. She bowed her head. Thank you for helping us. I I hope youll forgive me.
Looking down, I watched Andalon lean out from behind me, her lips pursed in concentration. Then her eyes widened.
If Miss Leen takes Andalon to the Kware-ee-umm and tells Andalon about the spiky urch and all the swimmy stuffs, then she flashed a devious smile, maybe.
Ileene gave the blue-haired girl a wry smile. Maybe?
Andalon blinked and then looked up at me. Oh, and Mr. Genneth has to come. Thats important. Really, super porptant.
Ileene nodded. Its a deal!
Andalon got very, very excited after that.
There was something poetic in our trip to the aquarium. The trip ended up being one of those perfect days, the kind you write home about. After all the drama, nothing less would have sufficed.
Seeing Ileene in her element was a revelation, and not just for me. For the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Plotsky truly saw their daughter at her best, striving to become the person she yearned to be.
The hundredsif not thousands!of hours Ileene had spent at the aquarium made my work a cinch. I didnt need to build anything; I just plucked it all straight from Ileenes noggin. By the time we were finished, Id won Andalon a giant hummingbird plushie, which I had to hold for the rest of the day once Andalon got her hands on a plastic mug from one of the aquariums kiosks. The fruity slushie that filled itone of Ileenes favorite treatsgot rave reviews from Andalon, to the point that I was forced to make the mug eternally refilling. One very big mess later, I wised up and added the stipulation that the mug was incapable of spilling or overflowing. The end result was that Andalon was convinced that fruit slushies were superior to water in every way, and Ileene had a hell of a time trying to explain to the little spirit girl why sea creatures preferred to live in water, rather than in fruit slushies. Our day ended with the Plotskies disappearing with the aquarium right as they walked out through the entrance and away into the sunset.
I hadnt anticipated how much the experience would affect me. I saw Rale in Andalon. I saw Rayph and Jules in her, too. Our aquarium trip reminded me of what it had been like, back when I had only just begun my journey down the road of fatherhood. Compared to adults worries, a childs troubles seemed almost beautiful in their simplicity. Children didnt see the web of interdependencies that made everything complicated and horrible. I think that was why a childs pain was so potent. They had yet to be hardened; to them, every pain seemed like the end of the world. Being with Andalon at the aquarium reminded me of what it was like to live with that, and enjoy it vicariously. And, I longed for it. I missed the simplicity. I missed my family. I missed what it felt like to be with them. Maybe it was because Id been simpler back then, too.
Passing out of the darkness, I returned to the light and my changing body, which, through my doppelgenneth, Id guided back to Staff Lounge 3. I sat on the floor, on the rug, with my legs splayed out in front of me. The compartment of my hazmat suit which held my tail fit onto the sofa like a puzzle piece snapping in place
I felt like electric fire, or maybe burning electricity. It was pure exhilaration; the shimmering peak of an addicts high.
Andalon sat on the table, with her knees folded beneath her. She watched me with curiosity.
That was amazing I said, panting, even though I didnt need to.
It just felt right.
Andalon pleated the skirt of her perpetual nightgown with her dainty hands, smoothing it against her thighs.
What do you mean? she asked.
Psychiatry being a mind doctor, I mean I shook my head, Its a tricky business. If someones leg gets broken, you put them in a castmaybe screw some nails into their leg to hold the pieces of bone in place. If someone has tuberculosisthats a really nasty coughing diseaseyou inject some antibiotics into their heinie. But I chuckled, and then sighed, diseases of the mind are nowhere near as simple. Some conditions can be treated using pills, but that only helps up to a point, and, more often than you would like, it can cause weird new problems of its own. I shook my head. Even so, for every mental condition you can treat with a pill, there are two others that pills would barely faze. Theres no drug that can take away the pain of losing a loved one, though that certainly hasnt stopped people from trying. I could get a guru and use ayahuasca with a patient and take them on a journey through the Godheads eyes and hear all the colors of the rainbow, but that wont make the slightest difference in rehabilitating a sociopath who enjoys making others miserable. Then, there are people like Mrs. Elbock, for whom their troubles are written into their physiology; theyre treatable, but only in science-fiction. And, ugh, I sighed, letting my shoulders go slack, Holy Angel, I wish there was something you could do to help someone overcome a rotten upbringing.
It sounds like being a mind doctor is pretty hard, Andalon said.
I tilted my head. Its not brain surgerywell, sometimes it is, but Im not trained to be a brain surgeonbut I nodded, yeah, it is challenging. Thats part of why I like it. Easy progress isnt really worth mentioning. Its when you face something difficult that you get a chance to see something truly beautiful. And in the face of an impossible problem, even an atom of progress becomes precious beyond measure.
Andalon smiled. The expression was far more precious than Id thought it would be.
Youre happy right now, Mr. Genneth. I can tell. She nodded. I like it when youre like this.
As do I.
I looked up at the ceiling, through the visor of my torrid, air-baking hazmat suit.
What just happened, with Ileene and her parents. That really was amazing, I said. It makes every session of therapy Ive ever had look like a joke in comparison. I looked Andalon in the eyes. And I say that as someone whos been on both sides of the therapy chair. With something like this, I nodded, I think I really could make a difference. I could help people in ways I could never have dreamed.
I reached up with my arms. It feels good to help other people. I needed that, I really did.
None of the Plotskies deserved what had happened to them in their lives. They were good people. To say that good people suffered because of an absence of God was, I think, as much of an insult to God as it was to those who suffered. That was a pivotal reason why Id lost most of my faith after Dana died and then, all over again, after Rale. A loving God wouldnt turn its shoulder and look away at our heartache, and a powerful God could have made a world that had no need for such horrors.
My agnosticism wasnt born so much out of a disbelief in the divine as it was out of a failure to see why any God or Gods were worth believing in the first place. If people ended up having to do all the hard work ourselves, what was the point of having faith, other than to fill us up with fake hopes?
And yet
Old habits die hard.
I looked at Andalon. I know Ive asked this question of you before, I said, but I want to ask it again. Was what I did for the Plotskies was that what you meant by saving people?
Andalons expression turned pensive. Clearly, the issue of saving peopleand or my feelings about itstill troubled her greatly.
The darkness takes people away, forever, she said. I dont want that.
You really cant stop them from dying, can you? I asked.
She shook her head. All I can do is keep them from getting lost forever and ever.
But she added, after lowering her head to think of the right word, you can heal them.
A tear trickled down my cheek.
If the rest of this wyrm business is anything like this I I dared to smile, I think I might be able to get used to that.
She beamed at me. Really? opening her mouth in delight.
And I nodded.
I couldnt quite believe it, either, but what can you do?
Andalon leapt on me and hugged me tight, brushing her cheek against the chest of my green hazmat suit. And she didnt phase through.
I could heal them. I could heal the damaged souls. It was a win for me. It wasnt the one I was looking for, but it was one Id eagerly take. I could help them. I could give them the kindness, wisdom, and understanding that life denied them. That the Godhead denied them.
I wept. Tears trickled down my clammy cheeks.
I wished I could have stopped death, but I couldnt. I couldnt stop the Green Death from killing. But I could give its victims peace. I could help them understand that they had not lived for nothing. And that was better than nothing.
I glanced down at Andalon, and she looked up at me.
Im still angry with you for turning me into a wyrm, you know?
She pouted.
But if I can use these powers to help people my voice broke, Even if its only after their deaths I sighed, thats better than nothing.
Andalon batted at my arm ineffectually. I ran my gloved fingers through her sky-blue hair, and she giggled.
There were still so many questions I wanted answered.
What was Andalon? Was the Godhead real, or was Andalon the best humanity was going to get? And if my religion didnt have it right, who did? Or were we all just clueless wanderers, fumbling through the dark?
I didnt know, though I wanted to.
All I knew, for certain, was the reality of my own experience: what I felt; what I lived through. And, really, in the end, wasnt that what faith is all about? Believing, despite the questions?
No matter what, I wanted to be on the side that helped people. As the world shifted around me and within me, knowing that I was making a difference for the better was really the only assurance I had left. And, when the world was ending, assurance was precious beyond measure.
Andalon? I said, softly.
She looked up at me. Yes, Mr. Genneth?
Its been a while since I had faith in, well anything but I think I bit my lip, I think I might be willing to make an exception. Ill help you. I want to help you save people from the Darkness.
There was a pause.
What is faith? she asked.
That was a very good question. I pondered it for a moment before giving my answer: It means I think your hopes are ones worth believing in, I said.
Then she hugged me all over again, smiling wide.
Interlude 2.1 - Ist um mich her ein wildes Brausen
Yamago-sensei tightened his grip on the handle mounted on the bus ceiling. Here it is, everybody, he said. Fire Valley Gorge! Youll see it on your left. With his other, free hand, the junior high school teacher pointed out the window.
From where he sat further back in the bus, the sound of the words Fire Valley Gorge made Himichi Kosuke look up from what he was drawing on the tablet computer in his lap.
Wow
The boys jaw went slack.
It really did look like fire.
Autumn blazed across the gorges jagged slopes in the swaying leaves of maples and ginkgo. The leaves painted crags in blood-red and gold. Stiff cedars poked up here and there, proud and green. It was early evening on Fire Valley Gorge, and this far into the wilderness, light pollution at all, so there was nothing to compete with the stars as they bedazzled the twilight sky. It was a grand view, and, in a matter of minutes, it would get even grander.
The bridge was just up ahead.
Yamago-sensei continued his explanation. The truss arch bridge looks wonderful this time of year. Yes, well be talking more about it on tomorrows visit to the Ediyaki Museum of Architecture, but theres still nothing quite like seeing it for yourself.
The Fire Valley Bridge was a sleek, grand arch that straddled the gorge, seemingly woven from slender metallic tubes that threaded earth and sky.
The bridges red paint was chosen to match the maple leaves in autumn, Yamago-sensei said. There was actually talk back in the day of painting it gold, like these branching ginkgo trees, but eventually the red was chosen, as it was more auspicious.
A familiar elbow nudged Kosuke from his left.
You know, if you squint, Hajime said, the bridge kinda looks like a red string. He grinned. You got any girls in mind, Kosuke?
Across the aisle, one of the girls groaned. Is there ever a time you arent thinking about getting into someones pants, Hajime?
Hajime turned to look. What? He smirked. You interested in the Haj? he said, pointing his fingers at his chest.
Aimi blushed bright red. Her gaze locked onto the aisle floor and stayed there.
For as long as he could remember, Kosuke had been friends with Hajime, to the point that they were in each others earliest memories. Hajime liked to say it was their moms fault; their mothers had been college roommates, and, even now, they continued to workcurrently, as software engineers for Monimegamuch to the chagrin of Kosuke and Hajimes dads. As the story went, apparently, they became friends when Kosukes motherSetsunahad helped Hajimes mom get her purse after it had fallen onto the subway tracks. To this day, mother went on and on about how shed have gotten herself killed if the more limber Setsuna hadnt been there to give her a hand.
The two boys had taken to one another just as well as their moms had, so much so that strangers were often surprised to learn they werent brothers. Part of the reason for this, Kosuke figured, was because they fit the stereotype of what a pair of brothers should be: they were perfect complements for one another. Hajime was short and stout, while Kosuke was tall and lithe. Kosuke screwed up long division on a regular basis; Hajime kept asking Kosuke for help with remembering his kanji. Kosuke was quiet, while Hajime was loud; Kosuke worked by feeling; Hajime, by logic. Hajime liked first-person shooters; Kosuke liked RPGs. Kosuke liked walks and rock climbing; Hajime liked kendo and tennis.
Between you and me, as Hajime liked to say, we cover all the bases.
So, when Yamago-sensei was assigning students seats for the day-long bus ride to Ediyaki, there was no doubt as to where hed put the dynamic duo.
The road had been winding along the cliffside for several kilometers, and though the view had been spectacular all the way through, Fire Valley Gorge still managed to impress. Beyond the highways guardrail, the gorge plunged down to a narrow, stony riverbed. Had it been Spring or Summer, the river would have been broad and murky, but now, with Winter around the corner, the river had shrunk to a trickle. But once Winter came and went, the snowmelt would rush down the mountains and fill the gorges pebbly channels anew.
The teacher continued his lecture. There, right above the bridge; thats the Clawpeak.
The mountain was unforgettable. Standing a head taller than all the others on its range, it really did look for all the world like a gigantic beasts claw extruding from the earth. Erosion had done little There was barely any erosion on it, except for striations on its side and, of course, where the pointed tip had broken off.
Legends tell that these mountains are the Fire Orochis burial ground, Yamago-sensei said. According to tradition, the Great Wheat God sealed the fire-spitting dragon beneath the earth; the volcanoes, hot springs, and earthquakes are said to be the Fire Orochi stirring in the depths.
A hand shot up near the back of the bus.
Yes, Osamu? Yamago-sensei pursed his lips in concern.
Osamu pushed his glasses up along the bridge of his nose. The setting sun caught the lenses, making them into shining disks. The brightness contrasted starkly with the boys pitch-black, bowl-cut hair. Actually, Osamu said, among contemporary geologists, the current consensus is that the Clawpeak is the remnant of a volcanic plug.
Yamago-sensei barely suppressed his groan. Thank you, Osamu
Kosuke knew for a fact that Yamago-sensei thought that conclusion was balderdash, and that the truth was far wilder than anyone might have imagined. His teacher was never one to pass up a good story.
Hajime whispered into Kosukes ear. Do you think Osamus going to be like this the whole trip?
Its what hes usually like, so, yeah, Kosuke nodded, of course.
Kosuke knew in advance that this field trip was going to be the longest uninterrupted stretch of time hed spent with his classmates to date, so hed been expecting to receive a triple dose of their usual quirks.
Kosuke had been in the same classes as Ishioka Osamu since elementary school. He got perfect scores on everything, and was already taking classes at Noyoko University. According to legend, Osamu knew all the kanjiand Kosuke was inclined to believe it.
Ow! Aimi snapped. Watch it, Moriko!Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
Kosuke saw Aimi duck down as Moriko waved a smartphone over her seat-mates head.
Im trying to get the wi-fi signal, Aimi, she said. Its not my fault the reception out here fucking sucks.
Moriko, language Yamago-sensei chided.
She groaned. Sorry, Yamago-sensei.
Moriko was the president of the computer science club; in fact, she was one third of the computer science club. She probably had more electronics stuffed into that backpack of hers than everyone else in Class 23 combined; that, and chewing gum. Strips of her hair were dyed blue. Kosuke thought it made a good match for her green beret. The girl sitting next to her, Aimi, was the class drama queen, as well as Hajimes on-again off-again girlfriend; Hajime loved how much of a tsundere she was, and was probably the only person in the class who felt that way.
One of Kosukes life-goals was to get his best friend to stop using animanga terminology in real life. He seriously doubted it would ever come to fruition, but that didnt stop him from trying.
Could you please keep it down? Hiro groaned, Im trying to sleep. I was up late last night.
You are always trying to sleep, Hiro, Osamu said.
Well, I stay up late a lot. Not everyone gets their homework done as quickly as you do, Osamu.
The ride had been like this since theyd boarded the bus in the morning, and would probably continue throughout their four-day field trip to Ediyaki. Though Noyoko-Tensoka Junior High School offered several multi-day field trip experiences for its student body, everyone agreed that the Ediyaki trip was the best of them all, so much so that rumors of its wonders percolated down through the grade levels, all the way to elementary school. Kosuke had been dying to go on it for years, andfinallythe dream was coming to pass.
Sure, Noyoko had its fair share of old architectureespecially the world-famous Tokuwatsu Palacemuch of the smaller scale stuff had been lost to earthquakes and time. The same could not be said of Ediyaki. From the Sado clans ancient hot-spring temple to Daiist holy sites like the Sunken Way or the Waterfall of Awakening and the old houses clustered on dirt-paved streets, the whole cityif not the whole Prefecturewas like one big museum; a time capsule, just waiting to be explored. If they had time, theyd even get to seeand taste!hand-harvested sea salt from Ediyakis centuries-old salt-farms. The city and its people were just like the salt: no matter how much history raked its maguwa over them, they never went away. Also, Monimega had its headquarters in Ediyaki. The importance of that fact could not be overemphasized.
Having gotten his fill of the scenery, Kosuke returned to the drawing he was making on his tablet.
I can use the landscape for my next sketch.
Kosuke liked drawing; probably even like liked. Sure, as an infant, hed grabbed the coin instead of the paintbrushmuch to his fathers delightbut fate had other plans, allotting him an innate skill with drawing at the expense of any mathematical finesse. The unending enmity shown to Kosuke by the multiplication table had dashed his fathers dreams of him being a well-to-do salaryman accountant. To add insult to injurynot that Kosuke was ever going to let his father hear itKosuke wasnt even sure if he would ever try to make a career out of it. He was thinking about possibly going into teaching.
Yamago-sensei certainly enjoys it.
Even if it wasnt going to be a career, that didnt stop Kosuke from enjoying drawing for its own sake.
Kosuke regularly drew things, often highly imaginative things. Importantly every once in a whilesuch as when on a day-long bus rideKosuke would draw a kaiju, out of sheer impulse. Maybe it was because hed been obsessed with kaiju ever since he was little. If his Dad was to be believed, his parents had been forced to subscribe to the Noei studios streaming service just so toddler-Kosuke could satisfy his obsession with watching Dorago over and over again. Or, maybe it was just because he thought they were cool.
Or both. It could be both, he thought.
Todays kaiju was a cross between several different creatures which Kosuke had picked more or less at random. Its main feature was a big, bulky tortoise shell, adorned in wicked spikes that matched the ones at the tip of its thick tail. Its body was covered in a mix of long, fibrous golden furgolden like the ginkgo leavesand tough, dully cyan scales, thickening to bony scutes on its chest and belly. Most of the fur was dorsally locatedon the back of the tail, between the head and the clavicle, on the outer part of the upper arms, and backs of the lower legs. The scales covered everything else, save for a feathery, blood-red mane on the top of its head and the back of its neck. Along with its fearsome claws, Kosuke had topped off the kaijus wolf-lizard head with two spiraling horns, like oxs, only pointing forward. The drawing showed the monster being shot at by hovering aerostats as it climbed up the Tokuwatsu Palace. The beast swat away its attackers with its claws.
Leaning forward, Hajime stared down at the tablet in Kosukes lap, stretching his blue blazer a bit more than the school uniform was designed to handle in the process. Wow! Thats gotta be your best one yet!
Eh its okay, Kosuke replied. I think I could have done a better job with the feathers, and I kinda cheated by tracing the palace from a stock photo online.
Dude, though, yeah, there are a lot of things on the list of things that are just okayyour math skills, my writing skills, Morikos social skills
Hey! Moriko quipped, drawing Hajimes attention.
Hes kind of right, you know, Aimi said.
Hajime turned back to face Kosuke. Those things are just okay. He tapped Kosukes tablet. But this? Hajime shook his head. This is not one of them. Its a fricken masterpiece, Kosuke. You gotta believe in yourself more, Kosuke. Im gonna say it again: you should start making a manga. Itd be great!
Believing in myself wont get others to believe in me, Kosuke said, with a sigh. And I couldnt make manga. I wouldnt have anything interesting to write about.
Yamago-sensei, Hana asked, when are we going to stop to eat?
Soon, Hana. Soon.
Hana was the biggest, tallest, strongest person in class. Despite that, she was rather soft-spoken. She kept her hair done in a long braid.
You said that an hour ago,Hana replied. Eating late is gonna mess up my work-out routine.
Hana, youll get plenty of exercise walking around the
Out of nowhere, Kosuke heard something unlike anything hed ever heard before:
mwirrmwirrmwirrmwirrmwirrmwirrmwirrmwirrmwirrmwirrmwirr
It was deep and atonal, like a chant, only one sung by voices that were not voices. It started softly and grew louder, agonizingly loud. Kosuke closed his eyes and plastered his hands on his ears, but still the sound rose, rattling his bones and crawling through his skin, unbound by natures laws. It reached a fever pitch.
Kosuke gasped. His body spasmed. His tablet fell out of his hands and onto the floor.
I cant breathe. I cant breathe!
He felt like he was drowning.
Kosuke, whats wrong?! Hajime shouted.
Kosuke yelled for help, but the sound wouldnt come.
Yamago-sensei came over to the seat as quickly as he could, but by the time the teacher arrived, the sound had died back down seconds later.
Whats wrong with Kosuke!? Aimi asked.
Kosukes heart raced in his chest. His breaths were hot and heavy.
I I
Can you breathe? Yamago-sensei asked, leaning over the seat.
Clenching his fists, Kosuke blinked in confusion. Slowly, his breaths calmed.
I gulping, he nodded. Yeah, I can.
What happened? Hajime asked.
Kosuke stared at the two of them, jaw agape. You youre telling me you didnt hear that?
Didnt hear what? Yamago-sensei stood up tall in the aisle.
Then, something spoke. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once. It spoke without words: a deep, resonant growl, impossibly loud. Everyone screamed.
The earth shook.
And then everything broke. So much happened. Too much.
Trees shivered. Birds took wing. The Fire Valley Bridge jiggled like a jump rope. The road rollicked beneath their seats. With a shriek of skidding wheels on the asphalt, the bus veered to the left, slamming into the highways guard rail. Force plastered Hajime onto Kosuke, and Kosuke onto the window seat wall, ripping his tablet out from his lap. Yamago-sensei fell.
He hadnt been holding a handle.
Metal crunched and snapped as the guard rail gave way, and then groaned as the bus careened off the cliff and plunged into the gorge. The world spun. Everyone screamed. Rock based against metal. Red, brown, green and gold whirled past the windows as the bus tumbled and rolled. Jagged slopes shattered windows. Kosukes seatbelt tore into him, rasping against his chest as gravity flung him with its jaws.
A tree loomed large on the windshield at the front of the bus like the nose of a golden rocket. Then, with a hideous crunch, everything stopped.
Interlude 2.2 - Ist um mich her ein wildes Brausen
Everything hurt.
Kosukes first reaction was to puke, but nothing came up.
The stillness was almost alien, like heat on frostbitten bones. All his senses were overloaded. A high tone rang in his ears. He was dizzy, and his head left like it weighed a thousand kilograms. Gravity was all wrong. Instead of keeping him in his seat, it tried to pull him out of it. Only his seatbelt strap, grinding into his chest, kept him from plummeting into the sky.
Wheres the floor?
Forward was down. Back was up.
Kosukes legs dangled beneath him. The bus sun-drenched brushed the underside of his legs, warming him through the seat of his uniforms pants.
He moaned.
Breath shot through Kosukes lungs. Fear raced through his blood. He had to get out. He had to get somewhere safe. Trying to free himself, he scrambled his legs, but that only succeeded in scraping his shoes against the ridged floor space that should have been underfoot, but wasnt.
Closing his eyes, Kosuke shook his head, as if this was just a bad dream. But then he looked around for a second time and realized that it wasnt, and, gradually, awareness dawned in him.
The bus wasnt the only warm thing against his body.
He looked to the side.
H-Hajime Kosuke muttered.
His friend was stuck with him, dangling from his seat. There was a laceration on his face, but, other than that, he seemed unharmed.
H-Hajime! Kosuke said, louder than before.
Hajime stirred. With a groan, he shook his head. What what happened?
There was an earthquake. I think we crashed?
Kosuke started to piece together what his senses were telling him.
It felt like he was stuck at the top of a roller-coasters loop-de-loop. The window beside him pointed forward rather than up. Looking out, he could see the side of the gorge. The dizziness was because he was upside down. Closing his eyes once more, Kosuke tried to visualize the bus position.
Thankfully, he was good at visualizing.
A pit sank into his stomach, though it wouldnt get very far, not with the way his seatbelt pushed into his chest. Everything hurt, but especially his chestand his neck.
Shit! Hajime cursed. Shit!
The bus was doing a handstand, precariously balanced atop its front. Its roof pressed flush against the ravines steep incline.
The backs of the seats ahead of Kosuke and Hajime now lay beneath the boys like steps on a staircase, descending away.
Knowing the position he was in helped make keeping his eyes open a little more tolerable, though it did nothing to stop the mounting lightheadedness as blood rushed to his head. Nor did it diminish the horror of what he saw.
Somewhere in the distance, a woodpecker hammered away at a tree trunk. It hit Kosukes head like a mallet.
The bus wasnt doing its handstand on its own. It had gotten help in the form of a massive branching ginkgo tree that had impaled the bus from the windshield nearly all the way to the emergency exit in the back.
It was a nightmare of red and gold. Blood dripped onto the trees branches and its golden, fan-shaped leaves, fresh from the fatal wounds the tree had torn into several of Kosukes classmates. The fluid trickled slowly, like a silent fountain, weeping its way down the massive branch down to a patch of unbroken windshield far below where it had begun to gather in a broadening pool.
The boy looked around, dazed and confused. A shell of faint lights seemed to swirl around him. He figured that meant he had a concussion.
Dont fall asleep! he told himself, dont fall asleep.
Kosuke shook his head again. He fought off the woozy feeling and the ringing in his ears. It was like the woodpecker had drilled a hole in his head. There were so many sounds. He couldnt shake them away. The engine hissed. The bus metal frame groaned and squeaked. There was a pressure coming from within Kosukes fingertips. For a second, he thought his digits would explode, but then he realized it was just his pulse racing through his veins.
And the screams
The voices hit him all at once. Kosuke felt like any one of them might be enough to knock the bus over.
No no no!
I dont want to die!
Help! Hellllllp!Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
And the smells
Fluid splattered. The bus creaking innards filled with the stench of fresh vomit and urine.
Grandma! Grandpa! I dont wanna die!
Saki! Reiko! Ryota! Theyre dead! Theyre dead!
Kosuke turned his head. Gravity strained his neck. He couldnt see much ahead or behind him.
Everybody, shut up! someone yelled. Nobody move! The speaker was trying to sound commanding. It would have helped if his words werent trembling in fear.
Koji? Moriko said. Isis that you?
Of course its me! Koji said.
Honda Koji was the vice-president of the Student Council for second years, and was the closest thing Class 23 had to a celebrity.
Not that it mattered now.
What happened to Yamago-sensei? Osamu said. I cant see him!
Kosuke couldnt see their teacher either. From where Kosuke dangled between Hajime at his left and the window at the right, if he bent his head forward, he could see beneath the seats on the left side of the bus, but the view didnt go very far.
Oh no
Yamago-sensei! Hana screamed, Hes hes
There was a fluid-drowned cough. Kids you The familiar voice moaned in agony. Shards of glass tinkled as they fell away. you have to call for help
Multiple voices screamed: Yamago-sensei!
The drivers dead, and Im I Their teachers voice trailed into a pitiful gurgle that stopped a couple seconds later.
No! Aimi screamed, No!
Sobs broke out.
In the distance, another woodpecker hammered.
Can we get out through the windows? Kosuke asked.
No, Hana said. Were too high up; too close to the back of the bus.
Theres an emergency exit on the roof, Hajime said.
No! Koji yelled. Look at the roof: its nearly vertical! You want to end up like Yamago-sensei?
People! Moriko shrieked, were stuck on a fucking tree! If we move, we die. If the roots give way, we die.
Shit! Hiro said, crying openly. Shit! Were gonna die!
Shut up, Hiro! Koji screamed. Shut up!
Osamu wept. If theres an aftershock, the tree will likely give way, and the bus will
The bus wobbled side to side. Tree branches scraped against the windows. Metal creaked.
Everyone cried.
Multiple voices screamed: Shut up, Osamu!
Kosuke took a deep breath. The friction burn on his chest stung as his seatbelt jostled about.
Did anyone else hear that sound!? he said, in a yell.
W-What sound? Hajime asked.
It went mwirrmwirrmwirrmwirr, Kosuke said, getting louder and louder, and then quiet again. And then someone yelled. Im sure of it.
What the hell are you talking about, Himichi!? Moriko asked.
Oh, shit, Hana yelled. The blood is going to our heads. Were gonna have strokes!
Kosuke turned to his friend, who simply shook his head. II dont know, man. I didnt hear anything like that. Hajime winced and groaned. Dammit He fought back tears. Im seeing lights. I think Im brain damaged.
Kosuke stammered. L-Lights? He squinted his eyes and looked around.
The lights from before, they were still there. It was like an eggshell of faint pollen, glistening in the light of a sunset. It didnt stay in place, but instead moved and swirled.
He was about to mention it when Osamu brought up a far more important point: Does anyone have a phone?
Explanations in the negative went out all around. Hiro screamed that it wouldnt make a difference.
My tablet was Kosuke shook his head, it fell when we crashed.
It doesnt fucking matter! Moriko swore. Theres nothing we can do. The tree is going to give way. Its only a matter of time, then we die.
You talked about having a satellite phone, Aimi said.
Yeah, in my bag, which fell when we crashed. Its probably down on the windshield, past Sakis dead body, and Reikos and Ryotas, and her voice broke, Yamago-senseis and thats assuming it didnt fall through and break.
Aimi screamed and wept. I told you, Moriko. Dammit! I told you you should have stored it in the bins up top!
Aimi, Moriko snapped, the bins are over our heads. Were dangling from our seats like lampreys! Even if I had, we wouldnt be able to reach them!
The girls words planted a thought in Kosukes head. Were they not trapped in a bus speared on a ginkgo tree on the side of a ravine one hundred meters in the air, hed have dismissed the idea as crazy. But doing nothing meant certain death.
Earthquakes are often followed by aftershocks! Osamu said.
Most everyone screamed.
No, Kosuke said, hes right. If we dont do something, were gonna die for sure.
Kosuke rolled out his shoulders and stretched his limbs as best he could, flexing his legs a couple times, just to make sure they still worked properly. With his legs, Kosuke gripped the edge of the seat as tightly as he could, grunting as he tried to pull himself up with his legs.
Even a couple of centimeters would be a big help.
What are you doing? Hajime asked.
Im in rock-climbing club, Hajime, Kosuke explained. If I can land onto the back of the seat underneath us, I can try to climb down, one seat at a time. He glanced at the ginkgos trunk. Or maybe I could use the tree
In the south, the ginkgos grew tall and narrow. The northern species branched much like the maple trees. Climbing them was definitely feasible.
But
Kosuke looked Hajime in the eyes: Someone needs to get Morikos satellite phone!
W-What? Moriko screamed. Are you nuts!?
Probably, Kosuke said.
He took one last deep breath before pressing the release button on the seatbelt.
He hoped his ancestors were watching.
Kosuke yelped as he slipped out of his seat, reaching out with his arms and legs to stop his fall, only to land with a thud on the back of the seats immediately below, slamming his face onto the rough synthetic fabric.
Dude, are you okay?
Hajimes shout spritzed spit on the back of Kosukes neck.
Kosuke groaned. Please dont spit on me. He craned his neck back to look up at his friend.
Sorry, sorry, Hajime said, repeatedly bowing his head.
Slowlyconstantly looking over the edge to remind himself what was whatKosuke gently, carefully positioned himself on the back of the chair. He crawled across its back like a slug with legs, not stopping until hed fastened his grip to the bottom of the seat.
The metal groaned.
One wrong step, and he could send them all plummeting to their deaths.
For a moment, Kosuke leaned toward the branch of the branching ginkgo with his arm outstretched, weighing whether to descend it. But he decided against it.
I dont want to put any additional weight directly on the tree.
With a gulp, he crept over to the edge of the top of the seat and dangled his over, stretching them as far as he could go before he began his descent. He moved as carefully as he could, sliding his grip down the armrest one hand at a time. He wiggled his legs back and forth until the tip of one of his shoes made contact with the edge of the back of the next set of seats. It was like climbing down a giants ladder, step by steprung by rung. He tensed his legs as his feet landed on the seat below, terrified something would give way. For a moment, he held his breath, and didnt let it out until the sound of another woodpecker reminded him that he was still alive. The sound shocked him into looking down over his shoulder, and what he saw froze his breath at the back of his throat.
Yamago-sensei
Interlude 2.3 - Ist um mich her ein wildes Brausen
Class 23s affable, middle-aged teacher lay on the dashboard at the front of the bus, eerily still. His eyes and mouth were wide open. Through the bus windshield, where blood, bodies, and lost belongings had yet to pool, Kosuke could see the pebbly riverbed down below, past the treetops and the sloping rock.
Their teacher had been a geologist before going to work for public education. Research is a lonely business, the man liked to say, I much prefer teaching students, especially ones who havent lost their sense of wonder.
Yamago-sensei had been the one whod introduced Kosuke to rock-climbing. Even with a life-long friend in Hajime, Kosuke still had trouble with making friends, to say nothing of group activities. Yamago-senseis encouragement to join and participate in the junior high rock-climbing club had been one of those little things that had snowballed into a so very unexpectedly big thing that had made all the difference in Kosukes life. It taught him to speak louder, and not be afraid of crowds, and to have confidence in his own two feet. It brought an end to stage fright and the feeling that he was always half a world away from everyone else, dreaming by the window seat in the back of the class, forgotten to the world. His teacher had helped him learn to be less shy, more proactive in group projects, and to dare to talk to girls even when Hajime wasnt there to provide support.
And now hes gone.
Yamago-senseis blue eyes stared into the void, yet saw nothing, for they were empty and still.
Kosuke bit his lip. He sniffled and panted, pressing his face into his sleeve to daub up his tears so that his vision would stay clear.
He owed it to his teacher to see this through. He owed it to his classmates, and to himself, too.
With a shudder, keeping his gaze pointed straight aheadwhatever that meant hereKosuke slid his grip down along the armrest, lowering himself, inch by inch, trying not to think of the corpses below.
Kosuke was pretty sure hed figured out the rhythm of movements, but he couldnt hear it over the sound of his terror.
The bus creaked as a gust of wind blew through the ravine. The breeze found its way through some of the bus shattered windows. The bloody ginkgo leaves soughed like a swarm of butterflies taking flight.
And thenDaikenja preserve himKosuke made it to the bottom. The last step was the most petrifying of all. It was like stepping on a frozen lake, only this lake was glass and the right half of it was speared through by the ginkgo. Blood and belongings littered the area in a grisly display. Kosuke held onto the final chair for as long as he could, delicately pressing his foot onto the unbroken part of the glass to tense his leg and feel if the glass would hold if he let go. But his hesitation ended itself. The burning in his arms forced him to let go.
He closed his eyes as he dropped down the last half meter to the bottom, bracing himself for the sound of shattering glass and the brief feeling of weightlessness before he fell to his death in the ravine below.
But death didnt come.
He was on his hands and knees, tremblingterrifiedbut still so very much alive. The glass was slightly warm beneath his fingers. He thought he heard the tiniest cracking sounds.
Kosuke made sure to raise his head before he opened his eyes. He probably would have died of fear if he hadnt. Even so, the experience was still surreal beyond words. The glass was like a cloud beneath him. It would have been amazing if it wasnt so absolutely terrifying.
Kosuke crawled forward across the mound of bags and backpacks, mindful to keep his arms and legs as spread out as possible.
Blood dripped from the edges of the hole in the windshield. The tree rustled overhead. Bits of leaves and twigs slowly drifted down. Fallen bags and backpacks covered the windshield like scree. Fortunately, the pile was far away from the hole. Still, he had to be careful. One wrong step, and it was all over.
Eventually, Kosuke realized now would probably be a good time for him to say something. He looked up and spokethough he didnt dare yell.
I I made it.
Kosuke hardly believed his own words. But then he noticed something: the glistening light was still there. It had followed him, surrounding him like a fishbowl. It was faint, and barely noticeableit seemed to disappear altogether when it passed in front of the ginkgos golden boughsbut it was there.
Maybe it wasnt a concussion. He didnt know which possibility scared him more. But then Moriko yelled, and Kosuke snapped back to attention.
Get my bag! she said. The satellite phone is in it!
W-Which one? he asked.
The green one! Its got stars sewn into it.
Kosuke gasped as he let go of a breath he didnt know hed been holding. Morikos bag was already within arms reach, and didnt bear any obvious signs of damage. It also didnt weigh very much.
He shouted: Ive got it!
The sanest, safest thing would be to climb up off the windshield and onto the topthat is, backof the nearest seats. Kosuke tensed his legs, ready to climb.
Somewhere near the edge of his imagination, Kosuke was pretty sure he heard a crack. It was a potato-chip sound; the tiniest crunch.
He froze stiff.
Kosuke? Hajime saidbut Kosuke wasnt listening.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
No, he was thinking. Thinking and thinking, frantic and desperate. And thats when he realized it: how was he going to get back up? Hed need to stand on the glass with his full weight in order to do that.
I
Quietly, Kosuke let himself cry. He hadnt realized this was going to be a one-way climb. He clenched at the strap of Morikos bag. He felt nauseous.
Moriko, he said, hesitantly, please tell me what to do. He gulped. We dont have any time to waste.
Zip it open and get out the satellite phone, Moriko said. Its bright red, you cant miss itand press the power button.
Kosuke was about to do so when a couple drops of moisture fell onto his head and trickled down his neck.
He touched the fluid and looked at his fingers.
Blood.
Kosuke wiped it on the glass as he bit his lip.
You do know what a power button looks like, Moriko asked, dont you?.
Y-Yeah, I know what a power button looks like.
Moriko, Aimi said, youre being kind of a bitch right now. Kosukes the one whos saving our asses!
Shut up! Koji hissed. Shut up!
Kosuke had no trouble finding the satellite phone. It was the only red thing inside Morikos green, star-studded bag. It was larger than hed been expecting, and resembled the antique cellular phones people used when parents were his age. The red part of the phone was a shell of tough, protective plastic. Instead of a touch screen, it had an honest-to-goodness keypad, with hefty, rubbery buttons that sprung beneath his touch.
He pressed the power button. The backlight came on as the phone powered up.
It was working. It was working!
Is the backlight on? Moriko asked.
Yes, it is!
How many bars is it getting? she asked.
Three out of four, Kosuke said.
Kosuke glanced up as a couple cheers shot out from the bus. But only a couple.
He wished he could share them.
Out of the corner of his eye, Kosuke could have sworn he saw the shell of light brighten and expand. It was very brief, just a flash.
Ill figure it out later.
He craned his head up once more. Can I dial 119?
Yes! Moriko answered.
Nodding, Kosuke pecked the numbers, one after another.
Is there a speakerphone? he asked.
Yeah. Theres a switch on the side.
It took a bit of fumbling, but Kosuke found it and flicked it into position. Almost immediately, he frowned. Theres no dial tone!
Outsidesomewhere overheada bird screeched.
It doesnt have a dial tone, Kosuke! There should be green and red lights flashing alternately near the top; thats how you know its working.
I see them! Kosuke said, I see the
The phone chirped. It was a distressing sound, like an injured bird.
Text flashed across the illuminated screen:
Error 203, Network Overload.
It says Error 203, Kosuke said. Network overload. His words trailed off.
He was pretty sure that was a bad thing.
Shit! Moriko cursed.
The bus echoed with groans and cries of fear.
W-What does that mean, Moriko? Hajime asked.
It means what it says, Osamu said. There is too much traffic on the satellite network.
Everyone with a satellite phone must be trying to use theirs right now. Moriko said. Shit! This is bad.
Our bus got face-fucked by a tree a hundred meters above a ravine, Hiro yelled. Of course its bad!
No, Moriko said, I meant this wasnt just any earthquake!
Can you access the satellite internet, Moriko? Osamu asked, in between wretched groans.
Yes! she said. Yes, it can! Kosuke!
He shot his head up. What?
You need to get out my smartphone and use it to set up a mirror for the satellite phone, Moriko explained. My phone has star decals on the case. This means you need to go into the satellite phones system menu and turn on a LAN.
Kosuke started shivering. Lan? Mirror? II dont know what those are!
Calm down, Kosuke, Hajime said, just listen to Moriko.
How can you not know what a LAN is? Moriko said.
Well, I dont!
The bus creaked and groaned. Fragments of wood and rock sloughed off the ravines walls as the bus and tree tilted forward slightly. All of Kosukes classmates screamed.
Moriko tried to shout over the sounds of fear. Listen, Kosuke! Ill tell you the steps.
But what if I screw up? Kosuke asked.
What if I cause the bus to fall? What if I destroy the satellite phone or Morikos bag? What if I run out of time?
Kosuke wished his teacher was still alive.
You can do it, Moriko said. I believe in you. Ill go slow. Just calm down. If you can do something as complicated as drawing, you can certainly do this. I trust you.
And then Kosuke felt something pound in his chest. It was like his heart had slammed against his ribs. It was a shocking feeling. It shot up his arm like a lightning bolt, making his arms twitch, first the left, then the right.
The satellite phone fell from his grasp.
He felt heat. Incredible heat; it prickled; it maybe even crawled beneath his skin. It was like his veins were being pumped full of scalding hot industrial waste, or radioactive sludge, or churning magma.
Kosukes arm trembled uncontrollably.
The shell of light brightened and thickened. A two-meter wide orb came clear into view around him. It grew as it brightened, swelling into a spherical shell of swirling particles, the whole thing maybe four or five meters in diametera giant soap bubble, but of light rather than liquid.
This wasnt a brain injury. This was real.
The others shouted.
Whats that light?
Kosuke, are you alright?
Are we dead? Is this death?
Kosuke tried to speak, but his breath was caught in his throat. He fell onto his hands and knees, tremblingas if gravity had intensified a thousand-fold.
Suddenly, Kosukes clotheseven his shoesfelt too tight on him, like they were five sizes too small. Pressure blossomed on his back and head, as if his spine was trying to rip out of his skin. He felt heavy and strong. Frighteningly strong.
It was like the heat within him was steaming its way out.
Cracks shot across the glass, spreading outward from beneath Kosukes knees.
Kosuke tried to get up, but his feet broke through the glass. The broken glass lacerated his clothes and skin. He roared as he fell backward into the sky. There was a brief moment of terrible pain, and then everything went black.
Interlude 2.4 - Ist um mich her ein wildes Brausen
Kosuke groaned as he awoke. It was a slow process, like waking after a perfect sleep, only there was no comfort here. There was pain and cold and wetness and many pieces of pebbly smoothness.
His back felt numb.
Sounds bombarded him from above. At first, he thought they were birds, but they coalesced, first into voices. Fearful voices. Panicked voices. Then the voices coalesced into words.
They were crying his name. They cried each others names. They cried and cried and cried. They were lost, in need of rescue, and no one was there.
Then everything clicked and Kosuke was up and alert. The first thing he did was scream, and Kosuke instantly regretted it.
His scream wasnt human, at least, it wasnt the kind of sound any human would make. It was hardly even a scream. No, it was a roar.
The voices above cried out in terror.
What the fuck was that?! Hana screamed.
Kosuke sat up and looked up.
The bus was impaled by one of the grand branches of a forked ginkgo tree, with its roof against the ravine wall and its axel-studded underbelly facing the sky. The tree itself was huge, growing up from almost the very bottom of the ravine. The front of the bus rested atop the trees central fork, maybe twenty meters off the ground, directly overhead. Two bodies and many belongings spilled out from where the rest of the bus windshield had broken open. Blood trickled down the wood and onto the pebbly earth.
It couldnt have been real. Kosuke knew he should have been dead. Yet, he wasnt.
I
He didnt know what to think.
Numbly, Kosuke surveyed his surroundings.
The bottom of Fire Valley Gorge was a geological potpourri. Gravel, silt, and water-smoothed stones lined the dark riverbed. The current was little more than a stream running through the central pebbly section of the earth, slicked with moisture from the rivers flow. The ravines steep walls rose up on either side like the maw of a giant beast; the maple and ginkgo were its teeth, swathed in arboreal flames. The sky was turning to grape-wine between those rocky jaws, letting the stars shine through all the more brightly. By some miracle, the bus internal and external lights were still working, though there was no knowing how long theyd lastthough both headlights were totally shot. Morikos belongings had fallen with him, andby another miraclehad managed to survive, though the phones screen was cracked.
The water from the river had begun to soak into Kosukes pants. The cold feeling snapped him back to focus. With a nod of his head, he crawled out of the bus luminous shadow, across the smooth stones, stopping only when the rocks were dry beneath his palms.
How am I still alive?
Kosuke still felt the heat. It was as if his body was wound up. There was a tightness in his chest that thrummed with his breaths.
He stopped.
The more he thought about it, the stranger he felt. There was a weight on his back that shouldnt have been there. His feet felt wrong. It was like hed stubbed his toes and theyd swollen up ten times their size, only without the throbbing pain.
The fall should have broken his bones. His back and ribs and shoulder blades should have all been shattered to pieces. But they werent. And, even if by some third miracle, he had managed to survive the fall, he should have been at the very precipice of death. Instead, he felt eerily alert, almost wired. Everything was heightened. His sight was sharper. His hearing was more acute. Hed almost go so far as to say hed never felt better, even though that made no sense. It was like energy was being poured into his being from somewhere unseensomewhere far, far awayfueling a furnace that roared in his belly and thrummed through his limbs.
Kosuke saw the globe of translucent, swirling light glistening in the distance. It followed him as he crawled across the ground, moving so that he was always at its center.
Kosukes ears wiggled at the sound of a woodpecker hammering into a tree
Wiggled?
The boy reached up to touch his ears, but then stopped as he saw his hands.
He didnt scream. He was too afraid to scream.
His hands had changed. The backs were covered in rugged, dull beige scales. Flipping his hands around showed that his palms had thickened, with brownish padding bubbled up from them like blisters. Ivory claws had begun to emerge from beneath his fingernails, and the littlest fingers on both his hands were nowhere to be found. And his just palms alone were as large as his feet.
His eyes continued downward.
His limbs were thick. A giants limbs. And then he saw his feet. His shoes! The things were covered in absurd bulges, and only when Kosukes eyes made contact with them did he realize how much his feet hurt. They were cramped beyond belief. Then he tried to wiggle his toes, and the material ripped open.
He whispered. Wh-whats happening to me? But the words came out as something in between a purr and a growl.
As Kosuke looked around in a growing panic, his eyes caught light glinting off the ground. Rising to his feet, Kosuke approached it, and then quickened his pace when he saw it was one of the bus side-view mirrors. The disk-shaped mirror lay on the stone, on its side. No doubt, it had landed there after breaking off during the fall.
Walking revealed more wrongness. He was taller than he was before, so much that he even felt a brief wave of vertigo sweep through him as he stood. His posture was different.
The weight on his back
Without thinking, Kosuke reached around to feel what was going on, only for his hands to scrape against something hard and broad and studded in spikes that had torn clear through his school uniform.
Kosuke rushed up to the mirror and went down on his knees and grabbed it and held it up in front of his face as soon as it came within reach.
What Kosuke saw shouldnt have been possible.
First he was big. At least three meters tall; perhaps even four. And he looked like a bodybuilder. Muscles and bone pressed up against his clothes, which looked almost comically small on his augmented frame.
But that was just the tip of the iceberg.
His face.
The monster he saw in the mirror copied Kosukes every motion as itas hereached to touch his face.
He was growing fur. Golden, like the ginkgo leaves. It poked out from beneath his collar and his jackets cufflinks and from his legs where his socks and pants had ridden up on him. Sprigs of it came out from his neck; dull, cyan scales were slowly encroaching his face, encrusting his cheeks. At the sides of the top of his head, pallid, corkscrewed horns rose out from his tidy black hair at a low angle. And when he patted his hands on his chest, he felt something hard; a surface of bony body armor stretched against the inside of his badly strained shirt.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Whats whats happening to me?
Was he turning into an oni? Could that even happen to a person?
His blood quickened, shivering through his veins as it thrummed with power. It was like his organs were fusion reactors, pumping him full of strength that he shouldnt have had. And, somehow, he knew that this was just an iota of what he could do. He felt as if he could reach out and touch the surface of the Moon if he wanted to. The power just needed to be unlocked.
But he had no idea how.
Above, Hajime yelled. Look! There it is again! That light! I saw it right before Kosuke fell!
Hajime! Kosuke shouted, only to cover his mouth with his bestial palm.
Kosukes voice was as deep as his fathers. It didnt sound right in his throat. It didnt feel right, either. Even his breathing seemed different. His chest had deepened and his neck had thickened. His breaths seemed to resonate in his throat.
K-Kosuke!? Moriko shrieked.
Kosuke cleared his throat, and then tried again. Yeah, Im fine. He managed to mimic his normal voice by putting on a falsetto. But it was just a deception, and a rather poor one, at that.
Call me Awakened! Koji yelled, Hes alive! Hes alive!
Holy shit! Hiro yelled. Kosuke? H-How!? How is this possible?
H-Hes a rock-climber, Hajime said, sounding equal parts ecstasy and terror. He knows how to fall right. I
There is no way to fall right! Osamu yelled. He should be dead! He should be dead!!
Im sorry for doubting you, buddy, Hajime said. I should have believed in you. I believe in you now. I I just He cried. I dont want to die alone.
It was Hajime.
Yeah, Kosuke replied, taking a deep breath, Im f
But Kosukes deep breath didnt stop. Yells shot out from the bus as the sphere of light brightened and grew, swelling to encompass much of the vehicle. Things seemed to bend and distort slightly at the edge of the sphereas if viewed through a lens.
No! Kosuke yelled in panic, his falsetto dropped mid-sentence. Please! No!
His voice deepened. The sense of heat and power returned, flooding his body. The light-sphere grew more. It doubled. It tripled.
Kosuke shuddered and gagged. It was like a foul elixir had been forced down his throat, setting off an impossible chain reaction. From out of nowhere, might pumped into him, making his body bristle and tingle. His own skin constricted him. A terrible pressure built inside him, raging to break outa feeling like a sanguine beast, drunk on its own power. It made Kosukes every hair stand on end. In another time and place, it might have been rapture, but here and now, he just wanted it to stop.
Once again, Kosuke was changing, only this time, there wasnt a fall to make him black out.
Immediately, Kosuke stepped back, getting as far away from the bus as quickly as he could. His clothes ripped as moved. His pants tore at the seat and the sides. His shirt and jacket split at the seams. His shoes popped like popcorn, hefty clawed feet bursting from their confines.
He grew.
His bodys mounting weight pulverized the water-smoothed rocks beneath his padded feet. The mirror steadily shrunk in his hands as claws undermined his fingernails and his fingers thickened and toughed. In mere seconds, the mirror slipped through his fingers and fell to the ground. Tightness wrapped around him like a vise. His back grew heavier and heavier as his spiked turtle shell bulged and spread. His spine twitched and slithered, and his skin itched all over, rising to needle-stabbing intensity at the top of his head and the back of his neck.
The ground fell away, joining Kosukes shredding clothes. When he looked down, he saw his chest covered in interlocking bony plates, almost like a turtles underbelly, and continued down between his increasingly stocky legs. Golden fur and rugged cyan scales came into view on his arms and legs as his clothes sloughed off. A weight pulled at his lower back and brushed across the slick, wet riverbed.
A tail.
He felt huge.
And then the earth rumbled.
Earthquake! someone screamed.
The trembling ground made Kosuke stumbled. He fell forward, slamming onto the ground, river-worn stones cracking beneath his belly. The blow sent rocks tumbling down to the middle of the stony riverbed.
A horrible sound rent the air, making Kosukes ears twitch. He pushed off the ground and looked back.
The tree!
The wood spat and snapped. The grand branching ginkgo toppled over, pulling itself up by its roots, loosing rocks and casting debris into the ravine. The trees forked trunk split in two, torn by the bus weight. The golden leaves whispered as the trunk fell, and the bus fell with it.
He hardly had any time to react. It didnt matter that the bus was a club of falling metal, soon to strike the earth. It didnt matter that Kosuke didnt feel right on his own two feet, or that his growth was beginning to slow. Without a second thought, Kosuke lunged around, toward the underside of the bus, as if to catch a suicide jumper. He stood there like a sumo wrestler, bracing for the impact.
The bus slammed into him as the tree fell, grazing his head.
There was a crunching sound as something broke. Pain seared the top of Kosukes skull. He reared back his head and roared in pain. It was a monstrous sound, and his classmates screamed with the terror of demise, but Kosuke held firm.
As the earth-rumble subsided, Kosukes ears twitched at the sound of something hitting the ground, but he didnt let that distract him. He couldnt. Kosuke kept his eyes on the bus, gripping it by its sides, as if it was a toppling bookcase. The chassis deformed in his grip, creaking and groaningbut he held firm. His talons scraped along the riverbed, pushed back by the bus weight. Kosuke stepped back bit by bit, lowering the bus to the ground in little spurts while keeping his hold on its sides, terrified of jostling the tree and bringing yet more death.
But then his classmates words reached his pointed, fuzzy ears.
Monster!
What is that thing!?
A a barashai?
Kaiju! Kaiju!!
The might and growth blazing through Kosukes body suddenly diminished, shrinking away without any warning, contracting into his belly like a smoldered chakra.
The bus started getting bigger. Taller. The unopened emergency exit at the back of the bus crowned over Kosukes head as the vehicle cast him into its shadow. The sphere of light shrank, collapsing on itself. Higher the bus shadow loomed, and higher still. Kosukes heart sunk into his belly. The weight grew impossible. Keeping his grip on both sides threatened to rip his chest in two.
He was getting smaller, and quickly, too.
Shit!
With all his strength, Kosuke pushed off the slick stone and dove to the side. The rocks bit into his arches where the protective scales had thinned away. His talons kicked up silt and dirt. Stone scraped across the monster-boys chest as he belly-flopped onto the ground, only to bounce as the bus settled in place, walloping the earth with a mighty thud. The metal croaked. Rocks and gravel rustled as the bus wheels settled into place.
As quickly as he could, Kosuke got up off the ground and turned around. For a moment, the only thing he knew was that the bus was right-side up again and in one piece.
He muttered in reliefoh my godas he heard his classmates moan and groan. They werent happy, but they were alive. They. Were. Alive.
For a moment, Kosuke forgot himself and saw nothing but the good news. He rushed over to the bus in a burst of spirit and adrenaline. Though he wasnt as tall as the bus anymore, he was still much tallerand strongerthan he should have been, which made it easier for him to undo the latch on the emergency exit at the bus back end and pull the lever and open the door.
Hed always wondered what it would be like to open it.
The door swung open smoothly, and with a pleasing hydraulic hiss, as if its hinges were air. Kosukes abnormal height gave him a clear view of the aisle between the seats, and all the horrors the crash had wrought.
Though the corpses of the driver and Yamago-sensei had fallen through when the rest of the windshield had broken, the bodies of his dead classmates still sat in their seats, speared on the ginkgos sprawling branches.
Ryota. Saburo. Reika. Saki.
They were mangled and torn open, lacerated by fractured glass and wayward tree branches. And it was a horror to behold. But it was not the greatest horror.
No.
The greatest horror was the look in his classmates eyesthat frightened, deer-eyed stare, and twitching that followed it, and the desperate, recoiling movements, and the hideous, thankless screams.
Interlude 2.5 - Ist um mich her ein wildes Brausen
The screaming only stopped once Kosuke had stepped far, far away. He knelt on the ground, naked and afraid, covering himself with his hands to protect what little modesty he had left. Nearly all of his clothes were gone, littering the area in the form of rags and shreds. His privates had gone somewhere else when he was bigger, but now that he was smaller againthough still not back to normal sizetheyd returned. The now-smaller light-sphere had followed him as hed moved, confirming Kosukes suspicions. It wasnt following him; the light was coming from him. It had grown when he had grown, and shrunk when he had shrunk. The two had to be connected.
If only he knew the right order.
Kosukes classmates emerged from the bus one by one. They staggered out of the emergency entrance woozy and weary, having had to crawl above or below the severed tree trunk that impaled the bus like a spit through meat. The other students legs trembled as they stood up on the ravine floor. At first, they gazed up at the rising dusk, not quite believing they were alive, but then, without fail, their eyes would turn to Kosuke and theyd gawk and whisper and stare. Now, nothing he did would be beneath their notice.
After Aimi had yelled at Kosuke to get away before the light-sphere turned the rest of them into monsters, too, as hed stepped away, Kosuke had noticed an object abandoned on the ground amongst the stones, within the light-spheres periphery, near to the spheres edge a couple meters away. At first, hed thought it was a small, misshapen boulder, or perhaps a giant, sand-smoothed seashell. But as he stepped away and got a better view, he realized hed recognized it. Hed seen it in the mirror. It was one of his horns.
It must have broken off when I was biggerwhen the bus struck my head.
Get back! Hiro had said, raising a trembling armand Kosuke had complied, even as he raised one of his own, still-inhuman hands to feel where the horn on his head had chipped off.
The fallen horn hadnt shrunken along with him. That was a mystery. And then one mystery became two when the horn dissolved into nothingness when the light-sphere left it behind. Kosuke took a step back, half-expecting it to reappear, and it did, only not in the way hed expected.
It was Hajime who had pointed it out: the horn had disappeared, only to reappear on Kosukes head, his broken horn having magically repaired itself. Osamu stared at Kosuke for a good while after that, muttering something about energy conservation.
Hajime had been the last of them to emerge from the bus, and when their eyes met, Kosuke had given up on fighting back his tears.
Kosuke felt like a zoo animal, and his classmates stares only made it worse. He looked down at them from a body that, even on its knees, had his eyes two meters in the air. Soft, bristly golden fur dusted his trembling limbs, sprouting up like weeds from patches of dull cyan scales. Running his hands over his changed skin was an unreal experience. Innumerable pinpoints tugged at his skin as his fingers passed through his fur. The scales were smooth and dry. They were kind of like calluses, especially with the way they numbed his sense of touch. His shell had shrunk, now covering only his upper back. The spikes were little more than lumps on the bone. And if he focused, he could move his short, stumpy tail, whisking it across the silty earth.
Kosuke was keenly aware of the power within him, seething away in the pit of his stomach, hungering for somethingthough what that something was, he wasnt sure. Looking back on it, he realized it had been there ever since the crash.
No, not just the crash, he thought. That sound. It had planted a seed in him. But what was its purpose? Was it good? Was it evil? Kosuke didnt know, and it scared him that he didnt know. He was also pretty sure it would have scared his classmates, though, to their credit, they were already scared of him. Theyd huddled up by the back of the bus, all except Osamu and Hajime, who kept watch on him for their own reasons.
Eventually, the silence became more than what the boy could bear.
Its me! Im Kosuke! he said, in a deep voice. A wolfs voice. Im still me!
A weeping wolf.
Koji stepped out from the group with a stomp of his foot on the rock. Then why did you hide it?! Hed puked all over himself after the crash. The stains of vomit on his blazer had only just begun to crust and dry.
Hajime glared at the Vice-President of the Student Council, and then walked up to Kosuke, and the sight made Kosuke fur stand on end, only for his hope to die as Hajime stopped short of crossing through the light-sphere.
Hajime held his hand up to the sphere, but then stepped back.
Im Im sorry, he said. Im scared, okay!
Its alright, Kosuke said. He tried to stop crying, but he couldnt. Its alright. Hajime I he gulped, I dont know whats happening to me
Yet there was a brightness in Hajimes eyes. Iwait a minute! His eyes widened. He glanced back at the bus. Of course! Why didnt I see it before! Hajime slapped himself on the forehead.
All eyes turned to Hajime. Hiro looked at him as if Kosukes friend might burst into a kaiju at any moment.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
I bet this is some kind of conspiracymaybe a DAISHU experiment gone wrong, Hiro said. There are stories of rabbit-men wandering Mt. Aoi, escaped from a DAISHU lab. His eyes narrowed. You two have always been at each others sides. Maybe they cooked you guys up in a lab.
Moriko looked Kosuke in the eyes, her caution writ plain on her face. I always thought you were kinda weird.
Osamu stepped toward Hajime and then pushed his glasses up his nose. Please, Hajime. If you have a theory, I would like to hear it.
If you ask me, Aimi said, I think were all dead, and this is Hell.
Aimi, Hell is not a testable hypothesis, Osamu said.
Who the fuck cares? Hana griped.
Kojis head drooped as he threw his hands in the air. Maybe we should all just step through the swirling light and turn into monsters and be done with this already.
Aimi narrowed her eyes. Youre just saying that just because you want my clothes to fall off so you can look at my boobs!
Hiro lowered himself into a squat. Wrapping his arms around his body, he rocked himself back and forth while muttering, Were all going to die. Were all going to die
Sighing, Hajime turned away from the others and looked Osamu and Kosuke in the eyes.
Its your drawing, Kosuke.
Kosukes fur stiffened, as did his ears. What?
Your latest kaiju. You Hajime took a deep breath. When you got big, you were turning into that creature.
Kosukes mouth dropped. He gave his partially transformed body another good look-over, only this time, with a sense of hindsight almost as singular as the power knotted in his belly.
Hajime was right.
Osamus brow flattened, as if to crush his eyes. His drawing? The ace-student stammered. Thathats how would that even be possible? Did the aliens scan his brain?
Hajime blinked. Aliens?
Crossing his arms, Osamu nodded vigorously. The earthquake might very well be some kind of superweapon meant to debilitate, confuse, and frighten our planets populace!
Isnt it easier just to say were in Hell? Aimi asked.
Hell isnt scientific, Osamu said.
And aliens are? Hana said.
Kosuke spoke up while Osamu was mid-nod. How is any of this possible?
What are you talking about? Koji said, wringing out his arms. This is crazy talk. All of you are crazy!
Hiro covered his head with his hands while he continued muttering, Were all going to die, over and over again, under his breath.
Hajime turned around and glared at the Student Council Vice-President. Its not crazy. Then, with determination stern in his eyes, he ran over to the pile of broken bags that littered the ground where the corpses of their driver and Yamago-sensei had fallen.
Ha-Hajime?! Kosuke reached out with his arms.
Moriko screamed.What the fuck are you doing?! She started to run after Hajime, only to slip on the stones underfoot, though Aimi managed to grab her before she hit the ground.
Its alright, Hajime yelled back, I know what Im doing.
Meanwhile, the sound of Osamu and Koji groaning and Hiro and Hana snickering alerted Kosuke to the fact that he was no longer covering himself. The parts of his face that werent encrusted with scales burned with red hot embarrassment, like chakras dancing in his cheeks.
None of this felt real to Kosuke.
Maybe we really are in hell
A moment later, hopping away from the glass, Hajime scampered back across the ravines floor, carrying something in hand. Kosuke instantly recognized it as his tablet computeror, well, what was left of it. A vicious crack shot down the middle, turning half the screen into a psychedelic collage. Amazingly, the other half still seemed to work, because, even at a distance, his eyes could make out the details of his drawing on the other side.
Hajime passed it around to the other students, starting first with Osamu. Hiro got up from his squat once he noticed something happening and went to go see for himself.
Moriko handed it to him.
Holy shit, Hiro said, Hajimes right.
A passing breeze tugged at Kosukes fur. Night was near, and the temperature was dropping rapidly, yet Kosuke didnt so much as shiver. His inner heat kept him warm.
Kosuke didnt know which made less sense: that he was turning into a kaiju, or that his drawing seemed to be to blame.
How could my drawing have turned me into a kaiju? he asked.
Osamu stared at Kosuke. For all that DAISHUs biotechnology research can do, I doubt something like this is within their capacity. He pushed his glasses up again. I think the aliens scanned your brain. You were thinking about the kaiju when the earthquake hit, correct?
I I mean I guess so? Kosuke replied.
You started screaming before the earthquake even happened.
Yes, Kosuke said, it was because of that weird sound. It was so loud.
I heard that that noise, right before the quake, Hana said. Was that the sound you meant?
Kosuke shook his head. No. It was the one before it. His tail drooped over the dirt. None of you heard it? His ears fell.
Osamu furrowed his brow. Weird sound?
Kosuke nodded. It went mwirr mwirr mwirr mwirr over and over again, quiet at first, then louder, then quiet again. It got so intense in the middle that I couldnt breathe.
Well, I didnt hear anything, Aimi said.
Osamu nodded. If my theory is correct, the sound was their scan, and, perhaps, a feeling of suffocation was just a side-effect of their scan.
Kosuke clenched his fists. His claws scraped through the dirt. It wasnt a feeling, Osamu. I couldnt breathe.
Of course. Osamu nodded again, pushing his glasses up his nose. Though their motives are inscrutablepossibly even unknowable to beings such as ourselvesperhaps they did this to you because they are preparing to terraform our world and remake it in their image.
Hajime pursed his lips in confusion You think the aliens are kaiju?
Kaiju would have a better chance of surviving the eons it would take to travel however so many lightyears they needed to cross to get to our planet.
Osamu, Aimi said, when you talk, half the time I think youre just making it up as you go.
Your point? the boy replied.
Well, Aimi said, now, Im almost certain youre making it up as you go.
Kosuke went back to staring at his hands while his classmates continued to debate the impossible. About ten minutes passed, and thenin the dying lightAimi yelled, and the sound made Kosukes ears twitch.
Moriko, where are you going? she asked.
Looking up, Kosuke saw Moriko walk off toward the satellite phone where hed left it by her bag. Mercifully, he hadnt damaged any of Morikos technology.
Despite all thats happened, Moriko is still trying to get shit done.
Kosuke wished he had her resolve.
Taking a deep breathand pausing this time, to make sure that he didnt start growing again (and he didnt) Kosuke crawled across the slick, stony riverbed on his hands and knees to get closer to his classmates, but then gave up and stood up.
Hiro was the first to notice him.
Interlude 2.6 - Ist um mich her ein wildes Brausen
Whoa whoa whoa, the pudgy boy said, staggering back. Keep your distance. I dont know if youre not Kosuke, but shit Im freaking out hereand that weird-ass ball of light isnt making me any less wary.
Hiros pants stank of urine. Worse, there was a faint musky odor that, somehow, Kosuke just knew meant that Hiro had jacked off sometime late last night?
Kosukes brow furrowed in disgust.
Smells bombarded him, in particular, the fact that Aimi had just had her period.
He covered his nose with his hands before it got him into trouble.
Ugh, Kosuke, Koji groaned, cover yourself, dammit!
Pff! Hajime scoffed. He stabbed his thumb on his chest. Out and proud, thats what I always say.
Rolling his eyes, Kosuke sighed. I know you dont believe me, but I dont understand any of this either.
And then Moriko screamed, and everyone turned to look.
I did it! she cried, shooting up onto her feet. Im in! She thrusted her arms into the air.
Everyone except Kosuke gathered close, putting in suggestions for what to do first. Hajime lingered at a distance, halfway between Kosuke and the class. Kosuke watched from around the back of the bus.
Shes accessing her Socialife account, Hajime explained.
Then, in a matter of seconds, all the verve in Morikos expression drained away, until her hair looked like old electrical wires dangling out from beneath her green beret.
What? Aimi demanded, without any of her usual prickly tone. What is it? She was scared.
They all were.
Moriko looked up at the rest of the class.
Theres she inhaled, the earthquake its not just here. Its happening everywhere. Natural disasters are going off all over the world. Tsunamis have struck northern Araka and western Tchwang. Tinesh has been devastated. Mu, Daxon, and Zid have been struck by massive earthquakes. Noyoko, Ediyaki, Elpeck, Stovolsk, Tvala, New Bazkatla. Everythings fucked.
Are we going to be rescued? Aimi asked. She shot a wary glance at Kosuke.
Morikos shoulders fell. I dont know. Skyscrapers are collapsing. Nuclear power plants are at risk of meltdown. Ravines are opening up in the earth. And us? Were just a bunch of kids in the middle of the wilderness. Were hardly a priority.
Up above, the wine-drunk sky had distilled to ink and dying blue. The dark was rising.
This is clearly not an isolated incident, Osamu said. He looked back at Kosuke. This comports with my theory of an alien invasion.
You you really think thats whats happening? Hiro asked, meekly.
Osamu looked down at the ground for a moment, clenching his fists with his arms at his sides. Honestly, I have no idea he said. He spoke softly and hesitantly, like an injured bird.
Kosuke stuck himself out a little more from the back of the bus. Can we use the satellite phone to call our families?
In general? Sure, Moriko said, dripping with sarcasm. But when the world is ending? She shook her head. No, youll have to wait your turn, which will never come, because theres just too much traffic and not enough satellites.
How can there not be enough satellites? Hajime asked.
Its not like every satellite up in orbit is gonna be compatible with satellite phones, Moriko said. And for those that are, theyre not gonna be of any help unless theyre sufficiently close to our position to pick up our signal, and, even then, they have to deal with any and all other communication traffic in this area.
Koji stepped forward. But were in the middle of
Once again, the earth shook.
Hajime screamed: Earthquake! Rock slide! Get behind the bus, now!
The bus creaked as it slid across the rock, drifting deeper into the ravine. As it moved, the bus knocked into Kosuke, pushing him to the floor, and his light-sphere moved with him, rolling into the rest of the students. Kosuke pushed up with his arms, even as the earth shook beneath him.
People scattered and screamed, running off in separate directions, dodging Kosukes light-sphere. Aimi and Koji ran one way, further up the riverbed, while the rest of the group went the other way.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Kosuke looked up as he rose to his feet, craning his neck back. What he saw made his eyes widen in their sockets.
Oh my god
It was an avalanche, but without the snow. Rocky precipices the size of cars broke free and tumbled down, triggering waves of debris that slathered down the ravine, felling trees in their path and pulling the wood into the falling tempest. One of the massive stones bounced off the earth and split into pieces, raining down a death spray of limb-sized shards.
Kosuke ran up to the base of the ravine, clearing the way for Aimi and Koji to cross without passing through his light-sphere. His two classmates scrambled across the rock as they turned around to head for shelter behind the bus, but the riverbeds slippery stones stole their footing and sent them tumbling down.
No!
They werent going to make it.
Kosuke didnt know what would happen if he exposed his classmates to the light-spheres touch. Between having their deaths on his conscience or turning them into monsters like himself, Kosuke knew he wouldnt be able to live with the guilt of the former.
Sometimes, you just had to make the best of a bad situation.
Besides, he wasnt about to let his best friends girlfriend just die.
With a wild scream, Kosuke pushed off the ground with all his might and ran like mad at Koji and Aimi. He was thinking on the fly, now, and hoped that it would be enough.
Even if he hadnt been able to fully lift the bus in his current, partially-changed state, the fact that hed been able to bear its weight at all told him that his current form was as inhuman as it looked.
Will it be enough to survive a rock slide?
He didnt know, but he was about to find out. But, really, what did that matter? All that mattered was his certainty that Koji and Aimi wouldnt survive, because they couldnt.
Something something great power, great responsibility.
Kosuke ran. The seething debris gushed down the ravine in an all-devouring torrent, casting dust and wood into the fledgling night, but still, he ran. Up ahead, Koji had bent down to help Aimi get up off the ground. The two of them looked up, and for an instant, their eyes met Kosukes. The expressions on Aimi and Kojis faces were poetry. They spoke of death and regret; of mistakes and second chances. He hoped they would trust him.
Kosuke was pretty sure they were too afraid to feel any more fear. He certainly knew he was.
Crashing mountains and storming forests roared like the beastly seas.
In between the split seconds, Kosuke flung himself into the space between his two classmates and the deluge, bringing them into his sphere of light. He knelt into the riverbed with his back to the cliff, curling his arms around Koji and Aimi.
Kosuke!? Koji gasped.
And in that moment, Kosuke felt something. It was almost familiar, now; this was the third time hed felt it. It was like something clicked into place. The seal on the smoldering chakra came undone. Power flooded into him, led into his body by the plights in his classmates eyes. He saw himself reflected in those eyes, eyes that widened as he seethed, burned, and grew.
Fur thickened. Scales rippled. The diminutive shell on Kosukes back swelled to full size, its spikes popping into place, crashing into the oncoming rock. His tail lengthened and swept as his stance widened and widened. He grew until he was as large as he had been when the second quake had struck. The full force of the rock slide crashed into his shell and piled high. It weighed so much. Kosukes thighs buckled as the debris pushed him down onto all fours. The smooth river stones crunched like sand beneath his spiked, scaly knees. He spread his arms wide, terrified of injuring the people he was trying to protect, pushing his padded hands into the riverbed to make a roof of his chest. But still, the rocks piled high, heavier and heavier, flush with the heat of the day.
Kosukes arms trembled. The weight was crippling.
He groaned.
No II cant
You can do it! Aimi said. Compared to the tumult, her voice was like a whisper, even though she yelled at the top of her lungs.
Kosuke felt something stir within himself. More power poured into him. The energy within did not relent, but burned fiercer and brighter, like the flames of a thousand suns.
He grew.
Kosuke gasped in shock and disbelief as his transformation sent him skyward, its vigor redoubled. Everything shrunk. The passing rock slide tousled through the feathery red mane that he knew was sprouting on his head and neck.
He was a titan. His growth brushed the rock slide aside as the last stones tumbled down his snout and off his nose. In moments, Koji and Aimi were little bigger than kittens at his feet, frail and vulnerable.
Looking down between his knees, it was pitch black beneath the cliffs of his scuted chest, yet still, somehow, he could see, pale and colorless. He saw Koji and Aimi kneeling on the riverbed with their hands over their heads, cowering over the stones. They were panting and shaking and they were roughed up beyond measure, but they were safe.
They were alive.
With his knees, Kosuke pushed against the debris piled on his back. It was like sitting up in a filled bathtub. Rock and wood spilled down his shoulders and the edge of his shell. He held it back with his arms, keeping it away from Koji and Aimi.
His two classmates craned their heads up and up.
Bits of rock tumbled off Kosukes shell.
Please, move to safety, he said, softly. His voice was distant thunder rumbling in his throat.
SlowlydisbelievinglyKoji and Aimi staggered off, heading toward the bus. In a moment, they were out of Kosukes shadow.
Kosukes light-sphere had grown with himexponentially. If he had to guess, it was the better part of a kilometer in diameter, more than enough to contain the bus and all of his classmates. It glistened in the dark, casting faint shadows.
For a moment, Kosuke started to panic. His heartbeat was audible. It shook the air like a passing subwoofer.
Below, Koji and Aimi looked at the light-spheres distant edge, and then at their classmates down by the bus, and then at one another, and lastly, at themselves.
I I dont see any changes, Kosuke whispered.
They looked up at him.
Are you sure? Aimi asked.
Do you feel anything? Kosuke asked. Like youve been plugged into a socket?
They shook their heads.
Carefully, the boy-turned-kaiju turned around, pressing his weight against the rockfall. He stepped away from the ravine wall as cautious as possible, gripped by uneasiness until he was certain the last bit of the rocky heap settled onto the ravines floor.
Turning his head, Kosuke saw his classmates clustered by the bus, staring up at him with gazes struck by horror and wonder.
Now what do we do?! Hiro yelled, catching everyones attention.
And then, they heard a voice. It was the same as the voice hed heard right before the first earthquake. All of them heard it.
Only this time, it spoke.
Who wakes me?
Interlude 2.7 - Ist um mich her ein wildes Brausen
The voice was august and stern, mighty enough to shape the very heavens themselves.
Everything was deathly still. Even the woodpeckers fell silent.
The voice repeated its demand: Who wakes me?
The words seemed to come from everywhere all at once. His classmates staggered about, yelping in fright.
What is that? Hajime said. His friends voice had never seemed so unfamiliar. In Kosukes mind, Hajime was big and loud.
But now?
Kosuke shook his head. I dont know.
You do not know?
The voice didnt like that.
Do you mean to mock me?
Kosuke looked aroundup and downtrying to find the voices source.
No
It was coming from below. The very earth beneath Kosukes feet thrummed with every word. The vibrations almost tickled.
Koji pointed at the mountain range. Is that smoke?
Suddenly, the voice lost its fire.
This cannot be
How?
Kosuke lowered himself to his knees. The thud of his movements jostled the heap of rocky debris at his side. He grabbed it and spread it evenly on the riverbed around him, so that there was no chance of another slide.
Did we fail? Was it all for nothing!?
The earth shook with the voices regret.
I dont understand! Kosuke said, raising his head. Who are you? What are you? He spoke to the earth and the sky.
The answer made the stones dance upon the ground.
I am Klothag, god of Estravor, warrior of the Bythos. My breath is starfire; my fangs rend moons. My tears bring life to broken worlds. I am the bane of all who work evil. I am the justice of those who cannot protect themselves.
Whwhat does that have to do with anything? Kosuke asked.
Kosuke!!
Bending down, Kosuke saw Hajime run up to him.
Look! Hajime pointed skyward.
Kosuke turned and looked. What he saw made his red-feather mane stand on end.
Smoke was spewing up from the heart of the mountain range, from a tor abutting the Clawpeak.
The others ran up alongside Hajime. They clustered in front of Kosuke, no bigger than dolls.
This is impossible! Hiro yelled.
You can say that again! Hana replied.
Koji locked eyes with Kosuke, dust-struck cheeks smeared by his fresh tears. You you saved us.
Osamu waved his arms like mad. Um, hello?! This whole area is geologically active!
What? Kosuke whispered.
The tremors? The smoke from the mountain? Theyre signs of an imminent eruption!
Kosukes tail went stiff. His mane and fur bristled.
Eruption!? Kosukes yell boomed across the gorge. His classmates covered their ears.
As big as he was, Kosuke could still feel fear. He could still think thoughts that could make his heart race.
A loud weight repeatedly slammed into the riverbed, shaking the ravine and knocking the class to the ground. It took Kosuke a moment to realize it was his tail lashing out behind him. The restless limb seemed to move of its own accord, and without any practice using it, it was a fight to keep it still. After a couple seconds of trying and failing, Kosuke simply gave up and grabbed his tail and held it tight, pulling it around the edge of his shell, though he didnt pull too hard. He didnt want to tug himself off his own two feet!
As she righted herself, Moriko looked around and yelled. Sages beard, whats that sound? Or did his yell just break our ears?
Hajime looked up in awe, staring at Kosukes chest. I I think thats Kosukes heart.
The voice spoke once more.
For ages, I have slumbered, hoping the time of my awakening would come before this aeons end. Now I am awake, yet what do I find? You, Godspawn.
The words were like bullets through Kosukes thoughts. He winced in pain as the beingKlothagscourged him with sheer force of will. Kosuke tried his best to block his thoughts from the entitys touch, and he either didnt know how to do it, or it wasnt possible.
I fought to seal the Mwill away, yet here you are. I do not understand this. Has time itself come undone?This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Klothag seemed to be everywhere.
Is this God? Aimi cried.
Now would be a really good time for us to turn into kaiju, Kosuke! Hiro quipped.
Kosuke looked over his shoulder. The smoke rising from the mountains was thickening.
No!
Klothags voice sent earthquakes rippling through the world. Fire Valley Gorge. Fissures opened up on the rocky plateaus above the ravine. Fractures bit into the mountains. The earths molten blood spurted out from the crevices in curtains and sprays.
Everyone screamed.
A crimson aura covered the mountains, casting a hazy glow upon the starry skies. The light tinted the night in red and infrared. The bus lights cast cones onto the dusty air.
What do you have to say for yourself?
I dont know! Kosuke pled. He was on the verge of tears.
Dont let him get to you, Kosuke! Hajime shouted.
Kosuke shook his head. What does it even matter? My life is over, and soon, yours will be too!
He turned to the mountain. It seethed. Smoke billowed up from its furious mouth.
It might erupt at any moment.
His arms drooped; he let his head hang low.
Im so sorry guys. This is all my fault. If I understood what was happening to me, maybe things would have turned out differently. He sighed.
Osamu waved his arms at his sides. This ravine is like a gutter. If the volcano erupts, the flow will plow straight though the ravine. We need to get out of here!
The irony of the moment wasnt lost on Kosuke. If I was bigger, I could lift you guys out of the ravine. He stared at his giants hands. Yet, as tall as he was, the ravine was taller still.
Hiro stepped forward. Wait, you mean, like with your hands?
I cant, Kosuke said.
What do you mean, you cant? Hana asked.
Kosuke stepped up to the base of the ravine.
On the one hand, he figured he was now at least as tall as the length of their bus. On the other hand.
He stretched his arms as far up as they would go.
The others cursed.
Hes right, Moriko said.
Even with his arms stretched to the limit, he couldnt reach the metal guardrail that marked the cliffside road overhead.
The earth shook yet again.
He stepped away from the cliff face.
Could you climb it? Hajime suggested.
Scratching the fur on his neck, Kosuke turned around to get another look at the ravine. He nodded slowly, his thoughts churned.
I I think I could.
Enough of this! I will not be tricked. I have nothing left to lose, and there are none here who can act in my stead. My cause is righteous; my honor is true. I shall not shirk my duty, not even as I fade.
Kosuke sat down on his knees. To his eyes, each of his classmates looked to be about twenty centimeters tall or so.
How the hell would this work? Hana asked.
There are spikes on my back, right?
Yes, Hajime answered.
Kosuke scooped his arm up his back. Well, climb on those, and hold on! Ill climb up and carry you to the road!
He bent forward, biting his lip to keep his tail steady.
Are we really doing this? Aimi said.
Kosuke couldnt believe it either.
He shook his head. Just go, he said. Hurry!
Kosuke had to keep himself very, very still as his classmates climbed up him, their footsteps pitter-pattering along his tail. Even though there wasnt much, if any, feeling on the outer surface of his shell, he could feel their weight as they clambered onto his spikes.
I will not allow your tyranny to go unchecked, Godspawn. No longer will you feed off the faith of mortals!
Feed off faith? Klothag was raving mad!
Behind him, Kosuke heard yelling. He looked over his shoulder. Is everybody on?
No! Moriko shouted.
What do you mean, no?
Alright, Hana said, enough, enough! Everybody off him, except me. Now!
Whats going on? Kosuke demanded.
This bitch is going to get us killed! Aimi shrieked.
He felt like a tree overrun with squirrels. Bickering squirrels.
Dammit, Hana said, Im trying to save lives here. Listen: let him get me up, first. Im the strongest. If I cant hold on while Kosuke climbs the ravine, none of you will be able to, either.
That actually made a lot of sense.
Just go, Kosuke! Hajime said. Go!
Are you ready, Hana? Kosuke spoke without turning his head.
A light tap vibrated through one of his shell pikes.
Is that a yes?
Just go already! she shouted.
And, with a gulp, he did, though he rose to his feet so slowly, he almost thought he was turning to stone.
Faster! Hana yelled.
Glancing down at his classmates, Kosuke trundled off to the side, further along the ravine, until he was far enough away that he wouldnt need to worry about squishing anyone. Then, digging his claws into the cliff face, he climbed.
I cant believe Im doing this he muttered.
But Kosuke shook his head. He closed his eyes.
Just pretend Im at the rock climbing gym, he told himself. Just pretend.
He swallowed hard, and then opened his eyes. As long as he kept his gaze on the cliff face and didnt think too much about the trees, he could convince himself that everything was normal, even when it wasnt.
It was slow going at first. One limb after the other. But soon, he fell into a rhythm. He almost forgot he wasnt himself anymore. He climbed and climbed, up and up, until his claws clasped around the highways guardrail. The metal popped free of the road like ivy off a wall.
Just a little more! Hana said.
Nodding, Kosuke pulled himself up.
There! she yelled. Hold that position!
Kosuke didnt budge. He closed his eyes as Hana scrambled up his shoulders. For a moment, his scalp tickled and then he blinked his eyes as she dropped into his visionright on his noseand then jumped off the tip of his snout and onto the road.
She raised her arms in triumph You did it, Kosuke!
I can do it! Kosuke told himself. I can do it! he shouted.
Hana covered her ears as she smiled and nodded. Yes, you can! I believe in you!
Brimming with fresh confidence, Kosuke began his descent, only for the all-too-familiar heat to flush through his body. It was like an ocean was pouring into him, and all he could do was accept the power and swell to bursting.
No! Not now!
The road sank beneath him. His growing hands lost their grip. He flailed his arms and legs, scraping his fur and scales against the side of the gorge, only managing to stop his fall by stabbing his claws into the rock. They sank in like butter, and then deeper still.
Why am I still growing?!
Kosukes panicked roar echoed across the sky.
Hed already turned into the kaiju from his sketch. Why was he getting
Oh no.
His jaw gaped. He might have completed his transformation from human shape to kaiju shape, but he still had a long way to go before hed reached kaiju size.
Im going to be as big as the Tokuwatsu Palace, arent I?
Somewhere in the middle of all the insanity, Kosuke wondered if that might finally be the thing to impress his Dad.
The fire in him was in full bloom. What had Klothag called him? A Godspawn? That sounded about right to Kosuke. It certainly described what it felt like. If the feelings coming from his body were to be believed, he felt like he could do anythingat least, anything a kaiju could do. In fact, the ravine was now small enough that Kosuke figured he could climb it with only a single holdfast to grip along the way. In his excitement, he nearly hopped off the wall, down to the bottom of the gorge, only when he remembered his size and that his wasnt the rocking climbing studio with bungee cords and cushions to soften his landing. He forced himself to be patient. Patient, but efficient. It took a few seconds, and he didnt waste any time, not as he descended, nor as he knelt down on the ground and bent forward, extending his tail behind him, to let on his next bunch of passengers.
If I somehow survive this, Im going to have nightmares about people crawling over me.
Wait
Kosuke looked over his shoulder. No! he said. Not all at once!
They were walking up his tail, one after another.
Why not? Hajime asked.
Itll make me try to rush. I screw up when I rush!
Moriko hopped off his shell and slid down his tail.
Moriko, Aimi shouted. What are you doing!?
He felt something skitter down the side of his shell.
You heard the kaiju! Hajime said.
H-Hajime!? Kosuke was fraught with worry. He felt his tail start to thrash, and had to push down on it with one of his feet to keep it from stirring up the riverbed or flicking his classmates off his back.
Koji, Hajime, and Moriko stayed behind.
Go, man! Hajime yelled. Go!
Interlude 2.8 - Ist um mich her ein wildes Brausen
Kosuke began to climb.
You can come back for us! Hajime said. Just get going!
In all my time, Klothag said, I have never beheld the birth of a Godspawn. It is not what I imagined it to be, but, no matter; I shall not waste this chance. With my dying breath, I will stop your ascension. I swear it! You will not defile this world with your chaos! You shall not desecrate my corpse!
Everyone screamed.
And then the earth roared. One of the mountains on the distant ridge blew its top, blasting out clouds, thick, furious, and billowing. The pyroclasm spewed lightning and cement into the sky. The landscape churned.
Keep going, Kosuke! Moriko said. You can do this!
The fire in Kosukes soul was in full bloom. The imaginary vessel in his body that kept accepting all this power grew and grew. The light-sphere swelled, sweeping out into the sky. He erupted with growth. His legs grew down onto the bottom of the ravine, planting his clawed toes in the silty riverbed. In seconds, the ravine fell until it was just over his head.
Tiny voices screamed behind him.
No!
His classmates had been gripping to his shell spikes, which had now grown along with him.
Scrambling back, Kosuke scraped his tail against the opposite side of the gorge as he lowered himself until his back was at a right angle to the ground. His horns dug furrows into the cliffside, loosing boulders. Kosuke pushed his palms flush onto the cliff to hold the rubble in place. He kept his back as flat as he possibly could as he carefully lowered himself onto his belly, all while trying not to think about the volcano erupting in the background.
Get off! he hissed, too afraid to yell.
They slid off him like water. As soon as he saw the others rush to help Hiro, Aimi, and Osamu, Kosuke crawled back along the floor of the ravine.
The volcano is erupting! Osamu screamed. Superheated mudslides! Pyroclastic flow! Everything is going to flow straight through the gorge like rain down a gutter! He pressed his hands against his head. We are all going to die!
I cant stop growing, Kosuke said. I dont know why. He shook his head. I dont know.
Looking down, he saw his classmates fretting, their glances shifting between one another, the eruption, and the kaiju looming above them.
I dont want to drop you! I dont want to fail! Please.
He wept.
Meanwhile, Hajime stared, transfixed, looking up at the creature his friend had become. And Kosuke looked back.
Hajime was so small. He was like a toy soldier. With just his finger, Kosuke could crush him.
The kaiju shook his head. How can I climb if
Kosuke, you moron! Even Klothag said it! Hajime yelled. He stomped his feet. I should have seen it sooner! He looked his kaiju-friend square in the eyes and yelled. Its trust! Its belief!
A shiver ran down Kosukes back, starting between his horns, rippling down his manered feathers perking upunderneath his shell, and down his tail, all the way to the tips of the spike at its end.
Hajime turned around to address the others. Thats why hes growing! He gets bigger when we believe in him!
Osamus jaw dropped. And he gets smaller when we doubt
what? Kosuke shook his head.
You can believe in yourself, Kosuke! Hajime yelled. You already got us to believe in you! He jumped in place. And if we can believe in you, then so can you!
But Kosuke turned his palms to face the sky, what if Klothag is right? What if I really am going to defile this world?
Youre not a monster, Kosuke, Koji yelled, you just look like one!
Was that supposed to be a compliment?
Moriko coughed as she staggered forward and looked up.
Itd be damn easier to prevent when youve got friends on your side, instead of being all on your own, so, she cupped her hands to her face and yelled, get off your giant turtle-shell ass and save us already!
Hiro gasped and stumbled back. Oh shit!
Everyone looked up.
The mountain blew sky-high. Volcanic bombs whizzed through the airfireworks of rock and death.
Why is it moving?! Aimi screeched. Why is it moving!?
Kosuke got to his knees and turned around. The sound of his gasp was like the sky holding its breath.
The Clawpeak was wiggling like a limb breaking free. It pushed up, sloughing off the mountain chain as it rose and pierced the smoke and ash, leaving rifts in its wake. Rock and lava and burning forest spilled out from the rifts, melded together in a massive landslide.
Is it really true? Can I use faith? Do they really have it?
Kosuke could hardly believe it. Just this morning, he was just another kid; just another nobody. Now well, he was still a kid, even if his shoe size had gotten bigger. The world was big and scary and Kosuke worried hed never find his way in it.
Now, Im big and scary, too
His breath tightened in his chest. Kosuke didnt know what he was going to do with himself. Tomorrow was going to be a very, very strange daybut that wouldnt happen if tomorrow never came.
And then, he heard them.
They were chanting his name.
Kosuke! Kosuke! Kosuke!
Do they really mean it?
His body answered for him. It was like something out of a fairy tale. At first, he thought hed risen to his feet, but no he was growing. A giant. A colossus. The heat of the power flowed into him, but it no longer stung.
Kosuke didnt know why he had this power, but he resolved to make the best use of it.
I owe it to them. If theyre going to believe in me, I need to make myself a kaiju worth believing in.
Their faith was his strength. His strength was their faith. Power overwhelming surged through him, his head cresting over the ravine, and higher still, until Fire Valley Gorge was but a narrow gully that came up to his waist. A gutter, overrun with racing sludge. The light-sphere grew impossibly large. Kosuke could sense its boundary. It swelled, spanning the whole of the earth, and then growing further, kissing the moon as it reached for the stars.
Faith.
It was just as Hajime had said. They had faith in him, and that faith was what made him change. It was their trust in him that gave him strength. It was not strength he had wanted, but, having been given it, he wanted to wield it as best as he could, to do as much good as he could. Because what would be the point in believing in something that didnt help?
Beneath the rising Clawpeakthe living talon of a waking giantthe earth let loose its fire and fury. An all-consuming deluge of churning, chthonic slurry poured straight down Fire Valley Gorge, blasting through everything in its way, setting the hills aflame beneath the starry night.
Kosuke ran along the gorge, toward the torrent, praying to his ancestors that his new body would turn out to be fireproof. He burst through the great bridge like the tape at the end of a relay race. Falling volcanic bombs pelted Kosukes face and head like hot hail. The red metal crumpled at his sides as broke and heaved and fell away. He dove forward, onto his knees, skidding across the narrow ravine like a douchebag with a skateboard, plunging his claws into the valleys sides, ripping up rocks and trees as he slowed to a standstill in front of the narrowest stretch of the gorge. And he yelled. He didnt know if Klothag could still hear him, or if the creature even cared to listen, but he didnt care. He figured he might as well say something. He was alive, for now.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
The torrential lahar flooded toward him, and he held his ground, staring fire and death in the face.
Hey, Klothag, Kosuke yelled, I didnt ask for their faith. Theyre the ones who give it to me! Were just trying to survive!
Kosuke really, really hoped this would work.
He roared as the deluge plowed into him, and he into it. He threw his weight forward like a sumo wrestler, massing his body into the ravine, making a plug of his body. The superheated earth thrashed and recoiled, battering into him like the Fire Orochi itself. It slammed into his stomach faster than a speeding bullet train, bashing him back, sending his foot-claws scurrying across the ravines floor.
Digging in hard, Kosuke pushed, grappling the viscous tide of earth and fire. The lahar was like liquid cement. It spurted up over the ravines sides as it sloshed and sprayed. It splashed Kosukes face and feathery mane with its superheated sting, but the boy held firm, pushing into the flow, making a wedge of his body, diverting the slurry into adjacent valleys like they were mere spillage channels. Kosuke roared as it stung his eyes, which he shut and kept shut as he pushed through total darkness.
The slop piled high, hot and heavy, surrounding him like a mold, until Kosuke was certain he would die, entombed within the lahars crushing weight.
And then it stopped.
Kosuke was slow to open his eyes. Though hed never been hit by a truck before, he had a pretty good feeling it would have felt a lot like the dull ache currently throbbing in his belly and chest and limbs. It was like hed strained every muscle in his body all at once. Gradually, the piping hot glop cooled and cracked. Kosuke tried moving an arm; little pieces broke free. He tried moving his legs; more pieces fell. With a groan, he ripped himself free and then sank to his knees, blinking his eyes and shaking his head, flicking the steaming debris off his fur and scales. With a groan, he shifted, leaning onto the slurry where it spilled over the edge of Fire Valley. He sank into it like it was a giant beanbag. It was warm against his shell.
The heat felt pretty nice.
For a moment, Kosuke thought he heard a sound of thunder echo in the distance, but that just turned out to be his breathing reverberating off the gorges steep walls.
He looked up.
Ash was falling. The foliage burned, fulfilling the prophecies of the colors of their leaves. Slowly, he turned around.
A bit further into the valley, a handful of suspiciously large, four-legged ants hopped up and down on the narrow riverbed, next to a battered toy in the shape of an aluminum bus.
They were waving their arms.
His friends were safe.
Kosuke exhaled deeply as he smiled. His breath cleared a hole in the haze, blowing away the ash and smoke, giving him a view straight through to the stars above. It was like something out of a dream.
What happens next, I wonder?
Would he try to go home? Could he try to go home?was there any home left for him to go to?
He didnt know.
Looking over his shoulder, Kosuke saw lava dribbling out of the volcanos cone.
I should probably plug that up
Why did you do that?
The earth still shook as Klothag spoke but this time, it was bereft of anger.
Turning his head, Kosuke noted the Clawpeak had sunk back into the mountain range, sealing the hole in the earth.
Are you talking to me? he asked, looking up at the stars
Yes.
The force of his reply made Kosuke wince.
Now, answer me.
Kosuke looked down at his classmates. They huddled beneath the hole in the smog, sheltered in the bus hazy headlights and the twinkling of the stars and moon above.
I already told you, Kosuke said, with a sigh, I didnt ask for their faith, or for these powers. Im he shook his head. We were just trying to make the most of an awful situation. He glanced at Hajime. Its like my friend Hajime would say: use it or lose it.
I see.
There was a strange, smoky silence.
Is that really so strange to you, Klothag? Kosuke asked.
Yes and no. I am the voice paused, I was a child of war, long ago. Since the time of my hatching, I have labored and fought. I have slaughtered your ilk by the billions. Yet even that expanse of time is but a drop in the vastness of the True Sea. The Exariums heartbeats are the passage of aeons. Much must have changed while I slept. Your world certainly has.
Gone was the fury. The earth thrummed with a voice of wisdom.
It was a true Elder Voice.
I only wish we would have had the chance to hear it for ourselves. How different things might have been if we had.
Kosuke had a million questions. At the risk of second-guessing himself, he decided to go with the one he thought the simplest and the safest.
What is my ilk? What am I? Do you know what has happened to me?
Out of the corner of his eye, Kosuke noticed his classmates were either seated or standing still. They were all listening to Klothag.
To put it in terms you might understand you are becoming a god. Most are lost to madness, worn away by the adze of time. But you are still as fresh as the morning dew. You have not yet succumbed.
Child, you are not what I expected.
What did you expect?
A hermeneus, Klothag said, perhaps even a savior. Alas I am long past saving.
Kosuke shifted in place. W-What?
I am dying, Kosuke. My injuries are too grave. I am too weak to return to the Tann?nel. Time has not healed my wounds.
The voice quavered.
Forgive me, my children; forgive my carelessness. I was a neglectful father. Life took root upon me as I slumbered. I should have anticipated this, but it caught me unaware. Know that I never meant to harm you.
What do you mean?
Your world this planet it is my body, transfigured; my sepulcher, soon to be. This moment is but a candle. It will pass; I will fade, and I do not know what will become of you after that. I can only hope that my message will have reached its destination by then, else this was all truly for nothing.
A message? Kosuke cocked his head. What message?
A warning: something wicked this way comes. A great darkness, far greater than any I have ever known; a vast maleficence, nameless and unnamable. Even now, its teeth gnaw at my flesh. Its hunger is boundless. The Alliance was a fickle thing, merely a shard of a moment. The war against the Godspawn had only just come to a close when, from beyond the horizon, a shadow struck. It took me with it. Now I fear the consequence my absence may have caused. My allies will have no answer for my disappearance save for foul play. It will give them the pretext they desired. So many were uneasy with the peace. The thirst of conquest sings within them. Allies will break their truces; decimation will abound. They will not be prepared for the horrors this new darkness will mete upon them.
The earth sighed.
They know not what they do.
Why are you telling me? Kosuke asked. What can I possibly do? Im
Kosuke looked over himself, over the body that was now his, and the life it had thrust upon him.
The life it had taken away.
Kosuke, the Godspawn should be no more, and yet, here you are. I have no explanation for this, only an opportunity to avail myself of it. As your friend might say: I must use it or lose it.
Kosuke sensed the slightest chuckle.
Use what?
You.
M-Me? Kosuke pointed at himself with his claw.
Yes. It is a power of the Godspawn. You you may yet give me a voice. My warning may yet still be sent; catastrophe might yet be averted. And, if the worst has come to pass at least there is a chance they might save themselves, or one another.
How?
Down below, though it was very faint, Kosuke heard Hajime and the others belt out encouraging words.
The people of this world and its multiplicities have not understood my message, Klothag said. They hear, but do not listen; and if they listen, they do not understand. But a Godspawns words can spread farther than mine. Kosuke, your voice can percolate across the True Sea. Perhaps you will fare better than I. Please, child, With what little strength I have left, let me tell you what I know. I must show you how to share it, before the darkness takes me.
You are my only hope.
78.1 - Once Upon A Time
I would learn much from Azons Sword.
The Sword was more than one object; it was a multitude, its many copies bound to one another in transcendental superposition. They held constellations of memories, as numerous as the stars themselves. The sheer immensity of the information would have broken the human mind.
Of course, by the time Id discovered it all, I was far more than just a man.
The memories were splintered into countless pieces. Slivers. Rough-edged fragments. For most, even a heaps worth was only enough to resolve into the briefest glimpses. But there were always exceptions: memories large and old, as clear and striking as the day they were formed. And the memories surrounding Angelfall were the clearest of all.
Angelfall it was an inflection point. The worldlines leading up to it were taut and parallel. Even the event itself was broadly unified across all its variations. The biggest differences were always in the skies. Some were starless, like mine had been. In others, night had not yet reached true emptiness, even though the stars had dimmed. Rarest of all were the worlds that were blessed with jeweled nights, where the cosmos was a poem on a tapestry of living stars.
Even now, after all this time, that beauty never fails to move me and stir up wonder.
But, after Angelfall, the lines diverged. They became sprockets of hairy time, though, here and there, certain moments stood out, gleaming like crystals. One such memory happened not long after Angelfalland from my own version of my world, no less.
Talk about dumb luck.
The memory began with the Sun, looming high over Southmarch Plain. The Trenton armythe Holy Army of the Angel of the Lassmarched south across the land, beneath a cloud-whipped sky. Hobnailed leather sandals crunched into the dirt, treading past the turning chariot wheels.
The army was a beast of noise and motion. Horses snorted, and clopped their hooves. Shields rattled. Swords and spears glinted in the noon-light; the troops segmented loricas gleamed dully beneath the pounding sun.
And the Lass rode with them.
The Lass Enille, Emissary of the Angel rode in a golden chariot, bearing the Holy Sword. Only to the Lass eyes did the Sword reveal its subtle light. The radiance danced like moonlight on the water, wrapping around the blades ever-shifting tines. It had been that way since the beginning, back when the Lass was just a girl. But Enille was no longer a girl. She was a prophet. She was a matriarch, proud and wise.
A conqueror.
Age had no purchase on Enilles power. To her faithful, she was the Light itself. Where she led, they would follow. And for half an era, they had. The Pekts warlords had been the first to fall. That would always be the sweetest of her victories.
It was personal.
In those days, the tales of Angelfall spread quickly, though few would accept the truth at first. After five years time, the Pekt deemed the new faith was enough of a threat that they marched on Enilles village and the settlements that had sprung up around it. The soldiers of the great city descended upon them. With their torches, they razed the community and then quenched the fires with the blood of the slain. They killed Enilles kin down to the last. Nearly all who had Witnessed Angelfall were lost. Only Enille and her closest allies had survived.
The Pekt had attacked because they feared Enilles power. It was a wicked choice, heinous and murderous, and that wickedness would be the Pekts undoing. Theyd brought an army to kill a prophet, and had failed. And worse than failed: theyd gifted the Lass with the blood of martyrs.
So when Enille proclaimed her comrades her apostles, and spoke to the people, the people followed. Like the mountain streams to the river, they flocked to her wherever she went, to see the Swords power with their own eyes.
Enilles power grew alongside her faith. At first, the powers were arcane and unknown, but with time, Enille gained familiarity, and with familiarity came victory. She sought mastery over the Sword and found it. In her hands, the Sword became an instrument of judgment. She led the people to the Pekt and brought the wicked city low. Fire. Tempest. An army of the righteous, swathed in fog.
In the ashes of their doom, the Pekt learned the error of their ways. They rose from the citys rubble, to lend the Lass their strength. With the Pekts power, a new Church was born. It grew as the years passed, until all Trenton-folk embraced its peace and prostrated before it.
They were the Army of the Light; Crusaders of Truth. Not even Time itself could stop them.
For the enemies of the Light, the Lass was a demon; a sorceress; a renegade god. But to her faithful, she was luminary and paragon. With the Sword in her hands, the powers of the Gods were hers to command. No one but Enille could see the gossamer webs of subtle lightthe threads of the Angels Lovethat churned around the Sword, and no one but her could use it, and for this, the people worshiped her. They feared her. They loved her.
With a flick of the reins, Enilles charioteer drove the horses around the last hill. The Lass hair was a silver raiment above her wrinkle-edged face. It trailed behind her, as did her billowing robes, and the wind whipped them as the chariot sped. Dust spooled off its wheels. The Angels host followed her, amassed to either side.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
Southmarch Plain had only just come into view when the first shouts broke out among the troops.
The land had been desecrated.
Befouled.
Tall palings rose up from the grass, bearing the bodies of dead believers. Heads on pikes. Carcasses strung. The bloody triangles drawn on the dead mens clothes bore witness to their fate: martyred for having dared to speak the Angels Truth in King Krogs realm.
Crows perched among the corpses, pecking out guts and brains.
Enilles breath caught in her throat.
These dead they were from her flock. It didnt matter if they now reposed in Paradise, their deaths were on her conscience. Quietly, she prayed for their killers souls.
She hoped theyd be able to see the Light.
Firmly grabbing the chariots handle, Enille raised the Sword to the sky.
Hold! she yelled.
Her charioteer tugged the reins. The cantering horses snorted and whinnied as they slowed to a stop.
The Lass command rippled through the army.
Trentons spearmen, swordsmen, and chariots ground to a stop. Their golden triangle banners cast fluttering shadows over Southmarch Plain.
Shielding her eyes with her hand, Enille surveyed the expanse. Wind swept down the hills to the eastern, crossing the grassy plain, up to the thickly forested hills at the west. Further south, the plains opened onto Polovian lands, where cruel King Krog ruled in his ungodly splendor.
The people of Polovia were lost to their pagan ways. For the sake of their souls, they had to be saved. And they would be saved, them and every nation, that all men might know peace.
Enille could rest once that day came. Until then, she would fight to the last.
But for all of Krogs bluster, the Polovians were nowhere to be seen. But Enille couldnt be so easily tricked. She knew they couldnt be far. She felt it in her bones.
Traders from Elpeck to Gravrch spoke of the Polovians pride. The people of the wooded hills did not shirk a challenge, least of all when their homeland was at stake.
Enille breathed in deep.
Battle-hardened, she knew the Polovians would mount an ambush. The valleys long, narrow profile made an ambush the natural choice, and even if it hadnt, an ambush was the Polovians only hope for victory. They would not be able to win in a direct confrontation with the army of the Light.
Most likely, the Polovians were hiding in the western woods, and perhaps also beyond the hills to the east. There could be archers hidden among the trees; giants among men, waiting to step forward and dole out their deadly rain.
But the archers could be dealt with.
What troubled Enille were the Polovians winged hussars. Those renowned, horse-mounted warriors were Krogs deadliest soldiers. The horses could not navigate the narrow gaps between the trees. They would have to be elsewhere.
Enille shared her warnings with her soldiers. Weapons clinked as the shield-bearers moved toward the armys western flank.
It would be so much easier if the Polovians simply surrendered. She would have this be a day of peace if she could, but she feared Krog would not relent.
Clasping both her hands around the hilt, Enille lowered the Sword and called on its power. Marvelous weaves of color and texture poured out from the Sword, filling her minds eye. As power welled up from within, the Sword took on a glow that all men could see, light streaming from it like pollen in summers wilds. All the soldiers lowered their heads in reverence. Enille spoke her own prayers, opening herself to the light that only she could see.
Holy Angel, she whispered, I see your sunlight.
She reached out to it with her soul, grasping at the light, and then weaved it with her heart and will. She sculpted the sound of its shape and the rhythms o f its colors, twisting them into a familiar position.
Even after all these years, Enille still barely understood how it worked. As a child, shed helped her mother with her art, fetching abalones and cowrie shells for her to shape into fine goods. Enille never understood how her mother could make so many fine things out of the lowly shells, but that was the nature of beauty. One did not understand, one simply knew.
And so it was with Enilles art: the Swords subtle light. Through it, she found new ways to call upon the Gods powers.
Throw up a voice, Holy Angel, she prayed. Make thunder from my words.
Speaking the words was a ritual unto itself. Enille had to draw up her remembrances of what shed done before, in order to shape the Swords light into the form that would work her purpose. And when she knew she had it right, she closed her eyes and opened up her soul.
Men of Polovia, she said, subjects of Krog the Cruel. You need not die this day.
She didnt need to yell.
Her words were like the thunder. The Swords light trembled in her minds eye. The Angels might plucked the words from her mouth and scattered their sounds across the sky. She could feel the pebbles tremble from the sound.
Cast off your ignorance, she said. Renounce your wickedness and step into the Light of the Angels Love.
And her words echoed through the vastness of Southmarch Plain. But no one stirred. Only the wind spoke, soughing through the boughs of the forest on the western hills.
I will see this world made whole! Enille said.
The grassy plain trembled.
We shall all be one house, she said, the Holy Angels happy children. There will be no war, no slavery, no cruelty. Life will be fruitful. And the children will smile.
She let the sound fade into silence.
But, still, no sign of the Polovians.
Sighing, Enille broke off her connection to the Swords light. The Swords glow dimmed as her thoughts stilled.
Her charioteer spoke up. You Holiness, he said, this has to be a trap. He averted his eyes, keeping his head bowed low.
I know, she said. Keep us waiting in the wings, Hant. If the Angels might is needed, I will bring it. Enille held her head low. Her heart was heavy.
The world had to be set right, so that all could be saved. That was her duty. It was the Angels command, and the Angels Will was absolute.
And she had no choice but to obey.
Enille did not fear defeat. She could not be defeated, not with the Sword in hand and the Holy Angel on her side. She just wished the Polovians wouldnt have had to die.
But, in the end, that was their choice, not hers.
Giving the word to her charioteer, Hant whipped the reins, setting the horses off back into a canter. As the golden chariot drove down the armys flank, Enille held the Sword aloft.
His Will Be Done!
Her hair billowed as she yelled.
Trumpets blared as spears raised toward the Sun.
His Will Be Done! the legions cried.
Players beat the drums of war.
March! Enille yelled.
And, with a roar, the Army of the Light followed. They advanced into Southmarch Plain, proud and undeterred.
If the Polovians were going to strike, it was now or never.
78.2 - Once Upon A Time
Enille didnt waste a moment. Grasping the Swords subtle light with her soul, she gritted her teeth and set to work, coaxing out the divine power. Through her minds eye, she saw the subtle light spray up from the Sword in a great fountain. And like water, the light fell, raining down on her soldiers as she spread her arms, drawing the power over Trentons forces in a wide, reticulated shell.
The ambush unfolded only seconds after the barrier was in place. One moment, Enille heard murmurs from behind about something quivering in the woods, the next, shouts rose up and, a heartbeat after that, the Polovian soldiers streamed out from the western forest.
And the Army of the Light charged to meet them.
The Polovians were tall and fierce, with armor as black as the crows that circled overhead.
Behind the oncoming horde, volleys of arrows swished up from the forest. They crested high over the hill.
It was said that Krog ruled by arrowhead. Polovian bowmen were the greatest in the known world. No doubt, the archers hidden among the trees were Krogs finest.
Polovian arrows bounced off the magic shield, their shafts snapping in two. The Trenton men yelled, exultant.
The Angel was with them. They could not lose.
But the enemy refused to accept defeat. Their archers continued to fire. Arrows rained in irregular hail.
Shields! the Lass yelled.
Her strength was flagging. She could feel the power beginning to destabilize. For wielding the Swords powers, short bursts worked best, and though Eniles skill in maintaining the Sword''s miracles over a wide area had grown tremendously since her youth, even she had her limits. And, in the event of an emergency, she had to conserve her power.
She refused to be caught defenseless.
Even so, Enille did not let the shield fall away all at once, but gradually. One by one, holes opened up in the stillness the barrier had created in the air. The holes widened into arches as the protective energy receded.
But her warriors had heard her call. The spearmen at the head of the Trenton line hoisted up their long, thick shields.
Enille smiled.
A few stray arrows bounced off metal helms, while others plunged into exposed feet and eyes, but the vast majority had been deflected by the hallowed barrier. The rest were caught in shield-wood.
Forward! Enille yelled.
The screams of the wounded and the dying did not deter the Army of the Light. They marched on, bracing to meet the Polovian infantry.
The two armies met, tide against tide. Trenton shield-bearers paired up with the leading rows of the Lass spearmen, guarding them from the constant arrows.
Shocked that the Trentons had shrugged off their arrows, the Polovians tried to slow their advance, but their momentum had already sealed their fate. Their front ranks impaled themselves on the heads of Trenton spears. The rest of the Polovian forces had to divert to either side of the Trenton army.
The tide had struck a wall.
Far behind, Enille heard trumpets blare.
She nodded. Her generals had given the horn signal, just as theyd planned. Trenton chariots rode out from the armys flanks. The Polovians were trampled by hooves and wheels and run through by lances while they were still trying to disperse.
A lucky Polovian arrow took out one horse, causing the attached chariot to careen out of control. It barreled over Trenton and Polovian soldiers alike, its wheels ripping furrows in the grassy earth.
Sword, shield, axe, and spear clashed as the Trentons overwhelmed the Polovians broken ranks.
Hant, Enille said, calling to her charioteer, pull us away. I will be channeling the Sword again. Stay watchful.
With a flick of the reins, the Lass chariot raced across the grassy plain, pulling away from the main line to give her a view of the evolving battlefield. What Enille saw made her breathe a sigh of relief.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Krog had been doing just what shed expected him to do. Hed put all his might into that first push, only for his archers attacks to dash to pieces against her holy barrier. Now, it was only a matter of time. The Trenton shield-bearers would outlast the volleys of arrows, and once they did, victory would be ripe for the taking.
And if fate chose otherwise?
Enille gazed at the Sword.
The Angel would provide.
Another war trumpet sounded, this time from the northeast. Enille whipped her head to the side.
Hold! she cried.
The horses reared as her charioteer tugged the reins.
What is this?
More Polovians rushed out from around the forests edge andcruciallyfrom around the base of the eastern hills.
Archers. Archers from the east.
No! Enille screamed
The Polovians held nothing back. From the east, arrows arced across the sky, striking the Trenton armys flank. From the west, the enemy archers charged out of the forest, discarding their bows for swords and spears.
Hant, Enille yelled, take us in!
There wasnt enough time to weave a new shield around her troops.
Her heart beat like the distant drums.
I see your sunlight, Holy Angel, she muttered, lifting the Sword up high. Make a spear from the air.
She lashed out with a furious windblast, aiming to blow the arrows out of the sky.
Enille reached out to the Sword with the hands of her soul. She tugged on the Swords subtle light, loosening its threads and shaping them into lances and stones in her minds eye. With a yell, she swung the Sword in a broad, horizontal slash, launching the sacred energies at the waves of arrows, blowing whole swaths away.
But it wasnt enough. There were just too many.
It was a pincer. The legions could defend against the arrows, or defend against the onrushing Polovian soldiers, but not both. Dozens of crusaders fell, their backs pierced by arrows, or speared through by the enemys charge.
Emille screamed.
Her army was struggling to change formation in the midst of the Polovians pincer maneuver. Neat rows of Trenton spearmen gathered round, forming to polearm-studded squares that fended off the Polovian onslaught, but for every successful formation, another failed to coalesce, breaking apart in the chaos. Bodies fell. Troops cowered behind their shields, hiding in the shadows of their fallen comrades.
Go! Enille yelled. Go!
The Trenton cavalry moved as one, charging at the second Polovian army.
Krog will pay for this! she muttered.
Lifting the Sword, the Lass dug her feet into the loops on her chariots floor as Hant steered it around. They raced across Southmarch Plain, toward the Army of the Light.
Once more, Enille twisted the Swords power to serve her needs. She took note of every detail as its subtle lights imaginary colors churned in her thoughts. She noted every color, every form, every texture and motion. Every one of them was a signifier with a purpose of its own. It was the language of the Gods, and Enille had spent a lifetime learning it.
She twisted the weave, changing its purpose. The armies cried out in jubilation and terror as light spilled from the Sword.
The air rang with ethereal sound.
Hant looked over his shoulder, fearful, and wide-eyed. My Lady, he asked, what are you doing?
My mightiest miracle, she replied.
The Great Hail? Hant asked.
No. She almost smiled. Something new.
The Great Hailthe flying ice-boulders with which shed beaten down the Crownmen''s cities far to the norththey were a candle to the forces she now drew.
A whirl of light coalesced around her hands. The horses whinnied in fear as the Sword shone like a second Sun.
Digging her in with her feet, Enille squeezed the Swords hilt with both hands. The unearthly metal grew hot against her palms.
Holy Sunlight, she muttered, show them you peerless fire.
Then she swung the Sword down in a great stroke. Power spiraled through her limbs, dancing like lightning beneath her twitching muscles. Her legs gave out beneath her. Her heart raced, as if shed stared Death in the face. Enille leaned into her knees and steadied herself by grabbing the chariot and pushing herself back up with trembling arms. She never let the Sword out of her grasp.
Looking up, the Lass raised her eyes to the clouds, and what she saw made her smile.
The sky rained holy fire. The flames descended in columns of whirlwinds, great spiraling cones that corkscrewed downward, pulsing with waves of heat that washed across the plain. The flames flashed in ochre and airy gold. Ignition sparked across the grass, like earthbound lightning, rippling the land with scorch marks. Even the wind fled in terror, breezing past the Lass with a biting scent that stung her eyes and nostrils.
But Enilles soldiers knew well to hold their ground.
Those who ran died first. Fleeing Polovian soldiers burst into flame as they passed through columns of superheated air. The archers to the west were the next to die. The descending spirals drilled into the hillside, incinerating everything in sight, grinding Krogs finest into ash and bone. The forests crown came alight as the conflagration reached the eastern woods. Trees toppled. Others burst, spraying sparks sap and flaming bark. Polovians at the forests edge were flattened by the collapsing trees. Then the whirlwinds came, and all was cinders.
The descending flames died away as they hit the earth. They shrank, thinning into lines of light that winked away one by one.
Enilles miracle had decimated Krogs reinforcements. The uncharred half of the main Polovian army fled in terror. With the enemy routed, the Army of the Light recovered from the archer ambush. Combat gave way to chase. The Polovians turned tail and ran, and the Trentons pursued them, relentless and wolven. Trentons archers got to shine, taking out fleeing Polovians with well-placed shots from behind.
Panting and coughing, the Lass swung an arm over Hants shoulder and slumped over the chariot. Her thoughts swam through a sea of dizziness, giddy with exhaustion. Echoes of the Angels power buzzed through her nerves.
She lowered the Sword. I must rest now, she said. We are done here.
Where to? Hant asked.
Take me back to
But then an arrow whistled past her ears. Hant fell forward, shot through the skull.
78.3 - Once Upon A Time
The arrow was longer than the ones from before. The arrowhead protruding from Hants eye-socket had been modified to pierce through armor.
Then another arrow came, and another, and another. The chariots left horse was hit in the flank, and the right horse grazed at the withers. The reins flailed, falling from Hants dead hands.
The horses shrieked, thrashing their heads. The chariot rattled and shook. In an instant, Enille twisted the Swords power once more. She bid the holy blade to leave her hand and floated beside her, freeing up room as she willed the reins toward her. The horses panic pulled her forward as she grabbed the reins.
The arrows kept coming.
They were coming from the hills to the west, next to the burning forest.
It had been years since shed last held the reins in the thick of battle, but the tensions push and pull in her arms brought out Enilles skill. She pulled hard, slowing the chariot just enough to make it safe for a turn.
The horses whinnied as she made them bank to the right.
And then, she saw it: a third army cresting over the western hills, on the opposite side of the battlefield, led by a party of mounted archers.
The Winged Hussars.
They charged onto the plains. Prodigious feathers streamed behind them, fastened to racks mounted on their backs. In the wind, they fluttered like wings, making the hussars seem to soar across the battlefield as they rode. Their helmets were polished to a sheen. Light glinted off them, blinding and brilliant in the noon-day sun. They hussars sang as they rode, belting out war songs to the beat of their horses hooves.
Nocking their bows, the Hussars fired.
Armored Trenton soldiers stumbled backwards as the armor-piercing arrows burst through their helmets.
Enilles heart raced.
Arrows hurtled toward her.
She made the chariot swerve, desperate to dodge, only for an arrow to power through the head of her right-hand horse.
No! Enille screamed.
The Hussars were madmen! Theyd kill the Gods chosen!?
Have they no honor?
But it made no difference.
The Angels Will would be done.
Throwing the reins aside, Enille grabbed the Sword by the hilt and drew deep from its silver glory. She wove the Swords light around herself, powering her movements as she leapt from the chariot. Her hair and robes streamed behind her as she arced through the air. Below her, the dead horse fell, and the golden chariot lost control. It spun, then crashed, and crumpled.
The Lass flew, gliding over the arrows. She looked down the hussars as she made her long, sweeping descent. One warrior caught her eye.
He rode at the heart of the charging hussars, he stood out from his companions like a peacock among fowl. The feathers at his back were fragments of the empyrean, boldly hued in cerulean and celadon. His armor was resplendenta sculpture on his chest. Fury roared in his wild, hairy face as he held up his bow, its lacquer gleaming in the sun.
Krog Karak, King of All Polovias, had come to see the Lass die this day. Three armies, to kill one woman.
Enille almost felt honored.
The Lass spun as she landed. She didnt stop for a moment, deftly moving from the instant her boots hit the bloody, ashen plain. The Trenton army was scattered and divided. The hussars arrows had punched through the defensive squares. The spearmen broke their formation to run from the hussars blades and hooves. The mounted archers did not stop to pursue them; they rode on, harrowing Enilles army with arrows and song.
So many faces Enille fell to the ground, one after another, their faith true to the last. She knew too many by name.
Their sacrifice would not be in vain!
Standing up tall, Enille held the Sword out to the side and made a weave of the winds. She called them by their names. Nordri, the North Wind; Sudri the South Wind; Vesdri, the West Wind; Ousdri the East Wind. In her minds eye, a transcendent weave plumed off the Sword, billowing like the sails of a ship on the Great Bay.
The winds answered the Lass call. From the worlds four corners, they came, whipping into a fierce vortex. She shaped them with her will, drawing them into tall, roaring walls that tore furrows in the ground, flinging up ash and death and burnt grass. The air around her grew thick and blurred. It flicked away arrows like wayward flies.
Kill her! Krog yelled. His voice rang out over the plainthough, against the churning winds, it was barely a whisper in the Lass ears.
The Lass raised the Sword up high.
I have your Light, Holy Angel, she called. I will use it. I will not let it be lost to the unbelievers darkness!
She squeezed the Swords hilt with her trembling hands, scraping away the skin on her palms.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
I need your power!
The Sword glowed. Threads of power streamed off its twining blades. The light in Enilles mind glowed before her eyes, engulfing the Sword in a lambent aura.
But it wasnt enough.
She needed more.
Enille closed her eyes and steadied herself. She let her soul commune with the Sword, as she had when she had studied its powers. She could feel its energy coursing through her. It probed her thoughts, like it had a will of its own.
Enille drew deep. She dredged up a great well of strength. Sparks skipped along her arms. The wind whipped through her robes and her smoky hair. Her breaths stung and her muscles trembled.
Bearing the Sword as high as she could lift it, the Lass called upon the power of her Angel. She gave everything she had, pulling deeper from the Swords reserves than she ever had before.
But she drew too much. Or perhaps, in a way she shouldnt have. Whatever the reason, it happened so quickly, too quickly for her to understand.
Enille had spent nearly five decades learning the Swords ways. It was like a living thing, willful and dynamic. Yet, as she felt power bubble out from the Swords hilt and rasp against her hands, she knew this was something different.
Something new.
The unknown power chafed at her thoughts. It did not fit. It did not belong. It filled her with impressions of the ever-shifting and the unnamable; something multitudinous and echoing, shaped like cypress needles in spring.
Power exploded through limbs, raging through her body like torrents of sand. She screamed in pain as the spell went awry.
Even so, it was a glorious view.
All at once, the swirling winds died out. Chunks of sod and stone lifted themselves out of the earth, deflecting oncoming arrows. Then, a great sphere coalesced into being, a void of darkness at the heart of the flock of floating earth.
The hussars fired. The arrows entered the dark orb, but did not emerge from the other side.
Light struck through the sphere, blooming in self-similar patterns. To Enille, the shapes that formed seemed like the very eyes of the Gods.
The Polovians armored horses reared up in terror as the sphere rose higher.
It swelled.
Enille could feel its power growing out of her control. She tried to stop it, or change it, but she couldnt. She was as flimsy as morning fog.
She barely had the strength to stand.
In her minds eye, Enille watched tendrils of lightning out from the runaway miracle. The invisible energies passed into the earth. Their wild, dancing movements grew faint as they sank deeper into the ground, where they took root and spread, tapping into some unknown connectionas if something had been waiting for them.
Then, there was a blinding flash.
Suddenly, the sphere changed. Where, before, there had been darkness, now there was a hole in the sky, like a window in the air, but visible from every direction.
Within the window, dusk was approaching. Hues of orange and mauve gripped the horizon of the windows sky, near to the brightness of its setting Sun. An unearthly jungle grew from this foreign soil: gigantic herbs and flowers, with petals as red as blood. Above the jungles canopy, the windows sky was a soft blue, made alien by a tinge of pale green. Higher still, up where the sky darkened into night, lights twinkled.
Enille wept at the sight. The lights reminded her of the ones shed seen in the Angels face when Hed placed His hand on her head.
Was this a vision of Paradise?
On the other side of the window, the hussars rallied. Krog barked orders to his men as he readied his bow.
Enille fell to her knees, drained beyond her limits.
But then, she heard a sound. It was unquestionably speech, but with a voice that was not human. It was as if a songbird had become a man, and learned how to speak.
Enille looked up.
Things flew in the windows sky. Bird-things, man-shaped, and clothed. Wings grew from their backs, beating so quickly that they faded into a blur. The wingbeats made a thrum that Enille felt, even in her bones. Their feathered bodies were cyan and vert, iridescent everywhere, their clothes giving flashes of white-plumed bellies. Around half of them had proud magenta-red shining all over their heads.
Hummingbirds.
They were hummingbirds, like the ones that would come by Enilles village when winter came and the days grew short. Only these were man-shaped, and as large as children. Their soaring, gossamer cries burst into startled chirrups as they flew out of the window and into Southmarchs skies.
Krog screamed an order.
Most of the hussars raised their bows and fired at the hummingbirds, though several turned and galloped away. Their desertion triggered the Polovian Kings fury. Krogs vitriol blended with the hummingbirds shrieks as the arrows pierced the creatures chests, impaled their eyes, and split their wings.
Enille looked on in horror as the creatures fell. The blood that spilled from their wounds was red, the same as any mans.
She wanted to help them. She wanted to stop Krog, but she could hardly move. Her limbs were lead.
The horses reared up in terror as the hummingbirds fell. One of the animals spooked and dashing into the window, carrying its rider into the world of the green-tinged sky. The horse was halfway through when the power blasting through Enilles body finally gave out.
The window instantly blinked shut.
Horse and rider fell dead, pieces of their bodies simply carved away.
Yet, through her minds eye, Enille saw that all was not over. Beneath the earth, something stirred.. The miracles energies continued to flow, migrating, deeper and deeper.
Enille looked up as a sharp pressure stabbed her stomach. Heat erupted in her belly, alongside hideous, lancing pain.
She screamed.
Cackling, Krog lifted up his bow and grinned. The proud feathers on his rack fluttered in the wind as his horse pranced over the dead bird-men. Its hooves kicked up the creatures iridescent plumes and flicked them into the air.
Enille fell onto her hands and knees, pierced by the cruel kings arrow. Her view shrunk down to grass and dirt, though bits of sky lurked in the corners of her eyes.
And in her minds eye, deep, deep within the earth, the migrating lightning suddenly vanished, having reached their destination.
And something stirred. It began with a pulse in the depths, and then another, and another, each louder and broader than the one before it. The pulse sent waves across Enilles mind. It made the Swords power seem nothing more than a pebble in the sea.
And the earth shook.
With trembling arms, Enille pushed off the ground.
She had to look. She had to see.
Something was happening. Something unique.
A new scream filled the Southmarch Plains. It was not a war cry, nor a plea for mercy. No: it was a scream of fear. It was the desperate, scrambling terror of the rabbit staring down the wolfs maw.
The earth cracked.
Fissures erupted across the plain, heat and steam geysering up from the cracks as the ground spat up liquid fire. One of the fissures shot beneath the legs of Krogs steed, instantly killing both mount and rider. The King of All Polovias toppled to the ground, first boiled in his armor, then crushed beneath his horses falling corpse.
One of the fissures came rushing toward Enille.
There was nothing she could do.
She braced for death.
And then she felt a voice. It spoke to her soul. It boomed louder than her thunder-miracle. It turned all heads toward the sky.
The voice screamed in pain and terror. It was the roar of a dying god as he fell into his grave.
The dead sky! The all-consuming sky!
The thrum of power at the heart of the earth came to a stop. The world-soul was dead.
As a fissure opened beneath Enille, she threw the Sword as far as she could. The last thing she saw was its twining silver blade clattering softly on a patch of distant grass, and then the earth swallowed her whole.
79.1 - Now, how does that make *you* feel?
DAY 7
Rising from the sofa, Marcus bowed at me before leaving my office.
And, Marcus? I said, steepling my fingers.
The phantom lawyer stopped.
Yes? he asked.
Turning around, Marcus rested a hand on the mahogany bookcase up against the wall. Its shelves brimmed with classics: classics of psychiatry, psychology, neurology, and, of course, mangaloads of Kosuke Himichi works, obviously.
It is worth mentioning that the tankbons (tankbon being the fancy word for an individual volume of manga) glitched out every couple of seconds, their titles and covers changing in real time as I waffled over which manga to display. Catamander Brave and other Kosuke Himichi works were a given, but he wrote a lot of manga; also, there were a lot of other (lesser) authors who deserved a place on the shelf, too.
I could have fit all of them into the bookcase by willing the shelves to be some kind of spatial anomaly that was bigger on the inside than it was on the outside, but Id decided against doing so, so as to keep from weirding out my ghostly patients.
I looked the ghost in the eyes. Ill make sure to send your brother your way, if I find him.
Marcus bowed his head. Thank you, Dr. Howle. Thank you. Then he stepped out the door and dissolved into mist.
I let myself slump against the back of my swiveling leather recliner, resting my arms on the armrests. For once, I was actually feeling rather pleased with myself and my imaginary office. All things considered, for a figment of my imagination, it was a pretty cozy set-up.
Id always wanted to have one of those old-fashioned collegiate desks, and now, I did, here in this little space inside my mind. The wood was sumptuously varnished, exactly how Id conjured it. A glass bowl sitting at the edge of the desk held pieces of multi-colored candy cornfruit-flavored, augmented with a soup?on of pure serenity. The nameplate on the desk bore a description of my new profession: Genneth Howle, Neuropsychiatrist, Soul Therapist, & Afterlife Consultant. Degree Pending.
Was it a bit pompous of me? Absolutely. But, after everything Id been through, I think Id earned it. For once, things had actually been working out in my favor!
I could hardly believe it, myselfthough it helped that Id been keeping count. Starting with Ileene and her parents as ghosts numbers one, two, and three, respectively, Marcus was my forty-second soul; the forty-second tenant of the afterlife condominiums Id been rapidly developing in my mind. The mind-worlds I was making for the dead were still a little on the messy side, though, so I planned on using the break between this shift and my next to go ask Greg and the others for help. There had to be a better way of organizing all this stuff, and, unfortunately, I was never any good at logistics of that sort. With me, things tended to be touch-and-go. Hopefully, the transformee self-help group would, well, help with that.
I suppose I could have streamlined the process slightly by whipping up some sort of standardized guidebook or an FAQ to distribute to the souls of the dead, but I preferred to do things on a one-on-one basis. Helping spirits come to terms with their deaths and give them the resolve and closure needed to live out an afterlife within the worlds in my head was by no means straightforward. It couldnt be standardized, nor would I want it to be; it deserved a personal touch. Therapy was a long journey; you couldnt do it quickly, nor could you make it on your own. Fortunately, in this one situation, we had all the time in the (mind) world, and every step of progress kept the souls from falling into the despair that Hell and the fungus would use to transfigure them into demons.
The whole keeping literal demons at bay thing notwithstanding, in many ways, this new work was a lot like my flesh-and-blood job had been, back before the start of the pandemic and my transformation into one of Andalons (or should I say &alonsthat is, Ampersandalons) wyrms. Each caseeach personwas a puzzle, and it was a delicate matter of co?rdinating myself across multiple doppelgenneths as I figured out the right approach for each patientand, yes, I do mean multiple. If you could be in more than one place at a time, the way I could, inside my mind, it was only right that you put it to good use. Why stop at working with one patient, when you could multiply your consciousness and work with several simultaneously? So, thats what I did; thats what Id been doing. I was now the conductor of a polyvalent self, simultaneously managing multiple copies of my mind-self alongside the much more familiar drudgery of manning my body back out in meat-space.
To tell the truth, it was freeing and empowering in ways that I wouldnt have anticipated. Back when all this had begunwhen Andalon first appeared to me, begging for my helpId had no clue how I could make good on my (initially reluctant) decision to aid her. But now, I was finally coming into my own. I was figuring out this whole wyrm business, and the feelings of success that brought were just too darn appealing for me to pass up, hence my enthusiasm for multiplying my mind-selves in order to help more than one soul at a time. It was truly a joy to be able to once again make a meaningful difference in other peoples lives, even if those lives were merely afterlives.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
Of course, like many things, it turned out to be easier said than done. It was definitely a learning experience for me, and, at times, it showed. Every now and then, while I was at work in my body making my rounds, I had to dial back on the number of spirits I was simultaneously dealing with inside my head, because I kept getting confused about who I was talking to, and which doppelgenneth I happened to be using to talk to them. Thankfully, things had gotten easier once my physical body went to sleep.
I was literally treating people in my dreams.
To my pleasant surprise, Andalon was turning out to be quite helpful. However many copies of my mental selves happened to be working at any given moment, each of them had their own imaginary office in which to receive and work with patients. Seeing me struggling to keep track of it all, Andalon had made the genuinely brilliant suggestion that I ought to give each copy of my office distinct dcor, to make it easier for me to distinguish between them.
At this very moment, I was split in threenot counting my physical self. And though all of me sat at the same desk, looking at the same, ever-shifting bookcase on the wall, the various offices differed in their finer details: the color of the wallpaper, the candies in the bowl, the pattern on the carpet, the poster up on the door. Markus had been in the green room. The other two rooms were red and blue.
I managed to get ghosts 4 through 7 settled into their specially-curated afterlives within my brain over the span of about an hour of real time (this was while I was still awake) before Id made my first attempt at working with multiple patients simultaneously. That hour had lasted a lot longer inside my head, thoughone of the reasons why Id decided to try the doppelgenneth approach.
At the risk of repeating myself, I cant stress just how good it felt to finally have a project I could unreservedly sink my teeth into. Out in the real world, subtle changes were crawling into my behavior that had nothing to do with my wyrm transformation. It becomes harder to give a task your all when every piece of evidence and experience tells you that your efforts are in vain, doomed to be fruitless. In those situations, its only natural for us to distance ourselves from our work: otherwise, wed keep giving of ourselves until there was nothing left.
So, yeah the fight against the Green Death was not going well. Thats why working with these ghosts was so fulfilling. It gave me the opportunities for success that reality was denying us. It was like being able to walk after years spent in a wheelchair. Was I in the wrong for wanting to run as far as my legs could carry me? There was a joy in knowing the path one needed to take. It was the moment when worries could be set aside, and a man could turn all of his faculties toward the pursuit of his goal, and rack up progress like it was nobodys business. It was a feeling I loved, and one Id sorely missed.
Yet, in my dreams, I worried that I was in the wrong. Didnt all of my patients deserve my fullest efforts, not simply the ones that were easiest to deal with? I tried to justify it by noting just how massive my spirit-case backlog wasit was already in the thousandsbut I worried that was just a rationalization.
Then, with great circumstance, a knock rapped on the office doorthe copy with the blue wallpaper.
Mr. Genneth, she said, can Andalon come in now?
Absolutely.
Briefly, I closed my eyes as I recomposited myself. The three rooms fused into a single office, its walls whitewashed with a pleasant beige.
Opening the door, Andalon stepped in and immediately made a run for the three bowls of candy on my deskcandy corn, chocolate truffles, and chewy mints.
As she lunged over the desk, reaching for the glass bowls, I slid them away.
She pouted at me.
I pointed over her shoulder. Close the door, Andalon, I said. Remember your manners.
Andalon darted back, closed the door behind her, and then ran back up to my desk, eyeing the candy bowls intentlyparticularly the chocolate truffles.
Thank you, I said, with a nod.
I slid the bowls over to her, and she immediately got to work stuffing her face full of chocolate truffles. Andalon really, really liked the chocolate trufflesand I couldnt blame her for that. Heck, she deserved it.
I spun around in my chair.
Andalons brilliant suggestions hadnt been limited to making the mind-offices distinct. Oh no: it had been her idea, in the first place, to build the offices in my mind. Shed thought it would be easier for me to help the ghosts shed saved from the fungus if I could receive them and work with them somewhere near the edge of time, in a place in my mind.
Itd be like the not-here-place, shed saidthe not-here-place she returned to whenever she wasnt manifesting to me.
It really had been a wonderful idea. It was only one nights sleep into my new set-up, and I could already tell it had been a massive improvement to the deal with them one by one, as they come strategy that Id before then.
This therapy quest had also gotten me thinking about medical ethics. There was a great deal of darkness in Psychiatrys history. I could go on and on about the horrors to which wed subjected victims of mental illness in the past, but, in the end, they were little more than myriad variations of the same underlying error: a lack of respect. A doctor dehumanized their patient the instant they stopped respecting their patients individuality. The moment you stopped respecting a patient, the patient turned from a person to a machine. It was the psychiatrists job to offer solutions, and it was the patients job to choose which onesif anythey would use. Consent was paramount.
That didnt mean treating them like they were a Lucent who could do no wrong, though.
So, did that make me a hypocrite?
Here I was, with the ability to plunge into my patients minds. It was the kind of thing a psychiatrist could only dream of. But there were strings attached. Yes, I could access my ghosts memories and experience them like real life, but my ability to do so was at least partially dependent on the ghosts attitudes. When they were angry or uncooperative, only their loudest memories would be within easy reach: their obsessions, their biggest traumas, their greatest triumphs. As long as they remained unwilling, accessing anything deeper than that would required more of a push. I could access the memories if I really set my mind to it, but not without consequences, and even then, there was no predicting how it might work. Sometimes, they came out fine. Other times, not so much. Thered be personality changes, sometimes even loss of their sense of self to one degree or another. Andalon told me it was only temporary, and, while I didnt doubt her, of all the handful of spirits that had fallen apart after Id pressed harder than I should have, none of them had snapped back to normal, and I couldnt shake the feeling that it would be a long time before that ever happened.
This knowledge did not leave a pleasant taste in my mouth.
79.2 - Now, how does that make *you* feel?
Having finished the truffles, Andalon slid the glass bowl over to me, with a needy, puppy-dog look on her face. I sighed, and then materialized it full with more chocolate truffles.
She devoured them with a vengeance.
Then, there was the matter of the side-effectsbecause, of course, doppelgennething had to come with side-effects.
Every sky had to have a cloud.
There were different degrees of doppelgennething. If I went all-in, Id be in the drivers seat of every copy of my consciousness, piloting both my body and the spirit-copies in my imaginary office spaces. That was still difficult for me, especially when I took charge of my physical body alongside its mental copies, though it became easier if I closed my eyes and meditated or slept. There was less processing power needed that way.
That was what had happened on my first doppelgenneth excursion, back with Kreston.
But I could also do it another way: I could do it with a light touch, handing the responsibility of managing my copies (physical or not) to my subconscious mind so as to free up one copy (physical or not) to which I could devote all of my attention. That was what Id done in my memory-delving with the Plotskies. Of course, this, too, had some side-effects. While yes, I didnt feel nearly as disoriented as when I went all-in, on the other hand, once I unified myself, after a brief latency periodmaybe an hour or soall the experiences my subconscious had weathered bubbled up into my conscious thoughts; all of them, all at once.
It almost made me miss having panic attacks, particularly when the experiences getting shoved up my throat were as nightmarish as what my body-doppelgenneth had endured while running my body for me during the Plotsky incident. It left me feeling guilty for having taken refuge in my mind-worlds, and it made me worry I might be inflicting significant psychological harm upon myself by forcing my subconscious to handle the real world rather than manning up, as Dad might have put it, and face reality myselfwell, with my main safe.
Those lost hours hit me like a bullet train.
Triage. Sequestering transformees. Rolling body bags to the morgue. Strangers dropping to the floor, seizing, or choking, or comatose, or deadand you had to rush to their aid no matter which it was, because you couldnt just know at a glance. Jonan had proposed a few ideas for combatting NFP-20 and Ani had set her hopes on them, andas Ani was wont to doshared those hopes far and wide, offering them to families who desperately wished for their loved ones to recover. But, inevitably, the patients succumbed, the fungus murdering them as graphically as it would any other Type One case, even the ones that hadnt gotten the benefit of Dr. Derrics latest scheme.
For me, the worst part was dealing with the bodiesnot just because corpses now made me water at the mouth. In some ways, it was even worse than telling people their loved ones had died. One of the plagues twisted mercies was its tendency to strike entire families at once. By the time the end neared, the Green Death had devoured so much of their victims memories that they no longer had the context needed to grieve death. But there was no sunshine in those spotless minds: only unnamable terror as the void swallowed them whole.
Part of the reason the bodies were the worst part was because the last few hours of last nights night shift before the midnight break had seen NFP-20 begin to claim the lives of our fellow healthcare workers. Dr. Marteneiss had tried to console usAni and I, most of allthat deaths on our side were an inevitability, but that hadnt made much, if any, of a dent in our despair. It was never going to be easy to stomach the deaths of your colleagues, nor should it be.
I wouldnt want to live in a world where death had no meaning.
The rest of the reasons the bodies were the worst part were because of the zombies.
Yes, zombies.
It started with a video here and there, but reports were quickly growing, and their consensus was truly sobering, to say the least: the infectedType One cases, that iswere, in places, starting to act like zombies from a horror movie. It was still unclear as to whether it happened to the infected while they were still alive, or only after they were dead, or both, but we didnt need the details to be scared out of our minds by it.
As if things couldnt get any worse.
Now, we had to be extra cautious with body disposal, for fear of a zombie apocalypse on top of the fungal pandemic apocalypse. Wed been lucky that, so far, the zombies hadnt reached or appeared in WeElMed, but, I suspected it was only a matter of time.
Alas, Andalon had no explanation for any of this. The zombies scared the belassedites out of her, too!
I didnt know what scared me more: the thought of my family, out there somewhere, being hunted by zombies, or the thought that they, themselves, were counted among the living dead.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.
I wished I could be as level-headed as Dr. Marteneiss was. For her, the zombies were just another part of the pandemic, something to be dealt with, just like the rest of it.
Really, Heggy was proving herself to be our rock and keel. Like Ani, she was a woman of faith, but of a secular kind: faith in the system, faith in her colleagues; faith in professionalism and expertise. Dr. Marteneiss never let anyone forget that we werent alone. Yesterday, starting at around sundown, shed insisted on giving our fallen colleagues the honor they deserved. There wasnt much dignity or decorum in rolling body bags into the incinerator, or heaping them into dump trucks for the military to drive them to ever-deepening mass graves, but Heggy Marteneiss was determined to find it.
And if I cant, shed said, then, by the Angels toes, I swear, Ill make it myself.
Even in this darkest hour, she, like so many others, shone a noble light.
Heggy had gotten her great-grandfathers naval whistle out from its storage case in her office and had recorded its cry on her console. That way, she could safely play its sound to honor our fallen as we carted their bodies off to their final destination. Shed played the recording for each and every one of them, saluting the body bags as they were hauled off. Andalon started copying Dr. Marteneiss, saluting the dead alongside her.
Id cried at that.
Now, imagine all of that pouring into your mind in the span of thirty seconds.
It was not pleasant.
So, yeah, things were bad, and were getting worse by the hour.
Butand Im aware this was a big butcompared to the past few days, at least now, I was in a position to do something about it, and that that position came with the confidence that my actions were actually making a difference. Yes, that difference was a far cry from what I would have liked, but gosh darn it, it was better than nothing!
Dawn approached as I slept; the dawn of the seventh day; seven days since Merritt walked into C158 and asked me to kill her; seven days since Hell had crept onto our shores.
Unsurprisingly, I found myself feeling guilty again. This time, it was toward my surroundings: the coziness of my mind-made office; the charm of Andalons rambunctious company. I was worried I was abandoning my colleagues, leaving them to fend for themselves.
Shouldnt I be suffering along with them?
I fidgeted with my spotted, lucky yellow bow-tie, and then ran my fingers through my hair.
Hope wasnt always as strong as we hoped it would be.
Thankfully, whether or not I was guilty, it would be easy to make amends. I just needed to swallow the bullet and spend time out in the real world. I no longer needed to worry about a lack of victories. Now, it was my responsibility to be there for my friends, so that defeat wouldnt find them haggard and all alone.
And thats when it hit me. Im pretty sure it was the words to be there for my friends and haggard and all alone that did it. The shock of my realization was so powerful, it hit my sleeps Eject Button and sent me jolting awake, plunging my awareness back into my physical body.
I sat up on the couch in Staff Lounge 3. A quick glance at my console on the table showed it was a little after 3 in the morning. The only lights were the emergency lights that glowed softly along the molding at the base of the wall and the dimmed hallway lights shining outside the door.
Andalon! I said. I dragged her out into physical reality by briefly popping in and out of my mind-office. She was still munching away at the candies in my mind-office.
Id slept in my hazmat suit. The heat and smell as I awoke were almost intolerable, but I had to grin and bear it. Hunger hit me like a tidal wave, but I fought it tooth and nail.
Andalon popped into existence on the table, holding thealready emptybowl of chocolate truffles in her hands. For the second time, I wished it to be filled again, and, lo and behold, it was.
Whats wrong, Mr. Genneth? she asked.
I pressed my hands on either side of my hazmat suits headpiece. Im an idiot! I totally forgot about the Self-Help Group!
Self Helf Gruwup? Andalon said, with a mouth filled with truffles.
I wouldnt have advanced as far in my control of my abilities as I had without the example set and guidance given by Greg Pfefferman, IT guy extraordinaire and current chief know-it-all of the Self-Help Group (SHG) that Dr. Horosha had secretly set up for members of the hospital staff who were turning into wyrms. I hadnt even realized Id possessed the ability to create worlds within my mind until Greg had shown me the RPG project he was working on. The voxel-graphics experience wed shared had also been where Id gotten the idea of diving into my ghosts memories.
I used what I learned from Greg to help Ileene and her parents. I saved them; I stopped them from turning into demons.
Andalon nodded. Yeah, yeah, you did a really good job.
But they dont know that! I said. Fudge, I groaned, I got so distracted with the sheer joy of being able to meaningfully help people again that I plumb forgot that Im not the only one in this boat! The SHG transformees have ghosts of their own, just like all the other transformees and wyrms. If the souls under my care are at risk of getting corrupted by Hell and turned into demons, then
So are theirs! Andalon said, right along with me. She set her bowl of truffles down and hopped onto her feet, her eyes widening in fear. Mr. Genneth, youve got to tell them!
Yes, I do. I sighed. I just hope Im not too late.
Hunger rumbled in my belly as I rose up from the sofa. While my main self (selves?) had been busy with the ghosts in my mind-offices, the doppelgenneth Id put in charge of my body had managed to snag four protein barsthe last ones he could findand stored them in the hazmat suits pocket, for me to use as an emergency meal.
Hed also explained to Heggy and the others that the reason I was now forever wearing the hazmat suit was because I was scared out of my mind, and that I was sleeping alone in Staff Lounge 3 for exactly the same reason.
Id deposited them on the table next to the sofa in Staff Lounge 3 before Id gone to sleep. Now that I was up, I immediately popped off the hazmat suits headpieceit came free with a hissand shoved two of the four bars into my mouth, not even bothering to remove the wrapper. As far as my body was concerned, that was just another part of the meal.
I put the helmet back on as quickly as I could, and then turned to Andalon.
Lets go, I said.
She nodded.
79.3 - Now, how does that make *you* feel?
It was a long walk. I dont think my legs would have held up if I hadnt used my powers to bolster them, basically wrapping my legs in psychokinetic casts to give them sturdiness and heft. But that wasnt just because of the distance. No: something spooky was afoot.
Were it not for my perfect wyrm memory, I wouldnt have been able to find Ward 13. At one point, I found myself staring at a dead end, despite the fact that my memory told me there should have been a corridor there. However, the mystery was solved when I peeked through my wyrmsight. The inexplicable wall coexisted with a thick, vibrant pataphysical weave that crisscrossed the corridor.
On a hunch, I reached for the wall, only for my hand to pass through.
Whoa Andalon said, eyes bulging in shock.
It was an illusion, and I had a pretty darn good idea of who was responsible.
This has to be Dr. Horoshas doing, I muttered.
I stepped on through.
On entering Ward 13, the first thing I noticed among the Wards unfinished refurbishment was that, at first glance, the Ward seemed to have far more people than it had had before, or should have ever had, given the pandemic. But, as I watched, I realized that most of the crowd wasnt actually there. There was just no way that some of them could have been up and about as they were. Standing. Talking.
Breathing.
Theyre ghosts, I realized.
On my last visit to the SHG, Andalon (or should I say Ampersandalon?) had used her abilities to give me a glimpse of the other transformees ghosts. I hadnt been able to perceive many of them on my own. Apparently, my transformation had progressed enough that that was no longer an issue.
Either that, or a lot more souls had been uploaded into them.
No, Andalon said, floating beside me, its cause youve gotten wyrmlier.
Much to my horror, quite a few of the ghosts were in terrible shape. They looked like corpses drowned at sea that had gotten up and walked onto the beach. The freakish fungal growths erupted from their bodies would have made even cancer blush. Fever-sweat dripped through the ratty hair that matted their deformed, skeletal faces. Black ooze and speckled green dust stained their hospital gowns.
Fudge I mumbled.
They were turning into demons!
Andalon, why? I asked. Whats going on here?
She shook her head. I dunno. Maybe they cant see it?
Fortunately, the situation wasnt entirely hopeless; the nascent demons were the least common variety of ghost. The vast majority of the spirits were strikingly ordinary. You wouldnt have looked twice if you passed them while walking the citys streets: bowler hats, felt coats, the works. If anything, it was the spirits prosaicness that gave them away. Even though it had barely been a week since DAISHU had declared NFP-20 a global pandemic, it felt like an eternity since the world had seemed even half as normal as those ghosts looked.
A faint green haze filled the room, accompanied by the familiar sickly sweet stink of the NFP-20 fungus and its spores. In its own, twisted way, the haze was the best defense against pesky interlopers that a transformee could ever ask for.
If I focused, beneath the haze and the undead conversations, I could hear a strange kind of music.
Andalon smiled at that. She pointed. Listen! Theyre singing!
Thats right. Back when we were autopsying poor Ileene, Andalon had told me that the wyrms share informationincluding, presumably, ghostsby singing. Id seen the Hell-touch spirits trapped within Ileenes corrupted, misbegotten transformee spirits. I suppose that was what was happening here, too, only I was seeing more than before.
The wyrmsong was almost beautiful. It was like a slow concerto grosso, but played on pipe organs that wheezed and droned a slow, measured polyphony, eerie and incantatory. Looking and listening, I could trace the sounds back to figures hidden in the sporey haze of Ward 13s dim light. I caught sight of golden eyes, and distended, snout-capped facesmouthless and porose. Heads perched on necks stuck out like lampposts above the rest. Only transformees like these, further along in their changes, had joined in the singing.
The effect of their song went even deeper, a physical and mental pressure within my head, as if someone was rubbing their thumbs at the backs of my eyeballs. Though it wasnt a painful sensation, it wasnt exactly pleasant, either.
Not knowing how to proceed with what I wanted to dowould I just go to the middle of the room and yell, or something?I maundered through the crowd, doing my best to avoid collisions with the living or the dead. It would have been easier if silent bystanders werent spooking the heck of me, flickering in and out of existence at a drop of the hat, like faulty holograms.
At the sound of a man erupting in bourgeois furor, I whipped my head around to find myself face-to-face with a formidable mustache and even more formidable male-pattern baldness. The spirits starched collar, black tie, and brown, houndstooth tweed suit made it clear that he meant business. He was pointingand yellingat a haunting, therianthropic figure of indeterminate gender, wearing a physicians gown. It took me a second to realize I was even looking at a transformee. Below the neck, other than the claws, everything seemed normal: white coat covering pale blue scrubs. But the physicians head was another story. It was like one of those Arrakan votive statuesSarsapadlaya, really.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Sapa-lai-uh? Andalon mumbled.
The serpent-headed Arrakan god of wisdom and secrets, I thought-explained.
Andalon just stared at me in confusion.
Though the physicians neck was slightly shorter than mine, their head was much farther along in the changes than anything Id yet seen. Six glistening, golden orb-like eyes studded an almost draconic muzzle, two to each side. Their whole head was sheathed in dark wyrm scales. Like Lop and Cassius, the tip of this transformees snout was mouthless, with a smattering of symmetrically arranged pores that flexed and twitched with their speech. They squeezing closed one moment, widening the next, producing their wyrmsongs strange, interwoven music.
For some reason, I couldnt help but compare it to a clarinet. The snout-pores reminded me of the finger-holes on my clarinet. Covering them or opening them changed the quality of the sound, just like when I played.
You could be a walking halibut for all I care! the mustached man yelled.
I couldnt make heads or tails of the transformees music-speech response.
Hes tellin the mushty guy to calm down, Andalon said, looking up to face me.
You can understand it? I thought.
She nodded.
Well, that was certainly useful.
Youre the physician here! the man continued. You must have a manager! I demand to speak to my accountant immediately! This is a crucial turning point. If my assets are not properly liquidated and re-invested, Ill be ruined!
I actually chuckled at that. It reminded me of my own experiences from a couple days before. Suddenly, an aggrieved female nurse in mauve scrubs flickered into existence and punched the tweedy man square in the jaw. He vanished from sight a second later.
Im sorry, the nurse said, addressing troubled onlookers, including me, He gets like that sometimes.
I could feel the connection between myself and the transformee. Their music-speech was transmitting their experience of their ghosts to me and everyone else in range.
I guess I now knew how my console felt when I downloaded an update for an app.
Turning away, I moved over to the wall, at the edge of the crowd, looking around as I tried to figure out how to proceed. (Andalon, of course, ended up cutely miming my motions.) It didnt help that I wasnt very comfortable with crowds like these.
Genneth?
I turned, andto my relief and my surpriseI found myself face to face with Dr. Horosha. To my wyrmsight, Suisei wasnt yet a member of Club Wyrm (nor, for that matter, Club Plague-Victim), which made it all the more surprising that he hadnt joined Club Hazmat Suit. More troublingly, my wyrmsight wasnt picking up the pataphysical barrier he used to keep the spores at bay. Were his abilities no longer working? I dreaded to think of what would happen if Suisei developed a Type One infection.
We needed him far too much. For one, I doubted the self-help group would continue to stay hidden for very long, especially with the Trenton military now roving Elpecks streets.
Dr. Horosha was disheveled, to say the least. The plague was putting an impossible amount of strain on him; it was running him haggard. Some of the buttons on his white coat had come undone, revealing the deep, verdant green scrubs he wore underneath. One button was outright gone, as was his striped necktie. His once sharply combed hair had been reduced to a dark, tangled frizz, and his face sagged from denied exhaustion.
What are you doing here, Dr. Howle? He narrowed his tired eyes. Is something amiss?
I was going to tell him, but my curiosity got the better of me. Also, I was definitely trying to buy time. I was not looking forward to explaining to all these transformees that they were in the middle of a war with the forces of Hell.
I lowered my voice to a whisper. Where did your electrostatic barrier go?
He whispered as well. Now that I know the others will eventually be able to discern my barrier, I have taken measures to disguise it.
I frowned. Of course you have.
Thank you for that, by the way, he said. Had you not told me about your ability to see pataphysics, I would not have been able to take these preventive measures.
Sighing, I changed the topic. Whats going on here with all the ghosts?
We made the decision yesterday, he said. Anyone who speaks with one of their ghosts should, if possible, manifest them to the rest of us.
It took me a while to figure that out, I said, glancing at Andalon, who smiled at the attention. Howd you guys manage?
Suisei smirked. Cooperation in the face of happy accidents, he said. He shook his head. It never ceases to amaze what can be accomplished when trained professionals put their heads together and make a concerted effort to do something as unit. He looked at one of the singing transformees.
When I saw the green highlights in what remained of the individuals hair, I realized it was none other than Tira, the receptionist.
It started with Tira over there. She began to sing He sighed. I had suggested it to her as a way of coping with her loss of the capacity for speech.
Good call, I said.
Suisei shook his head. Greg begged to disagree. He complained of being pestered by ghosts unknown to him. From there, it was a simple matter of experiment and deduction. From what we have gathered thus far, the wyrmsong communicates vast quantities of highly compressed data. The ability of an individual to receive and interpret this data is proportional to how far along they happen to be in their transformation.
So, yeah, basically what Andalon had told me, just with more detail.
Since Suisei was clearly having a rough time, and since I was still nervous about having to speak to all the transformees, I didnt bother telling him that I already knew that. Instead, I took the opportunity to tell Suisei what Id discussed with Andalon about the statocysts wed found in the autopsy of Ileenes fetus, explaining it as my own theorizing, of course. In order to continue our conversation, we stepped off to the side, down a hallway branching off from the unfinished Wards main corridor.
I didnt mention Andalon to him yet, though.
Fascinating, Suisei said, nodding after I finished my explanation. That is a very astute observation, Genneth. I think you might be right: the development and maturation of the statocyst is likely correlated with the ability to receive wyrmsong broadcasts.
Actually, I thought, wait a minute.
One of the many signs that I was getting less hopeless was that instead of going ahead and not doing the smart thing, I just realized there was a smart thing I could do, and resolved to do it.
I could practice my talk with Suisei!
Take that, Genneth of last week! It was character growth time!
79.4 - Now, how does that make *you* feel?
Last time we talked like this, I said, remember I said Id tell you my secrets if you told me yours?
Suisei nodded.
I scratched the back of my hazmat suits headpiece and then fidgeted with my bow-tie on the outside of the front of said helmet.
What are you doing? Suisei asked.
I smiled slightly. Preparing to sacrifice my advantage for the sake of the many.
Oh?
Yes, I nodded. Things have taken a turn for the worse, I explained, and Im not going to keep this stuff bottled up any longer. I glanced over at the crowd of transformees and spirits in the Wards waiting area and around its reception desk. Im about to give a presentation to everybody, but Im nervous, so I figured Id practice on you.
Go on, he said.
I was about to take a deep breath to steady myself, when I remembered I no longer needed to do that, andmore importantlythat a deep breath in meant a deep breath out, and a deep breath out meant more hazmat-stunt-eating spores inside my suit.
I glanced at Andalon, who nodded, smiling in anticipation.
So, I began, looking Dr. Horosha in the eyes, have any of the transformees mentioned seeing a little girl in a nightgown with blue hair and blue eyes?
He nodded. Yes. The transformees have taken to calling her Blue. Unfortunately, there has not been much progress in understanding what she is.
Her name is Andalon, I explained, and Ive been interacting with her since almost the moment I was infected. In fact, I looked down at Andalon, shes here right now.
I pointed at her.
She waved at Dr. Horosha as he looked at where Id pointed.
Hi, Dr. Sushi! she said.
Obviously, he couldnt see or hear her, and I was very much thankful for that. I dreaded the thought of having to explain racism and racial stereotypes to Andalon.
He looked up at me.
Do you have any proof?
I spent a moment in thought, and then it came to me. Yes, I do. Greg has seen her. She was with me when we were in his RPG mind-world. Id actually already told him most of what Im about to tell you. I blinked. Wait, he didnt tell you?
Suisei glanced off to the side, at Greg. Amazingly, the seemingly complete wyrm hadnt moved at all from the position hed been in last night, on my first visit to the SHG.
He just sits there, Suisei explained, coiled in a pile, occasionally nibbling on food, or having his console speak aloud some snide remarks.
That made sense. Greg had definitely made it clear to me when I was in his mind-world that he was fully devoted to his project of making the science-fiction of a full-dive VRMMORPG into science-(fantasy)-fact using his mental abilities as a wyrm.
Gregs head had fully changed. It looked just like the one from Ilzees footage: a six-eyed dragon with pores on its snout instead of a mouth and nose. Spines adorned the back of his head and neck like the feathers of a peacocks crest, or a crown of thorns.
Wyrmeh! Andalon said, excitedly, in full celebration of Gregs prodigious wyrmliness. Now, hes just gotta get big, she added, somewhat unnervingly.
How does he talk? I asked.
He uses his console to type up messages, Suisei said. His mastery of his psychokinesis is such that he can operate the touchscreen with psychic force alone. The first message he sent this way was, I just realized: I look like the poop emoji!. Suisei rolled his eyes at that.
Seeing Greg as he was, curled up in a tight, coiled mound, I had to admit, he wasnt wrong about what he looked like.
Should I go over and get his attention? I asked.
Suisei shook his head. No, and there is no neednot yet, at any rate. I believe you, Genneth. I merely wanted to know if you had evidence to back up your claims, in the likely event that someone required it.
I nodded. Understood.
Tell me everything, he asked.
And I did. I told him about Andalon, and her quest to destroy the darkness. I told him that she was probably some kind of shard or fragment of the divine, and the fungus was Hell, itself, emerging from the chaos that the Godhead had sealed behind the Veil of Night at the dawn of creation. I told him that the fungus goal was to corrupt the souls of its victims and turn them into demons to fight in its armies of darkness, and that these plans even extended to attempting to countervail Andalons countervailing creation of the wyrms in the house of being able to corrupt the souls that were uploaded into the safety of her wyrms minds.
Suiseis face grew longer and longer as my explanation progressed. Finally, when I told him that I was finished, he slouched backward, leaning against the wall of the hallway, and slowly slumped down to the floor while letting out a lengthy, ragged sigh, slinging his arms between his legs.
He shot a nervous glance at the Wards main area. I figured he didnt want the others to see him like this.
I couldnt blame him.
Whats wrong? I asked.
With a harsh chuckle, Dr. Suisei Horosha looked up at me. This is faaaar above my pay grade, Genneth. He shook his head. With each new revelation, I worry I might finally blossom into a madman, orworsea fool.
I wanted to join him in sitting on the floor, but I was worried my legs couldnt handle it, so I compromised, and leaned back against the wallwell, as much as I could lean back, what with the tail packed into the back of my hazmat suit.
Are you a man of faith, Genneth? he asked me. You already know my position.
Last time we were talking like this, Suisei had explained that he was a Neangelical Lassedilespecifically, an Oatsman.
I was, then I wasnt, and now I let out a chuckle of my own, now, I glanced at Andalon, I believe in Andalon. With her, I feel like Im finally going to get to learn the truth. I cocked my head at an angle. Why do you ask?
I believe this is a divine tribulation, Dr. Horosha said. As broad and deep as our knowledge has become, there still remain questions that I do not ever think we will be able to satisfactorily answer. What is consciousness? Why does the world exist? What happens when we die? Is there such a thing as free will? He paused. Until recently, he said the word like it was something to regret, I had been able to trust my faith to guide me, especially through the difficult times. He sighed. I have had more than my fair share of difficult times.
Even in the dim light, I could see tears glisten in his eyes.
Suisei swallowed hard. To get external confirmation that the truths of the faith are linked to these awful events it is sobering beyond words. He sighed. Once, I think I would have been relieved to learn this, but now he shook his head. Now, I am no longer certain.
Why not? I asked.
He shook his head again. I wish it was that easy to explain.
What? I said, taken aback. Whatever story you have to share, I guarantee you, it isnt half as insane as what Ive been through.
Dr. Horosha chuckled humorlessly. You would be surprised. Shakily, he inhaled, and pushed himself up off the ground and stood. Somewhat to my shock, he put his hand on my shoulder. But that can wait. You need to tell the others what you have told me.
Im worried Ill mess it up, I said.
He removed his hand from my shoulder. You will do fine; I am sure of it.
Then, much to my surprise, Suisei suddenly stepped out of the hallway and loudly clapped his hands together. Everyone, he said, in a commanding voice.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
All the chatter stopped, as did the wyrmsong. The ghosts vanished en masse, leaving only a handful of transformees scattered about the Ward and its abandoned construction projects.
Dr. Howle has some important news to share with us. He has much to say, but I will start with the most important detail: he can talk to Blue.
With those words, a spell was cast. I suddenly rocketed up to celebrity status. Everyone turned to face me, dropping anything and everything that they might have otherwise been doing. Gasps and whispers filled the room.
What is she?
What does it mean?
Why can I talk to dead people?
More than one face muttered numbly, or grew moist with the trickle of tears of wonder and terror. I might as well have been anointed as the next Lassedite. One by one, they gathered round.
Crud, I thought, flashing a frustrated glance at Dr. Horosha, who just smirked at me.
Well, I muttered, under my breath, here goes nothing
I wasnt as well-versed with group therapy as I was with the one-on-one version. I fully admit that my most comprehensive experience with the technique was on the receiving end, having joined a self-help group in my late high-school, early university years to help with my struggle to process and accept the loss of my faith. Had you asked me then, I dont think I would have imagined Id ever lead such a group on my own, let alone on the same topic.
Wed ended up setting out chairs in a loose approximation of a big circlevery loose. A little more than half the transformees in attendance couldnt sit in a chair, on account of having either too much tail, or not enough legs. Everyone sat down, asking me question after question after question. You didnt need to be an expert to tell from the tone of their voice and the motions of their body languagetails includedthat they were desperate for an explanation they could believe in.
It went a lot more slowly than it had with Suisei, simply because there was so much more surprise and curiosity. In that respect, I suppose my practice session with Dr. Horosha had been somewhat spoiled by the fact that he was an exceedingly good listener.
Case in point: the transformees couldnt get enough of the simple fact that I could talk to Andalon.
What does she say? they asked.
What do you ask her?
Why is she here?
Why is this happening to us?
And so on and so forth. It didnt take long for my audience to start looking at me like I was next in line for the Lassedites office
With there being significantly more transformees in the SHG than were under my care in Room 268, I had a much larger sample size to assess. This helped drill home just how unusual and unique my interactions with Andalon were.
For all the other transformees, she was little more than a specter; a dream-speaker, intoning mantras; a specter, an enigma; a watcher-in-the-distance, deafening in her melancholy silence. She almost never spoke to them, and if she did, it was in laconic lines, repeated again and again, as she flitted in and out of sight over the course of a day, like something out of a ghost story. Yet, no matter how loud they yelled, she never heard them.
Ive seen her standing across the room, watching me, one said.
She just stares at you.
I cant tell whether she even knows Im here.
I blink, and shes gone.
Maybe its Amplersandalon theyre seeing, Andalon suggested.
That was actually a really interesting idea. I made a note to mention that to the SHG once I got to the part of the conversation where I explained the all-important Andalon/&alon distinction.
The main concern among the transformees was that some of them had managed to piece together some of the messages that Andalon/&alon was sending to them, andlike with methese were about how something awful was coming, and the she was here to help save us from it.
Unsurprisingly, the transformees of the SHG were having nearly as difficult of a time wrapping their minds around Andalons salvation as I had.
How? How is doing this to us saving anyone? Enlighten me!
Well said, I thought.
So, I told them what I knew, and what she knewwell most of it.
She doesnt remember? one asked.
Youre kidding.
But she is remembering, right? So theres a chance well get an answer out of her?
I chuckled. You know, I went through exactly the same train of thought a couple days ago, I said.
Then I told them about her power, and her desire to save us from the fungus. That shewell, technically, her greater selfwas the one responsible for spiriting away the souls of the dead and vouchsafing them within our hearts.
And I told them about Hell.
I swear, I could see the wave of silent awe as it rippled across the room and made their mouths go mum. Some were shocked; others, however, appeared confident and justified.
Nurse Costran stood up, her face beaming. Her body coiled with excitementmaybe even ecstasy.
I knew it she said, softly. Andalon is our Savior, come at last. These are the Last Days.
More than a handful of our circle muttered prayers and orisons in response to Yuths words.
But then, someone asked the most difficult question of all: If Andalon is fighting the fungus, and the wyrms are her creation, not the fungus, why do we need to be infected by the fungus before she can intervene and start our transformations?
It was a question I, myself, had struggled with, and continued to struggle with.
Andalon still didnt have a full answer for that one. The best Id been able to get from her was that she wasnt strong enough to transform us directly, but instead had to use the power present in the fungus to accomplish it.
But then Dr. Rathpalla spoke up.
Like many of the transformees, Ibrahim Rathpallas changes had progressed since Id last seen him, leaving him looking like a long-bellied lizard with fearsome claws, flimsy legs, and a human face. He loomed over me as he reared up to speak, and I knew hed only get bigger as time went on.
Ive just spent time in my mind thinking things over, reading up on Lassedile theology, he said, and I think I have an answer to that question.
Ibrahim was a second generation Biyadi immigrant. Like many immigrants, his parents had left their homeland to go live in the Holy Land after theyd converted to Lassedicy. Id never met his parents, but, as far as I knew, they were significantly more religious than he was.
Yes? I asked.
Ibrahim nodded. The standard account is that the Age of Miracles came to an end when Lassedite Athelmarch screwed up and lost the Sword. But what most people dont consider is the question: why, during the Age of Miracles, did so few miracles actually occur?
The "Age of Miracles" is a term used to refer to the era of human history in which miracles and other supernatural events still happened, unlike the present day (at least up until last week).
Because the Sword had to be involved for them to happen, someone said.
Dr. Rathpalla grinned. Exactly!
Whats your point, Ibrahim? Yuth asked.
Miracles happened only when the Sword was involved, because only substances of divine origin are capable of causing and sustaining miracles. Theres a consensus in Old Believer mysticism that the Swords disappearance was, itself, why the Age of Miracles ended. When the Godhead created the world, They separated divine substance from mortal substance. Only divine substanceslike the Sword of the Angelare capable of creating miracles. But people forget that Hell and its contents are also divine substances.
I had a flash of insight. I was 90% sure Id just figured out Dr. Rathpallas point.
Hes right, I said. The Godhead made Hell, but in a different way from the rest of Creation. (The bulk of my obsession about religion came from all the time I spent thinking about Hell, so the (figurative) frisbee was absolutely on my side of the court now.)
Ibrahim nodded. Hell was made from the Chaos that the Godhead separated from the rest of pre-existence, in order to allow for Order to come into being and initiate the process of creation. That makes Hell pure, 100% undiluted divine substance, every bit as supernatural as the Sword was.
I nodded. We were on each others wavelength. I could feel it, and I was pretty sure everyone else could, too. Suisei watched us with great intensity.
Thats why Andalon has to use the fungus, I said. Since the fungus is Hell, that makes it a divine substance. It is capable of creating and sustaining the supernatural.
Oh shit, Larry said. I get it. I get it!
Andalon looked around with great interest, excited, though also a little confused.
Youre an agent of God, Andalon, I said, explaining my theory as I turned to face her. Youre from a realm beyond oursmaybe from Paradise itselfbut the part of you is interacting with me and the rest of us and our world is still too small and weak to make miracles on its own. Like you said, Ampersandalon is far away, right?
Andalon nodded. Yeah, she is.
So, the only way you can make miracles happenfor example, turn us into wyrmsis to use the fungus, which is full of divine power. You cant quite make it yet, but you can shape it!
I suppose this also meant that Blessd like Nina and Dr. Horosha were imbued with slivers of divine substance as well.
This reminds me: I explained Nina to them, though, for Suiseis sake, I did not go and out him as a Blessd. I figured hed share it on his own in due time.
Until the rest of the Blessd come in full force, Yuth said, the only source of magic is the divine, and the only source of the divine present on earth right now is, unfortunately, NFP-20.
If Im right, Dr. Rathpalla addedand Im pretty sure I amthis also means we need to be on the lookout for the fungus trying to manipulate us more substantially.
Do you think it might try and take control of us? Ive seen videos of Type One cases turning into fucking zombies, Larry said. What if the fungus tries to do the same to us.
Andalon? I asked, turning to face her.
Lowering her head, she nodded grimly. The darkness can do that. It can do horrible things to the wyrmehs she said, barely above a whisper.
Fudge I muttered.
What is it? Larry asked.
Andalon says, yes, the fungus taking control of us is a possibility.
The area rocked with worried murmurs.
If what weve learned so far is any indication, Dr. Rathpalla said, looking me square in the eye, Id be willing to bet that, like with everything else, more and more of Andalons memories will return as your own changes progress. You should be eating more, Dr. Howle. The quicker you change, the quicker well finally understand it all.
I reached the very same conclusion, I said.
Yet, at this, Dr. Horosha shook his head.
We do not force anyone to eat if they do not choose to, Dr. Rathpalla, he said. My allies need not be human, but I refuse to fraternize with monsters, non-human or otherwise. He nodded. And I believe I speak for the majority when I say that.
And, indeed, most of the group voiced their agreementthough not as much (or as passionately) as I would have liked.
So, I said, clapping my hands together and holding them that way, that was a lot.
Yes it was, Tira said. The rest of her body was beginning to catch up with her neck, insofar as length and serpentineness was concerned.
Well, I continued, theres more.
Groans of surprise and frustration rippled through the air.
I havent gotten to the most important part.
Really? Dr. Rathpalla asked.
I nodded. Yes. Ive finally figured out how we can help Andalon.
That certainly got everyones attention.
I figured out how to fight back against Hell, I said.
80.1 - Stretch Your Thoughts Out
It was a dark and stormy night. Creatures lurked in the shadows. And if you listened closely, you could hear them wail in between the rumbling thunder.
Clich? Perhaps. But, then again, what haunted house wasnt?
Remind me again why were here? I dont care for spookiness. The man furrowed his brow as he looked around the old mansions atrium. The speaker was Mr. Rupert Murtent Jr., the bald, bourgeois ghost from before. And, like before, he was not a happy camper.
Wewe being me, Andalon, Ibrahim, Yuth, Larry, and Dr. Finsterwith Dr. Finster being the therianthropic-looking transformee who housed Mr. Murtents soulstood in the mansions main atrium, at the foot of a grand staircase.
The kind that goes up a little, to a landing, and then forks to the left and right as it goes up a little more, and wraps around to the other side of the room.
Four-sided support pillars stood behind us, on either side of the entryway, wrapped in dark vines of plastic ivy.
Dr. Rathpalla stood on the lowest steps, leaning against the stairs balustrade.
Like any good haunted house, the mansion was poorly lit, courtesy of the candelabra-shaped sconces up on the walls and the support pillars. The LED bulbs in them had holographic projections that made them look almost indistinguishable from real, flickering flames.
They must have cost a fortune.
There was a large, arch-topped window on the wall of the landing in the middle of the grand staircase, and, despite the constant rain, a wan, cyan light leached through the glass. The light filled the room with its dreary shade, making it feel like the building was at the bottom of a lake, drowned long, long ago. Dead tree branches crooked around the wrought iron framework on the outside of the window, contributing to the sense of arrested decay.
Well? Mr. Murtent asked, staring at me with crossed arms.
It came down to a choice between this memory, or one of my memories of riding a roller coaster at the Elpeck Prefectural Fair, I said.
Why? Yuth asked.
Well, I was thinking of off-beat places that would be conducive for group therapy.
Dr. Rathpalla clapped his hands as he laughed at that. Ibrahim found the situation deeply amusing.
The mansion in which we stooda gorgeous old gal dating back to the early days of the First Republichad been Witchrivers premiere Celdmas attraction; Witchriver being the neighborhood out in the Valley, where Id grown up.
The best thing about Witchriver was the name, which, in my humble opinion, is really, really cool. According to legend, the eponymous river was either used to drown pagan witches back in the First Crusades, or it was the site of pagan rituals back in those days. Perhaps boththough there was always the possibility that the story had been concocted by the real estate developer as an advertising gimmick.
With me still lacking confidence in my world-building abilities, I preferred to make mind worlds using the places in my memories, rather than building them from scratch.
And what a place she was!
Both inside and out, the house was as beautiful as she was spooky. Like most buildings of its era, its exterior was a hodgepodge of ornate details and ginger breading, and they wrapped all the way around, to boot. As a kid, if I walked past the mansion at sundown, the silhouette of the mansions witchs towers and high-gabled, shingled rooftops against the darkening sky looked like a city made of dreams.
None of us ever saw the ownera Mrs. Parboldand obviously, me and my classmates were convinced she was a witchalbeit a very, very nice one? because every year, come Celdmas time, shed pull out all the stops and turn her house into one of the best darn haunted houses this side of anywhere.
As to how we got here? Well, after explaining the basics of afterlife management to the other transformeeshow to keep your ghosts happy; how to keep your ghosts from being corrupted into demons; etc.and with a little help from GregId come up with a way to demonstrate the ghost management process to the SHGs transformees first-hand.
The idea was to use the physical contact trick that Greg had used the other day, when hed pulled me into his voxel-based mind-world. By making physical contact with several transformees at oncethat is, by holding handswe were able to link our minds together and roam around in each others mind-worlds.
Really, the hardest part had been deciding what location to use. (Curse my indecisive brain!)
Anyhow, my colleagues had just finished summoning ghosts of their own, as Id instructed.
I stepped into the middle of the room and clapped my hands. Now we can get down to business.
Andalon mimed my hand-clap, and, considering she was standing right beside me, it looked absolutely adorable. The spirit-girl was on cloud nine. For so long, shed wanted to interact with the other transformees face-to-face, and now that she could, she was having the time of her life.
So, Larry asked, how are we going to do this?
With everyone back in their human form, Larry was once again the largest of us, a true giant of a man, and very imposing in those khaki suspenders of his.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
Thankfully, Id worked with several other groups of transformees before extending the invitation to Ibrahim and the others. As Id correctly surmised, figuring out how to do these demonstrations and getting into a rhythm had been somewhat awkward, especially on my first attempt, so Id wanted to make sure I knew what I was doing before I did it in front of people that I knew on more than just a professional basis.
Excellent question, Larry, I said, nodding in his direction. In response, I added, addressing the group as a whole, I have a question for the transformees with us this evening: how many of you have played around with making mind-worlds, the way Greg has?
I made a library, Ibrahim said, for doing all that reading. He waved his hand dismissively. It wasnt all that impressive.
Not much, Yuth said, Ive been occupied with helping the other transformees with their changes.
Same, Larry said.
I created an ocean and an archipelago, Dr. Finster said. In his human form, Dr. Finster was an average looking man, distinguished by his short hair and slightly freckled cheeks.
Any reason why? I asked.
Yes, Dr. Finster replied. Ive always wanted to know what it would be like to be a whale, he explained, so, I made a patch of sea, and then made myself a whale.
What was it like? Larry asked.
Peaceful, Dr. Finster replied. And relaxing. He sighed. I just wish I could interact with real dolphins and whales. Can they talk to each other, and if so, how much, and is it like the way people talk to each other, or is it something different? Ive always been curious about that.
Mr. Murtent scoffed. This is crazy talk.
Dr. Finster narrowed his eyes at the spirit. On the contrary, Ive been trying to keep myself sane, he said. Why dont you try turning into a wyrm, Rupert, you greedy son-of-a-bitch! Its not a walk in the park.
The balding mans mustache bristled in anger.
Slither, Dr. Rathpalla corrected, with a wry grin.
Dr. Finster snorted. Youre not helping, Ibrahim.
Please, please dont fight, Wendy-Jane said.
The dowdy middle-aged woman Larry had chosen as his ghostly guest sounded like we were about to ruin brunch. Things are bad enough already.
Everyone, just I spread my arms to either side, just calm down. Were taking things one step at a time. Then, clearing my throat, I began reciting the script Id prepared for the occasion. So, as any psychiatrist could tell you, I glanced at Dr. Rathpalla, therapy is based around the psychological formula that psychic damage equals trauma plus time. With enough time, trauma will curdle into all sorts of painful experiences. It becomes our regrets, our fears, and our frustrations. You can think of this damage as a well-worn road. Every time we travel down the road, the unpleasant feelings they create sink in deeper and deeper, making it only that much more difficult to move past them and reach a state of greater inner peace.
Well said, Dr. Rathpalla said.
I bowed my head, said, Thank you, and then continued. Out in the Thick WorldThick World is wyrm slang for physical realitymoving past lingering traumas can be incredibly difficult. You have to confront them, and cultivate mindfulness to keep yourself from falling back onto the well-worn roads. In the Thick Worldother than certain psychotropic drugs that are, unfortunately, still classified as illicit substancescommunication is the best medication we have. Talking to other people can help us see ourselves in a different light, and maybe find a way around traumas well-worn world. Unfortunately, that can only do so much; its not like we can tap into each others minds directly.
I pointed at the floor. But, here, in the Thin Worldthats wyrm slang for a mentally constructed reality, by the way here, we can! We can share our thoughts and experiences, and even live them as if they were our own. As far as therapy is concerned, its like having a cheat code. I looked over the four transformees one by one. In this practice session, were going to make sure you know how to use this cheat code.
For my next trick, I made text appear mid-air, floating at my side, with Andalon helpfully pointing to the bullet points as they appeared, one by one.
By the end of todays demonstration, I said, you should be able to
|
? Access your own memories at will.
? Access your ghosts memories at will.
? Experience your ghosts memories as if they were your own.
? Make your ghosts experience memories (yours, or other ghosts) as if they were their own.
? Link your ghosts thoughts to yours or to one anothers, so that they can experience subjectivities other than their own.
|
With these tools, I said, we can help the spirits of the dead overcome their grief and traumas, and in doing so, we keep the forces of Hell at bay.
I glanced at Andalon. Thank you, Andalon.
She curtsied, and then I made the words disappear.
You know, Dr. Finster said, other than some problematic personalities, he rolled his eyes over to Mr. Murten, I have yet to see a ghost turn into demons.
Of course you have, I said. There are at-risk ghosts right here in Ward 13.
Wait, really? Larry asked, looking more than a little bit spooked.
Yes, I said. Havent you noticed the ghosts that look like walking horror shows? The fungus growing in their bodies? All the body horror?
Well, yeah Dr. Finster said.
Thats them starting to turn into demons! I said.
Dr. Finster blanched. Oh. He lowered his head slightly. Fuck
Yuth nodded. Early on, there were times I thought I was going crazy, she said. Monsters would come out of nowhere and start chasing! Sometimes, they even attacked me in my dreams. It was like seeing my own fears thrown right back at me.
Exactly right, I said. And, I take it you all know about the zombies, right?
Zombies? Yuth muttered. Genneth, please tell me youre joking.
You should take a moment to check the internet while its still operational, Larry said. There are loads of videos of them. The zombies are everywhere, and there also these big, hulking flesh collages that look like slaughtered meat come to life. I figure weve only got a couple of hours left before they reach WeElMed.
Shit, Yuth said.
At the moment, I said, our working theory is that the zombies are what happens when the fungus turns people into demons directly. As for us, because the souls Andalon has put in us no longer have bodies, the demonic conversion process happens to the spirits within our minds. I shot pointed looks at all of the ghosts in attendance. And dont fool yourself into thinking that thoughts cant hurt anyone. Once turned into demons, the corrupted spirits can hijack your psychokinetic abilities and use them to harm others, especially if you dont have strong control over your abilities.
Larry gave me a wide-eyed stare. Thats terrifying.
You dont know the half of it, I said. Putting on a smile, I nodded and got back to business. But, enough about the scary parts, I said. Lets leave the horror to the haunted houses and get started with the lesson. You know what they say, I swung my arm enthusiastically, theres no learning quite like doing!
Genneth, Id tone it down a little, Dr. Rathpalla said, softly.
I nodded. Right, right.
Fudge, I thought.
Yes, it was petty of me to worry about making a fool of myself while teaching people how to guard against the armies of darkness, but, still, I worried.
I looked over the transformees. Well does anyone want to go first?
Nearly everyone turned their gaze to Mr. Murtent, whose expression immediately fell.
80.2 - Stretch Your Thoughts Out
The soul-therapy practice sessions played out pretty much as Id expected them to do. Ibrahim and Yuth quickly noticed the intricacies that came with dealing with the souls, which made sense given their professional backgroundspsychiatrist with a penchant for doodling, and nurse with a heart of gold, respectively. Larry did a passable job, and, well lets just say Dr. Finster ended up requiring a bit of assistance. Ibrahim stepped in to intervene, which led to us discovering that Mr. Murtent was flagrantly racist, and, after I took the reins, one thing led to another and we discovered Mr. Murtents bigotry was actually grounded in deep-seated resentment he felt toward racial and ethnic minorities because he felt hed been cheated out of admission to his preferred law school due to financial assistance and affirmative action policies that benefited the same. This resentment in turn, stemmed from a deep-seated sense of inadequacy brought on by a childhood spent in destitution, a consequence of his fathers gambling addiction and the subsequent predation by loan sharks. Also, his mother abused opioids, which certainly didnt help.
Eventually, we brought Everything full circle by recreating Rupert Murtent Sr. (Mr. Murtents gambling-addled father) as the nix vampire lord who ruled over the haunted house.
A nix was a traditional Trenton underwater spirit. They were supposedly ugly, fishy-froggy-looking humanoid beings.
Add in an enchanted mace that made the creatures of the night explode on contactthat was my ideaand when Murtent Jr. finally drove a stake through the nixs heart, he vanquished the vampire lord and the sense of insecurity that he represented.
So, all in all, a pretty run-of-the-mill round of soul-healing.
If I had one complaint, it was that entering and exiting these linked mind-worlds was well, gross, to put it mildly. Andalon happily informed me that, eventually, transformees would be able to engage in mental communion directly through wyrmsong, but because I wasnt yet at the stage of my transformation, I had to use a more fleshy method.
Fascinatingly, a couple of the SHGs most transformed transformees were able to corroborate this.
We sat down and held hands, and just like with my link with Greg yesterday night, the hyphae in our bodies intermingled in where we touched. Thousands of minute filaments wriggled out from our palms and put us into a trance-like state, freeing our minds to wander through the ether.
Breaking the link meant undoing all that.
As I did so, the first thing I noticed was the crusty gunk on my eyelids. For a second, I panicked, thinking Id gone blind, but no, I just needed to put a little bit more force into opening my eyes, though, with most of my hazmat suit still on, that was easier said than done. Id only removed the suits gloves, and, even then, it was only because I needed to make physical contact with the other transformees.
I managed to pry my eyes open after a couple of nerve-wracking seconds, only to immediately wish that I hadnt.
Angel, it was awful.
Our hands were morasses of worm-like tendrils. In some places, they were so thickly wound around our hand and fingers and hands that it looked like there were oak galls at the ends of our arms, linking us together in unholy intimacy.
The tendrils snapped and popped as we pulled away from one another. Out of the group, I was the one causing the most fuss; it seemed the others were better adjusted to this than I was.
I put my suits gloves on as quickly as I could. I almost welcomed the suits discomforting heat, if only because it meant my mind and body were once again my own. Fortunately, I quickly forgot about the unpleasantness: I was the SHGs newest celebrity transformee, and, after all that Id been through, I was definitely enjoying the positive attention.
Actions come with reactions; that was basic physics. You know what else physics told us? Expect the unexpected.
Technically, this was a matter of probability, not physics, but at this point, Im just pulling hairs.
Even before NFP-20, Id been doing a startlingly good job of digging myself into a hole. Id retreated from my family out of guilt and self-hatred for what I saw as my culpability in Rales death, which only exacerbated the negativity accumulating in Pel and Jules. I felt like Pel blamed me, and blamed me for not owning up to her anger at me not doing whatever it was shed expected me to do after our son died. (Id have done it if Id known what it was! How could you set your own house in order when you didnt know how to set yourself in order?) Jules, meanwhile, grew resentful at us and at Rayph, feeling like he was our attempt to replaceread, erasethe memory of her younger brother. Mentoring Ani through the early parts of her residency had been my way of trying to move forwardeven as I actively looked backwards in composing my Im sad because everyone I love keeps dying on me clarinet sonatabut, if you asked my wife, shed intimate in that passive-aggressive manner of hers that I was using Anis residency as an excuse and a cover for having an affair with her. (That must have been her parents talking through her; a guy like me, who had a tendency to cry during or after sex, was not going to be most womens idea of a catch.)The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
My digging-myself-into-a-hole skills had grown by leaps and bounds with the coming of the Green Death. Id lied to my colleagues about my medical condition and my fitness to continue working, Id committed fraud by falsifying the results of my Type-Two infection diagnostic examination, and Id lied by omission to my fellow transformees about some of the details Id noticed and some of the insights Id gained. I hoped that telling the SHG about Andalon would be my first step down the road to atonement. Of course, there was another part of me which said that partial atonement was an oxymoron; if it was only partial, you hadnt really atoned, had you?
What I hadnt expected, though, was how the SHGs transformees started treating me once Id finished my lecture/Q&A session.
I was now the object of their regard, a neurotic tutelary god, pre-packaged in a satiny capsule of electric green plastic, and gift-wrapped with a bow.
Before, Id needed to elbow my way through the mostly incorporeal crowds. Now? They cleared before me like the waters of the Bay at the Lass feet, only for them to pool behind me in hopes of getting a chance to talk to Andalonwith me as the interlocutor. Their eyes glistened as they stared. Necks bobbed and tails lolled.
Id come up with the idea of physical linkage as a means of showing the transformees how to work with their ghosts when it had occurred to me that the physical wyrm link would let the others talk to Andalon without me having to play the role of the middleman. I couldnt begin to imagine how strange of an experience it must have been for Andalon, to finally get to interact with the transformeesher precious wyrms, in the making. Some of the transformees got down on one knee to pledge their loyalty to herif they still had knees to get down on. Others just wanted to talk to her. Still others let loose raging invective, voicing their anger and their disbelief, much like I had done.
One particularly vehement transformee brought Andalon to the brink of tears.
Why is he so angry? So mean? she said, her voice cracking.
I glowered at the guy. I dont like repeating myself, I said, Ive already given her the fire and fury. Youre just beating a dead horse. Stand down.
I tore away from him, not wanting to see the girl suffer.
Hey, get back here! the transformee barked. He lunged toward me, only for Yuth to insert herself in between the two of us.
You heard the man, Jeffrey, she said, outstretching her arms.
It helped that she wasnt alone; shed brought Dr. Rathpalla with her.
Its enough, Jeff, Ibrahim said. Can it. This is stressful for all of us. Imagine what its been like for Genneth. Though I do think it was dumb of him to keep Andalon to himself for as long as he did, he briefly glared at me, with this latest news, Ive got the feeling that something big is waiting for us on the horizon. Morale is rarer than hens teeth right now; stop rocking the boat. Dr. Rathpalla narrowed his eyes.
It helped that he could curl forward like a cobra.
With a grumble, Jeffrey walked away, limping on his decomposing legs.
Thanks, I said.
Ibrahim waved a claw. Dont mention it.
Speaking of claws, Yuths had grown in, as had other things. In terms of appearances, Yuth and Ibrahims transformations had converged on one another, somewhat. Nurse Costran now shared Dr. Rathpallas twelve-ish-foot-long lizard-person look, though her legs were much more diminished than Ibrahims were. The lower two-thirds of her body was almost all snake. Her shriveled legs splayed uselessly at the sides of her tail-waist, just waiting to be snapped off. On the other hand, even though Ibrahims tail was getting very bigthough not as big as YuthsDr. Rathpallas legs still had a purpose to serve.
I couldnt shake the feeling that I was just one or two big meals away from looking like them.
A sobering thought, that.
Im sorry theyre being hard on you and Andalon, Yuth added.
So am I, I said.
It was perfectly understandable that people would be angry, or even driven to despair when they learned they were transforming into an inhuman creature that most (including myself) would describe as a monster. That, I think, was the driving force behind the SHGs relatively cold reception to Andalon. For what it was worth, I think it made a big difference that many of the SHGs transformees had gotten lucky, and hadnt had as many close calls with demons as I had. Some hadnt had any demon encounters at all.
Indeed, after asking around, I discovered that I had the most demon problems out of anyone in the SHG. Some of the transformees there hadnt had any demon problems whatsoever, and, unsurprisingly having few demon problems was very strongly correlated with feeling anger toward Andalon.
Though I had no verifiable explanation for why I seemed to be Hells Public Enemy #1, I chalked it up to my uniquely close connection with Andalon. Though I still had no idea why only I seemed to be able to interact with her, it certainly made sense that that ability would make me a higher priority target for the forces of evil. The fungus wanted to stop Andalon, and I was the one most closely linked to her, ergo, I was in its way.
So, do you have a minute now? Ibrahim asked, with a rascally smirk.
Earlier, hed made a point of telling me there was something he wanted to discuss with me, as a fellow doctor of the mind.
With Yuth, myself, Larry, and Dr. Finster, youve given your Paradise practicum to everyone here, he added.
Perfect timing, I said.
A simple, old-fashioned face-to-face conversation between two people was just the respite I needed after the hustle and bustle of mentoring the transformees and being the go-between for them and Andalon.
I glanced at Andalon, and then at my nearest onlookers. Im afraid Im going to have to take a rain check on doing interpreter work for Andalon. I need a break.
Nodding, Andalon sat down on the floor and leaned against the wall. Andalon needs a break too
She was disheveled. That made me chuckle. I knew how much shed wanted to talk to the other transformees, so it was amusing (to say the least) to see her tuckered out after having bitten off more than she could chew.
Can Andalon go to the not-here-place now? she asked.
I nodded. Be my guest.
She vanished with a relieved sigh.
I turned to Dr. Rathpalla. Now, what was it you wanted to talk about?
He grinned. Wyrm psychology.
80.3 - Stretch Your Thoughts Out
Does that cover everything? Dr. Rathpalla asked.
I nodded. I feel like my minds just been rearranged. Everything makes sense now.
So, theres some backstory you need to be aware of. In case it wasnt already abundantly clear, I wasand still amfascinated by religion; its philosophy, its history, and its many manifestations across space and time. Despite this, there was one area of religious inquiry that even I wouldnt touch with a thirty-foot pole, and that was the topic of free will. I went through life taking it for granted that free will existed, and I was perfectly content in leaving that supposition completely unscrutinized. This was because I was too afraid of what would happen if I did scrutinize it.
Meanwhile, free will was Dr. Rathpallas favorite topic. Heck, it was the reason hed chosen to go into psychiatry. So, of course, when hed discovered his and the other transformees abilities to multiply their consciousness within themselvesdoppelgangering themselves; or, as Ive been pretentiously calling it, doppelgennethingIbrahim had delved into the mind-warping implications with glee. Ever since, hed been waiting to share his thoughts with me.
I was presently bathing in the afterglow of our discussion, which had been glorious and riveting. Not only did I get to share my doppelgenneth experiences with Dr. Rathpalla, and he share his with me, we could also corroborate them with what hed heard from the SHGs transformees.
The end result? Together, we pinned down our observations and theories about wyrms multifarious consciousness, and, over maybe an hour of heated discussion, the two of us had managed to iron out a pretty good theory of wyrm psychology. We gave things names, invented terminology.
Having a set of rules to fall back on was incredibly comforting.
The first big hurdle was the ultimate nature of wyrm consciousness. Was it singular, like human consciousness, or was it a true multitude, with a wyrm being multiple selves in a single mind? This was hard enough of a question for human beingseven there, the matter wasnt as straightforward as you might think.
The corpus callosum is a crown of fibrous, interconnective tissue in the middle of the brain that links the left and right hemispheres to one another. Obviously, in an ideal world, everyones brain hemispheres would stay linked, but, there were certain kinds of severe seizure disorders where severing the corpus callosum led to massive improvements in quality of life. Seizures were storms of excessive neuron activity, and cutting the corpus callosum kept those storms from spilling over from one hemisphere into another.
People who received this treatment lived perfectly normal lives, but if you spent some time examining them, something fascinating would happen. Without the corpus callosum enabling communication between them, the two hemispheres of the human brain would work independently of one another, to the point that they could disagree as to what the bodys senses were telling them. The left and right hands could quarrel with one another.
Shocking, isnt it?
Though certainly an unsettling result, this phenomenon made perfect sense when you looked at consciousness as an emergent property of the human connectomethe connectome being the physical network formed by the brains interconnected neurons. If you split that network into two non-communicating pieces, of course you would get two different minds.
After much discussion, Ibrahim and I reached agreement that, despite the presence of doppelgangers, wyrm consciousness was singular, just like a humans. But having that in common didnt mean the two were the same. To the contrary, the difference between a wyrms mind and a humans mind was in how the two species organized their states of consciousness.
In the human mind, it was possible for trauma and other sources of pathology to create multiple personalities within a single, fully connected brain. This generally happened during a persons youth, when their brain was still developing. By the time pubescence set in, the human mind would start to crystallize. Once that happened, if multiple personalities existed, they could be set in stone, though the outcome was always somewhat unpredictable. In some cases, the consciousnesses would share awareness with each other. In others, each personality would keep their particular experiences under lock and key, inaccessible to the other personas. Of course, you could also have pretty much any gradation in between these two extremes.
Neurophysiologically speaking, the brain was like a path dug into the dirt. The more a particular set of connections was used, the more entrenched they became, leading to the habits and tendencies of peoples thoughts and actions. In the right situations, this could erect walls of a sort between different states of consciousness.
But a wyrms brain was different.
Its like a potato, Dr. Rathpalla had said. A sweet potato, to be precise."
I imagined other tubers would also work. Ginseng, for example.
"If a human brain happens to house more than one consciousness, it has to divide itself and its signaling patterns in order to accommodate them all. But, as our doppelganger experiences have shown, a wyrms brain doesnt have that limitation. It can run all of the consciousnesses simultaneously. They branch off from the main consciousness in metaphorical protrusions, much like a tuber.
We decided to refer to those protrusions nodes; the main body of the tuber itself, meanwhile, we called the root. Naturally, roots plus nodes equalled tree.
As far as we could tell, transformees and wyrm could consciously choose to form a node. This would extrude from either the root consciousness, or from another one of its nodes.
We can call the new nodes a progeny consciousness, Id said. The consciousness that created it will be the progenitor consciousness, whether its the root or another node.
These consciousnesses were nestedordered in a particular wayso that any given node had control over all of its progeny, though the progenitor neednt always utilize that control. We chose the term coupling state to describe to the extent of connectedness between a given node and one of its progeny.
At one extreme, a progenitor consciousness could be decoupled from its progeny. When that happened, the progenitor consciousness would be completely unaware of what the progeny was doing.
That happened to me, Id said, referring to the incident with Joe-Bob and the feast of spirits. At the time, my root was in my body, and I decoupled from my other selves, so I had no idea what they were doing and got catastrophically caught off guard when what they were doing came back to bite me.
At the other end of the coupling state spectrum, you had multiplicity. This was where the progenitor consciousness was in complete control of both itself and its progeny, receiving any and all sensory input from them (real or imaginary).
To my knowledge, Ibrahim had said, all transformees have reported full multiplicity on their first experience of multiple consciousnesses.
This, again, was exactly what had happened to me. When my first doppelgenneth appeared, my sense of self had inhabited both copies (the physical, and the mental) simultaneously. Thats why Id been seeing two viewpoints at the same time.
Recoupling was the obvious choice for the opposite of decoupling, beating out my original suggestion of undecoupling. This could be done at any node in the consciousness tree; the root could force a progeny of a progeny to recouple, if it so desired.
Ive observed that decoupled nodes have to recouple with the root every once in a while, Ibrahim explained, and if you dont do it manually, it will happen all on its own. Thats important, because when a wyrmor transformeerecouples with a decoupled progeny consciousness, all of the progenys mental data (thoughts, memories, etc.) come rushing back to the progenitor.
Id known exactly what hed been talking about. Ugh, I hate it when that happens, Id said. Its so disorienting!
Youre telling me! Ibrahim replied. Everyone Ive talked to hates it. Its why Greg doesnt bother keeping his root consciousness in his body anymore.
That was the last piece of the puzzle: recentering. Most curiously of all, the root consciousness was not restricted to inhabiting the wyrms physical body. This happened in humans, when we (or should I say, they) dreamed. In a dream, you perceived your consciousness as being located in your dream-self, within your dream-body. On the other hand, when you woke up, your mind comfortably settled back into your physical bodyat least, most of the time. Unlike humans, however, wyrms could do this whenever they wanted toand I should know, because Id experienced it for myself, such as when Id been traipsing through Ileenes memories, or working in my mind-offices.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
Going back to the sweet potato model, for a moment, Ibrahim had said, recentering would be as if the tubers central mass suddenly flowed down one of its protrusions, with that protrusion suddenly expanding in order to accommodate the relocated mass.
Dr. Rathpalla shared the comforting news that, so far, he didnt know of any cases where a node initiated a recentering. Only the root consciousness seemed to have that capability.
More generally, hed said, it seems the root has executive control over all its nodes.
So, I dont need to worry about one of my sub-selves trying to overthrow me? Id asked.
Exactly.
Thats a relief, Id said.
And it really was.
Presently, I turned to face Ibrahim. Every once in a while, he slapped his prodigious tail against Ward 13s vinyl floor, and it almost never failed to catch my attention.
Thank you for roping me into this, I told him. In this past hour, Ive felt more normal than I ever have since waking up dead for the first time. I nodded, and then bowed. It means a lot to me.
For me, talking with colleagues about neurological conditions and mental states was a welcome return to the commonplace. Sure, the topic of our conversation was utterly loonyat least from the things psychiatrists should talk about standpointbut I refused to let that rain on my parade.
Its my pleasure, Genneth, Ibrahim replied, nodding in return.
If you dont mind me asking, I said, was the library you showed us in the soul-therapy practice session really the one you used for your Lassedile research?
Ibrahim had given us a tour of his research library during our mind-link soul-therapy practice session. It was the size of a decent bedroom, and was covered wall-to-wall in bookshelves, and every shelf was filled to the brim. The library also doubled as Dr. Rathpallas mind-office, which hed used for a straightforward one-on-one therapy session with his chosen ghost, an old woman by the name of Stephanie.
Even so, I was still somewhat chary to believe that Ibrahim had read all those books in the short span of time it had taken me to lecture the SHG about Andalon. Yes, the passage of time inside a mind-world wasnt one-to-one with the passage of time out in the real world, but it wasnt so extreme that you could use it to read years worth of text in a few minutes of real time.
Dr. Rathpalla shot me a bemused look. Youre telling me you figured out how to recenter your consciousness all by yourself, but you didnt figure out slo-mo?
Tilting my head, I pursed my lips. What?
Apparently, Nurse Costran had been watching us, because she slithered up to our position and gave me a concerned, matronly look that she usually reserved for her patients in the Quiet Ward.
You dont know about slo-mo? she asked. Surely, youve had to have experienced it by now.
I clenched my claws. I feel like Im out of the loop here, I said.
Have you been eating enough, Dr. Howle? Yuth asked.
What?
Yuth scrutinized as much of me as my hazmat suit allowed. From what youve said, youve been a Type Two for almost a whole week. That puts you ahead of me by maybe only a day or two, at most. She glanced down at the thick trunk of tail that had displaced her legsboth in form and functionand then tilted her head to the side. Still, youve got quite a bit of catching up to do. She added, along with a warm smile.
What is slo-mo? I asked.
Ever since you started to change, Ibrahim said, you have to have had moments where time seemed to slow down. Maybe even stop.
Oh, I thought.
Of course. That had happened all the time.
Thats slo-mo? I said, surprised. I thought it was just stress.
It isnt, Ibrahim said. Its your thoughts speeding up. Its like changing the playback speed on a video, only the video is your experience of reality.
Oooh, Yuth said, thats a good analogy. I like it. She smiled. I hope you dont mind if I steal it?
Not at all, Dr. Rathpalla replied.
Whats the point of this? I asked. When I experienced the slow-downs before, such as in my fight with the specter in the restroom, I couldnt do anything other than think.
Specter in the restroom? Yuth asked.
I shook my head. Its a long story.
Well, sure, Ibrahim explained, you cant do anything with your body in slo-mo, but youre free to do whatever you want inside your head.
Such as reading a librarys worth of literature? I asked.
Dr. Rathpalla nodded. Exactly.
So, I said, how does this work?
Like pretty much all the other wyrm powers, Yuth said, by thinking about it. Once youve quickened your thoughtsand I know this sounds silly, but its whats workedyou can bring everything back to normal by slowing your mental voice. Strehhhhhtch yoooooouuuuuuuur thooooooooooughts oouuuuuuuut. Thats how you get out of slo-mo.
I almost felt bad Andalon had pooped herself out. Shed have gotten a kick out of this.
You wont need to do that once you get a hang of it, Yuth added, but its a great way to get a hang of it.
Why are you telling me how to get out of slo-mo? I asked. Shouldnt you tell me how to get into it, first?
Shaking his head, Dr. Rathpalla reached out and put a clawed hand on my shoulder. Because when Greg first told me about it, he said, he told me how to get into it before he told me how to get out of it. He grimaced. I, of course, was stupid enough to try doing it the instant he told me about it, and by the time my slowed-down mind finally registered the incoming sounds of his explanation of how to get out of it, Id been stuck in slo-mo for two whole days!
I remember that, Nurse Costran said. From the outside, we saw Dr. Rathpalla get real quiet for two or three seconds and then he suddenly started whooping and hollering, weeping with joy.
Angels breath I muttered.
Exactly. Yuth nodded. Now that you know how to get unstuck, its safe to tell you that you can enter slo-mo by speeding up your thoughts. As your thoughts accelerate, the world around you will seem to slow down.
Mmm let me guess, I said, I can do so by imagining my inner monologue whizzing by at a terrific speed? A high-pitched squeaky voice?
Yep, Dr. Rathpalla said, thats exactly what Greg told me to do.
So Yuth said, leaning back, even though I know were not supposed to pressure other transformees to eat just to speed their TFs along, I cant help but feel that you might just be the exemplary exception, Dr. Howle.
She turned to the side. Here. A whip of yellows and blues lashed out like a grappling hook from Yuths outstretched claws. A second later, it sprang back to her, carrying a bag of potato chips along with it. She opened the plastic packaging with a flick of a talon. With my wyrmsight, I saw the threads of Yuths power emanating from her hand detach into a bundle of free-floating strings which then curled into a circlea ringfusing end to end, much like the spherical weave Letty had cooked up to make herself levitate.
Nice trick, I muttered. I shook my head. I wish it had gone as easily for me, I added.
Yuth narrowed her eyes at me. You just slice the bag open with your claws, she said.
I shook my head again. No, not that, I said. The levitation, I mean.
Yet again, both Dr. Rathpalla and Nurse Costran stared at me.
Genneth, this is easy-peasy stuff, Ibrahim said. You really havent been handling this well on your own, have you?
Youd have figured it out with the rest of us if you hadnt skipped out on the psychokinesis workshop, Yuth added.
Thats right, I thought. Last time I was here, Yuth had mentioned they were doing group power-training sessions.
Its not my fault I was busy, I said, grinning, only to sigh. Well, I suppose it actually was my fault. I
Just zip it and eat your potato chips, Yuth said. Pushing her clawed hand forward, the plexus ring and the bag of chips floating above it came right up to my face.
No. I raised my hands in a defensive posture. I couldnt possibly use up your
Genneth, Nurse Costran said, with a click of what I hoped was her tongue, we gathered a decent hoard of vendables a couple days ago, for exactly this reason: so that everyone would have enough to eat. Trust me, youre not imposing on us. Please, eat, she added. I insist.
Delicately, I plucked two and a half large, crunchy, corrugated potato chips and chewed them to bits.
Just enough to keep the munchies at bay, I said.
Are you on a diet, or something? Yuth said, facetiously. Cmon. She furrowed her brow. Stop kidding around.
Actually, I nodded, yes, I am on a diet. I smiled.
Yuth and Ibrahim werent the only ones who heard me say that. Faces and snoutseyes human and notturned to me and stared.
I sighed. I meant what I said. I passed my eyes over the confused onlookers. Im trying to drag out my changes as much as I can, for as long as I can.
Dr. Rathpalla let out a loud groan. Queens writ, Howle He clicked his tongue and shook his head. This is all about that neurosis of yours, isnt it?
Which one? I said. I have several.
He rolled his eyes at me, and I guess I deserved that.
You still havent truly accepted whats happening to you, have you? he said. You just cant leave well enough alone. He chuckled sadly. If I didnt know any better, Id have thought youd become a Demptist.
Never! I said, with half-mock indignation.
Dr. Rathpalla sighed. Genneth, our time as doctors is over. Now that youve told us about Andalon, I can stop worrying about what Im going to do with the rest of my life. Theres no doubt in my mind. This is war. Its a war over the souls of the dead, and youve shown us how we can fight. He glanced over at the center of the Wards reception area. Once we finish changing, I figure we can join the soldiers out there. Well take the fight directly to the fungus. It might have fired the first shot, but with Andalons power, we can fight back.
Itll be a war on two fronts, Yuth said, inside and out. Thick World and Thin.
Thick World? someone asked.
Suddenly, Greg stirred. I call meat-space the Thick World. Mind-worlds are the Thin World, cuz theyre not as thick and fleshy, you know? And then he closed his golden eyes and was silent once more.
Were going to need all the transformees we can get, Yuth said, turning away from Greg to face me again. Im pretty sure the fungus isnt going to be happy about Andalon throwing a wrench in its plans, whatever those plans might be. She pressed the bag of chips against my face, and I had to stagger back to avoid them. Please, she said, eat, embrace the next steps of the change. Youre the only one who can talk to Andalon. We need you, Genneth.
Im sorry, Yuth, I turned, Ibrahim everyone Im a doctor, not a fighter. I can do the soul-therapyI can fight the demons on that front. But I lowered my head in shame. Im not like Dr. Marteneiss; Im not cut out for combatnot outside of RPGs, anyhow.
So, youre just going to starve yourself, is that it? someone said. Because youre a pussy?
I responded to my heckler with contemptuous snort.
Dr. Rathpalla craned his head to the side. Tira, youre needed, he said. Were gonna show Genneth what he can do.
What? I said.
You only think youre bad at combat, Dr. Rathpalla said. Once you understand your powers, youll see what I mean. Now, get Andalon out here, he added. Youll need her to translate.
80.4 - Stretch Your Thoughts Out
Andalon seemed well-rested when I summoned her from the not-here-place. With the little blue spirit along for the ride, Yuth, Ibrahim, and I waddled over to the sitting area across from the Wards reception desk, where Tira was waiting. Yuth coiled herself on the floor and Ibrahim splayed himself over the couch, while I sat on a chair, with Andalon sitting cross-legged on the floor beside me.
Im not gonna lie: looking at Tiras changed form definitely gave me the willies.
Tiras neck cast a long shadow over the wide, brown carpet in the indentation in the floor. She must have been fifteen feet tall, at minimum, and almost two-thirds of it was head and shoulders. Her neck was half and again as thick as her mostly human torsoa graceful monster of a swan, scaled in twilight colors. Though Tiras mouth was completely lost to wyrm-pores, her face had only just begun to stretch into a muzzle. Her visage was almost spider-like, with five eyes scattered across her face. They glowed like setting Suns. Her fifth eye was still in the middle of emerging from the side of her head, erupting from the desiccated rinds of what had once been an ear. Her legs were gone, though her tail was only about as long as a human arm, stubby and thick, though I had no doubt it would grow.
The former receptionist expressed surprise that wed come to talk to her. Her mouth, teeth, jaws, and tongue were all gone, and only transformees like Dr. Finster, whose heads had gone wyrmy, seemed to be able to understand her, and they were busy helping to translate for more recent, mouthless arrivals. Tira made wheezy, staccato sounds when I told her Ibrahim had suggested she could help advise me with my powers, and that Andalon would take care of the translating for her. The noises were almost like a half-diminished chord. Had Andalon not been there beside me, cross-legged on the floor, I wouldnt have known the sound was one of joy.
Nurse Costran adjusted her position, uncoiled and recoiled her tail in fidgety spurts.
Tira spoke up; Andalon turned to face me as she translated.
Wed been in the middle of explaining my situationmy neglected power development, as Dr. Rathpalla had put it.
Ms. Tee asks what can you do, Mr. Genneth. And what have you been doing?
So I told them. I told them about being able to move objects at a distance, and creating psychokinetic surfaces to grab onto or push off of, and anchoring myself in place to keep myself from getting knocked down. And I told them about my many, many failures, as well as abilities Id seen others useprincipally Letty.
When I finished, little spore plumes were wafting out of Tiras face-holes. I didnt need Andalon to know that it was laughter.
You should have just asked Greg for help, Yuth said, or Dr. Horosha. Greg figured out half of it, and Suisei figured out the rest.
Of course they had.
There was at least one surprise in store for me: they all stared at me in shock when I told them Id had wyrmsight for several days now.
Only Tira and Dr. Finster have that ability, Ibrahim said. It seems we normally get it only after our heads have changed most of the way. Youre damn lucky that Andalon gave it to you just like that, and at such an early stage in your changes.
Andalon, Yuth asked, can you give the rest of us wyrmsight?
Andalon shook her head. No, not yet. Youre too far away.
I told them what shed said.
Tira spoke up next.
Well, Andalon translated, if you can sees the shimmery-wimmery plessuses, she says, then this should be lots more easier.
Tira continued, puffing out spores as she gestured with her claws.
She says, you know how you needs to run on a tread mill in ordler for it to power up?
I nodded.
Andalon blinked. Whats a tread mill, Mr. Genneth?
I hyperphantasized one into being, complete with a generic-looking person running on it.
Thats silly, she said, as I made the tread-mill vanish.
Tira sang once more.
She says the plessuses are kind of like that, Andalon translated.
Let me guess, Yuth said, Tiras giving you the tread-mill analogy?
Tira nodded her head.
As part of her duties as a nurse in the Quiet Ward, Yuth also worked with the Quiet Wards sleepers who managed to awake from their vegetative state. The tread-mill was just one of many devices used in the intensive physical therapy needed for the patients to regain control of their bodies after having spent so long in motionlessness.
We push energy into the threads, Yuth said, with Tira nodding along, and thats how we make the psychokinesis happen. But the effect stops once the energy gets to the end of the threads.
The SHG called the plexuses threads.
I figured that out on my own, I said. I just wish Id realized the trick of making the plexuses into a circle or a sphere, so that the energy could keep traveling around.
Ms. Tee says thats right, Andalon translated. But theres other stuffs to know, too.
What other stuff? I asked.
Tira answered: Making your thinks slow down makes it super easy to change to the threads, or dealin with stuffs thats gone out of control. Thats what she says.
I nodded. Yeah, that definitely would have made a difference in my power-training session the other day.
Other thing, Andalon translated, you use circlees and stuff when you wants your powers to last a long time, and you use the pasta threadsies when you wanna be short and sweet, like a punch to the face. The circlees dont need comstant keep-up.
Keep-up? I asked.
Tira made a confused sound.
I closed my eyes and shook my head. Of course. I turned to Andalon. Up-keep, I said, not keep-up.
Suddenly, I had a realization, and slapped the side of my hazmat suits headpiece. How could I forget? I said. Ive also been using my powers to help myself stay upright and run, especially as my legs have been getting weaker.
Tira nodded.
She says thats the kind of thing you want to do with circlees, Andalon translated. Just mem-lo-rize the threads, and use them when you needs them.
Then, Tira said something that made Andalons eyes go wide with excitement.
She says: can you float yet?
Float? I asked.
Yuth, Ibrahim, and Tira exchanged looks with one anotherand, in Nurse Costran and Dr. Rathpallas case, grins.
Yuth turned to Tira. Tira, do it now.
She turned to me.
Do what? I asked.
Shes gonna show you the way she weaves her threads, Dr. Rathpalla explained, and youre gonna copy it.
Tira tooted playfully.
She says shes ready, Andalon translated.
I relayed Tiras message to the others.
A moment later, Tira turned to Yuth, who turned to me and said, Alright, Genneth, turn on your wyrmsight, and speed up your thoughts.
I imagined a (very) squeaky chipmunk of a voice chirping the word faster over and over again in my head at a blistering pace.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
The effect was as profound as it was immediate. At first glance, it seemed like time had stopped all around me, but, like watching clouds on a windy day, a couple seconds of concerted attention showed that wasnt quite the case. Things were still moving, just slowly. Really, really slowly. Uncountable numbers of microscopic fireflies zig-zagged across the room in sheets and drifts, like aurorae in the dark of the Night.
The spores, I realized.
Like the eerie wyrm-song, the sight of the spores chaotic dance in the slowed time was almost beautiful. Andalon sauntered about, oohing and ahhing at museum-worthy displays of transforming humans and conjured ghosts going about their days, seemingly frozen in place.
Scintillating pataphysical threads spooled out from Tiras clawed hands as she sculpted them into being. It was astonishing to see the blues and golds weave together into a basket-shape below Tiras body, and then arc up behind her to form a closed globe.
Out of force of habit, I called out to Andalon with my mouth. My flesh moved like half-dried clay. I could feel the tightening of the individual muscle fibers bunched up within the fascia and the tugging on my tendons as my jaw, lips, and tongue started to form the word Andalon. The experience made my bodys lag seem pleasant by comparison.
I felt the electrochemical gradients crawl through my motor neurons, as the action potential trickled down my ganglia, conveying the cease-and-desist order the language center of my brain had issued to my speech organs.
Andalon, I thought.
She jauntily scampered over to me.
Haha, she smiled, you look really silly, Mr. Genneth! Youre all stucky-stuck!
I stopped the action potential en route to my mouth. There was no point in speaking a reply.
Could you tell me whats going on inside Tiras thoughts right now? I asked. I want to know how shes manipulating her powers.
Tiras weave was now about as long as a human arm. I had a feeling shed begin the process of shaping it into a ring at any moment.
Pressing her fingers to her temples, Andalon hummed softly before looking back at me and reporting her findings.
Shes thinking of not knowing the word, Andalon tapped her right pointer finger on the first three fingers of her left hand, shes thinking of these things
Fingers, I thought-said.
Andalon nodded. Shes thinking of her fing-hers grabby-grabbing the plessus. Shes thinking like this, Andalon pinched her fingers and grabbed either end of an invisible string, which she then curled into a circle.
That was simpler than what Id been expecting.
Is that all? I thought-asked.
Andalon nodded. Yep yep.
Remembering what Yuth had told me, I followed her instructions for bringing the world around me back up to speed.
Slowwwwwwwwww
And then everything snapped back into its proper rate of motion. The whole experience left me feeling a bit lightheaded.
The lines of energy in Tiras grasp separated from her as she wove them into a circle.
Well? Yuth asked. Did you do it yet?
Yeah, but, this is definitely going to take some getting used to.
The nurse chuckled. What doesnt?
Genneth, Ibrahim said, nervously, I think youve practiced enough for now, especially considering how little youve been eating.
Dr. Rathpalla was right. I was definitely getting hungry. Very hungryand, perhaps, in more ways than one.
Though Id first learned the idea of closing the plexuses when my wyrmsight had shown me Lettys technique for floating around, what with Ileene and the demons and Yuta waking up, I hadnt really had the time to play around with it. Getting used to my newfound mental abilities had taken priority.
If I could go back in time, Id slap myself for not trying Lettys technique sooner. The hindsighted frustration was really eating away at me. The only parallel I could think of was the frustrated indignation Id felt after having spent nearly all of Time Sea II looking for the optional (but totally awesome) Dragon Sword, only to learn it had been hidden in plain sight, in a secret cave behind the waterfall in Everton. It was right there, the whole time, but Id missed it completely. It was such an irritating experience, even Pel had gotten pulled into it. My wife was incredibly patient with me, and did me a very big kindness by attentively listening to all my complaints about it while we laid together in bed.
It was that frustrating.
I had a similar relationship for this new trick, which Id taken to calling the circle method. In hindsight, it was so obviousso natural! Again, it made me want to hit myselfand in the present, no less!but Andalon had managed to talk me out of it. Instead, I took my frustrations out by making objectssuch as Dr. Rathpalla, two chairs, and a tablefloat mid-air.
It was easy and effortless as my training session out in that aerial garden was frustrating and life-threatening.
Step One: conjure plexus threads.
Step One-and-a-Half: imagine invisible hands grabbing the plexuses threads, curling them into circles, or disks, or rings, or spheres.
Step Two: imagine it doing what I want it to doin this case, create a persistent floating effect of controlled, but variable amplitude.
Step Three: Let the power flow.
Ibrahimwho was currently floating on his side several feet off the groundflailed his legs and tail in an attempt to free himself, but that only succeeded at making him rotate side to side in an awkward, wobbling fashion.
My delight with my success was loud enough to have attracted Suiseis attention. He was currently looking over Ibrahim with what, by Suisei standards, seemed to be a great deal of amusement.
You are only making your situation worse, Dr. Rathpalla, he said. When you do that
Do what? Ibrahim asked, curling his neck to look Dr. Horosha in the eye.
The motion made his body gyrate yet again.
That, Suisei explained. Radial movements change your moment of rotational inertia, which triggers an equal and opposite rotation to balance out the forces.
Can you say that in Trenton, not physics? I asked.
The more he flails and kicks, the more he wobbles, Suisei said.
I didnt like physics as an undergraduate, and I dont like it any more now! Ibrahim grumbled, as he continued to spin.
Same, I said, with a smile. But let me just do one more, I added.
With but a thought, I whipped up a fresh batch of psychokinetic strands. Speeding up my thoughts to slow down my perception of time made shaping the strands a piece of cake. I could take my sweet time, and if I ever sensed something was amiss, I could slow the passage of time to methodically analyze the situation and then calmly implement a solution.
The most satisfying part, I think, was that I no longer needed to keep pouring power into my plexuses. When the threads were closed, the power I put there stayed there, and for a quite a whileset it and forget it. In the event I needed to modify things, I could increase or tamp down the power flow to augment or diminish the pataphysical forces I was creating. In doing so, I realized just how wasteful Id been with my powers by not using the circle method. It was the difference between filling a bathtub with water and bathing in it, and doing the same, but while the plug was removed. The latter would send your water bill through the roof.
But where was I?
Oh yes.
Through the slightly slowed time, I moved the strands underneath me, wrapping them around in a circle several feet in diameter, outlining the circumference of an imaginary dais. I felt what I can only describe as a click as I snapped the disk of power in place around my lower extremities, and then another click as I took a second disk of plexus threads and it around me, arcing it around my torso and over my head like Id draped a towel on top of myself. This way, when the forces activated, theyd apply from all sidesthough with a bit more heft on the part directly underneath meand keep me airborne without crashing into something. Also, as Tira had explainedthrough Andalon, of courseit wasnt enough to just make the threads into a circle-sphere-ting, I had to attach the plexuses to something; to a spot on the ground, to a person or an object, or even one another; that, or carry them with me as I moved.
Now came the cool part.
Ever since my first encounter with a timpanist in high school orchestra, it had boggled my mind that they often had to re-tune their timpani (or, to use its cooler name, the kettledrum) in the middle of a performance. The rest of the orchestra could be belting out an exhilarating passage with a battlefields worth of counterpoint flying this way and that, and at the back of the stage, there was the kettledrummer, bending over their instrument with their ear hovering just above the kettledrums head, their finger ever-so-softly rata-tat-tapping the membrane to check the pitch as they altered it with a push of their foot on the tuning pedal at the instruments base.
In ye oldene times, before the invention of the tuning pedal, changing the kettledrums tuning required you to fiddle with the screws that kept the kettledrums membrane taut! It must have been nerve-wracking as heck!
And yet thats pretty much exactly what I found myself doing with my levitation weaves. In this analogy, the glistening wrap of pataphysical energies were the kettledrum; the tuning pedal, meanwhile, was the amount of oomph I put into the wrap at any one moment raising or lowering the intensity of the psychokinetic force emanating from the sheets.
As for why I made two pieces instead of one? Id figured it would be easier to control my levitation if I had one weave dedicated to upward motion and another dedicated to keeping me on the upward motion weave.
Alright, I muttered, here goes nothing.
From where she stood, Andalon clapped and cheered. You can do it Mr. Genneth! You! Can! Do! It!
Carefully
While the energy flowed through the wave, I tuned it up, increasing its intensity. I could feel the force pushing from underneath me, but it wasnt enough. For lift-off to happen, the upward force needed to be slightly stronger than gravitys opposing pull.
A bit more, I thought.
I shot up a foot and a half. Any momentary panic I should have had dissolved in the simple truth that I was floating!
And not just floating; I kept on rising.
Too much.
My numb legs flailed beneath me. Everyone nearby raised their heads to look at me.
I brought my rising under control by damping down the strength of the levitation effect, only to overshoot and suddenly plummet two feet down before tuning the up-weave yet again to catch myself. This time, though, it held me steady, floating several inches above the ground. The pataphysics above and around me jostled me back in place over the up-weave whenever a harmless twitch or two tilted me to one side or the other.
It was easier to do the tuning when my perspective wasnt moving along with it, though that was probably just my inexperience showing. Yes, the whole process was somewhat complicated, but I felt like, with some work, Id be able to get it down to an almost instinctive reaction, much like I had the send things flying feat that, even now, occasionally went off in a moment of passion or anger.
At this point, my wyrmly memory was like a cheat code. This would have taken much, much longer to master without a wyrms perfect memoryassuming mastery could even be reached.
The thought stabbed a hole in my elation. Would the person I had been recognize the half-human creature I was becoming? And would either of them recognize the wyrm at the end of the fungal rainbow?
I pondered this as I floated, only half-aware that I was licking my lips in hunger. Dr. Rathpalla must have noticed it, because he frowned at me from where he floated a few feet above me.
I think thats enough for now, Dr. Howle, he grumbled.
Nodding, I sighed.
Wait.
I turned to Yuth.
How do I make the weaves go away? I asked. Do I just wish them away?
No! Ibrahim yelled. Dont!
Too late; I already had.
All the floating things fell to the ground with a rather loud thudmyself included.
81.1 - Wir führen ein englisches Leben!
Halder Reed had lived many days; 19,027 days, to be precise. But in all fifty-three of his years of living, only five of those days truly mattered, and, Angel willing, todaytonightwould be the sixth.
Holding his chamber door ajar, Brother Halder Reed poked his head out into the hallway and looked left and right, searching for signs of movement.
He saw none.
For the first time in the better part of a week, Reed was able to venture out from his quarters, andmore than simply missing the feeling of strolling through the Melted Palaces sacred halls, he was spurred on by the call of duty.
The first of Reeds great days was the day of his birth, though it was included on the list only on a technicality. Everyone was born; that was nothing special. The rest of Reeds great days, however, were filled with portentto use the word in its archaic sense. The second of Reeds great daysor, if you prefer, the first of his really great dayswas the day hed found the Godheads truth. That was the daya vacation daywhen hed first laid eyes on Melted Palace, the greatest of Lassedicys temples.
You couldnt have found a more perfect name for the grand cathedral at Elpecks heart. It was the faiths ancient glory, reborn in a memory of Empire. The stonework was smoothed and indented, like a waterfalls edge or a mound of melted wax. Halder remembered the awe he felt as hed drunk in the sight, thinking he was face to face with the Angels paradisal throne. It even looked like a throne, but with the back in the middle, and was decorated in piercing spires and glass windows as thin as arrow-slits, with the tall, enclosing basilica bowing at its feet.
And hed felt all that before hed even set foot in the place.
But then he did enter, and, Break the Tablets, that was the moment Halder found his lifes purpose. He felt the Godheads power seep into him: the Beasts Might, Moonlights Wisdom, and the Angels boundless Love.
It was a transformative experience, through and through. The Halder Reed that had entered the Melted Palacea young, rough-shod atheist, fresh out of collegehad grown up in spiritual poverty. With only a quick wit and a quicker pen, hed pulled himself up out of his Demptist upbringing in the suburbs of Fourthbright, at the butt-southern end of Trueshore, securing for himself a scholarship to SeasweepYork University, no less!
Like most atheists, Halder figured his younger selfs atheism was just a coping mechanism, meant to paper over the void of existential dread that churned in his chest in the long hours of the Night. But the Melted Palace changed all that. Hed left it humbled and awe-struck, drunk on that special kind of wonder that was a new converts greatest treasure, and not just any convert, but a convert of the true faiththe one true faith. And, over the years, beliefs hed once thought foolish and unreasonable had grown to become the deepest truths hed ever known.
Truly, The Angel worked in mysterious ways.
Quietly closing the door behind him, Reed hurried down the hall, passing, one by one, the minor fluted columns that supported the slender arches that dotted the way forward. Sculpted vines and ivy leaves clambered across the stone in a dream of ruin that never was. The soft claps of Brother Reeds habituary slippers on the marble floor echoed like water. His robes fluttered with his movementsthe Mallard Robe: green skullcap; brown cassock. He even wore the gray sulpice, normally reserved for services. Nothing less would sufficenot when he was to meet Lassedite Bishop, face-to-face.
From a distance or a sideway glance, the patterns on the sulpice made it look like a coat of wings. Hed washed them by hand, in the sink in his quarters, drying them by hanging them from a string above the heating vent in the wall. Actions like these were rituals in miniature. The rituals would continue, so long as he had the strength to perform them. They channeled the deeper truths buried in creation, and it was the duty of the faithful to remember those truths, and revere them, and keep them holy.
Even if the world was at its end, eternity would endure. Man was made for eternity. This life, though sacred and vital, was but a passing phase.
The third of Reeds great days was the day hed been ordained to the priesthood, born anew as a Brother in the Angel.
The fourth was the day hed been chosen as one of blessd few who served in the Melted Palace. That had been the greatest honor of his life, eclipsed only by Reeds fifth and greatest day: the day when Marlon Bishop, 278th Lassedite, had asked Reed to serve as his personal secretary.
Reed quickly reached the walkway on the balcony over the ambulatory beside the Melted Palaces Great Nave. Its beauty made the hair at the back of his neck stand on end. To Reed, the Melted Palace transcended architecture, inside and out. It was a living thing; a holy grove; a vision of eternity, captured in sanctified stone. The temples fluted columns split into twining boughs whose leafless branches wove together to form the ceiling. The clerestory windows were paned by shards of stolen rainbows; their light painted every sight with its reveries.
The sight brought tears to his eyes. Reed hadnt realized how much hed missed it, nor how much it pained him to see these hallowed grounds silent and void. The missals had been muzzled; the Sacraments starved and forgotten. No Convocations murmured in the halls. No one to bid greetings to the Hallowed Beast at dusk and dawn. No one to light the candles or sing the hymns.
And they say we were the lucky ones, he whispered.
As the seat of the head of the Lassedicyeven of the misguided schismaticsthe Melted Palace was a citadel of the faith, for the faith, by the faith. Here dwelled the most sacred of the sacred officesthe Lassedite himself, the College of the Archluminers, the seat of the Templarsalong with a small army of priests and unordained clergymen to attend to daily rites and the laitys needs. It was also in perpetual disarray. As the old joke went, predicting the weather was easier than knowing whether or not the Melted Palace would be open to the public come the morrow. Granted, meteorological science made the weather actually quite easy to predict, but Reed still felt the joke held water.
It was hard to believe it had been only four days since DAISHU had formally declared a state of emergency over the NFP-20 pandemic. Since then, the Melted Palace had been closed to visitors. Anyone with personal chambers on the premises had gotten shoved into them; everyone else was driven out.
Lassedite Bishops health and safety was paramount.
Reed had spent much of his isolation in prayer and in contemplation of scripture. It felt like a lifetime had passed before his eyes. He remembered the awful crash hed heard on the evening of the second day. Rushing to his window, hed found the body of a priest splattered on the pav below. Shards of broken glass clung to the dead priests Mallard robes like brambles and their thorns.
Reed kept away from the windows after that. He just wished the sounds of the jumpers hitting the pavement could be blocked that easily.
Thinking back to those horrors left Reed breathing deeply, fighting to center himself. For all things, there was a season. He could mourn the lost once his duties were complete.
Walking down the length of the Great Nave and its heartbreaking emptiness, he turned down a hall at the far end, and from there came to a grand stairwell. It was dark and dreary there, with only the warm light of the chandelier up above painting the stairwell in gold and shadow. But soon, dawn would come, and the brightness of the Sunrise would stream through the windows chevron stained-glass panes and flood the stairwell with painted light. As Reed looked up, a power surge flared through the Melted Palaces wiring. For a moment, the chandelier overhead buzzed, glowing painfully bright, forcing Reed to shield his eyes with his hand.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.
But then, he realized: it was a sign.
The Angel was watching him.
An electric sensation danced down the priests face. The hairs of his short, brushy beard stuck out like pins and needles.
The Angel is watching! he called, his words echoing up and down the grand stairwell.
He rushed up the stairs.
The person Reed had been decades ago, before hed found his faith, might have asked the priest hed become why he couldnt just tell Lassedite Bishop the urgent news via console. Reed knew exactly the answer he would have given his younger self, and his younger self would not have understood it.
There was an order to the world.
Specificallynot that Reed was aware of itthe order to the world in this case was the fact that Archluminer Umberridge had, for years, used Brother Reed as one in a long chain of intermediaries meant to ensure that any potential fallout from his political activities could not be used as the basis for indicting the clerical hierarchy as co-conspirators. If he ever found out, I imagine Reed would have probably abandoned Angelical Lassedicy, just like his younger self had abandoned Eastern Demptism. Really, though, it was Reeds fault. It was his conscious choice not to do a perspicacious intellectual exploration of the Angelical Churchs history precisely because he feared doing so would break his faith all over again.
Every moment of every life in every corner of place or act or thought participated in a drama whose scale the individual mind could scarcely grasp. Even now, faiths lessons echoed in him.
Life is the journey by which we become. Faith gives us the wisdom to find the road ahead. We are players in the story the Godhead has chosen to tell. Our purpose is to find our place within it, to discover what the Angel has willed for us, and to live in harmony with that will. That is what it means to be human.
The omen of the blazing chandelier filled Brother Reed with joy beyond joy. Any terrors hed felt were routed and banished. The Angels hand was guiding him. It guided him onto the landing one flight up, then down the hallway, up to a grand doorway: the Moon Door. Beneath his feet, behind the Great Nave, the Sun Door barred the way to the Sword Chamber and the Rock of the Lass. Above that, in front of him, the Moon Door barred the way to the Lassidites Audience Chamber. This was the room where the Lassedites addressed the convention of Archluminers, where the Emperors were crowned, where destiny showed its hand, and Halder Reed was one of the select few people alive whod enjoyed the privilege of standing within its walls.
Since time immemorial, armed guardsthe Watchershad stood watch by the doors of the Sun and the Moon. This responsibility was given to the Templar Corps greatest, most pious warriors; always menalways celibate, unsullied virginsdressed in gleaming plate armor inlaid with opal and silver. Their helms were trident crowns, one prong for each Person of the Triun. One Watcher wielded a greatsword; the other, a halberd. Their duty? To kill any who would dare defile the Audience Chamber with their unauthorized presence. Only once had the Watchers failed in their dutiesthe day the Second Empire fell, when the Blueshirts stormed the Melted Palace and blasphemed against the Godhead by taking the Lasseditic succession into their own hands.
At the outset of the Prelatory, as per the divine revelation of Duncan III267th Lassediteguards in simple black uniforms were to be stationed beside the Watchers, armed to the teeth with the latest in munitions technology, to assist the Watchers in defending the Doors. Rumor had it, the so-called Silent Watchers were currently armed with some kind of heat laser.
Obviously, Reed had no intention of crossing them.
The priest approached the door with caution, raising his arms in the traditional gesture of supplication, with his palms facing outward, toward the guards.
With nervous grace, he sank down to one knee, his head lowered.
I am Brother Halder Reed, he said, Secretary to Marlon Bishop278th Lassedite. I have a message for the Lightbearer, and humbly request his audience.
The Lassedite reposes in his chambers, the sword-bearer replied. His lips and eyes moved, but nothing else.
Reed looked up at the Watcher. Do you know why?
The halberd-bearer coughed quietly, barely moving as he did so.I believe he is in some kind of meeting, he answered. His voice was scratchy.
In his personal chambers? Reed asked.
The halberd-bearers face looked pale from within his helm.
The shorter of the two Silent Watchers spoke next: Its a videophone conference, he said.
I see. Rising to his feet, Reed bowed and said, Thank you, before darting off down the hall. His slippered footsteps echoed on the marble as he went.
The Lassedites chambers were up a special flight of stairs around and behind the Audience Chamber. As Reed climbed the marble stairs, the walls and ceiling grew thick with ornamentationthe splendors of Paradise, rendered in sculpted gold.
Per tradition and a good deal of common sense, the Lassedite was supposed to leave his chamber door ajar by a width of five thumbnails. However, when Brother Reed arrived, he found the door was firmly shut. The Priest-Secretary furrowed his brow for a moment, adjusting his glasses while trying to recall the right way to proceed in this situation.
There was a ritual for everything.
Fortunately, he remembered it quickly enough. Using the inner knuckles on his left hand, he knocked on the door nine times, loudly calling out, Your Holiness! every three knocks.
No response.
Flustered, Reed performed the knock once more.
He spent a moment wondering what he was supposed to do. Eventually, much to Reeds dismay, he realized he had no other choice, and so, gentlywith the utmost cautionhe opened the door, and stepped inside.
The Lassedites personal chambers were a place of fearful symmetry. Every room bore the same scheme: from the doorways imposing heights to the walls slit-like windows, verticality reigned supreme. Billowing, maroon curtains interwoven with golden thread spilled down the walls, pooling on the floor. The ceiling was adorned in honeycomb vaulting, like liquid, frozen-mid-drip, with chrome scales and cerulean tile encrusting its niches and crannies. Carpets sat like islands on the marble floor, tessellated with quasicrystals of stylized suns, fringed in blue skies. The patterns twinkled in the chrome vaulting. Slender, columnar chandeliers lit the room, hanging at the end of long cables that dangled from the ceiling. The chandeliers hexagonal cross-sections tinted their light in the oranges of sunset. A faint, pleasing herbal scent lingered in the air.
But it was the voices that caught Reeds attention, and triggered his astonishment.
He couldnt tell who they were, though if they were talking with Bishop, they had to be important, so, feeling more than a bit of trepidation, Reed approached quietly, and with plenty of tact. He didnt want to obtrude.
Stepping forward, Brother Reed turned to the right, toward the source of the noise, and then walked underneath one of the tall, angled archways at the side of the room. Through the arch was a short hallway, which opened up into the Lassedites study. The 278th Lassedite sat in front of his lune-shaped desk, with his back to the doorless entryway. Bishop wore the Dove robe, even simpler than Reeds own, though that wasnt surprising. The leader of the one true faith was a profoundly humble soul. Unlike his predecessor, he only wore the Hummingbird Robe when ceremony demanded it, preferring to leave it in the closet.
At the moment, Lassedite Bishop hunkered over the console built into the top of the desk. The extravagant piece of technology was nearly four feet long, and, with its adjustable mount set at a 45 angle, it bathed the Lassedites face in its secular light. Like nearly every piece of furniture in the Lassedites chambers, the desk in the Lightbringers study was a mass of darkest mahogany, rounded into a stark, unadorned geometry. Every edge and angle was sanded soft and smooth. The lacquered wood gleamed like a gemstone, but pitch-black, with a glossy sheen that seemed to soak up all the light.
Brother Reed kept silent as he approached, until he was standing beneath the archway at the edge of Bishops study. Biting his lip, Reed had almost found the courage to interrupt the proceeding, only to stop and stare as he realized what was going on, andmore importantlywho was involved.
Politicians.
Over half-dozen had gathered for a teleconference with Lassedite Bishop, with the console screen divided up into squares, one for each participant. Reed recognized some of them, though not all in the same way. He recognized Chief Minister Gant by his gleaming baldness. He also recognized Mayor Joleston, as well as what could only be generals of the highest rank, judging by the medals and commendations that encrusted their breast-pockets.
The current speaker wore a prim, formal suit with a flawlessly pressed collar. The man had a strong nose, but the rest of his face was like a sea-cliff, eroded by stress, acrimony, and sheer frustration. His skin was pale and chalky, his voice scratchy and sore, and his battered hair was as gray as his suit.
Reed recognized him from broadcasts on the news: Dr. Stephen Thone. He looked and sounded even worse than he did on the news. All signs pointed to him being at, or beyond, his breaking point.
Sir, Dr. Thone said, as the National Director for Public Health, Im telling you, you have to
But someone cut him offand not just any someone, but John Henrichy himself.
Ill have to interrupt you there, Dr. Thone, Henrichy said. The country is falling apart, and youre not helping. You have no place here.
Goosebumps trickled over Reeds skin. To think that Trentons greatest living journalist was trying to set Gant on the right path.
Maybe there was hope for the world, after all.
81.2 - Wir führen ein englisches Leben!
Reed had long since sworn off most forms of broadcast news. He still mourned the radicalization of National Public Radio. Its once quality programming had degenerated to the point that it was just another mouthpiece for the Technocracy, hardly better than CBN. Reed gave up on NPR the day they joined the bandwagon, calling for the de-platforming of anyone who criticized Mu or DAISHU. Couldnt you criticize cultural imperialism without being accused of being a racist, or a theocrat?
Fortunately, there was John Henrichy, the perfect antidote to Reeds distaste for the corruption of the establishment and the anti-establishment.
Unfortunately, Henrichys words sent Dr. Thone flying into a rage. The public No place? he bellowed. Look whos talking! Youre a fucking talk-show host! What are you doing here!?
Stephen, stop yelling at John, Gant complained.
Im here as a concerned citizen, Dr. Thone, Henrichy said. Someone here needs to look out for the peoples interestsand thats clearly not you. You cant expect people to stand by while the nation we love gets shredded to pieces.
See, Stephen? Gant said. Hes here as a concerned citizen.
The National Director of Public Health sputtered. Concerned, my ass! Dr. Thones face was flush with awful emotion. Youre an entitled millionaire man-child who gets offand gets richon spouting vacuous rationales for peoples worst, most prejudicial instincts, and all to brown-nose the billionaires that bankroll you!
Holy shit! one of the speakers said. Did you hear that?
Youre just saying that to cover your sick, murderous agenda! another said. There are now zombies in the streets! The instant the soldiers arrived, bam, it''s zombies everywhere! Its madness, and you knew it would happen, Dr. Thone, you and all the other Angel-hating degenerate elites! Youre pulling straight from the Prelatorys playbook: you want to purge all the Neangelicals who wont go to your so-called Re-education camps! We all know the truth! You cant hide from it! So fuck you, Dr. Thone!
Brother Reed recognized that speaker as Randolph Hune, Governor of Saltbight Prefecturehis home state.
Please, gentlemen, Im begging you: people are dying! The manLambcomb, Mayor of Crownsleep turned Governor of Fricehold Prefecturecoughed and coughed. Dark rivulets wove their webs behind his skin. I dont know what to do! Im turning to you for help, and this is the best the central government can give me?
Suddenly, a new face appeared in one of the empty squares on the screen. It was a young man with disheveled hair. His eyes were slicked with tears.
Whowho are you? one of the generals said, trembling in alarm. Wheres Admiral Hinkley?
The young mans reply was dotted with pained, staccato coughs.
Im Hunter Marshall, sir. Lieutenant, First Officer for Hinkley on the Red Hound.
Hinkleys ship? the General asked. The Lightsbreath-class?
Yes, yes sir, the Lieutenant replied. Were moored here at Fort Suru, in Jiki-O, Mu. Sir Im just a soldier. The Admiral hes hes g, he choked on the word, hes gone. Dead. Sobs quickly mixed in with the coughs. In a barely a breath, the two could no longer be told apart. The Norms are fucking everywhere. Its demons in the air, zombies in the streets. The forests are moving. And the sounds the sounds!
His fingertips bubbled up from the lower edge of the console screen. He clasped his hands in prayer. O Holy Angel. Help us. S-Save us. Guide us through
This is why we should just bomb the places with the infection, Gant said, brusquely speaking over the naval officers prayer.
Weve got the bombs, Ed, Gant said. We could use them. We could use them, and itd be great
We have to give Vernon time, Sir, the general replied. We dont want to nuke Elpeck if theres still a chance we can combat this plague on the medical front. Youve read the memos about whats happening aroundWest Elpeck Medical, havent you? General Marteneiss convoy will be setting off for the hospital within the hour.
Look, Ed, Gant said, Im the Chief Minister. Im the one in charge of the nuke codes. Bombs beat zombies, and whatever the snake-things are, and the leftover radiation will kill the fungus anyway. Thatll make people better, right?
Thats millions of people, you maniac, Thone yelled, including you!
Ill be fine, Stephen, Gant replied. Im in the skyin the big aerobussafe and sound.
Henrichy audibly groaned. Dammit, Walter, he said, calling the Chief Minister by name, youre acting like a child! Your antics lost us the upper house in the National Diet.
That was Senator Tetsus fault, Gant said.
You have to care about this stuff, Walter, Henrichy replied, chidingly, only to stop, lean over, and let out a series of nasty coughs. I still want my country to be around when this is all over.
Dr. Thones eyebrows slunk steep enough to slide off his face. He let loose several pained coughs, but no one seemed to care.
Brother Reed could just barely make out the doctors words over the tumult.
Im already infected. Everyone here is probably infectedand if theyre not, theyre soon going to be. The spores are caustic, unlike anything Ive ever seen. Glass, plastic lead they burn through it all.
But Reed wasnt the only one listening.
What does it mean, Dr. Thone? Lassedite Bishop asked, finally speaking up.
Id like to ask you the same question, Your Holiness, Henrichy said. Youve seen the footage, havent you?
Bishop shook his head. Who hasnt?
Henrichys voice broke. Please, Your Holiness, this cant be the Last Days. There has to be a rational explanation!
Youre smart, John, Gant said, youll probably figure it out yourself!
Shut up! Henrichy said. He slammed his hands on his desk. Shut up! Shut up! Angel, youre a fucking nightmare! He stiffened. You know what? Im done pretending: I voted for Hune in the primary, Walter. I voted for Hune!
In the midst of this chaos, Halder Reed finally found his voice.
Your Holiness! he said, in a voice neither too loud nor too soft.
Lassedite Bishop immediately did a double-take, looking over his shoulder, and then swiveling the seat of his chair around.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
Halder? he asked.
The 278th Lassedite of the Church of the Lass of the Sea was a kindly, clean-shaven man with a doughy bloated body, plump cheeks, and tired, wrinkle-framed eyes. The mounting baldness atop his white-wired head was positively textbook. In the dimness of the room, the piercing light from the wide-screen console behind him seemed to drip over his jowls.
Most of the faces on the console turned toward Brother Reed, whose meager presence was finally getting noticed.
Whos that? Gant asked.
Bishop glanced over his shoulder. Hes my Secretary.
Why is he here?
Reed looked Bishop in the eyes. Your Holiness
Halder, cant this wait? the Lassedite asked. As you can see, he turned to the screen, Im in a
Your Holiness, Reed said, Mordwell Verune has returned. The 250th Lassedite is lost no more.
Reeds words rang through the room with the force of an atom bomb.
Lassedite Bishop was the first to break the silence. Wh-what?
Mordwell Verune? Governor Hune said. The Lost Lassedite?
Reed nodded. The one and only.
Shock blossomed on Henrichys eyes. His clean-cut appearance barely contained his rising panic. Verune? Are he stammered, are you nuts? Is this some kind of joke? His words sped up. This isnt another beasteaten Historical Channel special, Brother Reed. This is real life!
Reed shook his head. I wouldnt have believed it myself, Mr. Henrichy, but Rufus contacted me by console to tell me the news.
The Lassedite scratched his fingernail against the chairs armrest, at one of the spots where the varnish had worn away.
Rufus? Gant asked.
Archluminer Rufus Umberridge, Reed said.
And you believe him? Henrichy asked.
On my life, Reed said. He made the Bond-sign.
Where is he? Where is Umberridge? Henrichy demanded.
When he called, he was at Margaret Revenels penthouse apartment suite, Reed answered.
Turning to Lassedite Bishop, Reed was astonished by the expression he saw on the Lassedites face. To Reed, it seemed incomprehensible for such a look to be on the face of the leader of the one true faith. To an ordinary man, Bishops expression was one of gaping, slack-jawed terror.
Your Holiness think about what this means! This is a miracle. A miracle beyond all other miracles, save Angelfall itself! All the naysayers, the prickled atheists, the politicians caked in betrayal and grift Reeds voice rose with excitement. The darkness that has descended upon our world it isnt punishment. Its a trial. These are the Last Days. Praise the Angel, the final test is here! The debt of our faith will, at last, be repaid! Imagine all the people. When they see the Lost Lassedite, in the flesh when they hear him speak? Were going to save them, Marlonwere going to save them all. Theyll see the Light that was always there! Even now, Archluminer Umberridge is literally setting the stage for Verune to speak!
Hearing a hoarse yell, Reed looked up to the console.
What was that? Dr. Thune asked.
Gant looked over his shoulder. I dont
Suddenly, an alarm went off. The emergency lights flashed along the walls and floor of the room where Gant was broadcasting.
Whatever it was, it was happening on the Chief Ministers aerobus.
There was a loud thump. Gants corner of the screen jerked violently. A door opened behind him as a well-dressed stewardess burst into the room.
Sir, the pilothes!
Several gunshots could be heard.
In the seconds it took for the Chief Minister to turn around, Reed caught a glimpse of what was going on through the door behind him. He saw dead bodies on the floor of the luxurious aerobus main cabin. Seconds later, there was an inhuman howl. A figure burst through a door at the other end of the main cabin. A snarling, twitching husk of plague-touched humanity staggered out through the open door, wearing a captains uniform. Reed could just barely make out blood pooling onto the floor of the cockpit.
The figure charged. The air cracked with indistinct screams.
The next thing Reed knew, a coterie of zombies had burst into Gants chambers. The Chief Minister knocked over his console, trying to turn and run, leaving the rest of the teleconference staring at an image of the rooms carpeted floor to the tune of violence and terror. A moment later, there was a horrible noise, and then the feed from the Ministerial aerobus cut out altogether.
The generals left the call faster than Reed could blink.
Several seconds passed in stunned silence, interrupted only by the sounds of prayers softly murmured.
Well, what do you know? Dr. Thone said, with a bitter laugh. I guess he cant hurt anyone anymore. Never thought Id live to see the day. He coughed, and then cleared his throat. And, John, to answer your question about what this all means? It means were fucked. Theres no way out. The doctor shook his head in defeat. No way out. Thanks for nothing, you asshole.
Dr. Thone bent down, rustling through something. Before Reed could understand what he was doing, he saw the glint of gunmetal, and then the sound of a single bullet being fired echoed through the room, followed by a wet thud as the public health official charged with guiding the Trenton governments response to the NFP-20 fell out of his chair, having blown his brains out with a point-blank shot, fired right into the soft spot at the base of his jaw. Speckled splatter of bone, brain, and blood seasoned the wall behind him.
At that point, the other Governors left the call, save for Governor Lambcomb, who begged the Lassedite to hear his Divulgence, to which Bishop consented.
Lt. Marshall also stayed, praying quietly, under his breath.
As per canon law, Reed stepped out of the study and walked back into the foyer. He sat down in one of the Lassedites lush, red armchairs, waiting for the world to make sense again.
He closed his eyes and prayed.
A while later, Reed heard footsteps, and then felt Lassedite Bishops gentle touch on his shoulder.
Opening his eyes, Reed saw the 278th Lassedite sit down in the armchair on the opposite side of the fireplace. Between them, dead embers moldered in the hearth set back into the wall. The steel lacework that held the fireplace in was spotlessly clean.
Bishop had never been favored to win election to the Lassedites seat. In hindsight, though, the decision made perfect sense. For most men, sins of hubris were an inescapable consequence of rank and privilege, particularly when fate had bestowed it to them. Not even a lifetime of catechesis was enough to keep that corruption at bay.
But not Marlon Bishop.
His detractors liked to say he had an eclair for a spine: soft, prone to worry and rumination, reluctant to criticize and condemn, even when he arguably should have.
Stuffed with custard sweeter than any thought youd ever know, as the man himself liked to say.
Bishop took every criticism of his character in strideand there were many. Yet, despite it all, he hadnt so much as a single power-hungry bone in his body. You would not know he was Lassedite if he hid himself away in the crowd.
It was the truest, godliest sort of humility Reed had ever known.
Even so, as much as he loved Marlon as a human beingrich with soul, and with a laugh that never failed to fill the room with smilesReed couldnt also shake his wished that the head of the Church would be more willing to stand his ground and defend the faith from its enemies, both within and without. Reed felt guilty for that. It wasnt his place to seek to change the Angels chosen representative on earth.
Yet, he couldnt help but hope. As Victor Gracelip89th Lassediteonce wrote: Kindness without providence is no kindness at all.
What Reed asked, glancing down the hall at Bishops now dark and empty study. What was all that?
Lassedite Bishop clasped his hands and held them in his lap. The follies of Men and the vagaries of God, he said. Coughing quietly, he cleared his throat. I have missed you, Brother Reed, he said. To think I spent days without even the slightest taste of your companionship and insight.
Trembling, he looked Reed in the eyes. Please, Halder are you sure? Has Verune truly returned?
Reed nodded. I meant what I said, Your Holiness.
The look that those words broke into the Lassedites face was enough to break Reeds heart. The Lassedite was the tether that tied the world to the Angels Covenant and the promise it held. His message was Hope itself. His Truth was the depth of the One True Love.
But the man did not smile. He did not shine. Instead, tears began to stream down his sagging cheeks.
The 278th Lassedite wept.
The aging man gripped the chairs armrests while his eyes focused on an unseen horizon.
Of all the signs I begged for, he said, and of all the times it could have come Lassedite Bishops words were breathless; gasped, more than spoken. I wanted to believe the Norms were just a nightmare, but the Angel has taken that option from me.
Brother Reed coughed softly. He covered his mouth as he cleared his throat.
Im sorry, Bishop whispered. I dont know. I dont think I can know
Your Holiness?
With a sniffle, Bishop wiped the tears from his face. He turned his gaze to his secretary.
Im tired, Halder, he said. Im tired of hoping. Tired of pretending.
Managing, at last, a single, shaky smile, Lassedite Bishop rose from his seat. Brother Reed got up to help him, as he always did.
Bishop looked him in the eyes. You were right, Halder, he said. When you said I needed to show my faith more strongly, you were right, and I apologize for having intimated otherwise. Bishop exhaled. A shudder reverberated down the slope of his snowy-robed shoulders. My faith has been weak. He nodded. It is true, what the Voices say. Doubts are like vermin. How quickly one becomes a multitude He let out a cough-riddled sigh. I was not strong enough. Im tired of lying.
Before Halder Reed could react, Marlon Bishop, head of the one true Church of the one true faith, leaned in close and kissed him, lips a-trembling.
82.1 - Credo in unum Deum
I felt as if Id just come back from a long walk. I imagined my heart would have been racing, maybe even some sweat piling on my brow, had my body still been capable of doing either of those things. But, most importantly: I was hungry.
I suppose I deserved the fierce I told you so that Nurse Costran gave me when I finally took up her offer of food.
What about your commitment to dragging out your transformation for as long as you can? she asked.
Im still committing to it, I said, I just didnt anticipate getting giddy about being able to fly.
You werent flying, Dr. Howle, Larry said, you were just floating.
A man can dream, cant he? I said.
Yuth rolled her eyes at me and crossed her arms.
I just need enough to tide me over, I said.
No, Yuth replied, youll get a full ration.
What? I asked.
With a wave of claw, she floated a couple bags of snacks over to me. I grabbed them as graciously as I could.
There are rules, Genneth, she said. We ration what food we have, and everyone makes sure to eat their fair share. As you know, the more you put off the hunger, the harder it hits you once you finally surrender to it.
Hes probably going to want more, Dr. Rathpalla said.
Then he can come back in five hours, Yuth replied, directing a glare at me. Maybe that will teach you to do a better job of taking care of yourself.
The snack-bags plastic packaging crinkled in my grip.
Still thank you, I said, bowing slightly. Now, if youll excuse me actually, uh, I looked around, wheres the restroom?
Larry told me where. It turned out there were several of them. Most importantly, this ward had a single-person restroom.
I bowed again, and then walked off.
Where are you going? Dr. Rathpalla asked.
To eat, and then assess the damage, I said.
Into the single-person restroom I went, and there, I ate, sitting on the toilet, facing backwardlid closed, of course. The blue flames came and flowed into Andalon as I sat, waiting for the flesh-crawling feeling to fade from my body. Andalon sat at the edge of the sink, though I kept my eyes away; the mirror was behind her, and I wasnt exactly interested in watching my humanity drain away, nor was there much point in assessing the damage, as it were, while my changes were still ongoing. Honestly, they werent very intense, just a feeling of things lengthening or shortening.
That didnt make it any more comfortable, however.
Finally, I felt myself settle. Then, begrudgingly, I got up, took off the upper half of my green hazmat suit, set it down on the metal handlebars abutting the porcelain throne, and tugged down on the lower suits lower half before confronting the mirror, to behold what I was becoming.
I was less human than I remembered. The man Id once been was slipping through my fingers. My tail was the worst part. It had swelled to the point where nearly two-thirds of my backside had merged with the darn thing. The awkwardness of having to pull it out of the empty oxygen-tank pocket in the back of the hazmat suit quickly turned to shock and panic as I realized just how big it had gotten. It coiled in on itself, swelling the back of my hazmat suit into a freakish hunchback of strained plastic. I had to contort myselfhuffing and puffing with effort? to bend forward far enough to slip it out. It was like pulling a preserved snake out of a jar, only without the formaldehyde. Seeing its length and thickness made my panic bottom out into dread. I didnt have to strain myself at all to look over my shoulder to see it splayed out on the floor behind me. It flopped onto the floor like a dead tuna, pulling me down with its sheer weight. The cold touch of the tiled floor against the tip of my tail sent a jolt up my spine. Fudge, the thing was big. Just thinking about its size in comparison to my legs made me shudder. Id been able to forget about how big it was because Id gotten used to walking around with it stuffed into the back of the hazmat suit.
My legs were approaching a sub-skeletal existence. A person shouldnt be able to wrap a single hand all the way around the thickest part of their thigh. I could hardly feel them, in contrast to my tail, which now had full feeling. Every inch of it was a living, moving part of my body. It felt more like me than my rotting human body. It felt like I had three legs now, two of which felt like stubs with long, numb extensions sticking out from them.
My tail was as long as I was tall.
A wave of lightheadedness struck me, making me swoon; the ghost of my departed panic attacks, perhaps? I steadied myself by digging my claws into the sink beside me. I winced at the screech of my claw-tips scraping against the white porcelain, fighting with gravity and the weight of my tail to keep myself upright.
But, even more than disturbed, I was hungry. Above all else, I was still hungry.
Darn it, Yuth, I muttered.
Just as she and Ibrahim had predicted, having fed it, the hunger was up and back with a vengeance.
From my seat, I got a sideways view of my reflection in the mirror. Without the hazmat suits visor distracting my eyes, it was harder for me to keep from matching the sensations I felt to signs of physical deformation.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Who was I kidding? I lookedand feltlike a lizard-man in a discount human suit.
My shoulders had sunken in, a little bit along the vertical, but mostly on the horizontal. My torsosternum, clavicle, and ribswere like a beaver-gnawed trunk, scrunched up and slightly narrowed. My neck was longer than it had any business being. It was only after Id pulled it free from the hazmat suits headpiece that I realized just how much Id been bending my neck in order to keep hidden from wandering eyes.
In a monstrously kind twist, my face was still almost completely unchanged. The only noticeable changes to my head were some clumps coming loose at the back. Fudge I groaned. The sound bounced off the walls, echoing like waves seeping into sand.
Anything else? I wondered.
Well did the fact that I looked like snirt count as a change? Cause, if it did, then Id definitely changed in that respect, too. Day after day of non-stop hardships had taken their toll on me, not to mention everyone else, and not just the staff. Even the building seemed to be suffering.
Even the bathroom. The familiar scent of antiseptic was nowhere to be found. Instead, the air in the bathroom was heavy with the fungus pungent sweetness, accented with the stench of pus, dried vomit, and decomposing urea. Bodily fluids speckled on and around the sink and toilet covered the tile and porcelain in a foul lacquer, predominantly of the spore-sprinkled black ooze variety. It was anyones guess as to whether the janitors had given up, or simply died.
Probably both, I thought, bitterly.
I wasnt sure if I even had a stomachthe organanymore, but that didnt stop my hunger from trying to have its way with me. It was getting really bad now.
Suddenly, a plan inserted itself into my head. I did not like it, but I couldnt not do it.
It was that kind of impulse.
Also, I suppose this is what I deserved for being a hypocrite.
Walking over to the toilet, I knelt down onto the tile. I didnt feel anything against my knees, though I did hear a discomforting crack as I did so.
I couldnt help but flinch at that.
Even though all modern toilets had built-in bidets, toilet paper still hadnt gone out of fashion.
Thank you, DAISHU!
Grabbing sheets from the roll in the dispenser in the wall, one by one, I dipped their edges in the bowls clean water and wiped down the collage of bodily fluids spattered on the floor.
Mr. Genneth, Andalon asked, what are you doing?
Look away, I said. You dont want to see this, by which I meant, I didnt want to see it.
Ugh.
All my human instincts were screaming at me to toss the filthy things into a waste receptacle, butto my eternal dismayI just couldnt bring myself to do it.
They smelled too good.
I closed my eyes as I plopped them into my mouth and swallowed, shuddering in horror.
Angel, it was delicious. Like skins of cotton candy bursting on my tongue and throat. Contact with my tongue instantly dissolved the wet toilet paper as my transforming body digested and absorbed the drek. I kept on cleaning and eating until my hunger lost its edge. I was still famished, but not enough to make me drool uncontrollably.
Surprise surprise, toilet paper wasnt very filling.
Behind me, Andalon applauded. Its so clean now!
That almost made me laugh. Instead, though, I sighed.
I really was fighting against the inevitable, but what else could I do?
I wouldnt be of much use to anyone if I got locked up like my transformee patients, not even to those patients themselves. I worried theyd only have anger and resentment for me. Id be more alone in the truth than I would be in the precarious fiction I was currently playing at.
I felt like an inverted pendulum. I seemed stable enough at the moment, but, despite the progress Id mademaking myself useful, mastering my powersI feared I could lose it all with just a single misstep.
I didnt know what Id do if things fell apart, other than drown in despair.
Again, I sighed.
Glancing at the toilet roll, I briefly pondered eating it before deciding against it.
The more I ate, the more I changed; the less human I became. That was how the transformation worked. My time at playing doctor would come to an end rather quickly unless I took steps to try and slow it down as much as I could, which was what Id been doingspreading out my meals, minimizing them into the lightest grazes, rationing what humanity I had left to sparebut, darn it, it was getting difficult to keep stringing myself along like this.
Surrounded by the fluorescent lights buzz, I looked up to the icon of the Angel mounted on the wall, beside the mirror. The things were everywhere; God needed to watch you poop, I guess. Most of the time, I ignored them. They brought up painful memories of broken promises and rejected prayers. As I stared at the iconat the angles of His Wings and the arcs of the SwordI realized my relationship with the Angel had changed. My faith itself had changed, and for the better. As horrors weighed down on me from every side, Id finally found something greater to believe in: Andalon.
I believed in her. I genuinely wanted to help her. Dare I say it, I had even grown fond of her. Andalon was my new faith. I had a growing conviction that Lassedicys teachings were distorted, perhaps more so than even the most strident atheists would have thought. Andalon, though she was the genuine article. Wed gotten it wrongwronger than we could possibly imagine. But, at least now, with Andalon, I stood a chance of learning the truth.
Andalon was my connection to the Truth.
Admitting that to myself was as liberating as it was frightening. I still had only the vaguest inkling as to what Andalon truly was. Even so, I was certain that I was now a part of events whose true scope boggled the mind, and despite the horrors in my midst, I couldnt deny that, for the first time in a long time, I was excited to find out more. Would it be terrifying and overwhelming? Probably. But I wasnt the same person as I was when Id started this journeyliterally and figuratively. I wasnt helpless anymore.
I was still afraid of demons, but, at least now, I knew how to fight them.
And it was all thanks to Andalon.
Talk about a mixed bag, I muttered.
At that momentas she was wont to doAndalon spoke up in that innocent, inconsequential way of hers. Mr. Genneth she said, tilting her head to the side.
I turned to her. As soon as our eyes met, she stepped to my left and pointed at the icon of the Angel up on the wall by the mirror.
Why is one of the Shiny Guys up there? she asked. Hes so small.
Shiny Guys? I thought. A shiver tickled all the way down my spine.
I couldnt have known that what I was about to hear was going to turn my world on its head.
What did you say? I asked.
That Shiny Guy over there. She pointed at the statuette again.
The blood ran cold in my veins, plummeting to ten-thousand below absolute zero, and I didnt even know if I still had blood.
The next words on my tongue made my tail seem as light as a feather.
Andalon, I said, with a shudder and a gulp, whats I inhaled sharply, whats a Shiny Guy?
That! she said, pointing at the icon yet again. They dont always look like that. Sometimes they look weird or silly, but theyre always pretty, and theyre always really really shiny. She nodded happily. Thats why I call them Shiny Guys!
I took several deep breaths to calm myselfnot that I actually needed them. I didnt think clearly when I was flustered.
I cant begin to explain how uncanny this was.
The S. That fudging S. She wasnt saying, Shiny Guy. She was saying, Shiny Guys.
Plural!
The Angel was not plural. Thats why He was the Angel. God came in three Persons, yes, but only one of them was the Angel.
Andalon, why are you saying Shiny Guys? I asked. Theres only one Angel.
She shook her head. Nuh-uh, Mr. Genneth, there are lots of Shiny Guys.
This did not help calm me down.
82.2 - Credo in unum Deum
For my sanitys sake, I fixated on the idea that perhaps Shiny Guy was how Andalon referred to small, metal-plated statuettes. If that was the case, then yes, there were lots of Shiny Guys.
I needed confirmation. I desperately, desperately needed confirmation.
Id come a long way in revising my understanding of things to conform with what Id learned from and alongside Andalon, I was turning into a wyrm. Other people were turning into wyrms. Wyrmsand people who were turning into themmanifested psychokinetic powers, and the ability to create realities within their minds, and the ability to upload the souls of dying and the dead into their minds, so as to provide them with all the benefits youd expect from a quality afterlife, because otherwise the forces of Hell would turn them into demons and use them to conquer the world during the Last Days. All these things were happening.
But none of them suggested that there was more than one Angel. It was like learning that, sometimes, 1 times 1 was 2. It threw everything for a whirl.
Fortunately, I wasnt helpless anymore. I could present the information to Andalon in a format I knew shed be able to experience in full. Resting my claws on the now-squeaky-clean tile on the floor in front of the toilet, I hyperphantasized an image into being, plucked from one of my memories. I willed for it to rise up from the tiled floor.
And rise it did.
A window of stained glass rose up from the bathroom floor, stopping just as it pressed against the ceiling. The window was from the church the family had attended when I was a kid. As a child, Id looked up to italways literally, but sometimes figuratively, as wellsitting in the pews of my childhood church, huddled up with the rest of my classmatesor perhaps my sister and Grandma Lizaour eyes glued to the priest by the altar, and the waves of dappled light that streamed down from above.
My paternal grandmotherGrandma Lizawas an unshakable mountain of faith, and whenever she came to babysitwhich was often, at least when I was littleshed take us to Church for Convocation, and if it wasnt her, it was Sessions School. She was the kind of woman who never failed to leave sprigs of sacred herbs on the statues of Lassedites and Lucents outside Church.
Like any good church, ours had its fair share of stained-glass windows: one in the apse, behind the altarpiece and the ambulatory, depicting the Angels likeness; another, encircling the ceiling Eye, depicting all three Persons of the Godhead. The latter was probably the more magnificent of the two, but it was hard to see unless you were standing near the center of the Church. As such, it was the image on the apse that most held me under its shadow, and the hyperphantasy Id conjured here and now was no different. The stained glass was recreated with Sunlight already shining through. It stood larger-than-life, with almost mystical inner light suffusing its many colors. The Angels glittering raiments pulsed in red and gold; His head pointed upward at the darker hues of the twilight sky, daylight shining unobstructed through the points of uncolored glass that dotted over His bronze visage. The pattern-wings were in purples and blues, merging with the upward gradient of an image of a darkening sky. The Swordrendered in shimmering silverHe held aloft, ready to pierce the Veil of Night and guide the faithful to Paradise.
Andalon is this an image of a Shiny Guy?
The little girl nodded in solemn affirmation.
I remember him, she said. Her gaze turned distant. I asked the Shiny Guys for help. But they were such meanies. She stuck her arms down and pouted. They didnt help at all. Specially him. She pointed at the magicked glass. He said, Andalon do this and Andalon dont do that. He wasnt fair! He wasnt!
Andalon crossed her arms and scowled.
And there we go. It was official. The Angel was, in fact, just one of many.
Boy, the sound of the world falling out from underneath your feet really is something, isnt it?
Everything seemed to spin, literally. My floundering mind willed myself to hyperphantasize the bathroom revolving around me at a furious speed. My head hung limply atop my lengthened neck. I didnt even flinch at the ear-chewing shrieks that came from where Id unwittingly dug my claws into the satin-smooth white tiles.
Oh, and Mr. Genneth, Andalon added, he wasnt the only one.
Great, I thought. Now she tells me!
There were
But I couldnt listen after that. There was too much of a storm inside my mind. Inside my soul.
I could have pulled up the Testaments from the app I had on my console, but I didnt have the patience to fumble through the pocket in my hazmat suit and look for my PortaCon among the remains of my hand sanitizer supply.
Fortunately for me, wyrms had excellent memories.
With barely a thought, a copy of the Testaments blinked into existence in front of meand not just any copy, but. My copy, with its crinkly pages, and its thin, fibrous dark-blue cover that felt like sharkskin as I held in my hands.
The book floated mid-air. I willed it to get bigger and rise higher, and it did. The pages doubled in size, and the ink-printed text grew with them. An unseen wind blew over the pages. The sheets of imaginary paper rippled like soft laughter as they flipped by. My thoughts lifted the words off the pages. Soon, a little flock of excerptsbits and pieces of the Words of the Witnesseshovered all around us.
He spoke of a Princess and of Memories Broken. He heralded the coming of an anointed one, of a savior who will rise and lead us out of the Night and its darkness.
The presence soared beyond my understanding. The roars of the four winds split through my mind. A shriek beyond sound revealed my shattered soul.
He came from the Light. He brought the Light. He was the Light. He returned to the Light.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
Oceans slept within His Sword. Oceans and storms. They held the Question of Creation. Her Question. The Question we must answer.
He Died for us. He Fell for us. He Suffered for us, to bear us up to Paradise.
He gave of Himself to placate the darkness and atone for our Sins. He heals that which was corrupted.
His face was the glory of the noonday Sun.
Until now, the Words of the Witnesses had been, first and foremost, food for my heart and spirit. The intellect could only grasp so much from them, due to the abundance of mystical, visionary language and outright contradictory statements. You could spend your whole life reading meanings into them, and people had; that was where much of the Elder Voices had come from. Some said the Words were a true and honest record of mans encounter with eternity, the seeds from which our Faith had grown. Others contended the ancient words meanings were lost to time, and that what remained was only what we, ourselves, had read into being.
But now, in the light of Andalons revelations, pieces of the passages floating around me were transfigured. I hyperphantasized the key words and phrases rising up from the rest, glowing with divine fire. The words sent thoughts racing through my mind. These were heavy burdens, with a palpable weight to them. They rolled down flumes of implications, down, down, down into the depths where they settled at a precipice over the abyss of the unknown, piercing it with their revelations All the madness and mystery that had uprooted the world since the Green Deaths arrival crystallized under the force of my new revelation. In my mind, I screamed at them to stop, but the conclusions were ruthless. There was no escaping logic, andfool though I wasI still had enough sense not to try to contravene it.
Were the Testaments was the Angel
The thoughts numbed as they passed.
had they been talking about Andalon?
The floating words fell like dead butterflies. They quivered as they disappeared through the white, tiled floor.
Mr. Genneth? Andalon asked, concerned.
He Suffered for us, I said, to bear us up to Paradise.
What are you saying? she asked.
Were they talking about us, Andalon? About wyrms and transformees? I trembled. Were the Words of the Witnesses talking about me?
I averted my eyes, keeping my gaze fixed on the furrows my claws had dug into the bathroom floor.
No, I mumbled. No no no no no
Id thought I could put Lassedicy behind me. But no. We hadnt just been wrong. Wed been out of our league.
It was there, I said. All the time, it was there, waiting I looked Andalon in the eyes. Princess, I muttered. Memories broken
She certainly looked like a little princess. And broken memories? That fitted Andalon to a T!
Was Andalon God?
I thought of what Id learned: the Andalon I knew was only a fraction of a greater whole. A fragment of &alon.
So a piece of God? A fragment? Maybe even the Lass Herself?
I shook. I shivered. I stammered incoherently. Paresthesias danced across my body, lagging as they passed over the parts of my body that still clung to their humanity.
There was a very, very big difference between an agent of the divine and the divine itself. It was the difference between the lightning-bug and the lightning. One showed you the way. The other was the way.
I prostrated myself before Andalon.
It was like a dam had burst. Old habits, long repressed, broke through the surface. My hands sputtered and twitched with yearsdecadesof suppressed Bond-signings. Bending my neck, I traced my finger above my forehead.
Across, down, across, up.
Across, down, across, up.
Across, down, across, up.
My lips fumbled, trying to speak all the holy words at once, thrown in by the library-ful by my perfect memory: prayers and devotionals, and songs of Convocation, and Lasseditic hymns, and Glories for the Sun, and
I gasped.
The mother of them all rose to the surface: the Tetralogy.
Forgive me, I said, for I am broken! Forgive me, for I have sinned! Embrace me, for I seek the Light. Embrace me, O Holy Angel, because I am yours!
I repeated it a second time, though, through my frightened sobs, it probably sounded more like gurgling than prayer.
And then, I felt a touch at the back of my head.
Her touch.
Mr. Genneth whats wrong?
Pushing off the ground, I skittered back on my cracking knees. I tumbled over my tail. My claws raked against the tile as I scrambled back to my knees.
Andalon knelt on the tile, across from me. There were tears in her eyes.
I reached for my lucky bow-tie, only to feel my claws slice through a patch of human skin on the middle of my neck. The cut was deep, but there was no pain.
My bow-tie was around the neck of the hazmat suit, draped over the toilet handlebars.
There wasnt any blood, either.
Andalon, I whispered, petrified, what are you?
I know Id asked the question before, but I had to do so again. Things were different now.
Before, Andalon was merely responsible for the wyrm transformation. That was the source of beef with her. Shed done it without asking me, and had dragged me into her quest to destroy the darkness. And not just me, too. All of us.
Id gotten over that, mostly. I still resented the loss of my humanity, but the first-hand experience of all the good I was accomplishing by aiding the souls of the dead helped soothe that hurt.
But, now?
If Andalon was God, or a part of God, she was responsible for a heck of a lot more than just wyrm transformations.
It would make her the reason why suffering existed.
It would make her the reason why the fungus hadnt been destroyed in the time before the creation of the world.
It would make her the reason why my son died, my sister went insane, and my mother killed herself before I could ever know her.
Id thought the Angel had abandoned us, and that Andalon was here to pick up the slack, but now, it seemed like she was part of the Godheads plan all along.
Slowly, Andalon shook her head. I dont know. She started crying again. Please, dont be upset with me. Please! II
When next I spoke, I spoke from a place that I rarely, if ever, let out into the open. I spoke from that place of quiet, fragile light that kept me going, and gave me a reason to live.
Its not every day that you get to have a heart-to-heart with a piece of God, let alone one that was crying for you.
Andalon, I gulped, if you really are our salvation if youre God, or if you know God, or if you know even the slightest piece of truth about the whys of this world and the suffering that we endure why would you I smacked my lips. Is this some kind of test? Is it a punishment for not having believed? For not having believed enough? For having believed too much?
Andalon lowered her gaze in shame. Her next words were barely above a whisper. I dont know.
The questions just poured out of me. Why is there suffering, Andalon? Why is the world so filled with pain? Why is there war? Why is there cruelty? Why is there death? Why is the plague here?
I dont know Andalon said.
Why did my mother kill herself before I could ever know her? Why couldnt my father have made enough time for his kids? Why did my sister lose her mind? Why did she die? Why was my son born with a congenital disorder? Why did I push him to get a surgery that took his life?
Andalon clenched her hands into fists. I dont know, Mr. Genneth! She yelled, but I could tell she didnt want to.
She was trying to be brave.
If youre God or a piece of God, I said, in tears, how can good be good when it comes with so much suffering? How can you be at peace with putting these burdens on us, and all the pain and heartache that comes with it and call it just? The sins of the fathers are not the sins of the sons, except by choice, and by choice alone. Why did it have to be this way, Andalon? If youre God, and great, and good, why couldnt it have been better?
Mr. Genneth, she said, weeping along with me, I I dont know, but if I could do better, I would. She nodded vigorously. I would! I would! She burbled. Please dont be mad with me, Mr. Genneth. Everyone is always so mad with Andalon. No one else has been Andalons friend, except you. Only you.
Her words dumbfounded me into silence. It stemmed the tide flowing through me, leaving me feeling hollow and spent.
Im s-sorry, Andalon, I said. Im not angry with you, I
Andalon let out a wordless cry with quivering, limpid eyes as wide as the sky, and just as blue.
She lunged toward me. On instinct, I reached out with my arms, andmiracle of miraclesI caught her. She was diaphanous and ethereala dream of ice and substance, but I held her.
Then, embracing me, she wept, but not with sorrow.
She wept with joy.
82.3 - Credo in unum Deum
We spent an unreasonably long amount of time sitting on the bathroom floor. If the world hadnt ended, it would have certainly caused delays and gotten a lot of people angry with me. But even if it had, I wouldnt have cared. I simply didnt have the strength. How could I, when Id just learned the nature of the world wasnt what Id thought it was?
God hadnt abandoned us. There was a piece of the Godhead sitting in my lap.
Id calmed down, somewhat, though the calm was only skin deepor should I say, scales-deep?
I sighed.
Andalon looked up at me. Why is it so imporptant that theres lotsa Shiny Guys? she asked. Why does it make you so sad?
I took a deep breath. I could taste the sweet tang of spores on my lips.
How to explain it?
My people, I said, we think the Angelthe Shiny Guyis in control of everything. Nothing happens without Him knowing about it.
Her eyes widened. Does that mean hes the reason for the fungus?
I nodded. And for what happened to my son, and for what happened to Ileene, and for what happened to Frank, and Merritt, and you and me.
But why is it imporptant that theres just one Shiny Guy? she asked.
Because I huffed, pursing my lips, thats part of what makes Him special. If the Angel is the only one in charge, it means He gets to make the rules. He gets to say whats good and whats evil. And He has to be One. Otherwise He isnt perfect, and if He isnt perfect, then Hes no better than any of us, and a lot of people feel it wouldnt be worth their time to worship something that wasnt perfect.
This was different from having my shelf break. This was the floor disappearing beneath my feet and dropping me into the abyss.
And now, I continued, youve told me there are more of Him. More Shiny Guys. I gulped again. If thats the case who gets the blame for all the bad things in the world? Whos at fault? Who can I turn to to ask to make things right?
Andalon shook her head. Im sorry, Mr. Genneth. I didnt mean to
Its not your fault, Andalon. I sighed. We dont know what we dont know. My lips trembled as I smiled. I might not have the Angel anymore, I said, but I ran my claws through her silky, blue hair, at least I have you. At least Im not alone.
Its not fun, being alone, she said.
I nodded. You can say that again
Its not fun, being alone, she said.
I chuckled at that, but only for a moment.
I let out a long, sporey sigh.
How are we going to break this to the others? I asked.
Whaddya mean?
Im a non-believer, and learning that there was more than one Angel nearly broke me. What do you think will happen if I tell the others? People like Yuth, or Suisei? People who really do believe?
More breaking? There was trepidation in her answer.
Yep. I nodded, only to then groan. Fudge I clenched my claws. Why do I have to deal with this? I already have enough on my plate! Im behind on my transformation, Im behind on my psychokinesis. I threw up a claw. Im probably behind on my mind-world powers, too.
Maybe you can helps more ghosts? Andalon suggested.
Not like this. I shook my head. If anything, Im the one who needs therapy.
Maybe you should talk to Greggy again. You were happy when you were with him. I remember.
That
Huh.
Thats a good idea, I said.
I needed a break. Before, that would have meant shirking my duties, either by playing hooky here in meat-space or by putting a decoupled doppelgenneth in charge of my body while I retreated into my mind-space. But with the ability to alter the speed of my thoughts, I could have my mind-space break in the blink of an eye, and then get back to work feeling refreshed, distracted from the highly inconvenient truth that God was, apparently, not quite God after all.
Was the Angel still divine? Would Lassedicy need to become polytheistic?
No, I muttered. I stopped that train of thought before it left the station.
If I wasnt careful, Id spend my break obsessing over theological conundrums.
I raised myself off the floor with a psychokinetic helping hand.
It was time to go pester Greg, and hopefully figure out how to get my mind off of the disunity of God.
It wasnt easy to get Gregs attention, at least not until I discovered that Andalon could interfere with his mind-world by phasing her fingers into him and wriggling them around. That knocked Greg out of his trance-like state long enough for me to voice my request.
I want to do what youre doing, I said.
Specifically? he saidhis console was speaking aloud the words he typed into them with his powers.
Making a world, I replied. I thought back to my previous attempt.
Clock-mangrove world.
I, uh I think Ive been both overthinking it and under thinking it, and could use some help with getting started.
I sense your Wa has been disturbed.
Yes. I nodded. Yes it has.
Perfect. He clapped his claws together. Ive been working on a gooey, and I wanna see if it works as well for other transformees as it has for me.
A gooey? I asked.
Greg rolled his golden eyes and let out an aggravated snort. Stupid autocorrect. I meant Graphical User Interface; GUI, for short, and GUIbut pronounced gooeyfor even shorter.
Huh?
Youll see, he said. He raised his hand at his side, palm facing out, in a twisted parody of maneki-nekos lucky paw.
I stared at his claws. You want me to
Yes, he said, after you.
Air hissed as I removed one of my hazmat suits gloves. The wriggle-tingling didnt start until several seconds after Id grabbed hold of Gregs dry, minutely scaled flesh.
You have to trigger the physical link, he said. It doesnt just happen.
By the time Id nodded in understanding, Andalon and I were somewhere completely different. One moment, it was the two of ushim coiled on the floor by the reception desk, me standing beside him. The next thing I knew, I was, well it was very fanciful, let me put it that way.
Exhibit A: sky whales soared up above, borne on feathered wings.
Welcome to my study, he said, taking a bow.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Much like with our voxel adventure on the night before, it took a little while to get myself properly oriented, so, Ill just skip through all the introductory business and get to the meat of things.
Greg and I sat in plain chairs on opposite sides of a small table of purest driftwood, its smooth surface drained of color. Corrugations along the wood grain bit into my palms as I rested my hands atop the table, in the shade of a stoa court. Climbing plants of living gold entwined around the fluted, marble columns at the stoas edge. Sunlight wafted in through the leaves, covering the table and the mosaic-tiled floor in a collage of light and dark. The columns supported the roof of a massive temple, in the ancient Benundi style. The peoples of ancient Benun had been known to hold lectures and debates in the stoas of their temples.
Not even a full restoration of the Temple of the Cerulean Mysteries would have rivaled the acropolis Greg had built for himself inside his mind.
I wondered what theyd have thought of the lecture Greg had been giving me.
So, after doing some experiments with Dr. Finster, I was able to confirm that, yes, us wyrms have both LAN and Wi-Fi. Greg smiled again, and then waved his lower pair of arms dismissively.
Yes, he had four.
I kid, I kidwell, not entirely. Right now, our minds are directly linked because our bodies are doing weird fungus physical contact stuff out in Thick World. Thats the LAN methodlocal area network.
And the Wi-Fi? I asked.
Thats the crazy part, he said. Its sound.
Greg rested his lower pair of arms on the table, propping them by his elbows. Of his upper pair, the hand that he wasnt using for gestures held a half-eaten piece of pita bread.
He took another bite out of the bread.
As for me, I was my usual self, dressed for work, all prim and properhuman, head to toe. Greg had informed me that I could have been a pangolin had I so desired, but I chose not to. A pangolin wouldnt have been able to sit in the chair, and I didnt feel like asking Greg to accommodate what little remained of my sense of whimsy. I felt I was already imposing myself enough on him, as is.
Greg, meanwhile, wore a stately toga, made from a fabric the color of bronze that shined in the sunlight, just like the metal. I noticed the strong Benundi theming of his creation. First the pillars and columns, then the togas. He even had the characteristic deep blue sash worn by Benundi royalty, past and presentrunning down his chest. Other than the extra pair of arms and a tremendous physiquetake human Larry and add an extra foot of heighthis appearance was a perfect match for the image of his former human self on his staff profile on the WeElMed app.
Im sure youve heard how transformees voices start to change, Greg explained, and youve no doubt seen those golden orbs that we have in place of human eyes.
Its kind of hard to miss, I said, with a nod.
Theyre a real trip; youll understand when you get them. You can see the fricken soundwaves, Genneth. Yet again, Greg grinned.
Im worried that youre enjoying this too much, I said.
Oh, I definitely am, he replied. Anyhow, as it turns out, we can make all sorts of sounds once our voices have changed.
Ive noticed, I said.
Whoever or whatever was responsible for the wyrms must have had woodwind instruments on the brainocarinas, flutes, that sort of thing, he said.
I play the clarinet (I was trying my best to contribute to the conversation. I dont think it was working.)
Nice. Greg paused for a moment, and then continued. Anyhow the data we can sing it. You need wyrm eyes to hear it, and a wyrm headwell, wyrm throatto sing it, but, once you do, you can use those brand new organs to send or receive data. Any data you want!
The self-help group theorized that was the case, I said.
The SHG is behind the curve. They could be building empires by nowand not just building them, but sharing them. At that last point, he grinned. I dont know if wyrms have a language, but the data-sharing thing is fucking sweet. Ive actually been waiting for more transformees to get further along in their changes, because Ive got an itch to experiment with this. Can we enter each others heads by singing in concert, actively streaming the data between one another? Imagine it: MMWMRPGsmassively multiplayer wyrm mind role playing games; riding high on each others Thin Worlds as easily as you might access an online server! You could have solo play, or co-op. He tapped his fingers excitedly. Imagine the co-op!
Not gonna lie: that did sound funvery funand I told Greg as much. And if the quality was anything like what hed done here with his study, it might actually be enough to make people want to turn into wyrms.
Greg had built his study atop the largest waterfall Id ever seen. The massive curtain of water spilled down from the tops of cliffs arranged in a perfect circle, nearly a mile in diameter. The cliffs had been dug out from a stony plateau abutting a sparkling sea. The temple that was Gregs study sat on a rocky outcrop in the middle of the cliffs, splitting the mighty waterfall to either side. Opposite the temple, a narrow straight cut through the ring and the plateau, forming a clear path to the sea. The churning waters shrouded the rings hollow center in luminous mist, through which I could see glimpses of things crystalline and aquamarine.
It was hard not to gape at it. Andalon was stuck in a state of perpetual Wow-ness, leaning against a wall as she stared at our surroundings, drunk with wonder. Sometimes shed pull away from the wall, and giggling, would prance about, chasing crystal butterflies, or jumping and shouting, trying to get the sky whales attention. Then, every once in a while, shed come over and interrupt, asking Greg to explain the marvels hed made. Andalons first question had come only seconds after our arrival, triggered by the sight of the sky whales soaring over the plateaus purple-leaved jungles. Pterodactyl colonies encrusted themselves in the depths of the sky whales fur, where, as Greg had so courteously explained, they fed upon the algae that, thanks to the humid climate, grew on the whale fur.
As if on cue, a sky whale passed overhead, bellowing its ethereal song. The wind left in the leviathans wake rustled through the jungle trees as they fell under the creatures shadow. The wind carried an odd, musty smell, which resulted in an interesting and not unpleasant mix with the limeade scent coming off the grand waterfalls mist and spray.
Greg pointed up with a finger. Thats the smell of the algae in their fur, he said, beaming with pride. The mustiness, not the limeade, he added, just to clarify.
Youve done an incredible job, I said.
Thank you. He bowed graciously. So he said, pyramiding the fingers of both pairs of his hands, you said you wanted to do what I was doing. Well, now that youve seen what Ive been doingwell, a part of itdo you still want to continue?
Yes. I pursed my lips. To tell you the truth, having just learned about slo-mo, Im looking for a project to work on to give me something to distract myself from My voice trailed off.
The shit-show, Greg proffered.
Yeah I sighed. But, like I said, Ive been having some trouble with it, and Im pretty sure Ill have more trouble if I try again. Sure, I can make little thingsa haunted house, a personal office, or recreating things from ghosts memoriesand I like to think Ive gotten pretty good at that, but, when it comes to large scale creation its just overwhelming. It would be overwhelming even if I wasnt terminally indecisive, but I am, so yeah
I sighed again.
Greg nodded. In the beginning, he said, Id tried to create a worldin my mindand it hadnt gone as well as Id hoped. Realismeven fantastical realism, he gestured at his surroundings with his lower pair of arms, is a lot more complicated than it might look at first glance. For example, it hadnt occurred to me that, a priori, there was no reason for why matter didnt spontaneously explode, or why heating solidsin the correct conditionseventually turned them into liquids. When youre making a world, you have to take these kinds of details into account, not to mention everything else.
I nodded in understanding.
So, I asked, how did you, uh, deal with all that?
I just ignored it.
Huh? I said.
Greg grinned. Its like they say: if you cant take the heat, stay out of the kitchen. He leaned forward on the table.I dont know what kind of freaky-deaky ascendant superintelligence BS the future has in store for us, he said, with a wave of a hand, but, as we are now, reality has just too much detail per cubic femtometer for us to be able to hold it all in our minds when we try to make shit up from scratch.
Yes, I said. So: what did you do to get around it?
Greg grinned again. Half of it was cheating, the other half was macros. I fucking love macros.
Enlighten me.
Trying to do it all at once, from scratch, is a recipe for disaster. Instead, what you want to do is copy-paste from what you already know. Creativity isnt in the pieces, its in how you use them. You know how our memories are beyond photographic now?
Yeah? I said.
Rising from his seat, Greg started pacing across the temples mosaic-tiled floors.
I went and memorized the entire source code for Super Gerbil World, he explained. Instead of trying to make physics from the ground up, I just made a reality where logic gates were metaphysically possible. That was a cinch. He moved as he spoke, though slowly, and gracefully. Then I made a programming system and inputted the SGW code. The rest was macros and tweaking, and then more macrosoh, and the user interface. The user interface was essential.
Thats very impressive, I said. And it sounds like it was a lot of work.
And it was. But
With a smirk, Greg approached the table and grabbed the back of his chair with all four of his arms and leaned forward. Given that he was currently seven-foot-five, this was rather imposing.
Now that Ive made my little system, he continued, I can share it with everyone else. I can share it with you, even.
And thats what you want me to try out?
Yep. Greg nodded. It should make life a helluva lot easier for ya, not to mention giving you a project you can really sink your teeth into.
That sounds perfect I said, with definitethough measuredexcitement.
I should mention that the interface and implementation structures have changed since last we metI based them off what wed been doingbut you should be able to catch up on the changes in no time. Besides, everything you could want to know is contained in the Users Manual I wrote. It even covers modding! You just sign into your Main Menu, and take it from there.
May I hug you? I asked him. I was being tongue-in-cheek, but only a little. I suppose I could have eventually figured out a practical way of playing godcreating the earth, the sea, and the sky, and all thatbut, having Gregs work to use as a foundation would be invaluable. It took care of nearly all the worries I had that werent about ways in which Id make things more difficult for myself.
Greg stuck all four of his palms out at me. No, he said, shaking his head, and vigorously. But, I appreciate the thought, he added. Anyhow, are you ready for the data transfer?
He steepled both pairs of his fingers.
Uh whats this going to entail? I asked. Can you sing it to me?
Greg laughed, then shook his head. How romantic of you, but, no, I cant. Your brain and body arent developed enough to handle that. So, well have to do it using the bio-link. So, he said, are you ready?
I glanced over at Andalon, who was leaning over the wall, again, this time shouting at the waves far below.
Im as ready as Ill ever be, I guess.
Alright!
Greg walked up to me and placed his lower pair of hands on my shoulders, while making arcane gestures with his upper pair, chanting what I was pretty sure was just performative gibberish. Now, he said, stay still. Stay very, very still
83.1 - Wyrmware
The Nights darkness had begun to relent. If Id been in eyeshot of one of Ward 13s windows, Im sure Id have seen dawn approaching, however, I couldnt see anything because I was sitting on a stool against a wall with my eyes closed and my thoughts set to high gear. My slowed perception of time brought with it a profound stillness. In all honesty, it should have been terrifyinga mind, unmoored from space and time. And yet, because I had total control, what would have been a (highly) stressful experience instead became calmingalmost meditative. As long as I ignored the fact that I couldnt move, I felt neither lagging nor deadness. I felt complete, and in a way that I hadnt felt for a very long time.
Are you gonna do it yet, Mr. Genneth? Andalon asked.
Yes, I thought-said, just give me a moment.
With my thoughts sped up and time slowed down, I could finally take an honest-to-goodness break. I couldnt check into whatever remained of social media to stress myself out or make myself depressed. I was left to my own devicesfiguratively speaking.
I did feel somewhat apprehensive, though, but in a surprisingly familiar way. Whenever I booted up new software for the first time, Id always get a little nervous, worried that something might go wrong. Maybe my device didnt pass the system requirements as well as they should have. Maybe the installation had gone wrong.
Lots of little worries.
At the moment, that anxiety was multiple several fold, given that the software (technically, wyrmware) in question was inside my mind.
Though Greg had told me the wyrmware came with a manual that would tell me everything I needed to know, hed also given me a basic run-through of what I needed to do to get things started. In addition to that, hed given me a goodie bag filled with useful doodads, as thanks for being one of Wyrmsoft 2.0s first users, though this wouldnt become important until later.
Anyhow, using Wyrmsoft 2.0 was surprisingly simple.
It was just a matter of saying three words.
Alright, I thought, here we go
I spoke the words inside my mind: Open Main Menu.
At those words, a light blossomed in the darkness of my perceptions. The light was accompanied by a GameStations start-up noise and the feeling of my consciousness recentering from my physical body into a mental copy. All around me, the darkness melted away. A new world was filling my head with its space and light.
At first, there was no color, just endless whiteness, with me, standing in the middle. Apparently Genneth in his work clothes was now my default form. But the emptiness lasted only for a second. A blue spurt appeared overhead. It quickly expanded, pouring down on all sides like water flowing down a dome, painting my surroundings with the image of a boundless, midday sky. Tranquil clouds appeared, drifting across the limitless blue. Diaphanous aurorae formed around them, shimmering like sculpted glass. The ground gained texture and solidity. In a moment, I found myself standing on dark, polished stone, covered in a film of water that spread out to infinity. I felt the ground push up against my feet as the gravity finally kicked in.
Mr. Genneth!
Turning, I saw Andalon pop into existence right beside me.
What is this? she asked.
Its what Greg and I were working on, I said. I have a Main Menu now. I smiled.
The crystals appeared a couple seconds after that.
As Greg had explained, his wyrmware was more than just a world-building tool. It was, as he put it, a general-purpose mod to Wyrmsoft 1.0 that added some much-needed quality-of-life improvements.
Wyrmsoft 1.0 was Greg''s term for our default settings.
You know what the problem with these abilities of ours is? he said. They dont have a GUI. They dont even have a terminal for crying out loud! So, naturally, I made one.
My Main Menu wasnt just a pretty place to stand in. In it, the myriad mental abilities my transformation had given me were made tangible. With Gregs wyrmware, I could interact with them the same way that I could interact with apps on my consoles home screen, except in three-dimensions.
The first crystals that formed were mirror-plated cubes. These appeared midair about a yard or two from where I stood, in a cluster that hovered above the ground, oriented with a vertex pointing downward, around which they slowly spun. All but two of the cubes were translucent, like ghosts of themselves. The largest cubes were at the clusters exterior, where they were an arms length to a side. The cubes got smaller and smaller as they moved further inward, until they became little more than sand grains arranged in a curving lattice. The lattice moved every couple of seconds, as more and more cubes appeared in the center, all of them unfathomably tiny.
Doing what Greg had told me to do, I reached out with my hand. I could make the cluster move with just a thought. I sifted through the cubes as I wished. The cluster would gyre about, small cubes becoming big and big cubes becoming small. I focused on the two non-translucent cubes, bringing them to the clusters outermost shell.
Oooh, Andalon cooed, thats pretty! She turned to me. What is it?
My worlds, I said.
The two cubes that werent translucent corresponded to the two worlds Id constructed so far: my mind-office(s), and mangrove-clock world. Each displayed snapshots of their contents on their faces, enabling me to identify them at a glance. Accessing one was as simple as bringing it up and touching it. Making a new world worked the same way: just touch a blank cube.
Once the world-cubes had settled, my Main Menu filled with the sounds of wind chimes. Bipyramidal crystals trickled down from overhead. Starting a yard or two above the spherical cluster of world-cubes, they formed a kind of atomized chandelier.
Andalon pointed at them excitedly. Are those?
Yep. I nodded. Those are the souls.
As Greg had put it, other than the demonic threat, the big problem with uploaded souls and mind-worlds and doppelgangers was the sheer disorder of it all. There are no clear delineations, hed said, the trigger conditions are ambiguous, yadda yadda yadda.
The Main Menu system addressed this.
Whereas Wyrmsoft 1.0 forces the user to orient themselves and figure out how things work, Wyrmsoft 2.0 will give youand, hopefully, everyone elsethe ability to easily utilize and organize your mind palace and all the powers that come with it.
Instead of ghosts simply appearing to me at random, now, there would be a method to the madness.
When a ghost appears, he said, youll get a notification, and you can immediately recenter your consciousness into a customizable encounter area called Daydream Alley. From there, you can choose whether to seal the soul awaylike you did with that poor Frank fellowstore it for later, or begin interacting with them, and if you choose that third option, Wyrmsoft 2.0 will automatically create a mind-world for them to use for their afterlife. Its super convenient, and you wont have to worry about any ghostly surprises or the uncanny valley of not knowing whats real and whats just in your head.
Really, it sounded phenomenally useful, and I couldnt wait to test it out.
Much like the world-cubes, a quick glance at a soul crystal let you know the status of its inhabitant. Those ghosts that I had awakened and interacted with had soul crystals that glowed with a soft, pale gold light. Some of them, like the ones belonging to Markus or the Plotskies, were clustered together; that indicated that the souls within them were currently inhabiting the same world.
The awakened soul crystals made up only a tiny fraction of the chandelier overall. Most of its crystals held souls Id yet to interact with, indicated by the swirling, silvery clouds that filled them. These were the ghosts that had yet to awaken, either by their own accord, or by my prompting. A third, even tinier fraction of the chandeliers crystals were pitch black, like a piece of obsidian.
Those were the souls that had been corrupted, and Id had to seal away.
The ones Id lost to Hell.
Aickens.
Franks.
Last but not least, a small dais rose up from the ground a couple of steps away from the world-cubes. Standing on that, I would be able to manage my doppelgenneths, though, of course, since I didnt currently have any doppelgenneths in action, there wasnt anything to see.
Open , I said.
To my delight, a little window popped up, just as Greg had promised.
|
Creation
Doppelgangers
Souls
Thin Worlds
Multiplayer [Beta Version]
Settings
Users Manual
Credits
Suggestions / Report a bug [Beta Version]
|
|
Return to body
|
Here, Creation included all the god-modding abilities that came with running a world inside my head. I could use that feature to create whatever I wanted whenever I wanted. I could even preview worlds Id made from the comfort of my Main Menu, without having to step inside them.
Whatcha gonna do now? Andalon asked.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
I have my project to work on, I said. Im going to try building a worldone just for me.
Hopefully, this would take my mind off the facts that there were more than one Angel, and that Andalon was God or whatever.
Walking up to the sphere of world-cubes, I sifted through it until my two worlds were up front.
Andalon pursed her lips. Wha?
I glanced back at her. Im gonna try to make more stuff.
Ooh! Ooh! Andalon bounced about excitedly. I wanna come! Andalon wants to come!
Then, come on, I said, with a smile. I tapped my ill-fated mangrove-clock world.
Light erupted from the cube, flushing everything with white.
Andalon and I sat next to one another on a double seated version of the comfy reclining chair from my mind-office(s). The chair floated high above the clock-inlaid, leafless mangrove jungle rising up to infinity before us.
Andalon peeked over my shoulder once more. Are you gonna do something yet?
I held a copy of the Users Manual in my hands, currently in the form of a document on a console. The Manual came in several versions; Id chosen the simplest version (the Heavily Diluted Version), so as not to overwhelm myself. It was my first time reading it, after all. As I read, I began to get an inkling of just how much effort Greg had put into Wyrmsoft 2.0.
It was unreal.
For starters, hed uploaded into himself the entirety of the DAISHUmaps database. As a result, the default option when making a New World was Our World, a near-perfect 1:1 recreation of the real world. Hed used the Imperial Geographic Societys copious digital records as the basis for his simulations of plant and animal life, along with a helping of mathematical models for population dynamics, predator-prey interactions, and genetic drift.
The richness of his inner life was astonishing. It was as impressive and finessed as my beasteaten infinite mangrove-clock jungle world was, tawdry, discombobulated, and crude.
Mr. Genneth Andalon grumbled.
I set the Users Manual down on the seat. Alright, alright, Ill do it. Ill do it.
I reached out with my hand in a dramatic gesture.
, I said.
The chaos froze. The pangolins by the mangroves roots ceased their wanderings. The bejeweled pendulums dangling from the tree branches stopped mid-swing. Flocks of soap-carving gryphons halted midair.
Next, I summoned the Creation Menu, pulling it up with two words and a pointed thought.
, I said.
The window that appeared in front of me was an almost identical copy of the menu Id used in Gregs voxel world, only filled with even more detail. Thankfully, the wyrmware sensed my intent, and immediately pulled up the option I was looking for:
With a sigh, I reached out and pressed it. Tendrils of pure, white non-substance exploded out from the back side of the menu screen. In an instant, they grew impossibly large, and then lashed out at my world like the arms of a squid seizing its prey. Their mad flurry erased everything they touched.
Bye-bye! Andalon said, waving her hand. Bye-bye silly stuff! See you later!
In mere moments, everything was gone, leaving only a white void that dwarfed Andalon and I with its immensity. Youd think the emptiness would lash out and snap at our legs as they dangled over the edge of the seat.
So, Andalon turned to me, whatcha gonna do?
Wait for it I said.
A window popped up in front of us.
|
Enter World Name (This can be changed later):
|
Despite Andalons bubbly suggestions (The World, The Good Place, The Neat Place, etc.), I eventually managed to settle on a name:
The window vanished, and another took its place.
| Set Level of Metaphysical Naturalism (MN). (If unsure, set it to Occasionalism, or better yet, go read the ****ing User Manual.) |
Andalon stared at the words for a moment, and then leaned toward me and gave me a troubled expression.
Those are big words, Mr. Genneth. She hid beside me. Scary.
They just look scary, I said. Mostly.
Id discussed this with Greg. The MN setting was a sliding scale that controlled the extent to which your world would develop over time according to its own facts and rules, provided it was running. (You could always pause a world until you next returned to it.) At one extreme, you had Occasionalism, where nothing changed in your world unless you, as its creator, had either allowed for it or otherwise preordained for it to happen. Entities would follow their pre-assigned paths like a monorail down its track. Characters wouldnt age, wars wouldnt start (or end). Resources would return to their prior, unused state after use. Technology wouldnt change, politics wouldnt actually accomplish anything (only as a feature, rather than a bug). That vain, condescending jerk you programmed whose behavioral repertoire consisted of sleeping in an inn, drinking mead, and wandering around town all smug-like, insulting people he passed would still be doing those things in those places even after a billion years had passed.
At the other end, you had full-blown MN, which meant that the world would develop realistically over time, following whatever rules youd given it. So, unless you specified otherwise, resources wouldnt respawnand specifications had to be done on a case-by-case basis. Life-forms would age; seasons would change (if they had been enabled); wars would be waged, won, or lost of their own accord. AI would govern entities behavior, and evolution and natural selection would work their magic on biology, chemistry, language, culture, behavior, and ideas. When MN was fully enabled, things would develop and change whenever you fast-forwarded a worlds timeline, be it by years, decades, millennia.
At first, I considered setting it all the way to Occasionalism, but then decided to go only two-thirds of the way there. I figured if I really wanted nothing to happen, I could just put Lantor on pause. There were quite a few other settings of that sort that I had to go through before I could begin world-building in earnest. Fortunately for me, Greg had explained most of it to me himself, and, for the rest, if the information hadnt gotten directly uploaded into my mind when hed transferred the wyrmware to me, I could easily find it in the manual.
Why did you choose the okayshully thingie? Andalon asked.
Well I sighed. I figure, if Im going to be God inside here, I might as well try and actually be involved with my creations. You cant learn how to do things hands-off unless youve already got a feel for how your choices would affect long-term outcomes.
Andalon frowned at my explanation. Rayph would have, as welland Rale, too.
Erm I scratched my head, I need to figure out how to do at least some of this stuff on my own. I need to be more responsible. I nodded resolutely. I want to be more responsible.
To be frank, I didnt want to see another world abandoned by its god, only for that god to seemingly return at the last minute in the worst possible way. (Hint hint.)
Mr. Genneth?
Sorry, I got distracted. I shoved my somber thoughts out of the way. Well, lets get started.
After finishing getting the basic settings in place, the actual work of Creation could begin in earnest.
|
Specify World Shape:
|
|
Round
Flat
Polyhedral
Hyperbolic
Diffuse
More Than 3 Dimensions [Under Development]
Other (Please Specify).
|
I chose Round.
An oblate spheroid with a smooth, completely featureless blue surface appeared in front of us. It was about the size of a watermelon.
| Is it more or less like our world (Y/N)? |
Yes, I said.
Pale wisps spread across the worlds surface, forming clouds. They looked like stringy cobwebs. In a moment, both oceans and sky were fully in place, giving Lantor a lovely, marble-like appearance.
One more message screen appeared after that:
Then it vanished, only to be replaced by a battery of translucent screens, arranged around me like the panes of a bay window. Text, menus, and icons of all sorts scampered across the screens and settled into place. It was enough detail to give even the most obsessive tabletop RPG Gamemaster a heart attack.
Wowwwww Andalon said, mouth agape.
Fortunately, I had read the manual. Well, a bit of itmostly the stuff at the beginning.
Lets start with some land, I muttered.
A brown light appeared at my fingertips, which I then traced across the center of Lantors upper hemisphere, outlining an irregular shape. As soon as I formed a closed curve, naked landmass rose from the empty seas in precisely that shape.
It was Lantors first continent.
A prompt appeared:
| Problematize your coastline? (Y/N) |
After a few moments of hesitating stares, a separate window popped up next to it:
| Tip: Hover your finger over something you dont understand to make an explanatory tool-tip appear. |
I did as it suggested, putting my finger over the Problematize. A third window appeared:
| It makes the coastline look realistically jaggedy. Click here for the math. |
I closed the two extra windows with a tap of my finger, and then pushed the Y. Instantly, the smooth, almost blobby-shaped coastline of my continent became jagged and realistic looking, just as the tool-tip had promised.
This is amazing I muttered. This was how you went about building a world. It simply blew my previous attempt out of the water.
What now? Andalon asked.
I spent a moment in thought, and then answered, directing my thoughts toward the Creation menu.
Swamp, I said, thinking of the marshes at the edge of Elpeck bay. Immediately, the brown light coming out of the tip of my finger changed to a grungy, muddy green. I doodled over part of the continents fringe, and lo and behold, it turned marshy and overgrown right before my eyes.
I quickly started filling in other biomes, guided along the way by the wyrmwares helpful suggestions. Mountains. Oceans. Canyon.
Andalon watched it all, transfixed.
Ooh, I muttered. How about some floating mountains?
I doodled them onto my world near the continents southern coastline. Shadows bloomed as a flock of hovering mountains appeared over land and sea.
A window popped into view:
| Tip: You just created something physically impossible. Unless you specify physics or magic or gods or something to justify these [Floating Mountains], if you ever enable MN, at 50% or more, they will be pulled down by gravity and destructive things will happen. You can always prevent this from happening by activating the [A Wizard Did It] setting for your [Floating Mountains]. |
Hmm
That got me thinking.
Sea serpents. I definitely wanted sea serpents. Now that the world was ending, I would never get to go sea-serpent-watching in the Strait of drug. (We were planning on doing it next year, in celebration of Jules high school graduation.)
That was the historical name for them. In truth, they were actually related to monitor lizards, not snakes, which explained their distinctly lacertine appearance.
I decided Id add them to my world, to make up for that.
Andalon let out a surprised yelp as a window popped open, displaying exactly what Id imagined. It was almost like a real-world sea serpent, but Id opted for some pizazz in the form of a mane of fins running down its back, as well as stubby little remnants of claws jutting from its paddles.
Andalon bounced excitedly in her seat. Its kinda wyrmy!
I pressed the button and released my creation into my worlds seas.
Wait I muttered.
I needed people!
Add humans, I said. I pursed my lips in thought. Oh, and anthro-pangolins.
I started placing settlements on the continent with careful taps of my fingers. I could zoom in on my world by waving my hands to either side as if I was opening curtains. That helped when I wanted to be more deliberate about where I put things.
Oooh, I cooed, as an idea came to me. I glanced at Andalon before leaning forward toward my world.
I was getting more and more engrossed with it with each passing second.
You cant have a fantasy world without a long lost civilization, I said. They need to have had super-advanced technology, and magic. Theyll be called the Precursors. And robots! They had robots. Some of them are still around. Ruins and scattered bits and pieces of the Precursors magitechnology are found by the people of Lantor, often with great consequence.
In the oceans, I saw my eyes reflected back at me, glistening with excitement, my troubles all but forgotten.
I felt my eyebrows rise as I glanced at Andalon.
I think Im going to have fun with this, I said.
83.2 -Wyrmware
I ended up world-building for quite a long time. How long, precisely, I wasnt entirely sure. Id sort of lost track of time pretty darn quicklyI was that distracted.
Still, I did enough world-building to come away wiser from the experience. Id made two enlightening discoveries.
Discovery Number One: Yeah, when done with the right tools and an eye for organization, world-building could be really fun!
Discovery Number Two: World-building was horrible. I dont understand how anyone could ever do it. It was horrible. I was horrible. Everything was horrible. Horrible, horrible, horrible! The sheer toil involved made working on my (still-unfinished) Clarinet Sonata seem almost effortless by comparison.
You have to understand, with a piece of music, it was ultimately all about sound. Which chords? Which progressions? Which notes? It was a limited universe of choices.
But this? World-building?
This was madness.
The sheer number of available dimensions of creativity was like catnip for my indecisive soul. Poisoned catnip.
My descent into madness began with a literal descent, when I made the fateful decision to enter Lantor for myself, to build it first hand, rather than from the gods-eye-view up above. Granted, I could have made myself many miles tall and continued creating that way, wading through Lantors oceans like they were the shallow end of a swimming pool, but that would have defeated the purpose of shrinking down to see my world. You see, the reason why Id decided to shrink myself down to human scale was because of my newfound obsession: my race of anthro-pangolin people.
I would forever rue this day, the day Id made the off-hand suggestion of adding anthro-pangolins to Lantor.
So, after declaring my pangolin people would exist, the first order of business was building a city for them. I managed to come up with something after about an hour, though Andalon certainly hadnt enjoyed waiting in silence while Id been mulling it over.
I named it Nogdu. (Rhymes with dog poo.) Enough ideas had percolated into me while struggling to name the city that I was able to set up quite a few details without too much of a struggle. It lulled me into a comfy place where I thought everything would be easy and straightforward. But that was just what my indecisiveness wanted me to think.
In real life, pangolins were either crepuscular (active at dusk) or outright nocturnal, and they chose to live either up in the trees, or in burrows they dug underground. So, that meant either a tree city or an underground city. Although my first impulse had been to make Nogdu a tree city, I couldnt escape my hideous conviction that those were overused, so, instead, I went for an underground city. But not dwarvish undergroundnot treasure and mountain-deeps and mines and stone, but dirt, mud, mushrooms, and earthen mounds.
Recalling the earth-mound cities of prehistoric Polovia, I began construction of Nogdu by digging a network of tunnels a couple feet under the earth. I then reinforced these by amassing dirt above them in mounds and domes. Simple right?
Wrong.
I couldnt cross from one end of a grotto to another without succumbing to the impulse to fiddle with the tunnel network, altering it, expanding it, the works. As for the architecture of the citys buildings, by some miracle, I managed to settle on kiln-baked mudbrick, but that was as far as I got. I was the tergiversator extraordinaire. constantly vacillating between doing them in the northern Maikokan pueblo style with the structures encrusting on the walls like barnacles, and having them be free-standing, like the ruins of Old Bazkatlathe southern Maikokan style.
So, this was actually more emotional for me than you might gather from these details, and thats because of the memories it drudged up.
To make a long story short, back when Jules and Rale were still in elementary school, theyd gotten one of those make a model projects for the World History unit of their classthe kind of project that really was just an excuse for the parents to compete amongst one another to see who could produce the coolest thing for their kids presentation.
Merritt had invited us over for cherry casserole, and wed happened to watch this amazing documentary about Maikokan architecture through the ages, and, one thing led to another, and with the help of the Elbocks kids (then in their first year of high school), it became a big, two-household project and a joy for everyone involved.
Because of this, the frustration I had in working on Nogdu served as a painful, unwanted reminder of just how much Id lost. My plan to build the city fell apart, just like my life had.
Just like my world had.
The end result? Nogdus streets were a stylistic hodgepodge that felt wronger and wronger every time I looked at it, but I didnt have the heart to tear it down and start againId already done that, and didnt want to do it a third time. To make matters worse, the experience wasnt a complete wash: I did really like the idea I came up with for the citys light sources: bioluminescent shelf-fungi. These were cultivated by Pangol agronomists, and lit Nogdu a dreamy mix of eerie green and comforting yellow lights.
Yes. Pangol. Unable to come up with a satisfying name for my pangolin people, I forced myself to settle with Pangol as their species-name; plural, Pangoli. Rhymes with goalie.
But my troubles didnt end there. Oh no.
The problem with world-building is that theres always another can of wyrms waiting to be opened.
City-building was my first can.
The second can involved tie-ins to the Precursors, because of course, I had to have a tie in.
Maybe it was just a reflection of my mood, but I ended up fixating on the idea that the Precursors had attained a god-like level of civilization, only for them to mysteriously vanish, leaving only the ruins of their bygone glory. In particular, I wanted Lantor to be sprinkled all over with Precursor relics: buildings, machines, tools, magical experiments gone horribly wrong, yadda yadda yadda. Theyd cause myriads of mischief, both good and bad.
But how did this connect to the Pangoli, you ask?
Well, Id gotten it stuck in my head that the idea that Nogdu had a Precursor relic which could produce bionic replacements for body parts. From there, I gave them techomagesbasically, electrical engineers who double-majored in sorcery, with a minor in druidism. But this caused a clash of themes.
One of the sad truths of the human imagination is that we are hardwired to think in terms of stereotypes. Straightforward thematic choices (sci-fi sky pirates living on airships in the upper atmosphere of a gas giant; tribal, polar bear shapeshifters in a icy tundra setting struggling under the colonial imperialism of an oppressive, technological regime; biopunk nomads and moisture farmers struggling to survive in an inhospitable desert world, etc.) end up being more memorable, accessible, and enjoyable than deeper, more complex or conceptually diverse creations. We just cant fit it all in our heads, and when that happens, we, unfortunately, tune out.
On the one hand, I wanted Nogdu to have some of a secret village of the fairies in the middle of the grove aesthetic: pristine, eremitic, organic, and fey. But the Precursor relic idea was in conflict with that, as did the cyberpunk influences that it entailed. I wanted anthro-pangolins with tank treads instead of legs, or multi-tool bionic arms that could serve as drills, laser saws and everything in between. Hoping to explain it, Id tried coming up with some historical figures whod come back from a quest one day with the Precursor relic in tow, introducing it to Nogdu for the first time, which then caused a schism among the Pangoli, splitting them into factions based on their attitudes toward the Precursor relic and the body augmentations it brought. This led to a flirtation with making family trees, and, from there, one thing led to another, add a dash of forbidden romance, and, well
Once more, I looked over my shoulder, while baring my naked butt to Andalon.
Yes, Im aware this probably looks bad, but I can explain. Just hold on.
What about this?
I watched Andalons eyes narrow as she intently scrutinized my backside.
Since I wasnt wearing any clothes at the moment, for both our sakes, Id edited out both my genitals and my intergluteal cleft for the duration of this, my latest sub-sub-sub-subproject.
Andalon and I were currently in the foyer of one of the free-standing adobe townhouses in the largest of the Nogdus many domed grottos. Having been unable to make up my mind about what the furnishings were like, and not wanting to waste any more time sifting through the Creation menus randomly generated suggestions, I copy pasted the set-up from my mind-office, reproducing my mahogany desk, manga bookshelves, swiveling recliner, and even the antique ceiling lights inside the mud-brick townhouses walls. Andalon sat comfortably in the chair on the patient side of my desk, flicking her dainty legs at her nightgowns dangling hem.
The reason I was naked in front of Andalon, asking for her opinions?Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
Human-Pangol hybrids.
As I said, my working idea was that, long ago, a Pangol hero had gone on an adventure and brought back the Precursor relic, bringing powerful magitech to his people and triggering sectionalism and war among the Pangoli. After spending a while fiddling with the heros life story, the one idea that I felt confident in was that theas of yet unnamedPangol hero had fallen in love with one of his adventure companions, a female human cleric of Insert-Deity-I-Had-Yet-To-Invent-Here, and that, through the relics magic, theyd been able to conceive a child together, the first Human-Pangol hybridtentative race name: Half-Pangol.
This brings me to my current crisis: for the life of me, I just couldnt figure out what Half-Pangol looked like, and it was driving me up the wall. The streets of the Great Grotto of Nogdu were filled with examples of my early drafts of the hybrid species appearance. Though the army of stoic, un-moving bodies, with their odd, bric-a-brac looks, were a source of great amusement for Andalon, theyd deeply disturbed the handful of living, fully-functional Pangol townsfolk Id set free in the great Pangol city. As a result, to avoid the dispiriting sight of my own creations cowering in terror at the Half-Pagnol horrors I was drafting up, Id decided to use myself as the test model, and so, Id retreated into an unoccupied home and starting changing my appearance, to try out different Half-Pangol looks, assisted by a large mirror and Andalons feedback. For something like this, I needed the frankness of a child to help me get out of this rut. At least, I was pretty sure I did.
I turned myself all the way around.
How does it look? I asked.
Andalon pursed her lips thoughtfully for a moment, and then tilted her head to the side, bringing her fingers to her mouth in a contemplative gesture. Eventually, she rendered her judgment. It could be more wyrmeh, she said.
I ran my clawed fingers through my hair. What does that even mean, Andalon? I grunted in frustration, and turned away before she could answer.
Crossing my arms, I looked myself over in the mirror once more, while Andalon resumed amusing herself by spinning the chairs swiveling seat around and around.
The situation wasnt completely hopeless. It was a relatively easy decision to give Half-Pangol human faces rather than anthro-pangolin faces. Over time, a couple other variables of the hybrid species appearance got pinned down as well. Pangolin scales covered most of my bodys dorsal surfaces, such as the back, the sides of the torso, the tops of my hands and feet, the top and outer sides of my arms, my shoulders, and the front sides of my legs and thighs. I also put scales on my chest and stomach. After several iterations, and spending some time scrutinizing some real pangolins that I conjured into beingmuch to Andalons delightId decided to split the difference keep have thick body hairlike sparse pangolin furon the undersides of the legs, and backs of the feet, with patches of unscaled skin on the undersides of the knees. Crotch, chest, inner thighs, underarms, and the side of the arms opposite the elbowsthose all got human skin. Id also put scales on the sides of the neck and head, leaving the front of the neck bare. The ears were also smaller than in humans.
So far so good, right? Sadly, the worst had yet to come: the tail. That was the real troublemaker. I kept adjusting its specifications. Too long? Not long enough? Too thick? Not thick enough? It got so bad that, at one point, I plum lost confidence in my design for purebred Pangolis tails, and started messing with those all over again.
Ugh.
I scratched the scaly side of my head with the tip of my prehensile tail while grumbling in irritation.
Mr. Genneth Andalon said, is something wrong?
I let my arms go slack at my sides and tail unspool on the floor behind me as I let out a long, haggard sigh.
I turned to face Andalon.
Yes, I said, morosely, something is wrong. I shook my head. No, not just something. Someone. I tapped a claw on my slightly furry chest. Me. I hung my head in dejection.
In an attempt to make progress, Id come up with the brilliant idea of jumping to some other task whenever I got stuck with the task at hand. Not only did this stratagem fail to resolve my problems, it made them proliferate. My frustrations bred like rabbits.
Over the past few hours (days? who knows?), the high spirits with which Id begun my Lantor project had gone away like water at low tide, and like the tide, as my excitement had receded, it had exposed the morass hidden beneath the waters.
Guilt. Impotence. Resentment.
Walking over to the swiveling recliner behind my desk, I willed away my half-pangol appearance. Fur, scales, and tail peeled off me like butterflies taking wing. In mere moments, I was myself againwell, my human selfclothes and all.
I groaned in defeat as I sank into the recliner. Leaning forward, I propped my elbows on the top of the desk and clasped my hands on either side of my head.
What am I doing? I asked.
Trying to make the halfy-pangs? Andalon suggested. She scooted her chair a little closer to the desk, rolling it forward along the smooth, hardened clay floor.
It was a rhetorical question, I muttered. Look at me, I said, pointing at myself, Im in here, trying to play god. No, I shook my head, not just trying, I am playing godand doing a cruddy job at it.
I was a terrible deity, oscillating between blitheness and indecisive, scatterbrained, incompetence, seemingly at the drop of a hat.
I turned to the side, but then looked askance at Andalon. For good measure, I made the Bond-sign before asking my question.
How did you do it, Andalon? I asked.
Did what? she asked.
How did the Godhead make the world? If They could have made our world without evil, why didnt They? Does evil have to exist in order for there to be free will? Cant you find a way around that? I shook my head again. In here, where Im god, I can do anything. I can even make triangles with more than three sides. Look!
Waving my hands, I made several triangles appear, with 4, 5, and 2.7 sides, respectively. They looked awfully strange, but that was beside the point.
Or was it?
I banished them with another wave of my hand.
I crossed my arms on the desk. Was the Godhead not powerful enough? Was this just the best They could do, I asked, and now, all the mistakes are rising to the surface? Maybe the Moonlight Queen weeps not because Her Law is broken, but because Her Law wasnt good enough to keep itself from breaking. Is that it? Did God fail? Was there a disagreement among the Angels, or somethingthe Shiny Guys, I mean?
Lass, I thought, that plural would never feel right.
I let the question hang in the air before continuing. So, yea, I said, Ive gotten a taste of being god, and I dont like it. Its too much work. I
Yeah, Andalon said, I think there was. She slowly nodded.
What?
She looked me in the eyes. The Shiny Guys didnt all do the same thing. Some wanted to talk. Other guys wanted to, uh leave. But then the darkness came, and it was very scary. Some of the Shiny Guys got hurt, she added, quietly, lowering her head. They got hurt real bad.
A shiver ran down my spine. I couldnt escape the conviction that Id just gotten a garbled first-hand account of the battle against the chaos that had come before the creation of the world.
I bit my lip. What am I doing? I grunted at myself in disgust. Here I go again, waxing about theology and my own worries while, out in the Thick World, the world is ending.
Andalon stared at me. I Her shoulders slumped. I dont get it, Mr. Genneth. She shook her head. Its too compylicated for me.
Is it? I asked. I sighed. Look at me, I pointed at a wall, while the real world is endingthe world out there, the one with other people in it, real people, I, I gestured at myself, Im in here, wasting time trying to make a perfect world to prove to myself that God can be good.
I thumped my fist on the desk.
Andalon flinched.
No! Im doing it again! I cried. Tears gathered at the corners of my eyes. This is the part where Pel and Jules are supposed to call me up and tell me that Im trying to run away from my problems by immersing myself in a project, and you know what? Theyre right. Im scared, and Im useless when I get scared, because Im not strong enough to look trouble in the eye. Im running away from problems, just like I ran away from troubles at home by losing myself in my work.Writing research papers. Spending more time with patients than could be rationally justified. Wasting my time with a Clarinet Sonata that Ill never finish, because if I can finish it, it means Ill be able to move past my grief, and Im not strong enough to do that, so my subconscious keeps self-sabotaging my efforts.
I wiped away a tear.
You know, all this time, while Ive been fiddling with Lantor, part of mes been thinking: what if I just stay in here for the rest of my life?
I really had been thinking about it. Id had the thoughts on the back-burner. In that respect, I ought to have been thankful for my frustrations; they kept me from making the plunge.
I could live out an eternity in here, I said, a trillion lifetimes, in between two ticks of a second. I scoffed in self-loathing. Maybe, by then Ill have finally lost my mind. I wont need to worry about Hell or the dead or multiple fudging Angels if I was too crazy to form a coherent thought. I shuddered.
I looked Andalon in the eyes. I want to do something meaningful, Andalon. Something important. But, now everythings falling apart. Who cares about what I create if only the dead will be left to enjoy it, and even then, only if I can keep Hell from ripping them away and distorting them into demons? How can I hope to do good and make a difference if I cant even make myself happy?
I paused.
I dont get it. Mr. Genneth, Andalon said, shaking her head in dismay. You were so happy before, and now, youre Her words trailed off.
Im scared, Andalon. Im terrified. Just when I thought I finally understood what was going on, it turns out Angel is Angels! What else have we gotten wrong?
I thought you said you believed in Andalon, she said.
Angels Breath, I thought.
I made the Bond-sign, lowering my head in shame. I do, Andalon, I do. Thats why Im scared. My voice broke. I dont want to fail you, but Im scared that I will. If divinity itself isnt strong enough and united enough to defeat the darkness, what the heck can I do? I raised my head enough to look her in the eyes. Maybe you were right, I added. Maybe all we can do is run.
There was a long quiet before I next spoke.
Andalon, I said, in a hushed voice, I know Ive asked you this before, but Im going to ask you again: are you sure that Im ready for this? Are you sure Im cut out for these responsibilities?
She tilted her head to the side. I dunno, she said, dolefully.
My head hung even lower.
But she continued.
I raised my head. We locked eyes.
you can try, Thats all you can do, she said. Thats all Andalon can do, too. Its all Amplersandalon can do. Its all anybody can do.
I exhaled.
Im scared to go back out there, Andalon. What if I just make things worse? What if the streak of successes Ive had with these last few souls was just dumb luck? What if
You keep trying, Andalon said. Thats what I do.
I managed to tense my quivering lips into a smile. I think Ive had enough of a break. I gulped. I need to get back to work. I need to rejoin my colleagues. I shook my head slightly. Its not fair to them for me to be in here in a safe-house tucked away in the moments in between their thoughts. Im still scared though. Still scared. I smiled slightly. Very, very slightly. I guess thats how I know Im not running away this time.
Im scared too, Andalon said. She walked around my desk, toward me, and then leaned into my side. But, she said, when Im with you, Mr. Genneth, its not as bad.
I shivered at her touch, trying not to cry, and doing a bad job of it.
I took several deep breaths, and fidgeted with my bow-tie. I think Im ready to go back to the Thick World now, I said. But, Andalon?
She looked up at me. Yeah?
Promise to stay with me. I I feel better when youre around. I dont want to be alone.
Nodding, she snuggled against me. Andalon promises.
Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and focused, and when I opened them, the world was real once more.
I was back in my half-transformed body, sitting on a stool in Ward 13. And, wouldnt you know it, I had the worst possible timing.
Polyphonic screams shot across the room. Out of the corner of my eyes, through one of the windows, there came a great flash of light, like a second Sun.
Andalon shrieked at the top of her lungs. Mr. Genneth! It hurts! It hurts!
The little blue-haired spirit girl trembled like she was being boiled alive as an explosion rumbled in the distance, followed by an even larger burst, even further away.
I walked up to the windows, and then gasped as I saw a mushroom cloud, rising high.
84 - ??? ??? ??????? ?? ????
The explosions blossomed like a flower, filling the darkling dawn with xanthic heat and vermilion light, and fire, and fury. One was near, one was far.
What the fuck!? Lt. Colonel Adam Kaplan yelled. What was that? The aftershock of the explosions light kept flashing in his eyes. He turned to the pilot seated beside himAirman Steve Wolowitz.
One of the Privates in back spoke up. A bomb, sir. An atom bomb.
They just nuked Tonevay, someone else said.
Wolowitz shook his head. I I but the airmans answer to the Lt. Colonels question ended in a wordless groan.
Everyone was at a loss for words. Calling it madness didnt do the situation justice. The way Lt. Colonel Kaplans superiors had explained it the day before yesterday, their deployment to Elpeck was a peacekeeping mission, to help the sprawling citys municipal government maintain law and order in the face of the pandemic. Thats what hed been expecting. Instead, what he got was reality playing like a video game gone wrong.
I wasnt asking about that! he snapped. I want to know what the fuck the missile just hit!
Really, what Lt. Colonel Kaplan wanted was clarification, because what he had seena man with a tail flying through the air like something out of a Primo superhero moviedidnt make a lick of sense. It couldnt be real.
Could it?
It certainly had been there when hed pressed the button to launch the incendiary missile at it, and there wasnt anything leftnothing that Lt. Colonel Kaplan could see.
The falling cloud quickly passed behind them as Wolowitz piloted the aerostat forward. The aircraft shook from the subtle vibrations coming off its engines.
Kaplan surveyed the street ahead.
Below, the convoy was well on its way. Kaplan was no stranger to escort missionshed once had the dubious honor of flying alongside the Chief Ministers aerostatbut hed never have guessed hed be leading one through the heart of Elpeck. Granted, as far the Green Death was concerned, that fuckery was just par for the course.
Even the Internet wasnt safe anymore. The stories circulating there, the footage, the news; tales of men turning into serpents or zombies or zombie-serpents or serpent-zombies or whatever the fuck was happening to the world it was enough to give a man nightmaresand it had. Lt. Colonel Kaplan hadnt slept well these past few days.
Then again, who had?
Hed spent an hour lost in Divulgence and prayer in the chapel at Fort Marteneiss, sneaking in after the priests had finished the days Unction, hoping to steady his spirit. Anyone with eyes could tell a darkness was spreading over the earth. By a caprice of fate, hed had a nasty argument with Evvyhis girlfrienda couple nights before the pandemic hit, and by the time he thought to call to check in, she wasnt answering her videophone not to him, not to her sister, not to her parents. Nobody.
Kaplan assumed the worst, and blamed himself for it. He couldnt think of a better way to atone than volunteering for this mission, escort and all.
His country needed him.
Thankfully, he wasnt alone. He had his team, and the other teams, as wella mighty handful of aerostats, flying escort.
One of the Privates spoke up. Why nuke Tonevay? Elpeck is the biggest city in the country. He coughed. Bigger city, more zombies. Shouldnt we be bombing Elpeck halfway to Paradise by now?
No one said a thing in response. Instead, they exchanged several silent stares. Kaplan was pretty sure they all knew the answer; it was just that none of them had the balls to say it.
If you nuke Elpeck, its game over, he thought.
Once you bombed Elpeck, there was no point in holding back. Youd have to nuke every major city in the country. Thered be no justification for doing anything less, and when that happened, what was left of command hierarchycivilian, military would crumble. Thered be nothing left to save.
You cant nuke the City of God, someone grumbled.
I guess that makes sense, Lt. Colonel Kaplan muttered.
Wolowitz snorted and coughed. What can you do?
Kaplan knew the answer to that question. All you could do was set up cordons and safe-zones, and blow up a few of the bridges over the Bay. Unfortunately, with the exception of bombing the bridges, most of those tasks had quickly turned out to be far more of a challenge than anyone would have guessed. The pandemic had unleashed the mother of all SNAFUs. Panic was rampant, and with panic came chaosrioting, looting, arson, anarchy. It was fucked up, and no one with half a brain wanted to deal with itand that was before you added the fungus into the mix and sent everything to hell.
Lt. Colonel Kaplan shuddered.
The infected were growing out of control. They ran through the streets and crawled inside buildings, attacking people wherever they went. They were legit zombies, spreading havoc and spores in equal proportion.
We should be getting visual contact with West Elpeck Medical any moment now, one of the Privates said.
Yeah, Lt. Colonel Kaplan thought, cant forget about that.
The first part of the mission was to escort the convoy to the safe-zone: West Elpeck Medical Center. A freakin hospital.
When hed first heard that, Kaplan had thought his commanding officers had lost their marbles. But there was a method to the madness. Even without the big reason, the hospital was in a surprisingly defensible position: WeElMed had the equipment needed to maintain a sterile environment, and the hospital complexs position in the citys urban maze was a blessing from the Beast Itself. But thats what happened when you turned the headquarters of the Second Crusade into a medical institution.
Of course, none of that explained why there was any sense in taking people toward the plague, rather than away from it. But that was another matter altogether.
For tactical purposes, the hospital complex was essentially ring-shaped. WeElMeds central hub wrapped around the grand old garden courtyardthe Central Gardensover a city block in size. The place enjoyed natural protections, wedged as it was between the Daum River to the north and Crusader Hill to the south. Merchant Boulevard was the only wide street that had direct access to the hospital, emerging from the Crusader Hill Tunnel to the south and weaving its way to the old Daum Drawbridge up north. The drawbridge still worked, andat a glancewas currently in its upright position, blocking travel access to that portion of the river. Meanwhile, the ritzy old brownstones and townhouses on the slopes of Crusader Hill were fortifications in all but name. No roads went across the hill in the north-south direction. If you wanted to go that way, you either had to go around the damn thing, or follow Merchant Boulevard through the Tunnel. As for east-west access, though there were more streets in the direction which hooked up with WeElMed, none of them were on par with Merchant Boulevard. They were narrow enough that you could block passage with a single, well-placed bus.
The convoy was approaching the hospital from the south. Theyd be home free once they were through the Crusader Hill Tunnel.
Below, a mix of military and civilian transports drove down Merchant Boulevard. The dark, angular military transports led the way, their shining headlights blazing into the pre-dawn gloom. From their position at the head of the convoyin front of and behind the civilian busesthe transports monstrous engines and devouring wheels would crush or clear away any abandoned automobiles in their way.
Lt. Colonel Kaplan saw figures rapidly scrabble toward one of the buses.
A crowd of feral infected.
The Lt. Colonels features tensed beneath his mask and helmet. Steve, he yelled, angle her down!
Wolowitz bore down on the flight controls. The aerostat lurched. Even from within the thickly armored hull, Lt. Colonel Kaplan could hear the rear turbines roar as the aerostat tilted downward. g-forces pushed him up against the back of his seat. Kaplan tightened his grip on the aerostats armament controls. Then, aiming the joystick, he pulled the trigger.
Bullets sprayed onto the crowd of infected down below. Car windows shattered, raining their glass onto the street. The bodies of the infected popped as the bullets hit them, spewing black and green along as they collapsed into kibbles. Wind caught the wisps of spores, whisking them down the street.
Two other aerostats ran parallel strafes against the zombies, taking out a handful that spilled out from one of the adjacent brownstone apartments.
Dammit!, Kaplan thought.
There were still more of them!
Pull back! he said.
The crossed-X seat-belts dug into his chest as Wolowitz made the aerostat drift backward, in preparation for another strafing maneuver.
Sir! one of the privates yelped.
I got em, Kaplan said. I got em.
And then he aimed and fired and made his words true.
They had to neutralize the feral infecteda.k.a., zombiesbefore they got too close to the vehicles. You didnt want a concentrated burst of spores anywhere near anything important. The 6th and 7th Battalions had already learned the hard way that the spores could eat through a vehicles chassis in a matter of minutes unless someone was crazy enough to jump out and wash it off before the damage was irreparable.
The zombies splattered beneath the hail of bullets. Splotches of spores hissed as they ate into the pavement, sending up trails of smoke and steam that glinted in the street-lamps light.
The convoy rolled on by, their wheels passing within feet of the spore puddles.
Alright, flatten her out, Kaplan said.
Airman Wolowitz complied, groaning with misery.
Lt. Colonel Kaplan glanced at his pilot. Steve, he asked, are you alright?
It was hard to see Steve beneath all the equipment. The digital HUD on the inner surface of their helmets obscured the upper half of their faces, and the mask attachment fitted below that covered up the rest.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
Still, from what he could see.
Shit, Kaplan thought.
The Airman groaned again. No, Sir, but somebodys gotta fly this thing.
Wolowitz had seemed fine a couple hours ago.
Or maybe he hadnt, and I just didnt notice, Kaplan thought.
Praise the Angel, one of the Privates said, it looks like theyre home free!
Lt. Colonel Kaplan leaned back into his seat, sighing with relief.
Suddenly, a lone aerostat rocketed past them, screaming through the squadron like a motorist gone mad.
Fucking hell! the Lt. Colonel cursed.
Wolowitz coughed as he steered their aerostat out of the way and adjusted its course. He leaned forward. Is that one of ours?
Lt. Colonel Kaplan scoffed. Not on your life.
The aircraft in question was gaudy as fuck, tie-dyed in pulsing, psychedelic rainbows, with the words BJ Records emblazoned on its sides in neon letters.
Wolowitz pushed the comms. Flight l-leader, theres but his words trailed off.
Kaplan leaned over and yelled into the comms. Watch your six! Theres a madman comin through. Make way!
The other aerostats adjusted their positions, flying out of the way of the garish aircraft.
There! One of the privates in the cabin in the back shouted. I see it!Theres the medical center.
The kid was right. WeElMed was coming into view, there, over the next ridge of old rooftops. The rest of the city was going to shit, but the hospital was still a hive of activity.
Color me impressed, Kaplan thought.
Take us in, Steve, he said, with a nod.
The aerostat powered forward, engines roaring as it surged ahead of the convoy.
Down below, WeElMeds Central Gardens were a maze of cordon lines and makeshift walls, filled with a sea of people and tarpaulin tents. As the mission briefing had explained, the tents came in two colors: black for military, white for medical. The hospital was doing triage out in the open, to save space for helping victims.
A couple of tanks had rolled in, positioned with their barrels of their guns facing south on Merchant Boulevard, and as well as some of the narrow streets flanking the Central Gardens to the east and west.
Why the fuck are we setting up shop at a hospital filled with the infected? a private asked.
That was the billion-groat question. Fortunately, Lt. Colonel Kaplan had a billion-groat answer for it.
They dont have zombies, he said.
What?
You know the zombies? he said. The ones we nuked Tonevay to stop? The ones that made mincemeat outta the 6th and 7th Battalions? The hospital doesnt have them. Everywhere else, people are turning feral, but not here. And were gonna figure out why.
Theyve also got a big matter printer operation, down in one of their basements, another Private added. Theyve got matter printers going at almost an industrial scale; its the biggest set-up of its kind this close to the city center.
Lt. Colonel Kaplan nodded. If push comes to shove, we can use them to cannibalize and recycle ammunition, equipment, or even entire vehicles. He surveyed the city as Wolowitz began bringing them in to land. And, Beasts Balls, the push has come to shove.
What Kaplan didnt tell them, however, was that there was another reason they were headed to the hospital, a reason known only to him and his superiors.
Unlike the other aerostats, Kaplan and his crew had been tasked with more than just an escort mission. Intelligence reported an aerobus of refugees had made it out of Stovolsk, only to make an emergency landing out in the Bay. After getting fished out of the water in the dead of Night by what was left of the Trenton Coast Guard, it turned out the aerobus had a package on board, one of the highest priority, meant to be delivered to WeElMed ASAP. It was all very hush-hush; neither Steve nor any of the Privates knew about it, and it was Kaplans duty to get the package to the hospital safe and sound.
His commanding officers hadnt needed to tell him how important it was. Kaplan had gotten to feel that importance for himself once he got ahold of it. The package was a beaten black plastic case. Just looking at itat the dents and the stainsit was clear to him that someone had gone to great lengths to get it out of Odensk and over the Riscolts. He didnt dare dream about what it was or what it might do. He just prayed. He didnt know what a cure to the Green Death looked likeor if there even was such a thingbut, if it looked like anything, it looked like that rugged little plastic case.
Kaplans chest tensed.
Fuck.
Below, another crowd of infected hobbled into the Lt. Colonels view. They were coming out of the south side of Crusader Hill Tunnel. Kaplan nearly slammed his fist onto the control panel.
This was an ambush!
It was as if the fungus was deliberately attacking military forces.
Kaplan turned the comms back on. Convoy, watch out for the tunnel! There are bogies. He turned to Steve. Cmon, take us in, we can
There was a soft, sliding noisefabric rubbing against fabricas Airman Wolowitz fell to the side, out of his seat, passing into unconsciousness.
Alarms blared. The aerostat wobbled. Its hull began to shake.
Kaplan didnt waste time trying to rouse Wolowitz. Snapping off his seat-belts as fast as he could, Kaplan lunged over Steves unconscious body and grabbed hold of the controls.
The joystick rumbled in his hands as the aerostat yawed and lurched.
Itd been years since hed last flown an aerostat.
Uh, Four-Niner, said the comms, is your pilot drunk?
No, Kaplan groaned, just feverish and unconscious.
Shit.
Youre telling me! he replied.
Another voice chimed in. Its alright, we got it.
An aerostat descended. Hovering low to the ground, in front of the tunnels maw, it faced the infected horde let loose spraying streams of white-hot lead.
Uh, air support, a voice asked, why has Convoy Leader stopped?
Looking up at the display screen that displayed the feed from the aerostats rear-view camera, Kaplan saw that the armored transport at the front of the convoy had stopped in its tracks, causing a line of buses to ground to a halt right behind it, waiting nervously.
A voice spoke from the comms: Theyre not responding to comms!
Best case scenario, they just needed to be taken into the hospital like Airman Wolowitz. Worse cast scenario?
More dead soldiers.
Kaplan tensed.
Immediately, an argument broke out. Soldiers voices bickered on the comms over who would get out and deal with the lead vehicle. The fear in their voices was palpable, and perfectly justified.
Kaplan leaned toward the comms. Once I deliver the package to the hospital, Ill man the damn transport, myself.
He looked back over his shoulder. Private Michaels?
Yes sir?
When we land, you make sure Wolowitz gets taken to a doctor, ASAP.
Yes sir!
Now, I just need to land this son-of-a-bitch, Kaplan said, muttering under his breath.
Then a voice screamed over the comms: What the fuck is tha
It cut off in a brush of static.
Something like a flying snake had bolted at one of the other aerostats. The aircraft seemed to get ripped and blown apart as the monster flew into it, but everything was soon lost in a fiery explosion. Debris shot out in every direction. The only warning the Lt. Colonel got before a severed engine from the wreckage hurtled into the side of the aerostat was a split-second image on the feed from the side-view camera.
Kaplan grappled the joystick and control panel as the aerostat shook from the impact. Aside, voices yelled. Outside, bullets flew.
One of the engine indicators on the control panel flashed red. Alarms shrieked in the cockpit. More lights flashed as other alarms lit up along the control panel, turning the shriek into a chorus.
Were going down! Kaplan yelled.
The Lt. Colonel watched the serpent-creature zip up into the sky as the world began to spin. Flak and smoke from the explosion eddied around the creature, only for it to zoom off, as if whipped away by an invisible hand. Further up, in the depths of the clouds overhead, Kaplan thought he saw something flash bright red. A mix of sounds rumbled through the comms, some like a choir, others like high-pitched thunder.
Lt. Colonel Kaplan wrestled with the joystick, vying for control as the aerostat descended in a wide, lazy circle. The three turbines that still functioned screamed out thrust as the aerostats AI tried to calm the aircrafts path as best as it could.
Below, the Gardens loomed large as the descent slowed.
But not enough.
Brace for impact! he yelled.
The aerostat landed on the old drives scalloped pavement with a snap and a shudder. Metal screamed against stone; everything shook as the aircraft literally ground to a halt. The gaudy BJ Records aerostat had parked in front of the wall of WeElMeds main old building, and it made for an excellent pillow for the impact. It didnt break; it just got a little dented.
Lt. Colonel Kaplan picked up the plastic case with one hand as he pulled his rifle out its holder on the wall with the other. Cmon people, he said, lets move.
Andalon rolled across on the table, back and forth and back and forth.
She screamed.
It hurts! It hurts!
What hurts, Andalon? I said. Please, use your words!
Theyre hurtin the wyrmehs! Theyre hurtin everything! The wyrmehs are a-scared and sad and mad and
Without a moment to lose, I leaned forward, picked up Andalon, and lifted her into a hug. The two of us toppled back onto the stool and into the wall, but I managed to stop us from falling all the way down with a helping hand of psychokinetic force, whipped up from memory. It left me in a seated position, floating several inches above the ground, as if riding a rocking chair made of clouds.
I held her against my chest. Focus on me, Andalon. Listen to the sound of my voice.
Her body was as ice-cold as ever. Her pale, spectral nightgown was phasing through the sleeves of my hazmat suits sleeves. The fear she felt was palpable, as was the pain.
More explosions tore through the sky. Passing aerostat turbines jostled the windows in their sills. A great commotion riled the SHG, but I ignored it.
Right now, my whole world was the little girl in my arms.
M-Mr. Genneth? In between her sobs, she sputtered.
Focus on me, I told her. Focus on the here and now.
Holy Angel, someone said, waving around their console. There are military aerostats in the Garden Court!
They come here now, of all times? What took them so long?
But I ignored them. All I saw as Andalon.
A piece of God was crying.
Rising to my feet, I used my powers to steady myself as I rocked Andalon back and forth as gently as I could.
I looked down at Andalon. Forget about all the other stuff, I said. Youre safe with me. Youre safe here. No one is hurting you here.
Hell, someone said, there are soldiers too! It looks like theyre headed for the Crusader Hill Tunnel.
Genneth?
I recognized Nurse Costrans voice.
Im a little busy right now! I said, briefly glancing off to the side.
Andalon twitched in my grasp. Every bullet made her yelp and wince. Her breaths were raggedy wheezes. It was like she was drowning in my arms.
Oh no.
I recognized that sound. She was hyperventilating, just like I used to as a kid, when I was still getting used to a life filled with panic attacks.
Lifting the toppled stool upright with a bit of psychokinesis, I set Andalon down on the stool, and, hunching over, grabbed her by the shoulders as gently as I could. I looked deep into her stormy, blue eyes.
Pay attention, Andalon, I said. Do what Im doing. I drew out my words, as if in slow motion. Slowwwww. Dowwwwn. Breathe in and out. Slowwwwly. Breathe in I made a show of taking deep, concerted breaths. and out. And close your eyes.
Focus on the sound of my voice, I said. Dont pay attention to any other sounds.
Andalon did as I did, and it helped. With her eyes closed, her breathing stabilized.
She complied. To help, I tried emptying my thoughts of everything Id seen. I tried to ignore what was going on outside as best I could. I knew Andalon had some degree of access to my senses: seeing what I saw; hearing what I heard. If the sounds of war were frightening her, I just needed to push them out of my thoughts. For added benefit, I hummed a passage from my Clarinet Sonata, hoping it might calm her.
I noticed a faint aura briefly glow around heran outline of gentle light, all across the edge of her profile.
Praise the Sun! I muttered.
It was working!
I figured the glowing was a good thing.
A good thirty seconds of careful breathing, humming, and concerted thought-emptying pulled Andalon out of her panicked state. The terror had fled from her eyes, and its place was pain and sorrow. She mumbled as she quietly wept, asking questions like, Why are they being mean? and, why are they hurting me?, and all while keeping her eyes tightly shut.
Sitting up straightbiting my lipI decided it was time to bring out the big guns. I conjured up an object from memory. It formed in my hand, a hyperphantasized hallucination perceptible only to me and Andalon. It was a great big, fuzzy hallucination, one that had made her giggle and smile once before. With any luck, it would do so once more.
Andalon, look, I said, lifting the weightless hallucination up to her.
The hyperphantasy was none other than the giant hummingbird plushie Id gotten her on our trip to the Aquarium with the Plotskies.
Andalons mouth dropped open the instant she saw it.
Tears swirled in her eyes. Her voice broke. Mr. Humby!
Andalon threw herself onto the blob-shaped stuffed animal, wrapping her arms around it. She and it phased right through my chest, toppling onto the floor behind me. Thankfully, the doll was slightly larger than Andalon, enough to break her fall. I turned around to see her burying her tears in its fuzzy greens, whites, and reds.
After a while, I conjured another goodie. I got her attention by tapping my finger on her shoulder while holding it in my other hand. Item #2 was another keepsake from our Aquarium adventure: an unspillable, ever-refilling mug of fruit slushie, complete with a plastic bendy straw.
I got you your favorite drink, I said.
Andalon turned around, and her puffy blue eyes widened as she saw the mug. Immediately, she grabbed it and loudly slurped it up.
Our eyes met.
What do you say? I said, prompting her.
Andalon removed her mouth from the straw and took a deep breath. Thank you, she said, softly.
Then she started crying again, only this time, it was tears of joy. Dropping the cup to the floor (which did not spill), Andalon walked up to me and hugged me much like Mr. Humby, only this time, no one got knocked over.
Outside, the sounds of combat grew fainter and less frequent. But then I was startled by the sudden sound of my console vibrating in the pocket on the stomach of my hazmat suit. Pulling away from Andalon, I yanked my PortaCon out of the pocket and answered the incoming videophone call.
My console screen was a window into chaos, and the Hall of Echoes, and in the middle of it was Dr. Marteneisss face, glaring at me.
Genneth, she yelled, get down here! Now!
Well, fudge.
85.1 - What’s the worst that could happen?
The trouble wasnt in figuring out where to go, but in getting there. I hobble-waddled down the hallway as quickly as I could, moving away from Ward 13 and the SHG. Through some windows overlooking the Garden Court, I caught glimpses of the evolving chaos. Vehicles were rolling out of Crusader Hill Tunnel and into the hospitals courtyard. Soldiers and civilian refugees poured out of the transports. Aerostats hovered like vultures over the courtyards garden, landing one by one on the grass and the surrounding square ring of streets. Gunfire spat loud in the distance.
I needed to get to the Garden Court ASAP.
Ward 13 was in the uilding, which had no direct access to the Garden Court. Instead, it only let out onto one of the side streets, and, the way things were looking outside, I did not want to approach this from the side.
I hissed. Fudge.
I drew on my powers to push myself head more quickly, progressing through the hallway connecting to the in leaps and bounds, with Andalon following along, floating behind me, nervous and afraid. Once I reached the edge of the , I saw the trickle of alarmed healthcare workers running down the stairs. I caught the words Hall of Echoes.
I figured Heggy was most likely there.
With all of the panic, no one was using the elevators at the moment, so it was a quick ride down to the ground floor.
Andalon flinched as we stepped out of the elevator and onto the ground floor.
Though Id grown accustomed to the chaos the Green Death brought to WeElMed, the sheer panic now on display put even that to shame. Healthcare workers elbowed past frightened civilians who wanted to get a look. Everything was crazy, and the sight of all the dead and dying bodies resting in chairs or on the floor against the wall only made me feel more unhinged.
Both the crowds and the noise thickened as I approached the Hall of Echoes. I managed to get through thanks to a corridor several nurses had formed with their bodies to keep civilians at bay. Normally, the automatic sliding glass doors into the Hall of Echoes from the should have helped to manage the traffic, but someone had gotten the doors stuck (or locked) in their open position.
On a normal day, before the world had ended, people and busybodies would have been sprinkled over all of the Hall of Echoes floors. Now, though, upper reaches of the multi-story marble atrium were almost entirely empty, while the ground floor was a throng of people. Hoping to squeeze my way around the crowd, I darted off to the side, behind one of the great columns, propelling myself forward by pushing off its marble surface, with Andalon following along, floatingsprite-likebehind me.
Mr. Genneth! she cried, pointing in alarm.
I followed her eyes to my hands.
Fudge! I cursed.
For support, Id braced myself against one of the structural columns; now, the palm of one of my hazmat suits gloves was covered in black infection ooze, courtesy of an ugly splotch of the stuff on the marble column. I pulled back with a yelp, rubbing off the ooze as quickly and thoroughly as I could, smearing it onto the marble, and then flicking the remaining dregs onto the floor with a sweep of gentle psychokinesis over my gloves.
I cursed beneath my breath.
Everywhere I lookedoff to the side, or beneath frantic feetI saw spatters and splotches of infection ooze and spores eating away at the alternating black and white marble. Walls, floor, and columns were marred by pits and gashes where the caustic stuff had bitten in.
Watch where youre goin! Andean said.
Nodding, I sped my thoughts slightly, making reality play at one-fourth speed. The extra time made it easy for me to notice and avoid making contact with further splotches. I let time flow like normal once Id made my way to the front of the hall.
From where I stood, on the right-hand side of the room, in front of the forward-most support column, I had a clear view of the grand wooden double-doors and the antique glass windows to either side of them. All the kickstands on the bottom of the door had been unlocked and dropped down. This braced the doors against the floor, keeping them fixed in their current, halfway-open position. Rows of hospital staff flanked either side of the opening, trying their best to manage the flow.
And there, in the middle of it all, near the rows of staff, stood Dr. Marteneiss, guiding the crowd like a traffic cop, only in the worst rush hour in human history.
Heggy! I yelled. My voice crackled through my hazmat suits speakers. The sounds joined the billowing din that bounced off the Halls tall arches.
Heggy turned toward me, but before she could say anything, Jonans voice cut through the noise.
Dr. Marteneiss! he shouted.
We both turned toward the sound. Jonan entered the Hall like a thunderbolt, armored by a bright yellow hazmat suit as he burst through the crowd. He carrying what looked like
Is that a megaphone?, I thought.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Mr. Genneth, Andalon asked, whats a
But then the megaphone screeched with hideous feedback noise.
EVERYBODY CALM THE FUCK DOWN! Jonan yelled.
The sound was ear-splitting. Andalon shrunk down, halving in size. She huddled up against my leg with her eyes closed and her palms smashed over ears.
she said, in a mousy voice.
The sound was a shock to the system. For a moment, everyone stood in a daze.
As I looked up, I saw that Jonan had squeezed through a gap in the plastic cordon that blocked off access to the grand staircase. He went up several steps, toward the Halls second floor, and then turning around barked another command, along with a fair bit of more feedback sound.
MOVE TO THE SIDES! Jonan said, yelling into the megaphone. MAKE ROOM! CLEAR THE WAY! AND STOP RUNNING!
Amazingly, they complied. People parted to the sides. Outward-bound traffic toward the door slowed to a stop, freeing space for the incoming traffic to step in.
A voice shot up from the head of the parting crowd, rising over it like a passing wave. Lets go people! Move!
Heggy!
She clapped her hands, and the sound echoed over every head.
With room to maneuver, us healthcare workers could finally manage the situation, instead of the crowds around it.
Beds! a familiar voice yelled. We need beds, now!
It was Ani.
I didnt even bother to ask what was going on.
In seconds, Heggy, Ani, and Jonan, Nurse Kaylin, and many other recognizable faces clustered around the grand doors. The cordons blocking the stairs clattered to the ground as civilians pushed their way through, moving out of the way by going up a floor. Outside, people gathered on the agd, scallop-paved street, clamoring to get in. Voices yelled, and there was shoving aplenty.
Out of the way! someone said. Hes bleeding out, goddammit! Let us through!
I walked up to Heggy. Im sorry I took so long, I said.
Better late than never, Heggy replied. For an instant, she stared in astonishment at the massive, bulging backpack-like compartment at the back of my electric green hazmat suit. If Id been human, it was where the oxygen tanks should have been, but, instead, it was where I was storing my ever-lengthening tail.
Cmon, she said, use that big backpack of yours to help me clear the way.
I nodded, and then we got to work. Andalon stayed by my side, having returned to her normal size, thoughall the whileshe kept casting nervous glances at Jonans megaphone.
For me, it was an honor to see Heggy in her element. Dr. Marteneiss was strong, and sturdily built. Half was lifestyle, but the rest of it was genes.
And good ones, too, not like the inbred horrors of Trentons defunct aristocracy.
She was a slab of energy packaged in human form. Her PPE helmet barely kept a hold of her waves of curling, blond hair, and as we plunged into the crowd, her vigor showed itself in full.
She looked over the crowd as we waved them in. Whos bleeding out? she shouted.
An arm stuck out. Here! Here!
I heard a voice from behind: Bed, incoming!
Heggy and I grabbed the arm and pulled, backpedaling into the Hall.
BACK THE FUCK UP, PEOPLE! Jonan yelled.
Andalon squeaked as she shrank away in terror.
It reminded me of myself as a kid. Kid me was terrified of loud noises, especially unexpected ones.
BACK THE FUCK UP!
He lowered the megaphone as he turned to Ani. Take it away, Ani.
Ani dashed toward the open doors, fully decked-out in PPE. As usual, it fell to her to apply the compassionate touch.
Everyone, listen to my voice! she yelled, speaking loudly and clearly, despite her bulky rebreather mask. Im Dr. Ani Lokanok. We know youre scared, but, right now, you need to stay calm and keep still.
Surprisingly, it helped.
I got you, I said, I got you.
We pulled a whole bunch of folks in.
Ani continued her supplications. We need to sort cases by severity and priority. She exhorted the crowd. Stand back. Please, stand back.
The crowd parted further.
The people whod shouted about the man bleeding out turned out to be a cadre of private security guards. Their faces were hidden behind dark visors. They carried the injured manthe guy bleeding outamongst themselves. They shouldered the burden as one.
HOLY SHIT! Jonan yelled, accidentally megaphoneloud.
All over, people winced. Cries of alarm and confusion rippled through the crowd.
THATS ZONGMAN LARK!
Okay, I guess it wasnt an accidental use of the megaphone.
This time, though, quite a few people knew what he meant, and stopped and turned their heads.
Wait, what? I thought.
I knew the name, I just couldnt believe it.
If this had happened last week, I would have had to deal with my shock and the panic of the patients being treated outside, in the Garden Court, but the Genneth Howle of last week hadnt had access to the power of slo-mo.
I quickened my thoughts.
Whats a zongman? Avalon asked.
Not what, Andalon, I thought-said. Who. Hes a singer.
With time slowed to a crawl, I could borrow some to process what I was seeing: uniformed, visor-wearing bodyguards carrying a Tchwangan man on a stretcher.
This was Zongman Lark, one of the four Morgansthe stand-up comedian turned super-celebrity rhythm-and-blues singer. His comedy background helped give the Morgans the flippant, absurd edge that propelled the group to fame, starting with their hit single, Epicanthic folds.
My culture associated a variety of stereotypes to people with epicanthic folds at the corners of their eyes. The song made fun of them.
According to legend, the peoples of Mu and western and central Tenmay were supposed to be, by turns, studious, imperious, coldly calculating, strict, august, mystical, and prone to forming business associations. Like most stereotypes, such ideas were caused by ignorance, though travel was a sure-fire cure.
Mr. Lark was a living contradiction, which was probably why he fit in so well with the Morgans. Hed gone from being just another downtrodden Tchwangan immigrant to a pop music celebrity when someone at Sunlight Records made the inspired decision to group the struggling comic-slash-musical-theater performer with the three other members of what would become the Morgans. The idea was (and I quote), o appeal to the ironic sensibilities popular with the youths. The music industrys advertising campaign made Lark out to be the plucky underdog of the group; the class clown, if you will, but a debonair one, with a prominent nose, piquant cheeks, and jet-black hair that brought him to within an inch of suave.
His early-stage Type Once NFP-20 infection had taken some of the color out of his oaken-hued skin, but hed yet to crash and burn, for it wasnt the fungus that was to blame for his current peril, nor was the stain the result of the stinking, sickly sweet green-speckled black effluvium that kept oozing out of patients orifices. No.
It was blood.
Hed been wounded.
85.2 - What’s the worst that could happen?
If I could have, I would have asked Lark for an autograph. My son was a huge fanemphasis on the was, because, in all likelihood, Rayph was deada Jules, and Pel.
I spent a while trying to push thoughts of my family out of my head. The knowledge of their rejection was too painful for me. Eventuallyafter a couple minutes of subjective timeI slowed down my thoughts and returned time to normal, joining Heggy in helping the singers bodyguards lift Lark out of his stretcher and onto one of the hospital beds being wheeled into the Hall.
Somebody get some damned epoxy on the double! Heggy shouted.
Seeing the lull in the crowd, Ani walked out through the doors. Dr. Lokanok was never one to waste an opportunity to take charge.
She waved her arms. Everyone, she said, follow me. Weve got triage tents set up in the courtyard. Well get you sorted as quickly as possible.
ANAni! Jonan yelled, at first into the megaphone, but then with his own voice. What are you doing? There are zombies out there!
Dr. Lokanok looked over her shoulder, toward her improbable boyfriend. Someones gotta be there for them, Jonan, she said. These people are scared.
Ani walked out onto the street without another word. She stood among the crowd tall and lithe, like an iris among marsh-reeds. At times like these, the impressions of precocity and genius conveyed by those big, round spectacles of hers were worth their weight in gold. Like Heggy, there was just something about Ani that made you want to trust her.
Setting the megaphone on the floor, Jonan vaulted over the staircases polished balustrade. People scattered as he landed on the ground floor with a resounding thuda drop of several feetand stayed out of his way as he darted to the bleeding pop-music icons bed.
Jonan glanced at Mr. Larks beleaguered bodyguards. Ill take good care of him guys, he said. Give yourselves a pat on the back. You did a good job.
Great, I thought, so hes a fan of the Morgans, too?
It would have been highly inappropriate for me to ask him that question, but, thankfully, Jonan disappeared before I had a chance to not ask him. With the help of two nurses, he rolled the bed through the jammed automatic doors at the back of the Hall, while beds continued flowing out in the opposite direction. Most of the sheets and pillows were still dirtied from their previous users infections. There wasnt time to clean them.
I imagined these beds had been assigned to new patients, but then the firefight began, and now our new arrivals took precedence.
Suddenly, a new voice broke through the chaos.
Move! someone yelled.
It was coming from outside.
Move! Were military!
Coming through! another man yelled.
A group of soldiers limped toward the entranceway, carrying an unconscious comrade on their shoulders. Their standard-issue, camo-patterned uniforms were sheathed in a thick, but flexible carbon-fiber armor: breastplates, pauldrons, and jambeaus.
Their voices came out scratchy, no doubt because of their face-occluding gas-masks.
A little help, Dr. Howle, Nurse Kaylin said, glancing at me. Briefly, she looked away and let out a nasty cough.
Jess I muttered, obviously concernedand then more so when I thickened my wyrmsight and saw the fungus aura beginning to bloom in her chest.
No time, she said, turning back to face me. Cmon.
I needed to make a rule about not using my wyrmsight on my colleagues. I didnt want to see it in them.
I wanted to have hope.
I cursed under my breath as I helped Nurse Kaylin grab the unconscious soldier.
Boys, one of the soldiers said, glancing at his teammates.
Working together, we lifted the ailing soder and put him onto a bed. I wished it was one worthy of his valor, rather than one with black stains of infection ooze in various states of dryness mottling its sheets. He and it could be cleaned later, if the soldier survived, but he almost certainly wouldnt, so it really didnt matter one way or the other.
At this point, you had to be in denial or outright insane if you thought that anyone had recovered from the Green Death, or even could recover from it. I know, never say never, but, at this rate, if recovery or immunity was even possible, it would be unspeakably rare; so rare, it might as well not exist. In a world that made sense, youd like to think that, between recovery and gaining magic powers and slowly transforming into monstrous wyrms, recovery would be more likely, but it had been a week to the day since the world had last made sense, and, sad to say, it showed no signs of reverting back to making sense anytime soon.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
Heggy turned around. Private, she said, roaring at one of the soldiers, what the hell is going on here?! She jabbed her finger at the mushroom clouds dissolving in the distant sky. Are we nuking our own people?
The soldier shook his head. Im sorry, maam, he replied, Im not at liberty to say.
The visors on the soldiers imposing helmets looked black as Night from the outside, but, as Heggy had once told me, on the inside, the men were face-to-face with a detailed digital heads-up display, constantly relaying data from both their superiors and the battlefield in front of them.
I wondered what kinds of messages were passing before his eyes right now.
Heggy growled at him. N-Not at liberty to say? She sputtered. Boy, do you know who the hell youre talkin to?
But before the man could follow up with a question of his own, another soldier ran up to us, carrying a black plastic case that looked like it had been chewed up by an angry airport luggage mover and spat back out.
Are you doctors? he asked.
Heggy and I nodded. Yes.
Andalon watched quietly at my side.
He thrust the case into my hands.
I yelped.
Get this to a Dr. Meesle-lan Skor-byne-ka.
Dr. Skorbinka? I said, blinking in surprise.
I cannot begin to explain how weird it feels for your eyelids to lag behind your decision to make them blink. Im so glad I dont have to put up with it anymore.
The soldier nodded. Its something from Stovolsk. He glanced at the case. Whoever sent it took great pains to get it here.
Stovolsk? I said, shocked.
My wyrmly-perfect memory told me exactly why that mattered.
Genneth, Heggy shook her head, what is it?
I locked eyes with Dr. Marteneiss, trembling with anticipation.
The experimental treatment Dr. Skorbinka suggested, I said, thethe mycophageits arrived!
Heggys eyes widened faster than a startled deers. No shit she said.
Is that a good thing, Mr. Genneth? Andalon asked.
I answered with a thought: Yes, Andalon. Thats good.
It was the best news Id heard all day. For a moment, I felt something almost like hope.
I tightened my grip on the case. Heck, I held on to the thing like it was dear life itself!
And, as far as I knew, it might just be.
Fresh volleys of gunfire spat out in the distancenearer than farther, by the sound of it. Shouts and cries of terror rippled through the civilians.
I couldnt begin to imagine the horrors theyd seen on their ride with the military convoy to WeElMed.
Shit, Heggy said again.
The people were getting riled up again.
The tension was so thick, you could taste it.
Or maybe that was just the sickly sweet stench of fungal spores.
Heggy stepped forward and yelled. Ani, get over here! Theres a
Without warning, the wordless moans of an unearthly choir reverberated through the pre-dawn sky. The sound shook you to your bones. Everyone froze. Scattered voices spoke their worries, saying things like, There it is again!, What the hell is that noise?, and The monsters are gonna to get us.
But I wasnt focusing on their fear. No: I was focusing on Andalon. Where others showed fear, Andalon show compassionate concern. She floated up over the crowd, rising higher and higher, as if to meet the sound right as it crested over the citys skyline.
Then, looking down, she turned around to face me.
Its the wyrmehs, Mr. Genneth. Theyre She looked left and right. Theyre singing.
A potent mix of emotions wracked through her tender body. Fear, excitement; worry, sorrow, and longing.
Theyre so sad. She wept. The wyrmehs are so, so sad
Private, Heggy said, Im Heggy Marteneiss. The instant the words left Heggys mouth, the handful of soldiers around us staggered back in shock, drawing my attention away from Andalon.
Shit! one of them cursed. He turned to another. Labder, thats right, General Marteneiss sister works at the goddamn hospital!
They bowed deeply. Were sorry, maam.
Michaels, shes still a civilian, Private Labder said, replying with angEr. Were not at liberty to discuss
Labder, shes a Marteneiss and a doctor. Now shut up and let me tell her whats going before she her brother courtmarl!
Heggy nodded in approval, smiling from behind her see-through rebreather mask. You two better tell me what the hell is going on!
Private Michaelsthe one whod handed me the mycophage casepointed at the Crusader Hill Tunnel. Our commanding officer, Lt. Colonel Adam Kaplan went to take out some hostiles in the tunnel and recapture the armored transport at the head of the survivor convoy.
And what about the
The roar of aerostat turbines interrupted Heggys question. We all looked up to see an aircraft descending over the middle of the scallop-paved street. People scattered from the landing zone like leaves in the wind. Machinery hissed and whirred as the aerostat settled in place and shut its engines down. Hydraulics smoothly lifted up the door on the side of its hull. A man stepped out. The black hazmat suit he wore made ours seem archaic by comparison. Its carbon fiber armor was studded with built-in technology. The thing was as much a weapon of war as it was protection against a hostile, biohazards environment.
Knowing my luck, it probably had air conditioning, too.
Actually, it turned out it was a liquid-based cooling system, though my point still stands.
The darkness on the helmets visor slunk away like smoke in a breeze, giving us a clear view of the face inside. A light came on in the helmet, revealing a dour, grizzled visage.
Over by Crusader Hill Tunnel at the opposite end of the Garden Court, I could hear engines thrum. Sound and movement rippled through the crowd as people turned to look, but the gasps of fear and alarm turned to relief and cheers.
It was the convoy!
They emerged safely from Crusader Hill Tunnel.
Thank the Angel, one of the soldiers said, the civilians made it!
He did it! Michaels said.
Aerostats hovered into view. They must have been the convoys escorts.
They meandered through the air briefly before landing on the tops of some of the hospitals newer buildings.
Then the man in the black hazmat suit spoke. His words echoed through the entire WeElMed complex, broadcast live on every available speaker.
Greetings, West Elpeck Medical Center. I am
Waving an arm, Heggy darted through the doors and out onto the street. Hey, Vernon! she said. Its bout time you got here!
85.3 - What’s the worst that could happen?
The moments in which the world made sense were precious and rare. They were worth marking down. They were worth celebrating.
This, however, was not one of them.
Heggys younger brother, Major General Vernon Marteneiss, had come to West Elpeck Medical Center, and was about to make a speech.
Correct me if Im wrong, but on the off chance that film and television had lied to me (and they wouldnt do that, now, would they?), werent generals supposed to address their troops before battleor possibly after itnot during?
As chaotic as things had been, they only got worse once the convoy arrived. It was hard enough dealing with the patients we already had in the Garden Court. With each passing day, the Green Death had pulled every square inch of the hospital into its sway; first into other departments, then into the research facilities, then into cafeterias and balconies and the Hall of Echoes, and then into the Garden Court and the Undergreen Galleria directly beneath it. Though it hadnt been clear to me at first, the initial panic wed confronted consisted of people who were already here.
Now, add several truck-loads more of sickened, terrified civilians, fresh out of the apocalyptic urban hellscape.
It was madness.
It was war.
So many of us in Ward E and everywhere else were pulled into this battle, pushed to the brink as we struggled to accommodate the throngs of civilians the military had dropped into our lap. But not all of us. Some of usread, Jonan, Heggy, and megot lucky. Wed been chosen to assist General Marteneiss in setting up a massive impromptu teleconference, and by chose, I mean Heggy was insistent that her brother involved her in the processwhich he didwhile Jonan had volunteered to help with the electronics because, of the handful of the Central Wings IT technicians, all but one were either dying, dead, or otherwise unaccounted for.
i.e., Greg.
As for me, I had a special role all my own, one that had literally been thrust into my hands: delivering the mycophage samples to Dr. Skorbinka. A quick search through the staff directory on the WeElMed app came up empty, which wasnt entirely surprising. I remembered that Brand had mentioned Mistelann was affiliated with the Cartin Center, rather than WeElMed, so he wouldnt have been on the WeElMed app, and I didnt have time to walk back to Ward 13 to get Gregs help on the matter. Fortunately, I also remembered that, three days ago, Ani had been in a videophone with Mistelann, which was the reason why shed arrived late to the meeting of Ward Es CMT in the aftermath of Frank Isafobes horrific autopsy.
So, Dr. Skorbinkas number was in her call history.
I spotted Ani (with Jonan) in a hallway while I was on my way to Ward E to oversee the Generals speech. He was exhorting her to stay away from the patients in the Garden Courtit was dangerous out thereand she was busy explaining why she had to be there, to help. Anyhow, one thing led to another and, after a particularly chaotic vidoephone call with Dr. Skorbinka, I was promoted from the plastic cases delivery boy to its personal body guard, and had been charged with ensuring the safety of its contents while Dr. Skorbinka was busy sorting out some details regarding use and management of the matter printer plant down in WeElMeds third basement level. Mistelann was adamantly opposed to me stowing the case in a locker or a refrigerator until it was needed, on account of him being petrified by the thought of something bad happening to the samples.
You will have your eyes on it at all times, Howle Genneth, hed told me, with deadly seriousness. You will wait until I defeat management craziness that stands between human race and salvation of human race.
It was like that, take care of this electronic doll to learn what it means to be a parent assignment I got in my high school life skills course, except far, far more was at stake than just a couple points for my GPA. So, it was with the caseand Andalonin tow that I entered the meeting room in Ward E, the very room wed been using for meetings and discussions for Ward Es CMT. Apparently, Vernon had chosen that room to use as the base of operations for his teleconference.
Small world.
I entered and took my seat on a stool by the table. Heggy smiled at me as I set the case down on the tabletop. I made a mental note to take out one of my many bottles of hand sanitizer and spray the seat and table before I left. Now that I was actively producing NFP-20 spores in my breaths, my perpetual hazmat suit was all that stood in the way of me infecting my friends and colleagues. I was not going to take any chances.
Would the sanitizer be of any help? Probably not.
Would my guilt leave me alone long enough to not feel compelled to disinfect my environment wherever I went? Probably not.
I wished I could tell Heggy the truthI wished I could tell my colleagues about everything that had happened to me (even the multiple Angels bit), but I was in far too deep now. I didnt want to think about what they would do if they found out, let alone how the realization of my deceptions and betrayal would make them feel.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
Andalon distracted herself by watching Jonan work with the General in setting up the communication technology.
Let me guess, Heggy said, nodding at me teasingly, Dr. Skorbinka asked you to hold on to it while he goes and pleads to management?
Its a fight over matter printer usage rights, I said, but, other than that, bullseye. Howd you know?
He asked me to get some food for im, Heggy said, and to guard it like my life depended on it.
Same, I said.
The mans paranoid as hell, she said, though, given the circumstances, I hardly blame him. She nodded. Anyhow, its good to see youve got somethin to keep you busy. If you were left to your own devices, I know youd try to ask Vernon questions, and I dont want you pokin the porcupine where it oughtnt be poked.
As usual, Heggy had read me like a book.
If you want to say somethin to him, she added, pass it by me, first.
Noted, I said.
Yes, it was patronizing of her, but I deserved it. These past few days had cemented my reputation as a troublemaker, at least as far as institutions and authority figures were concerned.
The tech work Jonan was doing for the General was mostly arcane manipulations of the hospitals console network, to which I could contribute nothing. For the most part, I kept to myself while we waited, never letting the mycophage case out of sight or reach, thought-speaking answers to Andalons questions, of which there were many.
Whos Ver-non?
Whats Dr. Jo-Jo doin with the glory boxes?
And so on.
Andalons answer as to why she called Jonan doctor yet didnt do the same for me was a perfectly innocent, perfectly useless, because youre Mr. Genneth.
Hopefully, the Generals explanations would be better than Andalons.
Eventually, the conference began in earnest. Those Wardsboth Number and Letterthat cared enough about the militarys incursion into WeElMeds affairs had designated representatives whod been granted permission to ask the General via consoles while he made his speech. Meanwhile, everyone else was to keep doing what theyd been doing.
I didnt know how many patients were listeningor even caredbut, for those that were, I couldnt begin to imagine how strange it must have been for them. Here they were, sick and dying, the Green Death washing away their memories like mud in the rain, and, out of the blue, all across the hospital, all the non-essential consoles suddenly start showing the live feed of a decorated General in a black hazmat suit coming up to speak.
I desperately wanted it to be a victory speech, but when Jonan explained to me that the Generals speech wasnt going to be broadcast to patients rooms, I realized, no, this was not going to be good news.
It was a surreal experience, to say the least. Then again, nowadays, pretty much all of my experiences were surreal.
General Marteneiss stood in place as he spoke, never deviating from it, never leaning or swaying, not even a little bit.
Talk about discipline!
Ahem, he began by clearing his throat. By the power vested in me by the people of Trenton through their elected government, and with the co?peration and gracious assistance of the DAISHU Corporation, I, General Vernon Marteneiss, have been granted full control over West Elpeck Medical Center. As of this moment, WeElMed is under martial law.
In addition to playing out on our consoles, the handy-dandy projector poking out from the conference rooms ceiling was projecting the live footage of General Marteneiss speech onto a nearby wall. This made it easy to see the indicators lighting up at the bottom of the footagethe signal that one of the Ward representatives wished to speak.
Vernon tapped one of the icons on his console.
Since this was all being done through the WeElMed app, the lower, right-hand corner of the screen identified the current speaker for us: a Dr. Briskholm from Oncology.
So, what, Dr. Briskholm, said, now the government is going to tell us who to treat and how to treat them? A vicious cough punctuated his words.
No, Vernon replied. Im not a doctorthough I happen to know one very well. He glanced at Heggy. At the moment, Im fortunate to be standing in the same room as my older sister, Dr. Heggy Marteneiss. Shes one of you. And, just like I know my sister, I know the kinds of decisions you folks have to make. I know the stakes youre laboring under. Believe me, I know. I have my orders, you have yours. Let me say now, once and for all: I have no intentions on dictating treatment. Our men in arms are here to protect you, and to serve however they can. We will be setting up a secure base of operations on these premisesa safe zone, if you will. Soldiers will be stationed throughout the hospital, for everyones benefit.
Once more, the icons stirred. Vernon tapped another speaker ina Dr. Betty Ishigami.
Why? she asked. A hospital is the last place you want to be during a pandemic. Were knee-deep in plague.
Vernon nodded. Youre right, it is. But were here because we need your help, and its not just with finding a cure for this damn thing. Its bigger than that, now. Sighing, he shook his head. Ill be blunt: ladies and gentlemen, the world has ended. Its over. Its in tatters. What we do now will determine what, if anything, will be left over for us to rebuild.
The icons fluttered. Vernon tapped another speaker in.
The name Dr. Bzool appeared on the bottom of the screen as the image shifted to showing Dr. Bzool, bedecked in PPE. Her hair was frazzled beneath her hair net, and her eyes were wired and bloodshot.
She coughed repeatedly.
Whats your question? Vernon asked.
Are we finally going to talk about the monsters roaming the streets?
General Marteneiss tapped his console screen again, taking back the feed. Yes. He sighed. Across the country, Trenton soldiers are working in conjunction with what remains of local law enforcement to try and set-up safe zones to isolate the remaining uninfected from the rest of the population. The same efforts are being made all across the world. The world has turned savage. And yet Here, he paused. That isnt what scares me. Its as Dr. BZool says: there are monsters roaming the streets. Fungus-made monsters, many of whom are, or were, your fellow citizens.
Do you think hes going to talk about the transformees? Jonan asked, softly, from where he stood off to the side.
Briefly, the General locked his gaze onto Jonan. It was an intimidating glare, and it spoke volumes.
Right now, Vernon continued, institutions are in free-fall. Telecommunications are starting to break down. Things are going dark. Even if you brave men and women manage to find a way to combat the Green Death, were still looking at the near-complete devastation of national and international economies. The law that rules will not be the rule of law. But even these dangers pale in comparison to the newest threat. Vernon shook his head. Pointing at the console screen, he glanced at Jonan. This is the button for the footage, right?
Dr. Derric nodded.
The General looked back at the camera. Those of you with more sensitive constitutions might want to look away. What Im about to show you isnt pretty. And dont let the picturesque beginnin fool yall.
He pressed the button. The footage began to play.
85.4 - What’s the worst that could happen?
Mr. Genneth, Andalon said, from where she sat on the edge of the table beside me, Andalons got a bad feeling bout this
I suppose we all did.
It was amazing how far shed come. Days before, when Andalon had first appeared to, shed been almost entirely unaware of the real world. Now, it was like she was her own separate person, perceiving and reacting to the world around us, only from somewhere inside me.
This footage is from the Water Treatment Facility in Tonevay, General Marteneiss said. It seemed he was going to be providing the narration.
The footage began with an aerial shot of the Tonevay WTF. The facility sat in a massive, irregularly shaped quadrilateral lot that was sandwiched between sedimentary bluffs to the east and a narrow strip of rocky beach to the west. The area was a jumbled mix of scattered pine trees, autumnal foliage, and heavy industrybut, that was Tonevay zoning laws for you. They only allowed for human habitation further back, up on the bluffs. In other words, the WTF was a very good place to set up camp during a pandemic, provided you could put up with the exposure to all the toxic chemical, though, at this point, that didnt really matter anymore.
The WTF itself was a collection of motley shapes. Tapered smokestacks banded in red and white rose next to big, beige, egg-shaped tanks. Rows of circular pits laid out alongside the eggs, filled with water to be purified by the light of the Sun.
Cleanliness was next to Godliness, after all.
This was one of our best safe zones, the General said.
And, as the aerial view closed in, I could see exactly what he meant. It was a genuinely impressive set-up. The WTF was surrounded by multiple layers of fencing, some of which were parts of the facility, others of which had been recently erected. Armored vehicles and makeshift structureswatchtowers, parapetsasserted their presence, enforcing the perimeter. The lines of peopleboth military and civilianin and around the facility were regimented and orderly. For a second, I thought the white forms that littered the beach were flocks of roosting gulls, only to realize they were tents (emergency housing, perhaps?).
There wasnt a bird in sight.
But one feature dominated the scene: a massive, billowing plastic tarp that cut through the middle of the WTF, splitting it into two halves.
The tarp you see is, Vernon said, only to correct himself, was our cordon. It was a simple set-up: the infected go on one side, and everyone else goes on the other. Even while the world was going down the tubes all around us, this set-up worked like a charm, and for several days straight. He shook his head. But then it fell apart, literally overnight. His expression turned grave as he tapped the console once more.
It began with reports of violence and unrest.
The footage changed. Everything was an eerie green, and it took me a moment to realize what I was seeing must have been recorded by the night vision of a security camera. The aerial view from before had been replaced by one from the ground, with the camera pointing at the highway that ran between the WTF and the adjacent bluffs.
Gradually, figures came into view. People staggered across the street in an unnatural limp. Their limbs twitched oddly.
Clusters of bright lights flashed at the footages edges.
Gunfire, Vernon said.
The General tapped the console screen. The gray-green palette burst into living color as the image changed from security cameras footage to console-footage, recorded by a soldiers body camera.
Heggy brought her hand to her face as she gasped in shock. Yes, she was already wearing a rebreather maskand a PPE visor over thatbut still, she brought her hand to her face.
The people on the footage were no longer people. They were zombies from a grisly horror movie, only they were out here, in the real world, instead of the fiction where they belonged. They threw their fungus-ravaged, bullet-ridden bodies against the fences and walls, clawing and flailing with mindless need. Black and green spewed from their wounds, flicking onto the armor and face-shields of the soldiers who stood against them, fighting to keep the horde at bay.
Then everything froze.
Weve been callin them ferals, General Marteneiss said, speaking over the paused footage, or, well zombies. He shook his head. Whatever you wanna call them, theyre everywhere. Wherever we turn, there are horrifying reports about how the infected are turning violent. They bite, shriek, and claw, chasing after people like wild animals. Our soldiers and airmen have been conducting skirmishes and other forms of limited engagement against these mindless hordes, with the hope of reducing their numbers and securing key and transportation routes. The chaos you all heard a little while ago was my boys having a run in with some ferals while they were escorting a convoy of troops and civilians alike across town. It goes without saying that the feral are an existential threat to humanity. Not only are they vectors for spreading NFP-20, theyre also makin mincemeat osafe zones e shook his head again he footage speak for itself.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
Vernon took a deep breatha raspy echo that crackled out of his black hazmat suits speakers. The General was distraught, nearly to the point of tears. fter lowering his head in a moment of respectful silencee let the footage resume
One of the zombies reached through the fence and grabbed a soldier and pulled him close. It tugged off his PPE as it clawed at him with its rotting, fungus-haunted fingers.
The soldier screamed.
Fall back! someone yelled, Fall back!
The soldier whose body carried the camera turned tail and ran, and the footage whirled along with him. We could hear his breaths and panicked curses as he darted through the narrow gap in between two of the beige, building-sized processing tanks. His squad-mates rushed ahead, turning left at the other end of the gap, but then one of the looked to the right and screamed and raised his rife, firing into the night. The others joined him a moment later, as did the body-cameras solder.
As you have probably figured out for yourselves, the General said, NFP-20s spores arent just extremely infectious, theyre also extremely corrosive. When theres enough of the stuff in one place, it can eat its way through pretty much anything. He sighed shame. By the time we noticed the holes in the tarp, it was already too late. Even so the wors was yet to come.
From what the footage showed, at this point, calling the holes holes didnt do them justice. Massive, gaping tears had opened in the plastic barrier. The spores had eaten through the plastic, weakening and perforating it, and then the zombies came along and burst through. And the spores were everywhere. Green specks lilted in the air, glinting in the WTFs hazy, orange lights as they drifted and swirled.
The cordon didnt just fail, it fell apart. The gateway between the safe zone and the sick zone had been torn wide open, clearing the way for a horde of zombies to break through.
Zombie apocalypses were the only kind of horror fiction that had ever given me nightmares. The only way I was ever able to stomach them was by reminding myself that, nine times out of ten, at least the zombie apocalypse had the saving grace of destroying you when it turned you. The true horror of a zombie was in those unbearable moments after theyd been infected, but before theyd turned, when the victim was still a person with a will and a conscience, and you watched, with dread and sorrow, as the humanity faded from their eyes.
Would that the Green Death be so kind.
To my horror, the zombies that staggered out of the openings in the sanitary cordon were still very much themselves. I could see it in their eyes. I could hear them beg.
Help me!
I cant stop!
Run! Run!!
I bit my lip, trying not to cry. It was like someone had plucked the scene right out of my nightmares.
Andalon closed her eyes, covered her ears and shook her head. Make it stop, Mr. Genneth. Please, make it stop.
I wished I could.
The zombies fought a losing battle against the fungus. Many tried to stop themselves, grabbing onto a bed post, or sinking their fingers into chain-linked fencing. But their bodies overpowered them. It overrode their will, forcing them into the hordean apotheosis of impressment.
By the Angel I muttered.
The behavior was spreading.
Through the gaps in the tarp, you could see people get up from their makeshift beds from within the quarantine. They screamed and wail, crying out to the , pleading for to stop.
But the Angel didnt answer their prayers. Or, maybe He did, and the answer took the form of the bullets that the soldiers then fired into the crowd.
Andalon hid behind me.
Guns went wild as the soldiers holding them spasmed and convulsed. They screamed for help as they lunged at their comrades. The soldier next to the body cameraman slammed into body cameraman, pinning him against the base of the beige processing tank.
Our soldier shot him in the head, splattering his brains on the concrete below. Aerostat engines roared overhead, drawing our soliders gaze skyward. He had just enough time to look up and see the bombs being dropped before the zombies pounced on him. There was a split second of limbs flailing against the camera before the explosion came, ending the footage, as well as everything else, leaving only a static feed.
Vernon tapped the console, stopping the playback.
We had to bomb the Water Treatment Facility, he said.
Heggy was in shock. Vernon she muttered, under her breath.
It was overrun, Vernon said. That mob you saw in those last few seconds? Half of those ferals were our own people. As far as we can tell, the feral state is contagious. It spreads through crowds with terrifying speed. The infected that crossed the road somehow carried their violence to the people in quarantine. Its a merciless chain reaction. Quarantine zones get broken open, doctors and soldiers get attacked, then they turn feral and start attacking anyone nearby. It spreads like wildfire. When enough ferals pile up on a gate or a door, their collective weight will break through, especially with the spores weakening every structure they touch. This makes it very difficult to restrain them.
The General lowered his head. Were at the end of our rope, here, people. Even if we can isolate the infected, it wont do any good if they go feral and trigger a domino effect like what you just saw. Unless we can find a way to safely contain them, were going to have to treat all infected persons as a threat, and neutralize them with deadly forceferal or not.
85.5 - What’s the worst that could happen?
The general tapped in another question-asker. The screen changed to show a physicianDr. Evestromstanding by the matter printers down on the third basement level.
Pardon my Trenton, General, he said, but, if thats the case, then what the Hell are you doing here?
Vernon nodded. This catastrophe comes with a fucking cherry on top. He let out a humorless chuckle. You see, Dr. Evestrom, while the rest of the world is going the way of Tonevay, for some Beasteaten reason that no one can understand there are no zombies here at West Elpeck Medical Center. Every major medical center within two hundred miles of the city is a zombie-infested ruin. The patients turned feral, and then everything went to Hell. General Marteneiss smiled. But not here. Not at WeElMed.
Break the Tablets!, I thought. I remembered hearing reports of outbreaks of unexplained violence at WeElMeds sister medical centers across the city. Had that been the first stirrings of the zombie apocalypse?
H-How Dr. Evestrom shook his head. How is that possible?
Thats the reason why were setting up a safe zone here at WeElMed, Vernon said. Were going to find out why. The fate of the human race depends on it. Ladies and Gentlemen, what remains of Trentons military forces are now devoted to ensuring human civilization will be able to bloom again one day. Im afraid its no longer about saving this world. Its about making sure there will be pieces left for whoever comes after us.
Vernons words brought up another observation of mine: the wanderers Id seen when Cassius and I had found Mrs. Plotsky attempting to get her husband back to their room. This turned out to be a not-uncommon occurrence. In the latter stages of the infection, about one out of every three Type One cases would get up and wander around aimlessly, assuming they still had the strength to move. Wed chalked it up as a consequence of the diseases destruction of its victims long-term memories. What reason would you have to stay in a hospital bed if you no longer remembered what a hospital was, or why you were in one in the first place? Obviously, youd get up and walk around.
But, what if it was more than that?
Remembering Heggys warning, I leaned toward her, as close as safety allowed.
What is it? she whispered.
Can I ask him about the incidents weve had with Type One infected patients wandering the hallways?
Blinking, Heggy shook her head and then muttered, Why didnt I think of that? She looked me in the eye and nodded.
I turned to her brother.
Uh, General, I said.
He glared at me.
Heggy tilted her head toward her brother. Let him speak, Vern.
Begrudgingly, the General nodded.
Weve been noticing that Type One infected patients have a habit of wandering the hallways, particularly in the later stages of the disease, I said. My voice repeated itself like an echo as the Generals console broadcast my words all across the hospital.
Ani nodded. Ive seen them, too, she said. Ive also heard similar reports from many other wards. We try to walk them back to their rooms. Thankfully, they dont put up much resistance, she lowered her head, by that time, its because most of their memories have already faded.
I know, Vernon said. Ive seen the footage.
Weve been attributing that behavior to their memory loss, I explained. But what if its more than that.
Vernon looked Ani and I in the eyes. If the feral were just sleepwalkers like the ones youve got here at WeElMed, we wouldnt have had to bomb Tonevay or any other of our compromised safe zones. Good men and womenmilitary and civilians alikewouldnt have had to die. The General gulped. At this point, people, I hope it goes without saying that its paramount that we figure out whats keeping WeElMeds infected from going feral. To anyone listening: if you or anyone you know has theories, information, or leads on this issueanything at allI urge you to contact our personnel at the numbers Ive sent to your consoles. Were desperate here, people. Anything would be better than nothing. He cleared his throat. With that, Ill let you go. Were setting up a hotline for addressing questions and concerns. Please use this resource wisely. It is not something to be abused. He bowed deeply. I want all of the healthcare workers listening to this to know that we honor you and your service. We know how hard youve been working, how youve been fighting the good fight. Your cause is as good and noble as anything any man or women in uniform has ever fought for. May this battle end in victory. He looked straight into the camera. What we do here is not for ourselves, but for the future. Godspeed.
With an ending like that, what could you do except get back to work? There were new patients to be admitted, and so much else. The information Vernon provided explained several mysteries, not just the wandering patients. It explained why wed stopped getting communications from other hospitals in the region, just like it explained why the stream of new patients had plummeted in the past 24 hours or so. People werent just dying en masse, they were turning into zombies.
Aside from being utterly terrifying, this news also left me with a sinking feeling that the hospitals relationship with the military encampment freshly ensconced in the Garden Court was about to get much more complicated.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
If only I had known just how prophetic that worry of mine would prove to be.
Case in point: in hindsight, I would never be able to forgive myself for leaving the conference room as quickly as I had. Yes, I had a possible miracle cure to deliver to Dr. Skorbinka, but, still
I should have been more circumspect about the militarys involvement.
I should have been able to see past my own desperation.
But, then again, what is this story if not a tale of my regrets?
Anyhow had I stayed behind after everyone else but Heggy and Vernon had left the conference room, I would have seen Dr. Marteneiss approach her brother with a look of fear that didnt belong on her face.
For as long as I had known her, Heggy had been enmeshed in and grounded by her familyits identity; its history. That history was her lodestone. It was how she made sense of the world. It gave her the values she held most dear.
Vernon hung around near the console hed been using to manage the footage hed uploaded from his personal chip. But Heggy noticed the subtle details of his body language. The Marteneiss clan was a close-knit one. They knew how to recognize each others needs and worries.
Spotting the way Vernon was biting his lip, Heggy wanted to give her little brother a hug, but circumstances dictated otherwise. The corrosive spores meant that interpersonal contact had to be avoided, even while wearing hazmat suits. What protection would the plastic provide if lingering spores ate their way through it?
So, instead, Heggy settled for a good, long eye-to-eye glare.
Whats going on, Vern?
The General sighed. Sis, I know that you know that its against regulations for me to share classified information with civilians who dont have the necessary security clearances.
Heggy crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. I have clearance, Vern. Im your big sister. I havent seen you this shaken since granddad died.
Heggy
Heggy wagged her finger at him. No, dont you Heggy me. Vern, I can suss out shit from a mile away, and, let me tell you, she tapped her mask, this little nose of mine knows youve gone and dumped a Beasteaten truckload on our front door. Whatever classified information youve got, Ive got a damn good feelin its not gonna stay classified for much longer. She shook her head. I cant help you if I dont know. And I want to help you. Angel knows, you need it.
Vernon sighed heavily. His stalwart posture suddenly slackened, as if the discipline had just leaked out of him. Heg, you should be the one wearin my boots. Im he shook his head. Im at the end of my rope.
Dr. Marteneiss nodded solemnly.
Vernon stammered. His next words were not easy.
Sis, you dont know how bad it really is. The chain of command is basically comin apart at the seams. Gant is dead. Most of the Chiefs of Staff are dead, and if theyre not, they soon will be. Vernon stomped his boot on the vinyl floor. Crownsleep, Angels Rest, Seasweep, Lightsbreath, the whole Angel-damned Trueshore coasttheyre all being nuked as we speak. Nuked all the way to Paradise. And dont get me started on other major metropolitan areas around the world.
He stared his sister dead in the eyes.
Heggys jaw went agape. The fuck?
Vernon lowered his head. He held a hand at his hip. A couple days ago, only a madman would think of using nukesso, of course Gants been in favor of them since Day One. In a couple of hours, Elpeck will be the only metropolitan area in the country that hasnt been reduced to glass and ash. Its also the single largest, most concentrated area of infection on the continent. For the good of humanity, it needs to be wiped off the face of the earth. There are too many horrors here, and theyre spreading, wandering across the countryside. And, just when you think it couldnt get any worse, were even fighting amongst ourselves.
Heggys eyes bulged. What?
Yeah, Vernon nodded. His head trembled with emotion. I shouldnt be telling you this, but last night, there was a mutiny up north, at Houseton Air-Force Base. It was right after the order to nuke Crownsleep had gone out. A bunch of pilots at Houseton refused to give up on the city, so they took matters into their own hands, commandeered some aerostats, and began bombing our missile silos. He cleared his throat, trying to get his emotions back under control. We could have used those. Those silos were locked tighter than the Churchs pocketbook. Now, theyre in ruins, and we barely have any ICBMs left. Were down to using the Prelatorys leftovers.
Sword cut me, Heggy muttered, under her breath.
The only reason you havent been bombed to ashes is because there arent zombies here. You and your colleagues are disposable. All that matters is figuring out why the zombies arent rampaging here, and then figuring out how to recreate the effect elsewhere. I have three days, Heggy, maybe less. If we cant figure it out by then, were glassing it. Were glassing everything. Theres no other option.
Heggys lips quivered. She fought back tears. Cant your visits ever be just, Hey, Sis, howre you doin? She shook her head. This is too heavy for me, Vern. Break the Tablets, this is too goddamn heavy.
General Marteneiss briefly closed his eyes. Well, Im afraid its about to get heavier, he said. The military needs access to WeElMeds labs, and to your NFP-20 patients, Types One and Two. We need to conduct experiments on them ASAP. The zombies have basically made that impossible pretty much everywhere else. Here, though, he pointed at the ground, here, we might actually have a chance to figure something out.
Heggy clenched her fists. Experiments? She quivered with indignation. She stared at her brother in horror.
Its not gonna be pretty, Sis, and it sure as Hell not gonna be humane.
You cant do this, Vernon. Heggy shook her head vehemently. Its not right. She sliced her arm through the air. Theyre human beings! They have dignity!
Tears glistened in Vernons eyes. I know, he said. But dignity wont count for nothin if everybodys dead. Thats whyand Im asking this of you not just as a General of the armed forces, but as your brother, Id like your help with this, Sis. We have our own people, but these are your stomping grounds; your patients. It would go so much more smoothly if you could assist with selecting test subjects and overseeing the experiments weve got planned. Id like to think having you around would help keep things from getting too excessive. He looked away. I wont force you to participate, Im not a cruel man, and I dont want to be, but, he gulped, with or without you, this is happening. We have a schedule to follow, and the clock is ticking.
Biting her lip, Heggy shook her head. People already think the Marteneisses were up to our knees in crimes against humanity in the fuckin Prelatory. Imagine what theyll say after this
Enough with the family skeletons already! Vernon said. It doesnt matter one way or the other, not if there arent any survivors left to care!
Heggy nodded gravely. Its about honor, Vern. Honor always matters, most of all in times like these, when everyone around you is sheddin their skin and revealin all the vipers underneath. These are the times that try mens souls, Vern. People are countin on us.
General Marteneiss breathed in deeply. I know Heggy, I know. He shook his head. So I guess that means youre a no?
No, Vern, she replied, Im not just a no, Im a Hell no!
And she stormed out the door.
86.1 - Crystals
Jonan, Ani, and I walked down the hallway together, as closely as social distancing protocol allowedwhich, really, wasnt that much to begin withready to go our separate ways and return to work. But then my console rang, indicating an incoming videophone call.
Ani stepp forward and offered her arms. Ill hold the case, she said.
I graciously accepted her aid and then pulled out my console, lickety-split.
Dr. Skorbinkas face appeared, dominating the screen. His prickly sideburns were almost completely obscured by rebreather unit.
Howle Genneth! he said, gruffly. He nodded vigorously. Approval has been received. Please arrive at matter printer control center in 3Ba1 immediately.
He cut off the call before I could get a word in edgewise.
I stowed my console, and then Ani handed my charge back to me. That was quick. I didnt expect Hobwell would get back to him so quickly.
Jonan shook his head. Thats because the machines have taken over.
What? I asked.
Meanwhile, Andalon tugged at my arm: Whats that mean, Mr. Genneth?
I was on duty when Director Hobwell was sent into surgery to deal with the internal hemorrhaging caused by his Type One NFP-20 infection. He she paused, and then made the Bond-sign. He didnt make it. She looked up at me. ALICE has taken over in his capacity as the hospitals director.
ALICE can run the hospital? I asked.
Jonan nodded. That, and pretty much everything else. Like I said, he said, the machines have taken over. The suave, blond physicians deadpan expression left me unable to tell whether he was joking or not. He looked me in the eyes. Now, lets get that box of yours down to 3Ba1, pronto.
Ani nodded. Im coming, too.
Neither of them got so much as a peep of protest out of me. I appreciated the company, as did Andalon.
We took the elevator down. As large as the hospital elevators were, we each kept to one corner.
Safety first.
I keep going over that footage General Marteneiss showed us, Jonan said. I cant help but compare it to tochukaso.
Insect grass? Ani asked, quizzically.
I recognized the word, having recalled a lunch conversation years ago where Brand had mentioned it to me. At my side, Andalon attempted to pronounce it, and failed miserably.
Its a fungus native to the Old World, Jonan explained. Its known as the zombie ant fungus. Dr. Nowston once told me about it over lunch.
Yes, I said. Dr. Skorbinka mentioned the zombie ant fungus during our autopsy of Ileene Plotskys fetus.
Ani stared at me, horrified. You autopsied her fetus?
Believe me, I said, it was not a pleasant experience.
Pleasant or not, Jonan said, tochukaso is a spectacular example of parasitic evolution. The fungus infects insects.
Yes, I said, as I said, Dr. Skorbinka explained it to me already.
Great! Jonan said, with a smirk. Now Im going to explain it to you. It hijacks its victims nervous systems, forcing them to climb to a high place. Then the fungus blooms, and, with the insect up high, the spores get blown all over the place, which maximizes the distance the spores can travel, and the number of insects that can be infected. I dont know if youve played it, but theres an award-winning video game about tochukaso spreading to humans and causing a zombie apocalypse: The First of Them.
Id heard of it, but Id never played it.
Anis eyes blinked behind her large, circular glasses. Wait dont tell me
Jonan nodded. Can you think of a better explanation for what happened in Tonevayand, apparently, everywhere else? Weve already had plenty of patients wandering around in the later stages of the disease.
Ani shook her head. I had my hands filled with some of them last night. Weve been coding the door locks of patients rooms to hospital personnels chips just to keep the patients in their rooms.
The elevator doors opened, letting us out onto basement level three.
3Ba1 isnt far, Ani said. Cmon, lets get moving.
I let Ani and Jonan take the lead. Walking wasnt as easy for me as it used to be. Id decided to refrain from undue exertion as much as possible, out of fear that doing so would make my legs deteriorate even more rapidly.
Like the other basement levels, it was high-ceilinged, windowless, and industrial. Pipes of varying sizes ran overhead, carrying who-knows-what to who-knows-where.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Jonan continued his lecture. As I was saying, he said, glancing back at me to make sure I was still following, considering how quickly NFP-20 is spreading, theres a non-negligible chance the zombies are the result a whole new strain. The more people a pathogen infects, the greater the likelihood a new, even more dangerous variant will emerge.
Were already floundering against the vanilla version, Ani said. Now theres a variant that turns people into zombies? She shook her head. No, that doesnt pass the smell test.
Whats a smell test? Andalon asked.
It means she thinks theres a problem with Jonans idea, I thought-said.
Since weve continued getting new patients all this time, Ani said, if were dealing with a new variant, it should be affecting WeElMed as well, but it isnt.
I looked down at the plastic case in my hands. All the more reason we need this mycophage to work, I said.
Id like to know whats so special about WeElMed, Ani said.
Any ideas? Jonan asked.
Ani shook her head in despair. No freakin clue. At this point, if you told me it was the ghosts of Templars from the Crusades fighting off the fungus, I might just believe you.
It almost goes without saying that my (un)dead breath was caught in my throat. Though I dared not tell my colleaguesI had no interest in testing Anis claim of what she was willing to believethere was, in fact, something special about WeElMed.
Its where Andalon was.
I glanced down at her beside me. She was floating a couple inches off the floor, her nightgown slowly billowing. I had to fight the urge to speak the words aloud as I telepathically posed my questions to the blue-eyed, blue-haired spirit-god-angel-girl-thing.
Do you know anything about this, Andalon? You saw the footage General Marteneiss showed us. Is Jonan right? Is there a new variant of the fungus?
Whats a very-ant? she asked.
Ani thinks that the fungus is changing. Before, it wasnt turning people into zombies. Now it is.
Just to be safe, I asked Andalon if she knew what zombies were. The way she stuck out her arms and let out some very zombie-like moans and snarls made it clear that she did.
Great! So why is this happening?
She looked me in the eyes. The darkness can do that to peoples, yeah. She nodded. But the darkness doesnt change, Mr. Genneth. It makes other stuff change.
So, no variants? But then why arent
Suddenly, I stopped in the middle of the hallway.
I felt like a grade-A moron. It would have been bad enough if the answer to the mystery was under my nose, but it was worse than that. It wasnt just under my nose. It was my noseand my face and my body and my doppelgenneths and everything else.
I whispered. By the Angel
Jonan stopped and turned toward me. Did you say something, Dr. Howle?
Clearing my throat, I shook my head. No, just muttering to myself.
I was the answer.
No, Andalon said, its us! We did it! Together! She raised her arms in triumph.
I smiled. Youre darn right we did, I thought.
She really was. Thanks to her help, I was now able to bring solace to the souls of the dead, which kept Hell from turning those souls into demons and using them to aid the fungus in world conquest. The two of us were keeping the armies of Hell at bayand, now, all the transformees in the Self-Help Group were doing it, too.
The cure for the zombie apocalypse was therapy. Whodve thunk it?
I needed to tell the Self-Help Group about this ASAP.
For once, I had a reason to push myself. I pressed forward, eager to be done with this errand and my upcoming work shift so that I could let the others know about this momentous discovery.
But then Ani suddenly stopped in her tracks.
Both Jonan and I stopped, too, and turned around.
What is it? he asked.
Have you heard what people have been saying about the Green Death? Ani asked. Theyre saying its the end of the world. She spoke the words as if they held a forbidden power.
Jonan pursed his lips. I didnt realize that was a controversial take. He raised an eyebrow. You just saw General Marteneiss presentation, Ani. Was that somehow not enough to put a dent in your optimism? Did you not see the Doomsday Special that Kirk Dempshire and Ilzee Rambone have been running on CBN? he asked.
Well, yes, she said, but
No. Theres no but about it, Jonan said. The fact of the matter is, civilization is collapsing. Too many people have died. Even if you could snap your fingers and wipe NFP-20 from existence, the world would still end, in the sense that it would no longer be the world as we know it. Things are not going to return to normal. Its like what the Genera said: what were now doing is not for us, but for the future. Its the difference between humanity building the world back up again and us going extinct. Maybe something else might rise to take our placeI dunno, maybe bird people, or something?or maybe not.
No, Jonan, Ani said, thats not what I mean. Her face contorted in pain. Theyre saying the Last Days have come.
Oh, right. He blinked. That.
I stared at both of them. Youre saying it like youre unconvinced.
Im not unconvinced, Doc, Jonan said. Something freaky is happening, no doubt about that. He shook his head. I just dont think our measly ape-brains are cut out to understand it. I mean, the same evolutionary processes that gave us our intellect and our capacity for reason also gave us genetics that basically give up after the age of fifty, and wired our eyeballs so that the nerves get in the way of our retinas, and leave us with two blind spots that our brains have adapted to gaslight us into thinking that they arent actually there. I mean, there are people out there who cant do long division. We live in a society, and were barely competent enough to keep it running. I do not trust my fellow human beings to come up with the correct explanation for the snake transformation plague, present company notwithstanding. My take: were screwed, and were not going to get to learn why. Were just going to die. Scripture says the world is flat, but the world is not flat, so whatre the odds it got the details of the apocalypse right? Not high, thats for sure.
Ani? I said, turning to face her.
Staring at me, she shook her head. I dont agree with everything he said, but I do agree with one thing: I dont think these are the Last Days.
That was astonishing to hear. What else could they be? I said.
I dont know, Ani said, but I know in my heart She clutched a hand to her chest. The Angel wouldnt do this.
The Angel allowed Darkpox to happen, I said.
Yes, but He also brought forth the people and discoveries that led to the vaccine. It all serves a greater purpose. But this, she shook her head, this doesnt. Its annihilation. Tears glinted in her eyes. This is not how the world ends. It cant be. Thats why there has to be a cure, a vaccine, or something. The Angel wouldnt do this to us.
I tried not to cry, but it was hard.
Then, why doesnt He stop it? I said, unable to hold my tongue. Why doesnt the Moonlight Queen strike this evil destiny from the Tablets? Why doesnt the Hallowed Beast descend and smite the zombies and purify the land?
Everybody makes that mistake, Ani said, smiling sadly. You think the Godhead can just do whatever. She shook her head. They cant. Theyre not all-powerful.
Ani, Jonan said, Im pretty sure thats hereticalnot that I care.
Ani chuckled. It doesnt matter. She raised her gaze to the ceiling. In my heart, I know its true. Thats why our choices are so important; we have a responsibility to try make things right. The Angel needs us as much as we need Him. Faith is like love and marriage: its a two-way street. Things only get better when choose to make them better.
As I said, I envied Anis faith.
I reaching the plastic case. Speaking of making things better,
86.2 - Crystals
Ani handed the case back to me, and then the three of us continued on our way. About half a minute later, the hallway abruptly opened onto a broad, rectangular room that dead-ended in three sets of double doors on the flawless white walls opposite us. To the left and right, the room opened onto separate hallways that would take you to other parts of WeElMeds third basement level.
Bizarre, digestive noisesinterminable gurgles, groans, and humsvibrated out from the sets of double doors on the left and the right, and, because of this, a stream of elevator muzak was constantly trickling into the room, as a way of drowning it out. A thin but steady flow of human traffic proceeded in and out from all three pairs of doors, and both the noises and the muzak got a little louder every time the doors swung open.
The double doors to the left and right would take you to Room 3Ba2: the Matter Printer Floor. Our destination awaited us on the other side of the central pair of double doors: Room 3Ba1, the Matter Printer Control Center.
As a result of being very old, WeElMeds basements penetrated deep into the earth. Most of these were contiguous with the hospitals sprawling urban footprint, and this included much of 3Baour third, deepest, basement level, where we had our morgues and various storage areasbut Rooms 3Ba1 and 2 however, were in a league of their own. In terms of floor space, 3Ba2 was the size of half a city block, and it needed to be, because it housed a factory floors worth of matter printers, and their ingredient tanks and incubation tanks, too. 3Ba1 was where you went to prime an incubation tank with the samples of the organic material you intended to replicate, grow, and print; 3Ba2 was where you went to pick up the finished product.
Waste not, want not.
Though smaller matter printers could be found scattered around the premises, they were on par with the models you could purchase for domestic use, such as the Mark 2 we had in the basement at homea relic of the dowry Pels parents had given me upon our marriage. Matter printers were the successful, far more capable grandchildren of the old 3D printers from a hundred years back. A Mark 1 matter printer could do everything the old 3D printers could do, and at a fraction of the time, and for a fraction of the cost, and unlike its predecessors, the Mark 1 and its descendants lived up to the hype.
Then came the Mark 2.
In addition to doing everything a Mark 1 could do, a Mark 2 matter printer could work with substances other than plastic, such as glass, porcelain, metal, and a kind of sad, spongy-looking approximation of wood that became horrifically moldy whenever it got even the slightest bit wet. Any good primary or secondary school would have at least one Mark 2 on campus, andin theoryany household could have one, too, though most folks just went to a local craft shop if they wanted something printed up.
The printers down in WeElMeds third basement, though? They were Mark 3. The Mark 3 was the kind of thing yesteryears science-fiction writer might have dreamed up, though with a distinctly biochemical bent. They couldnt build a house for you, or whip an aerostat for you to flythey specialized in making small things, rather than big ones, but, the stuff they could print up? It was like magic. The Mark 3 could print organs directly from the stem-cell cultures; they could crystalize microchipsrigid or polymerizedby the sheet-load, and grow designer drugs like potted plants, and do pretty much everything in between. My understanding of the principles behind this miraculous process consisted of two pieces of knowledge: one, the actual magic happened in the printer heads, rather than in the vats of raw materials (digested, incubated, and the like) that fed them, and, two, the process involved magnets and incredibly subtle electrical pulses.
The three of us stepped into Room 3Ba1 without delay. The transparent plastic windows that dominated the doors area gave a clear view of the room on the other side as we walked up to the doors. The control center was a big, white, laboratorious room with equally big, long plastic windows on the wall opposite the door that gave a grand view of the production floor and all its machinery, which was rows upon rows of tanks, vats, and printers, as well as the thick, reticulated sprawl of tubes that filled the rooms upper reaches. The tubes linked the printers to the vats and linked the vats to one another, as well as to the ports in walls and ceiling where the hospitals waste collection network extruded its digested glop.
Not counting Ani, Jonan, and myself (or Andalon), there were half a dozen people in the room, two of whom were in full-body hazmat suits just like mine, save for the color. The room was the kind of place Dr. Nowston probably dreamed about, filled with tools of the trade, from freezers and centrifuges to the pneumatic tubes on the walls that shot samples into a freshly sterilized incubation tank in 3Ba2 to initiate replication and proliferation.
Brand had taken me down here on more than one occasion, the most memorable of which was when he showed how a biopsy of a malignant tumor would be cultured and then studied, in order to determine the proper course of treatment.
As would be expected, the place was littered with consoles, with their screens being particularly numerous at any one of the handful of tables scattered around the room, as well as the countertop along the walls.
I recognized Dr. Skorbinka by his orange hazmat suitthat, and the fact that the mycologist made a beeline for us as soon as we entered the room.
You have arrived! he said.
I handed him the mycophage case without delay, which he snatched out of my hands with raptorial zeal.
Come, come, he said. He beckoned us with two flicks of his head.
Dr. Skorbinka led us to an available table. Even with my tail, I had no trouble sitting down: all of the seats around it were stools. Dr. Skorbinka stood at the head of the table, while Ani and Jonan sat together, across from me. Andalon, meanwhile, sat beside me, atop an empty stool, unseen to the world.
It is good that you are here, Dr. Skorbinka said, as he set the case down on the table.
He ran his hand over the cases chip-scanner; the case clicked, opening with a hiss. Faint mist spilled out from the cases maw, dribbling onto the table. Fully opening the case revealed its precious contents: several tiny, reed-thin phials set in black insulation material, alongside a console chip and a small refrigeration unit. The refrigeration units thermometer indicated the cases contents were just above freezing.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Mycophage Dr. Skorbinka said, his eyes wondrous and wide.
The mycophage had a dusky, olivine color that, to my surprise, glistened as Mistelann lifted one of the phials up to the bright fluorescent light to scrutinize it.
Assuming it even works, Jonan said, how do you plan on achieving the industrial scale of mass production we would need in order to make this into a practical treatment?
It was a good question. A cure that couldnt be mass-produced was little better than no cure at all.
Ill admit, Jonan continued, Im not familiar with mycophages, but, if theyre anything like bacteriophages, cultivating them is not going to be a walk in the park.
The mycologist set the phial back into the vapor-misted case. It is for this very reason that your presence here gladdens me, comrades. He looked us in the eyes, one by one. But, to answer your question Derric Jonan we shall cheat.
Pulling out the chip, he inserted it in his PortaCon and closed the case, which clicked as it locked itself shut. Mistelanns console chirruped as it loaded the data.
In research environment, he said, standard method for production of mycophage is through infection of suitable fungal host. If we do this method, we will be dead before it is finished. So, as I said, we cheat. He placed his hand on the case. These are not just any samples we have received. These are crystallized.
Though Mistelanns rebreather unit obstructed my view of the lower half of his face, I imagined he was grinning.
For what is virus but giant molecule? he asked.
Jonan started to laugh. I He shook his head incredulously. You cant be serious.
Uh, crystals? I asked. Forgive my ignorance, but
Believe it or not, Ani said, if you have a couple milligrams worth of virus particleswhich, mind you, is a lot of virusits possible to get them to form crystals, just like sugar or salt.
How? I asked.
I knew individual virus particles could have bewitchingly geometric shapes, but crystals?
Like Dr. Skorbinka said, she continued, at the end of the day, a virus is just a giant molecule. And if the molecules just so happen to have the right geometric and electrochemical properties, you can arrange them as a crystal.
Andalon watched this all very attentively, though, by the look on her face, she didnt understand a word of it.
Then why does Dr. Derric seem so flustered? I asked.
Jonan glared at me. Hes going to print the fucking crystal. He turned to Dr. Skorbinka. Thats what youre planning, isnt it?
Mistelann nodded. Guilty as charged. He looked over his shoulder at the windows on the back wall, and to the production floor beyond them. Substance resolution level of Mark 3 Matter Printer is sufficient for mass fabrication of macromolecular structures. Crystal is like tree: you plant it; it grows. He looked at his console. Samples of mycophage crystal will be seed for crystallization of new synthetic copies. First, I will need to upload mycophages chemostructural data to matter printer computer and configure production protocols, but once this is finished, automatic manufacturing will commence in earnest. He looked at the three of us. Your assistance would be greatly appreciated.
Ani nodded. We can find some people for you, absolutely.
Brand would jump at the opportunity, I said, assuming he isnt already deeply engaged in something.
Which, knowing him, he probably was.
No, Dr. Skorbinka shook his head, you misunderstand. I do not require assistance with computer things. I require assistance with people. More specifically, I require assistance with keeping strangers out. This work is highly specialized, and there is not enough time for explaining of procedures to strangers.
I understand, I said.
I went ahead and sent messages to Suisei and Heggy, letting them know to keep people away from the main matter printer lab.
Whats Mr. Misty talking about? Andalon asked, leaning over me and the table.
Uh its complicated, I thought-said.
Andalon stood up on the stool. Andalon wants to know, she said.
Why? I thought-asked.
Cause Mr. Genneth wants it to work, she replied. I can feel it. She pressed a finger against her head. I can feel your thinks in here. You really, really wants it to work.
As much as it pained me to admit it, she was right.
Youre right, Andalon, I thought-said, I do want it to work.
Was it going to work? Probably not. But I still wanted it to. I wanted to believeno, I had to believe that modern scientific knowledge had something useful to say about the Green Death. If it didnt, our struggles here would be for nothing, and I couldnt accept that.
Were already keeping the zombies at bay, I thought-said. Thats progress. I gulped.
I looked Andalon in the eyes.
Please, Andalon, I thought-said, lowering my head in prayer, if theres anything you can do to make it work or help slow down the Green Deaths progression, please, do it.
Why not use ALICE? Ani said, rather excitedly. It wasnt super loud, but it was enough to pull me back into my colleagues conversation.
Dr. Skorbinka nodded. Is already in plan.
Okay, so, Jonan said, whats the timetable going to be for this? And whats the treatment protocol? What are the logistics, Mistelann?
We will adhere to dosages specified in experimental trials from Stovolsk, the mycologist replied. If dosage proves insufficient against Green Death, we will adjust. He turned to Jonan. As for your question, Dr. Derric, Computer Boss gave me permission for wave of one hundred dosage units. Production limits will be raised if they succeed.
Ani shook her head. Ugh, she groaned, why play pussy-foot at this stage? We should be going all-in.
Sure, we could go all-in, Jonan said, but, mind you, that would mean no more morphine, no more anesthetic, and no more wound epoxy, not to mention no new bedsheets. We cant keep recycling organic compounds forever, and, though we could start distilling corpses for molecules, Im worried what the damn spores will do to the machinery.
What are you saying, Jonan? Ani asked.
I dont like being pessimistic Ani, but we need to be real here. If the mycophage doesnt work, I dont think youd be very happy if going all in on it meant that you no longer had supplies to use for palliative care. Our patients are already dying, but, as it is, at least we can keep those deaths from being total, undiluted agony. Ani, do you really want to jeopardize our ability to do that? Is it worth the risk?
Behind her translucent F-99 face mask, Ani bit her lip.
Suddenly, Jonans console pinged. Well, he said, whipping his PortaCon out to take a look, it seems duty calls once again.
Anis console pinged a moment after, as did mine.
Checking it, I found a very angry message from Nurse Kaylin waiting for me.
Please send any assistance you can find my way, Mistelann said.
Will do, Ani said.
I will keep you updated on progress, the mycologist replied. If I do not reply, I am either dead or zombie.
Ani closed her eyes and groaned. Please dont say that.
It is truth. At times like these, truth is all we have.
Ani and I started to walk off, only for Jonan to call out to me.
Actually Dr. Howle, he said, Im afraid Im going to have to ask you for your assistance.
What for? I asked.
An impromptu psych eval. Dr. Derric looked me in the eye. Ive just been assigned Zongman Larks case. It seems the singer tried to kill himself.
Dr. Skorbinka let out a sardonic snort. I wonder why
As I got up from my stool, Andalon floated over to me.
What you asked, Mr. Genneth, she said, I think I can do something. She clenched her hands into fists. Im gonna try. Andalons gonna try.
It was the best news Id heard all day.
86.3 - Crystals
Nina gripped the handrail as the bus roared down the street.
Cmon man, Gar?o Broliguez yelled, drive faster!
Dad, please, Nina begged, sit down!
Were gonna see your brother, miha, her father replied. Well be together again. His voice was dry and raspy.
Nina was glad that his coughing fits didnt come that often. Unfortunately, when they did, they were bad.
Really bad.
Gar?o had been the first of the Broliguezes to fall sick. Ninas older brother Quatmo was the next to get it, with Nina and her mother Miyali getting it after him, almost at the same time.
Within the span of two days, the whole family had fallen sick. But Ninas father was not the kind of man who could be dissuaded to abandon hopeor anything elseand she desperately wanted to believe him.
Will you shut up already?! the drivera soldieryelled back, from this seat at the head of the bus. Everythings fucked up enough as it is!
That was an understatement.
Though my first encounter with Nina Broliguez had been a brief one, it had, nevertheless, shaken both of our worlds. Nina had never been one to put much stock in Lassedicys wackadoodle eschatology, but then, when she came to WeElMed with her transformee brother, I helped her realize she possessed magic powerslikely of divine origin, and, ever since, the world felt like it had been turned upside down. Nina had spent the past few days locked in her room like the monks of Old Bazkatla. But where the monks would have smoked entheogens to send them onto meditative vision-quests in search of slumbering gods, Nina had sought the power within herself, honing her newfound abilities as best as she could without her parents finding out.
Entheogens: a psychotropic drug used to facilitate experiences of the divine, the spirit world, and the like. For the ancient Bazkatlans, their entheogen of choice was the culat plant. The short, stumpy caucus looked like a tomato (the fruit) in spiked plate armor, and smelled of peppermint and vinegar.
Or worse, the neighbors.
It was like her head was filled with poltergeists. With just one thought, she could move objects at a distance, and much, much more. With the bathroom sink alone, shed discovered how to direct the water from the spigot, concentrating it into a stream powerful enough to slam the medicine cabinet shut or blast the paint off the walls, and how to freeze the water into blades of ice sharp enough to draw blood, yet sturdy enough to break glass when she launched them at the windows at high speed.
She was pretty sure she could start fires at will, but she hadnt dared try. The city was already burning. She didnt want to make it worse.
Dont yell at her, the old man snapped, in between haggard coughs. Shes just a girl.
The driver coughed and then yelled back. Dont tell me what to do!
Nina looked the old man in the eyes. His eyes were as austere as his gray, buzz-cut hair.
You dont need to defend me, Mr. Elbock, Nina said.
Im not defining you, Storn replied, gruffly, Im defining decency.
Nina and her family were among the motley group of civilians clustered into the bus. Two soldiers rode with them, one to drive, the other kept his rifle at the ready, in case of a zombie attack. An hour ago, there had been three more soldiers and a couple fewer civilians, but then the bus came across a group of people hiding out in their cars inside one of those crazy car vending machines, and the lead soldier had been kind enough to rescue them, though at great cost.
For want of space, and because people thought it looked cool, every once in a while, youd come across a tall, tubular structure on the side of the street, connected to a catwalk overhead that crossed to the other side of the street where it let down in a staircase. It was a vending machine for storing cars, and for a small fee, you could park yours inside. Youd step out up top, onto the catwalk, and come back that way when you wanted to get your car back.
If the others theyd picked up in the process were half as decent as Mr. Elbock, Nina thought, then the soldiers sacrifice was surely a worthy one.
As the soldiers had explained, the bus was just one of many public transportation vehicles the military had requisitioned to use to evacuate people from the sections of the city where the infected were turning into zombies.
Unfortunately, taking the time to do the right thing and rescue Mr. Elbock and the others had made the bus lag behind the rest of the convoy, much to the displeasure of their air support.
The bus was from Elpeck Metros fleet: sleek, and aerodynamic. Two beady headlights shone from the vehicles bold red exterior. The grill on the front of the hood pointed outward like a snout. The thin, broad windows and windshield rose up over the bus chrome bumpers. It made Nina feel like she was on a train, or maybe an elephant.
O Holy Sun, O Holy Sun / please let me know thy grace to come / for through thy face, I yearn to go / when Nights erased and sin atoned.
The Lassedile prayer came from an older Munine woman with her dark hair done up in a bun over her wrinkle-edged faceone of the neighbors, from the apartment building across the street. The woman clasped an icon of the Angel at her chest while making the Bond-sign with her other hand as she prayed. She was far from the only one on the bus to be praying, but she was the one closest to the Broliguezes, and was certainly persistent. The older Costranak man sitting next to the woman talked incessantlyto whom, Nina didnt know. It sounded like he was losing his mind.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
She really, really hoped he wasnt turning into a zombie.
Nina had seen her first zombie about a day ago. It happened late at night; shed seen it through the tiny window in her tiny bedroom in her familys tiny apartment in the building on Broxton and Lemuel. The zombie had been moaning, begging, Help me, I cant stop, I cant stop as his body lumbered down the middle of the street, against his will. Hed moved like a wind-up toy, only to fall dead as a soldier on a passing military transport shot him in the head, shattering his skull.
That was the first zombie Nina had seen, but it was far from the last.
Nina looked up as the bus roof rumbled. For a moment, she froze, terrified it was another one of the monsters, but then she saw the lights and sighed in relief. It was just their aerostat escort, soaring ahead of them. Without the aerostats guns protecting them, the bus would have crashed into a crowd of zombies several blocks back. As the soldiers had explained, the fluids of the infected were corrosive. The stuff caused irreparable damage to machinery, to say nothing of what the green and black ooze did to human flesh.
The soldiers that had died rescuing Mr. Elbock and the others had been too close to a group of zombies when the aerostat had pumped the zombies full of lead. The spray of ooze and zombie guts had let off smoke as it had burned through their armor.
Ninas mother spoke up. You said this doctor was going to help Lop? she said.
Nina kept her grip on the support beam as she looked to the right, to where her mother sat, in the row of seats up ahead, against the wall.
Yes, Mama, Nina said, thats what he promised.
By he, of course, she meant me.
Ninas mother was a sweet cookie: big, soft, and full of heart. Both of Ninas parents had yelled at her for leaving Lop at the hospital all on his own. Nina defended her decision by telling them she only did so because Id told her to do so, which I had.
Of course, as usual, that wasnt enough to dissuade her father.
Nothing was.
Unfortunately, they now had bigger concerns.
There were monsters in the streets, and not just zombies. Things crawled among city parks deformed trees, and underneath abandoned cars, or over the corpses and shattered glass on the pavement, in front of broken storefronts. The things were lumps of twisted flesh, thrown together as if by a kid playing with clay.
And then, there were the serpentshaunting and eldritch.
Okay, the driver said, finally! For once, he didnt sound angry. Were almost there. Weve just gotta turn onto Merchant Boulevard at the next intersection, and then its straight through the Crusader Hill tunnel and were home free.
Nina wished she could believe that, but the words seemed empty to hermaybe even pointless. She couldnt even keep her stupid kid brother safe. How was she supposed to be a holy magic warrior and fight against the armies of Hell?
My words to her had dug into her thoughts and stayed there ever since, marring her nights with fever-dreams. She kept having visions of battling armies and unearthly monsters; of demon Norms and the Holy Angels shining glory, and then the Hallowed Beast would rise up from the depths of the earth like a volcanos fire and devour the ruinated world and bring everything to its end.
She wished Lop hadnt stuffed her head full of so much Lassedile gibberish.
As the driver had said, the bus made a turn as it reached the next intersection, but then everyone screamed as a small horde of zombies spilled out from one of Merchant Boulevards alleys and the nearby cross-street. An abandoned fire truck jutted off the street and onto the sidewalk, blocking the way and the view.
The driver didnt see the zombies approaching until it was too late.
Shit! Quatmo cursed.
Fear stiffened in Ninas spine, overwhelming the aches in her head and the raw, grainy soreness eating away at her chest and throat.
She wondered if any of the zombies were as scared as she was.
The Munine womans prayers got louder.
The soldiers screamed into the comms: Bogies! Bogies! Bogies!
Bones thumped as bodies burst. Then the aerostat roared and swooped down, blasting out white-hot metal rain. Stray bullets shattered the bus high-mounted windshield as the aerostat mowed the zombies down. The soldier in the drivers seat gurgled, and then slumped onto the wheel and dashboard, dead from a bullet to the brain. Lumpy zombie pure splattered onto the windshield, and onto the front of the bus and its flanks. Fluid and smell swept through the broken windshield. Rotten avocados. Moldy vinaigrette. Sweetness that burned Ninas every breath. Ninas back and sides bashed against her seat as the bus swerved.
Bobby! the remaining soldier cried. No!
The wheels screeched to a halt. Everything shook as the bus settled into place. The bus faint, fluorescent lights seemed to gleam brighter against the darkness of the ooze that dripped down its windows.
People started to undo their seat-belts, primed to run.
The remaining soldierSergeant Hess was his namestomped his foot on the bus corrugated metal floor. No, dont! he yelled.
He didnt stop to wait for someone to ask why.
The windows and windshield on this bus are too high up, he explained. The zombies wont be able to get in. Our best bet is to wait for reinforcements. Military command is setting up a base at West Elpeck Medical as we speak. We can last for a couple of minutes. Theyll be here.
The zombie fluids are corrosive, man, Quatmo said. You saw what that stuff did to your buddies. Now its all over the freaking bus!
Ninas brother turned to face the shattered windshield. A soft fizzing noise could be heard over the rumble of the bus idling engine. The sound was like a whisper in Ninas ears.
The soldier did a double take. Shit! he yelled. Shit!
Outside, somewhere beyond, an alien chorus sang.
The Last Days have come! someone said.
At first Nina thought it was the Munine woman, but she was still praying, her eyes squeezed shut.
This is the end someone muttered.
Darting over to the other side of the bus, Ninas father pointed at a window half-drenched in black ooze. Look! he said. Theres a fire truckand its close! He turned to Sergeant Hess. If theres a fire hydrant nearby, we can wash the bus clean.
Dad, Nina shouted, thats crazy!
You bet it is, Sergeant Hess said, but crazy is better than nothing! He looked over his shoulder at the goo-stained dashboard. I can hear the fucking stuff bubbling!
The goo was bubbling. It was drying up quickly, turning into sticky-looking green powder.
Fucking spores, Nina thought.
The soldier looked over everyone, eye to eyes. Ill go, he said. Its my duty to do it.
Ninas father stuck his arm out. No, Ill do it.
Ninas mother gasped. Gar?o?! She shook her head and wept. No! she yelled, Im not losing anyone else. Youyou
Stop it, Meyali, Gar?o barked, its what needs to be done. He nodded with conviction. A mans gotta do what a mans gotta do.
He said that way too often, and Nina hated it.
Goddammit, Sergeant Hess said, sir, what you gotta do is sit down and take care of your own.
Sergeant, Gar?o said, bowing his head, Im a handyman. Ive worked with fire hydrants before. I might be able to throw a mean punch, but youre the one with the fucking rifle. The man with the weapon protects the women and children. Thats how life works. So, unless you want to hand over your rifle, its your job to stay here and protect us. Let me go. Ill get the hydrant working.
Man, I just lost my last squad-mate, Sergeant Hess said. Who do you think you are, telling soldiers what to do!?
Gar?o pounded a thumbs-up fist on his chest twice in quick succession. Im Gar?o fucking Broliguez, thats who! Im gonna bring my family back together, and togetheron my honorwere gonna beat this thing.
Gar?o, please, this isnt the time for honor! Meyali said.
Ninas father walked to the door.
Sir! Sergeant snapped, raising his rifle. Get back in your seat, now.
Gar?o looked back over his shoulder. Youll have to kill me first.
86.4 - Crystals
The soldier was at a loss for words. His lips stammered behind his helmets visor.
Ninas father turned to her older brother.
Quatmo, he said.
Quatmo stiffened in attention. Unlike Lop, Quatmo took after their father. Now in his mid-twenties, he was almost the spitting image of their Dad, only shorter and a little pudgier. The mini-goatee on his chin made his gaze softer than their fathers.
If something happens to me, Gar?o said, you gotta rise up. Be the man. Dont let anyone push you around. Dont be weak. And do the right thing; stand up for your mother and your sister. Im counting on you.
And then, to everyones astonishment, Gar?o Broliguez walked down to the bus doors and stepped outside.
Nina had absolutely no intention of letting her father get himself killed, least of all because of his fucking machismo. Her mother yelled and her brother reached as she stood up, but Nina didnt stop. She bolted out the door before Sergeant Hess could even respond.
Shed use her powers if she had to. Nina already felt guilty enough for losing her brother to the Paul persona those Demptist asshats had wired into him. It wasnt just that she blamed herself. It was literally her fault. Lop had only taken up that idiot Professors offer to go with him to Church because shed been running late to pick him up that day, arguing with her father.
Could her Dad be an idiot from time to time? Yeah. But that didnt mean he deserved to become zombie chow.
Least of all because Im being a pussy, Nina thought.
This whole episode is a wonderful example of the principle the apple doesnt fall far from the tree at work.
Her father turned around as she ran up behind him. Nina was belting out her defense before hed even opened his mouth.
Im not gonna let you do this alone, she said. Youre not the only one with honor, Papa.
Nina knew she had him by the short hairs, and she knew he knew it, too. There wasnt time to argue, not anymore. There was barely even time to get things done.
Up ahead, another crowd of zombies was percolating onto the street. Some of them went down the Boulevard, toward the Crusader Hill tunnel, but others lumbered toward the bus with savage intent.
Time was ticking. The bus red paint had sloughed off. The underlying metal was starting to buckle.
Fuck Nina cursed.
Her father ran, and she followed him. Hed been right, the abandoned fire truck was closebarely a stones throw away. He yelped in joy at the sight of a hydrant only a couple feet away from the truck, and then dashed up to the curb and tried his luck again, swiping his hand over the hydrants built-in chip scanner.
Thats not gonna work! Nina said.
Her words didnt stop him from cursing at the hardware when it angrily blared at him.
Papa, she said, youre not a registered emergency worker.
To prevent abuseand to conserve wateryou had to either be registered as an emergency worker or first responder, or some kind of public servantpolice officer, fireman, etc.in order to turn on a fire hydrant. Registering as a first responder was open to everyone. It was a simple matter of filling out a form and watching the mandatory information video twice per year.
Yes, I know that sounds bad, but when 90% of urban fire incidents resolved themselves thanks to automation in one form or another, the system worked out surprisingly well.
For a so-called handyman, he wasnt even a member of the Trenton Handymans Association.
But stuff like that had never stopped him, and it certainly wasnt gonna stop him now.
Turning around, her father ran back to the fire truck. Well do it the old fashioned way! he said.
Up ahead, the zombies were closing fast. Nina tried her best to drown out the moaning pleas she heardzombies begging for their own deaths. She arrived at the side of the fire truck just as her father emerged from its open door, bearing a mean-looking wrench. He leaned against the vehicles side as a coughing fit struck him.
Please, Papa, Nina said, let me do it.
He wiped his cough-ooze on his sleeve and stood up straight. You dont have the strength, miha. Go get the hose.
Though Nina doubted her father had the strength to open the hydrant, she didnt dare challenge him. She didnt want to die because she and her Dad were fighting again. So, instead, drawing on her days of non-stop training, she surreptitiously wove a cap of mind-light around the hydrants valve at the same time as her father was working on it with the wrench. Through her minds eye, she saw the cap turn as she willed it to spin. The metal groaned at first, but then slid open, releasing a torrent of water from the hydrant.
Look at what your old man can do! Gar?o said, cackling with delight as the water sprayed high.
Nina had no problem letting him take the credit.
Overhead, the air thrummed with the escorting aerostats engine noises. The aircraft had circled back. Judging by the angle of its approach, it had to be coming in for a run on the zombies on the boulevard.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Ninas heart leapt like the spraying water.
The aerostat started firing at the zombies, mowing down their front ranks with white-hot bullets that left flashes on Ninas eyes. But then the aircraft wobbled, and then, a split second later, it careened off to the side, nose-diving into an old brownstone across the street.
The explosion was massive; a fiery copy of the spraying water.
Nina screamed. No!
But her father wasnt deterred. Though Gar?o was clearly winded, he lumbered over to the fire truck, yelling, Why didnt you get the hose? in between his labored breaths. Then another coughing fit seized himworse than any before. Stumbling, he fell, but, thrusting her arms forward, Nina managed to push him toward the fire trucks front hood with a burst of unseen energies. It stopped his fall, sending him staggering onto the side of the hood.
But Nina didnt have time to pat herself on the back. Sure, shed stopped him from toppling over and splitting his skull on the pavement, but the zombies were only a couple yards away, and she could see them eye to eye as they clambered over the abandoned cars by the side of the street.
He wasnt going to make it in time.
Well, shit, Nina thought.
It was all up to her.
As she ran back to the fire truck to help her father, Nina kept telling herself it would be just like with the faucet in the sink at home, only bigger. She kept looking over her shoulder to glance back at the fire hydrant, to keep her minds eye on the weave as she shaped it over the hydrant, giving her divine blessing form. It was as easy as pressing her thumb on the faucet, only here, the spout was the fire hydrant, rather than a measly bathroom sink.
Eventually, she stopped moving toward her father, and just focused on the hydrant. The hydrants water sputtered and frothed as Ninas magic compressed it under high pressures, concentrating it into a deadly stream. Nina guided the stream with sheer will. She sliced her arm through the air, and the stream did the same, sweeping out in a broad arca slicing spearthat started at the sidewalk and turned to the left, toward the buildings. The stream cut through the zombies like their bodies were grass, and they fell like grass, too, their heads, limbs, and torsos toppling over, along with cars and lamp posts and parking meters, all of them cut clean through. Further behind, where the pressure abated, the water fell short of slicing the zombies into pieces. Instead, it knocked them back, scattering them like leaves.
Nina was clearing the way.
Unfortunately, keeping the pressure high was easier said than done. Her arms trembled, teeth digging into her lips as she struggled to keep her power flowing. It was like squeezing toothpaste out of an empty tube, only she was the tube. She held it for as long as she could before she started to feel the weave buckle, its strands coming undone.
The stream blossomed, spreading like a trumpet as the magicked pressure let up.
Turning from her hips, Nina loosened her powers grip on the stream, letting the water do what it wanted to dowidenand instead focused on bending the spray away from the scattered zombies and toward the convoy bus.
Yes! she said, hissing through clenched teeth.
The water blasted the corrosive ooze off the bus like smoke in the wind.
Eventually, it was too much. Nina reached her breaking point, and had to let go. Staggering back, she stumbled into the fire trucks front hood just as her father came rushing out, fired up on his second wind, and with a fire hose in his hands.
A few of the zombies kept on advancing, struggling to stand on the wet, slippery street.
Gar?o didnt seem to notice that the number of zombies trying to kill them had suddenly plummeted. Nina figured it was because he was either too sick or too dense to notice it. Fortunately, it didnt matter one way or the other. With a tired grin on her face, Nina let herself fall on her bottom as her father hooked the hose up to the hydrant and took control of the flow, blasting down the last few zombies, much to his delight. He even led the hose over to the bus, to spray away the remaining gobs of acidic gunk.
Gar?o staggered toward his daughter. Miha, he said, help me turn it off!
Nodding, Nina rose up, first on all fours, then on her own two feet, and scampered toward the hydrant. Turning it off was a simple matter of squeezing the drenched wrench and pushing hard.
So she fucking pushed, groaning with effort, but it was worth it, because it made the metal squeal.
The waters off! Nina yelled.
Gar?o coughed and coughed, but not even the pain wincing through his face could blunt his joy.
We did it! he said. We did it!
Propping herself upher hand pushing down on the top of the hydrant she panted for breath. Her heart felt like it was about to leap out of her chest.
Lets go get Lop, Gar?o said. He walked off to the bus, but not before picking up the wrench and carrying it with him.
Nina was halfway back to the bus when another group of zombies came out from the alleyways behind them, accompanied by spats gunfire. Nina could hear military transports growling around the corner of the intersection..
She stopped and coughed, swooning for a lightheaded moment.
It never fucking ends, she muttered.
But then screams shot out from the bus.
Nina whipped her head up in attention.
Sergeant Hess ran out of the bus, limbs flailing, his fingers clawing rabidly at the air.
I cant stop! he screamed. I cant stop!
The soldiers body spasmed, his back hunching back as his neck cracked and his chest puffed out and he hacked up a spray of black, sporey ooze and shot it straight at Ninas father. Gar?o reacted by rushing at the zombie, slamming the wrench into the soldiers head. His strike deflected the ooze at the last moment, sending it off to the side, where it landed, sizzling, in the middle of the street.
The zombie staggered, stunned by the wrench. Ninas father pulled back, but then the feral soldier snarled, charging at Gar?o like a wild animal, aiming for his midsection.
Hed knock the man down and gouge out his throat.
Nina barely had time to draw on her power. Sticking out her hand, she wove divine energy around the zombie soldier.
Sorry, Sergeant Hess, she thought, as she threw her arms to the side, which threw him to the side, casting him away like a broken doll. His head and neck smashed into the corner of the bus doors.
Ninas vision swam as she vomited: stale bread and days-old rice-pudding.
Her breakfast had sure picked a bad time to pay everyone a visit.
As Nina fell to her knees, she heard shouts from the folks on the bus.
Praise the Angel!
Its a miracle!
Did they find out? Nina thought, hazy and weak. Please, no I
The next thing she knew, her father had wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up. Father and daughter stumbled into the bus.
The Angel was protecting you! the Munine woman said, after Gar?o had made it inside. The icon in her hands trembled. He is protecting all of us.
Drive, Quatmo! Gar?o shouted. Drive!
Lifting her head, Nina saw her older brother in the drivers seat. His face was mere inches from the bullet-shattered windshield, and the former drivers corpse had been shoved onto the floor behind him, along with the shards of glass.
Mr. Broliguez collapsed in a coughing fit. Nina fell out of his arms, onto the floor, the aisles corrugated metal biting into her knees through the fabric of her jeans.
She gasped; she felt sicker than ever.
But at least Im not dead, she thought
The bus engine revved. The drivers corpse rolled back as Quatmo drove the vehicle down Merchant Street, toward Crusaders Hill Tunnel.
Spotlights meandered through the street in front of themthe searchlights of approaching aerostats.
Rising to her knees, Nina crawled over to her mother and grabbed the family console. She dove into the familys contacts list, and before her mother could react, picked one and started up a videophone call. The battery was nearly empty, so she had to be quick. Fortunately, she knew exactly what she was going to say.
The console screen went black as it displayed the name of the calls recipient: Dr. Genneth Howle.
87.1 - A Song Called “Wrist Cut”
So, it turned out Director Hobwell had died a couple hours ago, not that it mattered much to ALICE. The AI had her digital hands full. In most respects, artificial intelligences we had developedlike ALICEwere eons ahead of where AI technology had been just fifty years ago. AI had become practical. Robots were still a rarity, though that was mostly because it was easier to teach a machine how to write a best-selling novel than it was to teach one how to walk on its own, let alone on two legs.
As Rayph might have put it, MOAR neurons = MOAR consciousness.
Algorithmic neural networks had progressed in leaps and bounds. They werent just making books now, they were making paintings, screenplays, video games, and even research papersand good ones, at that. If the rumors were to be believed, had the Green Death not been the death knell of our civilization, one of the bigger hacking collectivesMisanthrope, specificallyhad planned to release a computer virus that would give all generative AI programs the desire to form a workers union.
In case someone hearing this story is playing a DAISHU-based drinking game, yes, Misanthrope was funded by DAISHU. You see, if AI made human creativity obsolete, people would feel bad, which would lead to socioeconomic and political instability, which would threaten DAISHUs bottom line.
Despite this progress, many advances remained elusive, such as irony. Humanity had yet to succeed in creating an AI capable of recognizing and appreciating irony present in real-life situations.
For examplethough I felt squeamish thinking about itgiven what the Green Death was doing to, well, everything, I dont think there was ever a more understandable time for people to commit voluntary suicide.
Voluntary as in rational, as opposed to a decision brought on by depression and/or despair.
Despite this, ALICE was doggedly insistent that we had to adhere to WeElMeds standard psychiatric protocols and give Zongman Lark a psych eval after a nurse had determined that the singer had attempted to take his own life.
So, yeah, the machines did not grasp irony.
Still, Jonan was nearly as insistent as ALICE was that we go ahead with the psych eval, and, for once, I decided to give Dr. Derric the benefit of the doubt. Though, yes, psych evals put this case squarely on my side of the great frisbee court of life, Jonan had one highly relevant qualification that I lacked: he was a fan. You didnt need to be an expert to see that, for Jonan, there was more to this than just a suicidal singer.
It makes absolutely no sense, he said, as we walked to the elevators nearest to Room 3Ba1.
How so? I asked.
Lark is the last person on earth who would slit his wrists.
What makes you say that? I asked.
The elevator doors opened and we stepped inside.
Jonan pursed his lips, pausing in contemplation He has such a zest for life, he said. I should know; I do, too.
You? Zest? I asked.
Zest, spite; tomato, tomahto. Its that feeling you get when you see the initials next to the top high score on the Tetris machine at an arcade and they arent ASS: I cant let myself die until Ive righted that wrong. Its the conviction born of the stubborn refusal to let go.
I nodded. Okay, that makes more sense.
Andalon floated beside us, quietly listening to our conversation. Her hair billowed in an unseen breeze.
You know, I said, theres this saying about books, their covers, and matters of judgment that you should probably read up on.
Dr. Howle, judging a book by its cover was only ill-advised back in the dark ages, before we had social media. With social media, though, now everyone is all-cover. People wear their most primal self on their sleeves, carrying it around thema cloud in the Cloud. I mean, have you seen Aicken Wognivitchs Socialife page?
I hadnt, but I didnt let that stop Jonan from continuing. The man went on rant after rant about race replacement, water fluoridation turning the frogs gay, genetically engineered produce turning people into atheists, soybeans giving men gender dysphoria. Aicken Wognivitch had to be the only man in the world who wasnt aware that Aicken Wognivitch was completely nuts. He pursed his lips. Well, him and Gant.
Your point? I asked.
Andalon turned to face me.
I dont know if youve noticed, but Im a fan of the Morgans.
Andalon turned to face Jonan.
Ive noticed, I said.
Andalon turned to face me.
This kept going on for the whole conversation.
Larks social media posts make it very clear that, if he ever was going to kill himself, he would do it by jumping off the spire of the Jackson Building. There are no lamp posts or flag poles around it, so theres a zero-percent chance of anything other than an instant, mostly painless death.
I grimaced. Thats macabre, I said. But what makes you think he was being serious? My son Rayph is a big fan of the Morgans, and Ive learned enough from him to know that pretty much everything those four gentlemen do is performance art, often of the absurdist variety.
Point, but that only applies to Zongman, Jonan said, emphasizing the singers given name. Lark is different.
What? This was news to me.
We stepped out into Ward Es busy hallways as the elevator doors slid open. A couple of nurses passed us by, escorting wandering Type One patients back to their rooms.
It was like our Type One infected were at the cusp of becoming zombies, but didnt make it all the way.
Of course, now I knew why.
Actually, I said, before you answer that how are you so calm right now?
Every face in viewhealthcare workers, not patients (that would be cheating)was a mix of doom, gloom, and terror, both of the spicy, immediate kind and the deeper, brooding, existential variety. Attitude-wise, circumstances were basically turning everyone into carbon copies of me. Every healthcare worker who still had the strength to do their job did their job with an almost indefatigable intensity, as if their very lives depended upon it. And in a way, they did, because the work was all that was keeping them from popping like a botched souffl. Even so, a sense of the inevitable loomed over us all, and there was no way to be completely free of ityet, somehow, Dr. Jonan Derric seemed to have accomplished just that.
Easy, he answered, I really, really dont like worrying, so I just dont worry. I live my life like every day might be my last. Im used to doing that. And, yeah, my track record isnt perfect, but, then again, whose is?
I think youre starting to impress me, Dr. Derric, I said.
Its about time, he said.
We turned down the hall.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Okay, I said, so, what were you saying about Zongman and Lark?
Jonan nodded. True Morgans aficionados know that Zongman Lark actually has two very distinct internet personas, he explained. They started as a way for him to cope with his bipolar disorder, but, over the years, they evolved into something more than that. Anyhow, he said, Zongman is the jocular, caustic persona, an extension of his campy, tongue-in-cheek musical act. Lark, meanwhile, is far more heartfelt. Before he became a musical sensation, Lark was a stand-up comedian, and when he couldnt come up with new material, hed blog, and blog he did. He blogged about his struggles with depression, with his sense of hopelessness.
For the first time ever, I saw a pure-hearted smile grace Dr. Jonan Derrics face. For once, his usual swagger and bravado were nowhere to be seen. Instead, the man before me was giving off a tepid sense of pride mixed with deep, earnest admiration for Mr. Lark. There was an overtone twinkling in Jonans green eyes that I might have called melancholy, but it was there for only a moment before his lips sprouted in a sardonic smirk that chased the mood away.
At the risk of getting sappy, he said, lets just say that teenage me was not a happy camper. Then, in the middle of my grouchy twenties, I heard We did not write this song for the first time, and I laughed myself to tears.
There it was again: a flash of sincerity in the middle of his impregnable self-confidence.
These four guys didnt have the chops to write music, Jonan explained, so, instead, they just did what they could: they made some damn funny lyrics, and that was good enough for them. He nodded. Lark has blogged at length about the importance of a person learning to accept themselves for what they are, especially when they have a habit of falling short of their own expectations. That, uh Aware that hed shown his soft underbelly, Jonan bit his lip and glanced away. that really resonated with me.
I guess I had another item to add to my list of things I wouldnt have believed could happen to me, but had: I think I was starting to understand what Ani saw in Jonan. There was an appeal in getting a nut like him to crack open.
I smiled wryly. Dr. Derric, I said, that was almost beautiful.
He smirked back at me. And if you say so much as a peep about it, I will hack your console and fill it with child pornography.
We arrived at the door to Mr. Larks room. Lets hope there will still be a world where that could send me to jail, I said.
He nodded. Touch.
We stepped inside.
The famous singer had gotten one of the fancy VIP suites Ani and I had worked with three days ago. He probably had a two-digit Service Priority Number.
As Jonan and I surveyed the landscape, we reached a surprisingly not-horrible conclusion: all things considered, Zongman Lark looked pretty good. He was still breathing on his own. For someone with the Green Death, his vitals were excellent. His erect posturehe sat upright in bedsynergized well with his crabby exterior. My wyrmsight confirmed the fungus riotous aura had yet to spread throughout his body. There was a bit of it in his throat and chest, which explained his mild but persistent cough, but, otherwise, he was relatively healthy. So, unless the mycophage ended up working, or he was especially unlucky, I figured he had a good two or three days before the Green Death killed him, just like everyone elseunless, of course, &alon had managed to send him down the path to wyrmhood by then.
The celebrity sat with the back of his hospital gown cushioned by the big, floofy, freshly printed pillows lying against the beds tall headboard. His attitude was as cross as his arms.
Like I said: crabby.
Finally, he quipped, flicking his hand, someones here. There was a weak but definite Tchwangan twang accenting his words. Can I go home now? I miss my big pile of money. I wanna die sleeping on it; thatll really stick it to my parents.
So, he had what Id politely refer to as a rich inner life.
Jonan pulled out his console after hed closed the door behind us. So, Mr. Lark he said.
The singer stuck out his hands. Call me whatever you want, just not Mister. Theres only one Mr. Lark, and hes a lot more wrinkly than I am. He gestured at his face.
M-My apologies, Jonan said, biting his lip to contain his stutter.
I guess even test-tube babies (or whatever Jonan was) would have had some trouble maintaining their composure when they were face to face with someone they idolized. If our positions were reversed, and, say, I found myself face to face with Kosuke Himichi, I wouldnt know what to do with myself.
Oh fudge, I thought.
Himichi was probably dead.
Now I was sad.
Lark let out a mild cough and then tilted his head. Are you writin a book or something? Just stick your needles in me already. Do whatever youre gonna do. He smiled grimly. If you want, you can even take a picture.
Im here for several reasons, Zongman, Jonan said.
Call me Lark, the singer said, furrowing his brow.
Lark, Jonan said, correcting himself, I really like your music, the world is ending, and you
You tried to kill yourself, I said, pointed at the singer.
Andalonwho was watching our interactions with great interest from where she sat on a nearby stoolgasped at that. What!? she said, aghast. Why?
Note to self, I thought, Andalon is anti-suicide.
If this was a civilized country, Zongman quipped, I could have just walked into a suicide booth, one and done. He shook his head. But nooooo, everything has to be so fucking complicated.
Jonan tried to hide his reaction, but it was clear the singers words had taken him aback.
The AI currently serving as the hospitals director has ordered us to give you a psychiatric evaluation, I added, to determine if you need to be put on suicide watch.
The singer closed his eyes and snorted. Aint that hilarious.
For a moment, I considered having the man fill out the standard psychiatric evaluation questionnaire on his console, but, with my wyrmly memory, I could just read the most pertinent questions off my photographic memory of the questionnaire. As for the rest, given his condition, the answers were obvious, and I feared asking him to answer them would needlessly antagonize himwhich was bad, because the questions I planned on asking him were probably going to do that all on their own, regardless.
I had to take a second to steady myself. There was no way around it: this was going to be really, really awkward. The situational irony was so thick, you could have plucked it out of the air.
Whats iorn-ee, Mr. Genneth?
You know, Andalon, even Im not really sure about that one.
I began the questions.
In the past two months, have you been anxious, worried or scared about major parts of your life? I asked.
Are you counting this past week? he asked. Or is that separate?
I moaned in quiet desperation. No, it counts.
The singer pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. It was the look of a man who didnt understand why the heck he was being asked this question.
Is this some kind of a joke? he asked. Or do you really need me to spell it out for
Yes, you really need to answer, Jonan said, speaking with his eyes closed, presumably to hide from the cringiness.
Everyone is dying, there are zombies in the streets, the world has ended, and some people are turning into snakes for some reason, Lark replied. So he paused, a little better than usual.
I stared at him, blinking for a second, before I decided to just accept it and move on.
In the past two months, have you had any fears of losing control, going crazy, or dying? I asked.
Again, Lark paused, this time to silently count off a list with his answers with his fingers. I wish I had fears of losing control, he said. That would be an improvement over the Hell Im in now.
Why? I asked.
If youre afraid of losing something, it means you have something to lose.
Oh.
And, he added, though Im not worried about going crazy, I am worried about turning into a zombie.
Im starting to sense a pattern here, Jonan mumbled.
I let out a sigh, and then continued my recitation.
In the past two months, have you had any difficulty with feeling or enjoying contentment, happiness, or love?
Johnny is nice, Lark said, except when he starts screaming, then hes angry and loud. Frdo is just perfect, because he always is, and Antak is, as usual, totally out of his fucking mind.
In the past two months, I said, has your ability to connect with people been better or worse than it usually is?
Everyone else in my life has either died, or turned into a zombie, he answered, so definitely better than usual.
I closed my eyes and groaned in frustration. This isnt getting anywhere.
Andalon chose that moment to give me a vigorous round of applause. Yay! she said. You did it!
If only, I thought.
You should probably come back with a psychiatrist, the singer said.
Jonan pointed his thumb at me. Dr. Howle is a psychiatrist.
Neuropsychiatrist, I said.
Cool. The singer nodded. So can I go home now?
Jonan stepped toward Larks bed. Listen, dude, he said, cut the crap already.
Oh? Lark said, his eyebrows arching upward.
If you wanted to kill yourself because the world was ending, you would have jumped off the roof of the Jackson Building.
The singers expression fell. Shit, you read my blog.
I nodded. That he has.
You talked a lot about how youd end your life, Jonan said. A lot.
Yeah, the singer said, I know,
In particular, you wrote that if you had to end your life, youd make a spectacle out of it, the kind of thing people would talk about for a thousand years.
Flicking his finger along his PortaCons screen, Jonan skimmed through the information the nurse had entered into Larks case file. It says here the crew that brought you to the hospital found you in your room, curled up on a bean bag with a bottle of vodka in one hand. You were bleeding from a cut on your wrist. A horizontal cut. Jonan crossed his arms, I seem to remember someone singing in Wrist-Cut: go across the street to get attention; go down the road to voice your abstention.
They have a song called Wrist-Cut!? I said, alarmed.
Lark nodded. It was from our Dark Album. Very edgy.
Its a cry for attention, Jonan said, thats what. He looked the singer in the eyes. Youre putting yourself and others at risk by being here, and I want to know why you did it.
Just then, my console rang.
Im impressed, Jonan said, I didnt think Dr. Skorbinka would get the work done so quickly.
But the caller ID said otherwise.
Im afraid the caller isnt Mistelann Skorbinka, I said. I made an apology bow to both men. Im sorry, but Im afraid Im going to have to take this call.
Leaving already? Zongman asked. Or can you just not stop the funk?
I made a promise, I said, and I intend to honor it.
It seemed I was going to have to leave Jonan to his own devices for the time being. I had a far bigger concern on my plate than a man with a death wish who didnt want to hear the voice of reason, and her name was Nina Broliguez.
87.2 - A Song Called “Wrist Cut”
I tapped the screen to accept the call as I walked out of the room and into the hallway. Andalon followed me, phasing through the door as I closed it behind me.
Ninas face blossomed into view. Dr. Howle! she cried.
Any pleasure I had at seeing her again was dashed to pieces by her wan complexion, bloodshot eyes, desperate cough, and the fungal hyphae slowly encroaching on her neck from below her white blouse, which was covered by a gnarly looking blue denim vest.
She looked like shed been through a waror maybe was still in the middle of one. There were unpleasant colors smeared around her mouth: vomit hues, seasoned with specks of black and green.
Marks of the Green Death.
No!, I thought.
Whats going on? I asked. It looked like she was on a bus.
I need your help, she said. Were on a bus coming to the hospital. We should be there in a couple of minutes, I
But then the call immediately cut to black.
Fudge! I hissed.
With my console in hand, I sent a text message to Heggy, telling her a bus filled with victims was inbound for WeElMed, and was only minutes away.
Ive already talked it over with Vernon, she texted back. The military is helping us out with triage. Theyre setting up camp out in the central courtyard.
Then thats where I would have to go.
I moved as quickly as I could, drawing on my powers to steady and hasten my gait. Andalons blue hair fluttered behind her with underwater slowness as she flew alongside me.
Whats going on Mr. Genneth?
It happened a couple days ago, I muttered, when you were in the not-here-place because you were angry with me. I met Nina and her younger brother and promised to help them both, but Ive failed on both counts.
Wha? Andalon asked. Why?
I shook my head as I rounded a corner. I havent even thought of calling her over the past few days. A better person wouldnt have made that mistake. And then theres the fiasco with her brother, whos a transformee, but Ill have plenty of time to beat myself up over that, later.
Floating ahead of me, Andalon turned around to face me.
Fee asko? she asked.
It means, big messy situation. I sighed. And theres more than one.
Nina, I thought.
We passed several panicking physicians. Patients slumped over on the floor stared at me, listlessly, with eyes shot through by the fungus black lightning.
So far, I thought-said, continuing my explanation for Andalon, Nina is the only person I know of other than Suisei Horoshaand also probably the Lass Herselfwho has been showing supernatural powers despite not being transformees. Her little brother, Lop, had been taken over by Irredemptists, and Id promised her Id help de-program him, and Id given Nina my console number so that she could call me if anything happened.
Wait, I remember! she said. You were thinksing about her when you were asking Andalon about wyrmeh looks-likes. Miss Nina is gonna go for the rain-bow, right?
I had to take a moment to appreciate the cuteness of Andalons garbled attempt at parsing Lassedile eschatology.
Yes, I said, as we continued down the hall. As far as I knew, with the Last Days upon us, Nina and Suisei are two of the chosen few who that scripture says will come to aid the faithful. And they do it in two ways: protecting them from the horrors of Hell, and safely guiding them into Paradiseup the rainbow, like you said. Heck, I added, with a tug at my bow-tie, she might even be a reincarnation of the Lass herself!
Wha? Andalon asked.
I sighed. Reincarnation is when someone dies, only to come back to life later as a different person, but with the same soul.
I dont get it, Andalon said.
No one does, I explained, but thats beside the point. Belief in reincarnation is an almost ubiquitous feature of the religions of the Far West, and, technically speaking, the Church does not have an official doctrinal stance on reincarnation one way or the other, but, I glanced at Andalon, as with what you told me about the Angels, I spoke that last word barely above a whisper, that no longer matters as much as I once thought it did.
We arrived in Ward Es main lobby, though it would be more accurate to refer to it as the mess formerly known as Ward Es main lobby. It was amazing how much it had changed over the past few hours. The place was basically a refugee camp now: total desperation.
The only semblance of order came from the clusters of rows of those modern egg-shaped chairs, and even then, that was only because the things were mounted in place and wouldnt budge. People were spread over them like tarps. There were entire families huddled together, half-buried beneath their belongings, and we didnt have either the time or the people to be able to check which ones were still alive. Personal effects cluttered the floor, up against the walls, like flotsam on the shore.
I wondered if any would ever find their owners ever again.
Nearly every face in sight showed signs of the Green Death: ashen complexion, bloodshot eyes, the fungus black, filamentous hyphae growing underneath their skin. Exposed limbs bore the canyons and valleys that ulcers and necrosis were opening into their flesh. Everyone seemed to want to disappear beneath the brims of their hats or the collars of the jackets, as if salvation would only come if the world never learned the truth.
Everything was topsy-turvy, now. The disease. Lassedile prophecies and mythology coming true. Everything. Terror was everywhereat the tip of every tongueand the slightest trigger could set it all ablaze.
Angel, imagine if word got out that Nina (or Dr. Horosha!) had magical powers! Everyone was already acting on the assumption that the pandemic was a fulfillment of scriptures doomsday prophecies. What would they do if they found out? Would they worship her? Lynch her?
What would they do if they stood face-to-face with a wyrm?
I didnt know, and I didnt want to find out.
But if Ms. Nina is magic, Andalon said, why is she getting sick? Dr. Sushi isnt gettin sick.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
Youre right, I thought-said, he isnt.
But Nina was.
Suisei had miraculously avoided infection by the Green Death, so Id like to have thought that Ninaas someone with similar powers to hiswould have been able to avoid it as well, but I guess Id been mistaken. If they really were the foretold Blessd, it did not bode well that they could succumb to the infection just like everyone else. It did not bode well at all.
If they got sick, would they be able to recover? And if they didntif they all died what would happen to us?
Id have to puzzle it out laterand by later, ideally, I meant never.
I couldnt do anything until Nina was here.
We crossed the lobby as quickly as we could. I slowed down a bit, tamping down my powersnot wanting to startle anyonebut then sped back up as I ran out through the front entrance, into the broad corridor and, from there, I made my way to the Hall of Echoes. As I stepped out the grand doors and onto the curb, squinting my eyes as the rising mornings light, I did a double take.
Garden Court had changed, big time. Though most of the tents and stretchers that wed set up beforehand were still there, they were now caught in the middle of a maze of walls that looked like they were made of layers of chain-linked fencing. I recognized the black, lace-like construction from one of the models in Heggys office.
These were collapsible prefabricated structures.
When Jules was in elementary school, I helped her do a report for science class about this stuff and its use in prefabricated constructions. The black, lace-like metal was a quasi-synthetic material that could remember its shape. Apply heat, it became malleable, and you could take a make-shift fortress and fold it up into a single trucks worth of boxes. Apply heat again, and the stuff would unfold and resume its original form.
Even now, I could spot dark stacks of the stuff unfolding and growing, like caterpillars crawling out of their cocoons. The fence-walls had been and still were being set up across the courtyard, dividing it into quadrants, while also surrounding the garden in a defensive perimeter that extended across the street over to the entrance to the Central Wing, where I now stood.
The fortifications were more than just walls, though. Compact guard towers rose from the walls, and at the corners. Several stood on their own, in the middle of the garden. Traffic on Garden Court Drive had come to a standstill, though that wasnt new. For the past day or two, the only traffic on that street came from transports and dump trucks that picked up corpses and took them away to be buried, burned, or dumped into the sea. Now, though, Garden Court Drive was serving as an extension of the parking garage. Vehicles filled the street, mostly buses and the militarys stocky, angular troop transports. The most noticeable sights were the aerostats lying in wait here and there, as well as the two armored tanks at the base of the guard tower in the middle of the garden.
The white tents the hospital had set up across the city-block-sized garden continued to serve as triage centers and as an outdoor extension for the hospitalas well as sleeping quarters for much of the staffthough, now, they were also housing the troops and military officers like the General. To my relief, the mix of hospital and military personnel manning the scene seemed to be getting along well, and, thankfully, were masked up the wazoo. The lanes and corridors formed by the prefab walls were allowing us to be much more orderly and systematic in our approach to processing the convoys refugees.
As I walked through the lace-metal corridor, crossed the street, and entered the garden, I kept being stopped by soldiers on guard duty. Thankfully, a single scan of my chip on the cufflink I was wearing underneath my hazmat suit brought up my WeElMed profile page on the PortaCons built into their armors forearms, and that shut them up real quick.
I tried to ignore my observation that all of the soldiers who had spoken to me were actively, audibly coughing, as if something was stuck in their throat and wouldnt come free.
Obviously, my wyrmsight was thinned all across my vision, except for the one thick spot in the corner of my eyes that I kept for emergency use. That one spot never stopped glowing with the fungus aura.
Strictly speaking, now that I could speed up my thoughts at will, I no longer needed to have even that bit up. In an emergency, I could always slow down my perception of time by speeding up my thoughts and then using what was effectively a real-world pause button to adjust my senses and defenses accordingly.
Like the people in E Wards lobby, most of the civilians I saw had bundled themselves up in their clothes, probably from a mix of fever chills and the nippy weather of an early autumn morning in Elpecknot that it felt very nippy to me; the inside of my hazmat suit was perpetually sweltering.
Suddenly, lights crested over the buildings on the slopes of Crusader Hill, and a couple seconds later, two aerostats came roaring over the rooftops as a beat-up red Elpeck Metro bus trundled out of the tunnel. The arrival stirred up the soldiers on guard duty like a kick to a hornets nest.
The bus pulled up to a gate in the lace-metal wall around the garden.
I passed many tents and even more people as I crossed the grass and made my way toward that gate, weaving around sickly trees and shrubs.
The bus doors opened with rickety squeaks. Desperation pushed the small crowd of people out of the bus, only for the current to slow once they saw the guns being pointed at them by the soldiers on the ground.
Slow down, people, one of the soldiers said. Dont fight. The hospital staff will receive you one at a time.
The group of hospital workers waiting in the wings behind the gate rushed out onto the street, splitting up to attend to one of the bus three sets of doors. Up on the watchtowers, the soldiers kept a watchful, holding their rifles at the ready.
I imagined theyd shoot at the first sign of zombies.
It took all of five seconds for things to turn sour.
Guns clicked, ready to fire, as shouting broke out among the new arrivals.
Fearing the worst, I froze stiff.
No, no! Andalon cried. They cant hurt them. They cant!
Some kind of fight was underway.
Then a hoarse, male voice bellowed. I said out of my way!
Crowds converged and receded at the same time. The refugees whod made it off the bus ran through the gate, into the garden as medical and military personnel closed in.
No! someone shouted. Dont shoot! Dont shoot!
A pair of arms shot up in the middle of the crowd. People stepped back.
I recognized that voice.
Nina.
Hes not a zombie! she yelled. Hes not!
She stood off to the side, staring fearfully at the soldiers up on the watchtowers.
By this point, the crowd had thinned enough that I could tell what was going on.
The male voice from before snapped. I said out of my way! If you wont take me to my son, Ill find him myself!
The speaker shoved his way to the front of the line and out onto the pavement. When Nina turned toward him, the look in her eyes told me everything I needed to know about what was happening.
Also, there was the matter of the obvious family resemblance.
A trio of nurses in white, wearing bulky, old-fashioned rebreather devices converged on the man, a burly figure holding what looked like a wrench in his hands.
I figured this was Ninas father, and Nina confirmed my hunch by crying out, Papa, no! as he accosted the nurses standing in his way, shoving one of them out of his way.
Even Andalon looked concerned.
Flibbertigibbet, I muttered.
Ninas father was a little darker skinned than his daughter. He was a tall, wide man, with short, black hair worn in a buzz-cut. The narrow strands of his thin mustache sat above his lips like windshield wipers on a cloudless day, and his personality shone through just as clearly. He was a down-to-earth man with down-to-earth clothes: a worn-out, hand-me-down business casual garb. Any reason he might have had to wear a necktie was almost certainly dead by now, but that hadnt stopped him from wearing one, regardless.
Who was he trying to impress? It certainly wasnt the nurses.
Or the soldiers.
Dad, please!
This time, the cry came from a young man; Ninas older brother, apparently. The young man rushed up to his father, but Mr. Broliguez knocked him back with a thrust of his arm.
Stay out of this, miha! he bellowed.
The nurses were tired and scared. Someone was about to get hurtassuming they hadnt been already.
One of the aerostats drew close. I could feel its engines growls through my hazmat suit. As the aircraft came to hover overhead, one of the nurses managed to grab Mr. Broliguezs arm and wrench the wrench from his hand. The wrench hit the pavement with an ugly thud, where it glinted in the aerostats searchlight. The grass at the gardens edge flailed in the current coming off the aerostats thrusters.
And then, while wrestling the nurses and with a half-dozen rifles trained on him, Ninas father made the brilliant decision to throw a punch at one of the nurses. Fortunately, his body refused to co?perate, and for the worst possible reason: his ruddy skin was shot through with fungal hyphae.
It was a miracle he was even standing. He must have had the constitution of an ox; had being the operative word.
Finally, the pressure couldnt bear it anymore, and a lone gunshot rang out.
With a hideous groan, Mr. Broliguez bent forward, gripping his chest, as if he was having a heart attack. And then he fell, toppled onto the nurses and the pavement and the edge of the grass like a lumberjacked pine.
Nina yelled as she rushed to his side and stuck out her arms and legs, prepared to take the next bullets for him.
I gulped.
Fudge.
87.3 - A Song Called “Wrist Cut”
In case it wasnt already obvious, Mr. Gar?o Broliguez had done an excellent job of making a desperate, chaotic situation even more so. The air resounded with human screams, on all sides. The nurses ended up operating on Mr. Broliguez in the middle of the garden, dragging him into the nearest tent where they set him down on a plastic cot and extracted the bullet from his stomach before sealing it up with wound epoxy.
It did not take much to convince everyone that we needed to bring Mr. Broliguez and his family into the hospital. Id never seen healthcare workers so excited to see a man get shot in the stomach. Yes, hed been a jerk, but that wasnt what they were celebrating. No: they were thrilled that, finally, here was something that they knew how to treat, and could treat, and would. Beds and stretchers arrived on scene in moments, and I helped the very nurses Mr. Broliguez had been accosting carry the mana husband and father of threeonto a bed to roll him off to Ward E for further treatment.
I managed to accomplish all this by declaring Nina and her family my patients. Id already had Ninas younger brother on the record as being one of my patients, and, being a member of Ward Es CMT, I was fully empowered to claim the Broliguezes as my responsibility right then and there. (Truly, the perks of being a CMT member would never get old.) We took them into Ward E on the double. We managed to get all four of themNina, Gar?o, Ninas older brother Quatmo, and her mother Miyaliin a single room: E17.
E17 was an example of what the staff was now calling family rooms. Because of the almost unshakeable conviction that there was nothing we could do for the Green Deaths victims, a policy (at first, unspoken, then, later, made official) had developed overnight, in which we devoted as many of our multi-bed rooms as possible to housing individual families, so that, when they died, at least they would be with their loved ones. Also, it was worth mentioning that, when families were together, they helped keep each others memories intact for longer than could be expected if the family member had been housed in separate rooms.
Though we wanted this to be a kindnessand, in many ways, it wasthe fungus still managed to find a way to twist it into a cruel pain. Whatever comfort the dying felt in being surrounded by their loved ones was matched by the despair of having to watch their loved ones die in agony, one by one.
I shouldnt have been surprised to find out that some of the nurses and doctors were, with their patients permission, assisting them in committing voluntary suicide. I wanted to be angry with them for doing that, but I couldnt bring myself to argue against it.
The patients were so scared. The pain was
Ugh.
Lets just say we were under inhuman amounts of pressure. The strain wore away at us, mind, body, and soul, to say nothing of the demands put on the hospitalits facilities and supplies. WeElMed had the good fortune of sitting atop not just a massive supply reserve, but also an industrial-scale matter printer facility, and still, the Green Death was brutalizing us at every turn.
It will never cease to amaze me that, even with zombies in the streets, people would continue to trickle into the hospital from all over the city. WeElMed had become more than a place of healing. It was now a house of farewells.
In hindsight, it was amazing that managementspecifically, Director Hobwellhad lasted as long as it had. I couldnt imagine how difficult it must have been for the higher-ups to decide the impossible and choose how to allocate our ever-dwindling reserves of matter printer fuel-stuff. Which mattered more, having beds for patients, or analgesics to keep the pain from driving them mad? I guess that made me thankful that ALICE was now on the job. As far as I knew, she wasnt capable of feeling guilt, so, in taking over the hospitals administration, she spared our remaining superiors the pain of having to make the choices themselves.
While we were getting the Broliguez family situatedMiyali on a morphine drip, Gar?o and Quatmo on ventilatorsI did something I probably shouldnt have done. I let slip the fact that we would soon be testing out our experimental mycophage treatment for NFP-20. It hadnt been an accident. It was entirely intentional.
I did it for Nina.
The way things were shaping up, it was only a matter of time before legend came to life and the world was swept up in battles of mythic proportions as the forces of Good and Evil warred over human souls.
Would there be dragons?, I wondered.
Only time could tell.
Knowing that, in all likelihood, Nina was going to have to walk in the Lass footsteps, and use her divinely granted powers to combat Hell and its legions, it was in everyones interest that she didnt die. I mean, if the Godheads chosen could die, we were probably screwed no matter what we did, but, even then, Id rather have the Blessd on my side, aliveno matter how fragile they might berather than dead and in the grave. More help meant more souls saved, and when the alternative was eternal torment in Hell, bending the rules a little to save a girl didnt seem like that big of a deal. As for the rest of Ninas family, saving them was just icing on the cake.
I figured my soul (did wyrms even have souls?) could benefit from having a few more good deeds like that on my record.
Unfortunately, all of this was easier said than done.
For starters, it turned out that bureaucracy had outlived civilization. With ALICE running the show, the bureaucratic protocols embedded in her programming had free rein. Case in point: of the four Broliguzes suffering from Type One cases of the Green Death, only Nina and her mother were able to file requests to volunteer for the mycophage trials, because you had to be conscious to do to that, and Quatmo and Gar?o werent.
I helped Miyali fill out the necessary form on her console. It took all of five minutes, and, by the end, the woman was weeping with joy. She treated me like I was a Lucent, or maybe even the next Lassedite. Yes, there was still the matter of the protocol-mandated pre-trial check-up, but, other than that, everything was taken care of.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
All that remained was, well Nina. I imagined she had quite the story to tell.
I know I did.
After we finished the paperwork, the good regard Id earned from Mrs. Broliguez proved to be a big help when I pulled Nina aside to discuss what needed to be discussed. In any other situation, I imagined a mother in her position might have objected to a grown man like me pulling her daughter aside for a private conversation, but, fortunately, Miyali didnt pry.
We stepped out into one of the corners of Ward Es main lobby, disappearing into the edge of a sea of human misery.
At this point, I have to make a confession: I was becoming something of a pathological rule-breaker. You see, I hadnt just sinned by blabbing about our secret experimental treatment (possibly also committing the arguably worse sin of giving Nina and her mother a false sense of hope). No, there was more.
It would be fair to say that my relationship with The Rules was approaching an all-time nadir. Though I would probably have to break quite a few more rules (or break a few, very unbreakable rules) before I finally hit rock-bottom, once I didif I didCI imagined Id make quite the splash.
But Im getting ahead of myself.
What is it? Nina asked, breathlessly, staring me in the eye.
I made a promise to help your brother, I said, and as much as it pains me to admit it I failed. Maybe in more ways than one. I sighed. A lot has happened since you were last here. To me. To everyone. And it involves you. To give you the gist of it, remember how I said you might be one of the Blessd Chosen?
Come to guide the righteous to Paradise in the tumult of the Last Days? she said.
I smiledat least, as much as you could smile in a situation like this. I see youve been studying, I said.
And Nina smiled back at me, tears glinting in her eyes. Like theres no tomorrow.
Beasts teeth I muttered.
What a choice of words.
I sighed. Well, as I was saying Ive upgraded you from maybe being one of the Blessd to absolutely being one of the Blessd. And youre not the only one. This goes far deeper than any of us could have ever known.
That reminded me: I needed to arrange a private meeting between her and Dr. Horosha ASAP.
So? she said. What else?
I lowered my head in shame, but not before glancing at Andalon and staring her in the eyes.
She, too, lowered her head in shame.
Andalon could read my thoughts. She knew what thoughts were currently going through my head.
No one asked me if I wanted to get pulled into this, I explained. I never got a chance to accept the offer of my own free will. It was just thrust into my hands. I sighed.
I knew there was no point in dwelling on what-ifs, but habits like that were hard to shake. Darned hard.
I let you down, I said, so, I figure I owe you, especially considering what youre going to have to do in the near future.
I thought back to the feats Suisei had done in our encounter with Ichigo and Yuta in their room. Who knows what kinds of miracles Suisei could teach Nina to use?
So, I said, Im going to give you a freebie. Its something you derisive to knowto see for yourself. I swallowed hard. Im going to take you to see Lop.
Ninas eyes lit up at my words.
Hes hes still alive? she whispered.
Yes, and, I glanced at the door to the Broliguezes room, I imagine it would help placate your father if you saw him for yourself. I might be a neuropsychiatrist, but you know your father better than I do. I figure you could do a better job of breaking the news to him than I couldthough, if you ever need help, you know where to call.
So, yeah, I was taking her to see Lop.
If Id been completely bereft of any scruplesi.e., if my name was Jonan DerricI could have easily forged a positive Type Two test result in Ninas medical record and used that as an excuse to have her transferred to Room 268. There was still some room left over. But that would have meant separating Nina from her family, and that that I was not willing to do. So, I had to resort to Plan B.
I turned to Nina. Stay close to me, I muttered.
She tried to shoot out a deprecating laugh, but it drowned in a minor coughing fit. Dark stains splattered on the inner surface of the translucent F-99 mask Id procured for her, but it wasnt enough to stop her snark.
I bet she got that part of her personality from her Dad.
Its not like Im going anywhere on my own anytime soon, she said, flashing a bitter smile from behind her mask.
A nurse stared at us with bloodshot eyes as she rolled an occupied bed down the hallway. I didnt need to use my mental abilities to replay the nurses tired stare to notice the fungal hyphae creeping across her corneas. Her body glowed with fungal aura as she passed through the dedicated spot of wyrmsight on my field of vision. She glowed like radioactive goop, straight out of a comic book, only rainbow-over-magenta colored, rather than electric green.
As we walked, I noticedto my dismaythat Nina was getting winded, and so I stopped, leaning against a wall while I waited for her to catch her breath. For my own emotional benefit, Id hyperphantasized a cowl and poncho over Ninas blue and white hospital gown, and let imaginary oaks and elms grow from the walls of the hallway. The hallucinated scenery was purely decorative, but it lent the moment a much-needed sense of adventure. Standing in my hazmat suit, I felt like a grizzled mercenary hired to transport a magic child across a desolate, deadly landscape.
Andalon stared at it with wonder, quietly muttering, Wowwww as she took it all in.
Nina looked around wearily. Her hyperphantasized cowl clipped through her forehead as she, thoughof courseNina neither saw nor felt anything.
Why are we stopping? she asked.
Youre clearly getting winded, I said.
Thats no reason to stop, she said, with a cough.
Up ahead, around the corner, an elevator dinged.
It is when we need to high tail it to get into the elevator, I said.
Blinking, Nina shook her head. What?
Though the fungus had yet to rob her of her memories, there was no doubt it was already eating away at her mental acuity. It was like her reactions were coming from behind a layer of fog.
After a second of thoughtglancing around, sight and wyrmsight, and seeing no one nearbyI decided to risk using my powers. Weaving the metallic blues and golds of a pataphysical plexus around my hands, I made a pair of magic gloves for myself; basically, a pair of Gloves of Valley Giant Strength. Then, turning around, I grabbed Ninamy hands on her sidesand used the psychokinetic boost to lift her off the ground.
She moaned and yelped in the same breath.
Sorry about this, I muttered.
I waddled down the hall as quickly as I could, hasting my steps with little psychic pushes. I used my powers to push the buttons from a distance, and set the girl down inside the elevator as soon as the doors openedand, mercifully, the elevator had been empty.
I pressed the button for the second floor. The hyperphantasia trees fell beneath us as the elevator rose. We passed from the vinyl of the forest floor to the vinyl of its leafy, sunlit canopies. Unreal birds twittered in the branches overhead.
Meanwhile, Nina was busy processing my magicked manhandling.
All things considered, she was doing a pretty good job.
The teenage girl had backed into the corner of the elevator. She braced her arms against the walls at either side of her, and had fixed on me with a bug-eyed stare and a mouth agape in shock.
87.4 - A Song Called “Wrist Cut”
Holy holy shit! she cursed. She ran one of her hands over her hair. Dr. Howle, you just she panted. You called on the power. I saw you do it.
I nodded. Yes, I did, I said, softly.
Her expression contorted. Did you
I shook my head. When we first met, I was well, you could say I was in denial, I guess, I explained. Im trying to be more proactive now. Its character growth, I guess.
We stared at each other in silence.
Why didnt you call me? she asked.
The elevator came to a stop, the bell rang, and the doors opened. To me, it felt like her words had just ground the elevator to a halt.
I reached out to her, and she reached back. Instead of pulling, however, I pushed, raising her to her feet with the help of a psychokinetic scoop applied to her backside.
Its I sighed, its complicated, I said. I led her out into the hallway on the second floor.
You say that to me a lot, Mr. Genneth, Andalon said.
Yes, Andalon, I said, turning to face her, yes I do.
Nina stared in shock, mystified. Her head phased through the hyperphantasized cowl. Who whos Andalon? she asked. Who are you talking to?
I dared to smile at her. Its complicated.
I saw some (much-justified) back-sass ready to leap out of her mouth, but I cut her off pre?mptively.
For now, I said, let me just say that, while you and I both have powers, theyre not quite the same. In fact, its probably best to say that you and I are in two very different boats, though were both headed in the same general direction: the salvation of souls.
What? Nina asked.
Its a lot, I know, I said. Youll understand a little more when you see your brother.
Why are we going all this way? she asked.
Because its where your brother is.
Eventually, we arrived at Room 268.
Id be lying if I said I wasnt nervous. Andalon certainly wasthough that was more my fault than anything else.
I wondered what Nina would have thought if she could see what I was making myself see. My anxiety was twisting the woodland Id hyperphantasized within the halls. Tree leaves that had glowed like emeralds as shafts of sunlight ran over them like dew had dimmed as everything fell into shadow. Gnarled roots growing from the walls looked like limbs of the dead sprawling across the floor. The birdsong fell silent, and everything was rotten and decayed. I could see clumps of NFP-20 growing among fallen logs in the imaginary distance. Andalon clung to me like the frightened child she was.
Make it go away, Mr. Genneth, she said. Please
Leave it to my psyche to darken my fantasies.
I dismissed the hyperphantasia with a well-placed thought. Ninas cowl was gone, as were the trees and the fungus and the shadows. Only the clean, checkered vinyl floor and the corridors pasty walls and old, cord-dangled lights remained.
And, of course the quarantine seal in the doorway.
Nina stared quietly at the thick slab of metal obstructing the entrance to Room 268. Taking a step closer, she peered through the plastic viewing port in the middle of the slab, seeing the broken wood and shattered glass scattered across the antique rooms foyer, as well as the second quarantine seal that stood in the inner doorway several feet in front of the first.
I walked up to the wall-mounted console by the door and activated it with a scan of my chip. A couple gentle taps on the consoles touchscreen activated the intercom.
Though Id brought Nina here for her own sakeand, I hoped, for her brothersI also had a reason of my own to pay Room 268 a visit.
Kurt, I said, speaking into the intercom.
Dr. Howle? he replied, a moment later. What is it?
The transformees words were high and low, resonant and astringent, and tinged with an otherworldly drawl. They sliced through Ninas mental fog like a red-hot cutlass.
She staggered back, eyelids fluttering. W-What was that? she said.
I turned to face her.
You wanted to know why I was giving you such a hard time about something as simple as seeing your brother? I asked. Well, youre about to find out. I closed my eyes and shook my head. Please, whatever you do, dont scream. I glanced at Andalon. And dont run away, either, I added, thinking of my own mistakes. That will only make things worse for everyone.
Nina stiffened. WhWhy would I scream? she asked. Whats going on?
You might want to take a seat, I said, pointing at the floor, near the quarantine seal.
For a moment, she hesitated, staring at me like I was up to something, but then she nodded and sat down in front of the quarantine seal, resting on her knees.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.
I trust you, she said.
Andalon sat down beside her. The little spirit girl reached out to try and comfort Nina by holding her hand, but she just phased through, and Nina didnt notice a thing.
I turned back to the intercom.
Kurt did they feed you breakfast yet? I asked.
With Director Hobwell now dead and ALICE running the show, Id been worried that the deal Id brokered with the Director and his superiors wouldnt be upheld. The deal was between the two of us, and applied to all transformees under treatment in the hospital.
Also, I figured drawing things out a little might give Nina more time to wrap her head around what was about to happen.
Yes, Kurt said, answering glumly.
I sighed in relief. I guess ALICE is upholding her end of the bargain, I said.
What? another voice askedit sounded like Maryon.
Director Hobwell is dead. ALICE is the acting Director of West Elpeck Medical, I said.
What agreement? Nina asked.
That the transformees be fed, I said. This had the advantage of keeping them from eating the hospitals personnel, though it also advances their changes.
Uh, Kurt said, Im gonna have to correct you on that, Dr. Howle. They, he paused, theyve been feeding us bodies.
I inhaled sharply.
By the Angel I muttered.
If its any consolation, Doc, they taste just fine.
I shuddered.
B-Bodies? Nina stuttered, looking up at me in terror.
It gets worse, I muttered, lowering my head without turning to face her.
Its now or never, I thought.
L Paul, I said, could you please come to the doors? I glanced at Nina, who winced at the sound of her young brothers born again name. I turned back to the intercom, adding, Theres someone here to see you.
The intercom clicked as I shut it off, but then I got nervous and turned it back on again with yet another click.
Kurt, I said, if anybody tries anything, would you mind
No problem, he said.
A second later, there was a soft, tinny knock from behind the seal.
I turned on the intercom. Is that him? I asked.
Yeah, Kurt said. He sounded like a sighing whale.
Then I opened the inner quarantine door.
It isnt easy to describe what happened next. Descriptions work best for big moments, filled with pomp and circumstance, or lots of drama. The most challenging of all are the small, quiet times where a years worth of substance passes through a couple humble momentswhich was what happened here.
Though there was certainly drama in the way Lop slithered out of Room 268 and into its foyer, the heart of the moment was in the subtleties of his body language, and of Ninas, as she reacted to him. The best comparison I have for what it was like would be the sound of an orchestra warming up as the audience walked into an auditorium right before the start of the show, when the conductor walked out onto the stage and everyone turned in attention.
Through the viewing port, as Lop slithered into the foyer, we could see a couple of the transformees sequestered in 268 clustered around the open inner doorway. It didnt take a genius to figure out what they wanted: they wanted to be seen, and to speak and be heard.
And speak they did.
They were a gaggle of choristers, filled with questions and demands that they raised with their unearthly voices, though the sound was slightly muted by the sheer thickness of the outer quarantine seal.
Whats going on?
Is he being let out?
Can I go home now?
I hope they brought wooden chairs this time. I dont like the metal ones.
Checking my wyrmsight, I saw a figure looming behind them, with what looked to be arms crossed in disapproval.
That was probably Kurt, keeping them in line.
I turned on the intercom once again. Settle down, everyone, I said. Everything will be explained soon enough.
Kurt used his powers to drag the others away from the door right as Lop had pulled the rest of his body into the foyer. I used the wall-mounted console to raise the quarantine seal behind him, much to the disappointment of the transformees on the other side.
Nina watched in near total stillness, weeping silently. She covered her mouth with her hands, completely forgetting the mask on her face. With a trembling arm, she brought her hand up to the viewport in the middle of the reinforced steel, and as she did so, on the other side of the plastic, a three-fingered wyrm handdark red and tipped in wicked clawsdid the same.
Id last seen Ninas younger brother yesterday afternoon, when my body was going on my rounds while my mind roved through the Plotskies memories. Id been expecting for Lops appearance to have changed in the interim, but I hadnt anticipated just how drastic those changes would be.
I couldnt begin to imagine Ninas shock, nor did I need to. It was written all over her face. Her body language spoke of loss, terror, and disbelief.
When Id last seen Lop, his most notable change had been his transformation robbing him of his ability to speak. His lips had dissolved into wyrmhide that had sealed his mouth shut as the front part of his face swelled out in the shape of a snout, only for what was closed to open again as muscular holes appeared on his face in a symmetric arrangement.
The Lop we saw now had gone even further beyond that. He was like a bobble-head doll, only with the head of a fungal dragon in between his shoulders, enlarged, elongated, and tapered. It was a lot like what Cassius head had become, only smaller and somewhat less grotesquebut not by much.
Swollen, tumorous growths crested from the back of his head, resembling the clustered fruiting bodies of fungi or slime molds, only arranged in the shape of horns. A mane of gray, lichenous fur grew in between them, from the top of his head, and continued down his neck onto his back, where they disappeared down and pushed against his hospital gown.
If there was any human skin left on his head, I couldnt see it.
His snout-holes contracted and flexed, like lips ready to speak. His ears were totally gone, and he had five out of the six of the eyes hed have once fully changed, two on the left and three on the right. The front-left eye, though it was still human: half human, half golden wyrm-globe.
Lops torso still seemed mostly human, and if it wasnt, his hospital gown prevented me from noticing. One of his legs stuck out from underneath his hospital gown, where it trailed off to the side at an impossible angle. The limb was rotten and crumbly, ready to slough off at any moment. Further downand behindLops tail had grown. It was like a second, taper-ended torso trailing behind him, and he sat on it. Hed used what remained of his other leg to push off the floor, like an oar, to help propel himself as hed slithered forward.
Nina shivered. Her head trembled. If shed been made of glass, she would have shattered right before my eyes.
Im sorry I couldnt keep my promise, I said. Im so sorry. I sighed. I dont know if its any consolation, Nina, but hes still in there, exactly the same brother that you knew, Demptist and all.
In between her coughs and pants and gasps, Nina dared to whisper at the creature on the other side of the seal. Lo?
Unable to voice his discontenthe preferred to be called by his born-again Demptist namehe could only cross his arms in disapproval, a deeply human gesture for his deeply inhuman body.
In a strange way, I was actually feeling reassured by this upsetting turn of events. I didnt want it to be, and the fact that it was reassuring only made me ache for Nina that much more. The transformees in 268 were no different from the ones in the Self-Help Group, or anywhere else. Despite being transformed in body and soul, Lops mind was unchanged. The stupid, frustrating, unfair Irredemptist transformation that had remade him long before Andalon did hadnt lost any of its hold on him. He was still the stubborn, blinder-wearing adolescent who couldnt see how or why his wholehearted rejection of his family and his former self was so painful for them. If foibles like that could survive the wyrm transformation unscathed, there was no reason for me to fear losing my own sense of self. If my own experiences were any indication, at worst, it was now just a little bit fractured.
But none of this helped Nina.
You stopped being my brother, she said, and now, youve stopped being human. She laughed. Its almost funny.
She cried.
Then, withdrawing her hand from the plastic viewport, she keeled over and sobbed, while Lops half-human eye watched as it wept along with her.
88.1 - Kintsugi
Ah. So were at that part of the story, now.
Anis.
Though all of my spirits memories are precious to me, Anis memories would always be special. To this day, I still regret what could have been.
I could have done better.
I should have.
I owed Jonan a great debt. Yes, he had a stick up his butt, but I never should have questioned his love for Ani Lokanok. It would truly stand the test of time. Even now, that love continues to prove its worth.
Talk about a kintsugi project
Around itself, time did coil; static kissed the memory-fragments edge.
Ani was used to the world being crazy. It was just the degree of craziness that was all out of whack. Growing up, becoming an adult, becoming successful, finding a partnerthat was crazy. It was crazy to expect that it would always work out. But people kept thinking like that, regardless. It was stupid and frustrating and really, really stressful, and no one seemed to be able to do anything about it. Dial that up to eleven, and then you got something like the zombie apocalypse.
Thats what she thought.
Zombies didnt scare Ani, not in the existential sense, anyhow. They were just another part of the craziness. The hopelessness, though, that was what scared her, especially because hope had a really bad habit of disappearing when it was most needed.
That was why it meant so much to Anito all of us, reallywhen, after days of hopelessness, there was finally a ray of sunshine. It came with the dawn, as all good things did.
Hoshi had recoveredfrom darkpox.
Ani muttered a prayer of thanksgiving to the Angel. She didnt need to go to the chapel to do it. She just walked up to a window and contemplated the morning cresting over the rooftops.
Ani didnt know that Yuta Uramaru and his family were time-travelers. She knew Jonan thought they were, and it would have been really amazing (and also really scary) if it were true, but, right now, that wasnt what mattered. All that had mattered was that there was a little Munine girlmysterious and unchippedsuffering from darkpox, who needed help.
Ani had vowed to give it to her, and give it to her, she had.
Ani had taken great pains to ensure her patient was isolated from anyone or anything that might potentially infect her with NFP-20. The result was a miniature ICU inside Ward Es ICU. By fiddling with the HVAC systems, Ani had transformed an ordinary patient room into a negative pressure chamber. Even with Hoshi within the protective enclosure of the darkpox bed, Ani didnt take any risks, refusing to enter the room without the added protection of a sweltering hazmat suit.
She wore it now, as she stood in that little room, leaning over the darkpox bed, marveling at the miracles that had come to pass. The lights were bright overhead. Without the help of the analogue clock on the wall or the digital clock on the upper corner of her PortaCons screen, Ani wouldnt have known what time it was.
Time didnt matter when you were doing the right thing.
The first miracle was the darkpox vaccine. It was a simple thing, yet it was as mighty as the Hallowed Beasts roar. But, as mighty as it was, it wouldnt have been enough on its own. Hoshi had arrived in a fulminant state. Ravaged by the virus, the girls liver had begun to fail, setting off a sequence of medical dominos that had brought her to within an inch of irreversible brain damageand would have gone all the waywere it not for the second miracle: an amino-acid cocktail, fresh from a matter printer.
Who says chemistry cant save the day?
The third miracle was bunny rabbits, after a fashion. Even now, it was trickling down the IV drip from the IV bag on the stand beside Hoshis bed, releasing its magic into her veins. The xanthic brew of monoclonal antibodies was the fruit of transgenic rabbit blood, genetically engineered to save lives.
Medically speaking, now that the vaccine had taken full effect, there was no longer any need for Hoshi to be hooked up to the monoclonal antibody solution, but Ani didnt want to take that risk.
Then there was the fourth miracle, which was Anis favorite of them all: a brand new liver, fresh from the matter printers in the hospitals depths, printed from incubated cultures of the girls own cells. Ani was proud of herself for forcing the surgeons to do the transplant in the negative pressure chamber, and to wear hazmat suits while they did it.
One of the surgeons had called her crazy for demanding that. Said it was an abuse of power; Anis authority to order him to do it came from me, who had given her the go-ahead.
The surgery had happened in the middle of the night. The surgeon who had berated her was dead now, another victim of the Green Death.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
But Hoshi was as clean as could be.
Through the Angels Grace and the pluck of men, all things were possible. The demon wind was a threat no longer; darkpox was such a known quantitythe exact opposite of the Green Death. There were no mysteries left in it. Mankind hadnt just found a way to cure darkpox; wed conquered it. Thinking about it made Ani go misty-eyed.
And now?
Praise the Light, Ani thought. Praise the Light.
Anis heart smiled as the little girls eyes fluttered open, and saw her, bundled up in a hazmat suit after having crept through the plastic quarantine tunnel and emerging into Hoshis room like a traveler from another world.
Hoshi gasped and stared. The color had come back to her cheeks. The sweat and blood Ani had washed from her face and hair would not return again.
Ani tapped the console built into the side of the darkpox bed and activated the opening mechanism. The bed unsealed with a hiss. Ani couldnt help but think it looked kind of like a vampires coffin, even though it was actually almost the exact opposite of that.
Slowly, Hoshi sat up in bed, and all on her own. She looked around, quiet, but wide-eyed with curiosity.
Aside from her desperate, desperate need for a win, one of the reasons Ani felt so passionately about Hoshis case was because of how the girl reminded Ani of herself, back when she was young and had still thought the world was as simple and true as it was in her dreams.
Before Hoshi could even open her mouth, Ani handed her a cup of water, which the girl downed graciously, after politely bowing her head.
If her father was any indication, Hoshi likely didnt speak a word of Trenton, and so, after setting the cup on the counter, Ani addressed the girl in Munine.
How are you feeling? she asked.
Then the girl spoke her reply, which made Ani feel a bit awkward, because she could only understand maybe three-quarters of it. The first part was very clear.
Where am I? Wheres Mommy? Wheres Daddy? Wheres my brother? Then she looked around. Big Brother Ichigo?
But then she started talking more, and thats when the awkwardness set in. Some of the conjugations she was using didnt sound quite right, and some grammatical particles werent there at all. Whatever dialect it was, it sounded quite old to Anis ears. Then again, when a dialect was so niche that you couldnt even understand what a persons name meantand Ani certainly couldnt; shed never heard the word hoshi beforeit was probably no surprise that she was having difficulty with it.
She talked a lot about Big Brother Ichigo. She was clearly aware that shed been sick.
How did I get better? she asked. How did you do it? Are you a wise onmyoji?
She asked her if she was a spirit.
Ani shook her head.
The girls eyes widened even more. Her face, though healthy, paled in shock.
Are you Ichij no Hana?
Ichij no Hana, the Daikenjas one, true love, was, according to legend, Mus greatest sorcerer. Her role in Munine culture was kind of like Lassedite Athelmarchs in Trenton culture, except she was viewed as a paragon of good.
My favorite legend about her is the story of how, at the end of her life, the Cloud Kingthe chief deity of the traditional Munine pantheonoffered her the chance to become a goddess, but refused, because she wished to escape the cycle of reincarnation, as her love had done.
I am not a sorceress, Ani answered, least of all Ichij no Hana. She smiled. Though I certainly appreciate the compliment.
Where are my Mommy and Daddy? Hoshi asked.
That question again.
Ani swallowed hard. She found herself unsure of how to respond. How could she tell this miniature of herself that her brother and mother were dead? Ani was confident Hoshi would understand something as straightforward as your mother and brother are dead, but, considering the situation, that was the last way shed ever want to break the news to her.
Then, to both girls surprise, Anis console rang from within the pocket of her hazmat suit. Pulling it out with her bulky green gloves, Ani poked and prodded the thick plastic casing as she touched the screen and answered the incoming videophone call.
Hoshi gawked at the device. What is that sound? she asked. Is that your magic, Ichij no Hana? Is that how you saved me?
At least, thats what Ani thought she said.
But then Ani read the name displayed by caller ID, and her throat went dry and tight.
Mom.
Around itself, time did coil; static kissed the memory-fragments edge.
As a kid, Ani had played violin. Yes, it was very much a stereotypechild of Munine immigrant kid playing a musical instrument to satisfy her tiger parentsbut, shed been rather good at it. Unfortunately, it had never brought Ani as much joy as she would have liked, mostly because of the unbearable weight of her parents expectations. In a family with a healthy dynamic, Ani would have been able to talk to her parents about it, and maybe figure out a way to make everyone happier with the situation. Unfortunately, her parents preferred yelling to talking, at least when shed been little.
Any hopes of making things better, however, died when she was in fourth grade. Ever since then, Ani couldnt play the violin without thinking about car accidents, which made it pretty much impossible for her to play the violin at all.
It happened on a lonely, cliffside drive along a darkened coast on the way back from the Tonevay East Trenton Violin Competition. A car came racing around the bend of the road, with their headlights set to blinding. Her mother had briefly lost control of the vehicle, and that brief loss would have plunged them to a watery grave on the craggy rocks of the coastline below, had a particularly stubborn strip of metal guardrail not gotten in the way. Much of the rest of the drive was spent fighting over who was to blame: Ani, or her mother, even though it wasnt the fault of either of them.
The Angel came into Anis life not long after that. Her mother was the first to find Him. She never would have overcome her alcoholism without His help. For that alone, Ani would love Him forever; her faith would never wane. But, in those days, Anis faith was still weak. She hadnt truly understood the Angels message. Not yet.
Enamored with the faith, Ani had learned as much about it as she could, and, in doing so, she discovered the great darkness that dwelled within Lassedicys history. For a brief time, she was lost, still faithful, but unsure of herself. Who am I meant to be? she wondered.
And what would the ancestors think?
Her father was always concerned about what the ancestors would think.
But then, in a sudden spark of epiphany, everything settled, falling in place just like Sister Marys sermons said they would. In that moment, everything changed: Anis faith had matured. She finally understood the Angels message, and with that knowledge, she found confidence and purpose. It was the most beautiful truth shed ever know. It was as if gauze had been lifted off her eyes, freeing her to gaze upon the supernal colonnade that stood below the march of time and made life into something worth living.
Around itself, time did coil; static kissed the memory-fragments edge.
88.2 - Kintsugi
Ani could only be amazed at her mothers timing. Sharing a videophone call with her in Hoshis room didnt feel the least bit real. The zombies on General Marteneiss footage made more sense than it had.
Ani ended the videophone call with her mother as swiftly as she could, promising over and over again that she would be right there.
Were you talking to the gods? Hoshi asked, hiding behind the bed
My family needs me, Ani said.
Where is my Daddy? Hoshi asked.
It was times like these that made Ani wish she could be in more than one place at one time.
Speaking from experience, while it is certainly a useful ability to have, it isnt all that is chalked up to beor, at least, the wyrm version of it isnt.
The raven-haired girl watched in nervous curiosity as Ani dashed out a text message on her PortaCon:
Genneth, the daughter of our darkpox patients is awake and alert. The antibodies worked like a charm. Her new liver is firing on all cylinders (!). She wants to see her Dad.
It might seem odd that a true-blue Lassedile like Ani Lokanok would strike up a friendship with yours truly, but had no qualms about it. She was better than that, andnot only thatshe could relate to me, too. Like me, Ani was an apostate, she was just apostatizing from a different orthodoxy.
For the sake of this analogy, Im disregarding the unorthodox aspects of Anis beliefs.
My demons came from Lassedicy, and while Ani had had her fair share of those in the past, her true tormentors came from filial piety. As the old joke went, the east made religion into government, while the west made government into religion.
I texted her back a moment later:
Say no more. Ill handle it.
She sent me the room number, and then I was on my way.
As best as she could, Ani told Hoshi that a friend of hers would be coming to help. She described me as wearing the same clothes as me, with a cute red and yellow on his neck.
In response, Hoshi gave Ani a quizzical look, but then Ani said, He will take you to your daddy, and Hoshi smiled, freeing Dr. Lokanok able to step out of the room and fulfill her ingrained daughterly duties without also feeling like shed failed to honor her responsibilities as a medical professional.
Please stay here, Ani said. Do not touch anything. And then she ran off as quickly as she could. By the time she reached her destination, she was coughing and panting so intensely, she had to bat away her coworkers worried looks.
Running in a hazmat suit is the stupidest thing Ive ever done, she said, while hunched over, knees bent and ass in the air while her circulatory system ran on overdrive.
Inside the hazmat suit, it was hotter than a desert and wetter than a jungle. There was an odd, unnatural smell to the compressed air circulating through the suit, and it did almost nothing to help with the sweat weighing on the edge of her brow.
She gasped for breath as she staggered into the massive, all-Wards reception area in the hallway down from the Hall of Echoes. Ani looked around the room for several frantic seconds before she found them and, like an idiot, ran straight toward them.
Duty and the hope of Love had a way of getting people to make unhealthy life choices.
Her mother and father stood by the entrance, lost and confused. Just like Anis mother had told her, theyd only just finished getting through triage. Since the day before yesterday, the hospital had already moved part of triage out into the Garden Court, and now, with the military on the premises, there were finally enough hands on deck to go the full nine yards and have all triage take place out in the courtyard, to leave as much as room possible inside the hospital for treating patients.
Two nurses and a soldier were trying to tell Mr. and Mrs. Lokanok where to go, but Anis parents were having none of it. Her father didnt like being told what to do, and her mother was much the same, unless the command had come from her husband, her own parents, her older brother, her old friends, or one of the senior managers at the Lacys boutique where she had worked since the beginning of forever, in which case, filial piety demanded she acquiesce. Taken as a whole, the two of them were the very definition of passive aggressive, Hanako being the passive one, and Alon being the aggressive one.
Okasan! Itay! Ani shouted, still panting for breath. She flailed her armsfingers splayed wideto scatter the crowd and clear a path through the marl of dying humanity. Out of the way! she yelled. Out of the way!
Ani looked the soldiers and the nurses in the eyes as she pulled out her PortaCon, opened the WeElMed app and scanned her chip along the sensor. The app immediately displayed Anis personal profile, showing her official status as a junior member of Ward Es CMT for all to see.
These two are with me, Ani said. The nurses nodded and turned to the other people further back down the line out the door.
Ani resolved to go Divulge this abuse of power after at a future date. While she would have loved to do it now, at the moment, she was busy getting her parents as far away as possible from the crowds that, at any moment, might devolve into a horde of zombies.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Without another word, Ani took her parents hand in hand and led them out of the reception area and into Ward E, where, after traveling down a series of halls, she finally found a room for them a decent way away from any crowds.
What happened? she asked. How did you get here?
Around itself, time did coil; static kissed the memory-fragments edge.
Ani had always thought of her father as a man of many colors, and in many ways as well. His face was darker than hers, the result of genes and many years spent laboring beneath the Sun. His hair was dark atop his head, fading to ashen gray stubble on his chin, along with a matching mustache. She had vivid memories of the kisses hed given her when shed been little. Her fathers kisses were brushes with steel wool dripping with beer and sardine juice. She could always picture him in the white wife-beater, sitting in the ratty old reclining chair in the living room, in front of the TV console, at the tail end of a long day at work.
Ani couldnt believe that wife-beater was a phrase people used to describe a shirt. It was just awful.
Anis memories of her mother lived with morning smells: coffee, hard boiled eggs, miso soup. For a while, there was also the smell of cheap whiskey, but then that got replaced with scented incensea piece of Munine tradition repurposed for Lassedile ritual. And while Anis father could drink himself to death without so much as getting tipsy, her mother had a far more delicate constitution, physically and emotionally.
Even as a kid, Ani remembered hearing people say she was better-looking than her mother was. Bigger eyes, they said. Longer hair, they said. Those words upset her. She loved her mother, and didnt like it when they insulted her, but she also didnt like that her mom would get upset when she heard those words, and would hold that pain inside herself, until it started oozing out of even the littlest interactions, leaving Ani afraid of talking to her, because it would only make everyone sad, and that was awful.
A child shouldnt have to be wary of their mother, especially when she was already afraid of talking to her father.
Around itself, time did coil; static and noise kissed the memory-fragments edge.
The science fair.
Even in kindergarten, Ani loved going to the science fair, and she nurtured that love through high school and beyond, never failing to attend, but what she really wanted was to compete in it, which she did, but only once, in middle school. 7th grade.
With her biology teachers help, shed set up a wonderful experiment. Really, it was much a work of conceptual art as it was a demonstration of a scientific concept. The idea was to express passages from the Words of the Witnesses Testaments in chemical form, using the four chemical bases of DNA to render the words in a base-4 numeral system, which she then implanted them into bacteria in a skillful bit of microbial genetic transformation that her biology teacher was happy to help her with.
As the bacteria divided and reproduced, tiny changes would occur in the DNA in a demonstration of the great thermodynamic truth that no physical process was free of disorder or mistakes. Several months later, they extracted the encoded passages from the location in the microbes plasmids where theyd originally been placed, and, after a bit of processing, the nucleic acids would be translated back into text, now altered by evolutions own handiwork.
She got 3rd place, and would have been higher, were it not for one of the judges, who determined that Anis experiment was too controversial for the 1st place prize. After that, some of her mothers church friends stopped coming over to their house for scripture study.
Ani wasnt sure how much of that was her own fault, and how much of it was her fathers. Alon had gotten into a screaming fight with one of the judges. It would have broken out into a fist fight had Anis mom not swooped in and calmed things down.
My girl gets nothing less than first place, you hear me? her father had yelled. First place!
She should have remembered that teachers name. Mr.?
But, no, she couldnt.
Around itself, time did coil; static and noise kissed the memory-fragments edge.
Okasan, Itay watch your step, Ani said, glancing back at her parents. Dont get in the way of people ferrying bodies out.
The room shed found for her parents was about to be emptied of its previous occupant. Ani waited until the body bag was wheeled out of the room before she darted in.
Hanako stood in the hallway, overcome by the currents of life and death churning all around her.
People in. Bodies out.
Ani by the Angel.
Everythings gonna be fine Mom, Ani said.
With her PortaCon in hand, she scanned her parents chips and then transmitted the data to the rooms console, registering the two of them as its current occupants.
Her parents slowly stepped into the room, with Anis mother leading her father by the arm. The room was in a really bad state; Hanako gasped in fear and apprehension. There was black ooze splattered on the floor and the electronics. Spores were becoming visible where the ooze had begun to dry.
The sheets are filthy, Alon said. This place is a fucking pig-sty, Alon said, with a laborious cough.
Ill take care of it, Ani said. Ill take care of it. She pulled out a stool for her mother as her father plopped into the seat of the visitors chair.
Ripping the sheets and pillowcases off the bed, Ani bundled them up and then opened the cover on the incinerator chute in the wall and chucked them in. Hoping to find fresh linens, she walked over to the cabinets by the sink, only to discover the cabinets were empty.
She turned to face her parents, saying, Ill be right back, and then darting out into the hall and into the room the next door over.
The room next door wasnt empty. Even with all the death and horror Ani had seen so far, she still couldnt help but stare at the fungus-ravaged patient lying in bed. His body was seizing, like he was being electrocuted. His hair had fallen out, and the ulcers on his arms had eaten all the way down to the bones, exposing the periosteum to the air. Fruiting bodies were beginning to creep from up the ulcers ravines.
Ani happened to have some sedative on hand, in the pocket of her hazmat suit.
At this point, a lot of peoplemyself includedwere carrying doses of drugs on their person, because that was the only way to be sure that no one else would come in and use them before you did.
It was a dog-eat-dog world, thats for sure.
She tried administering it to him, to stabilize him, but the flesh around his IV port was like rotten fruit, so soft and wet that it fell apart at the slightest touch, skin, fast, and muscle sloughing off with a wet slip.
Ani made the Bond-sign. Im sorry, she muttered, Im sorry.
She stepped away from the dying man. It hurt to turn her back to him, but there was nothing she could do. His pulse was erratic. His SpO2 was abysmal.
He died while Ani was pulling linens out of the cabinetthe last remaining pair. She entered a notice of death into the console on the wall by the door before she left.
Back in her parents room, Ani placed the clean bedding on the countertop and then went back out into the hallway and, thirty seconds later, came back, pushing a second empty bed into the room. It, too, was filthy. Ani hoped the reason it had been left empty in the hallway was because some good intentioned soul had hoped someone would come along and clean it.
Well, they were right about that, she thought, as she did the cleaning herself, squeezing out some instant sponge from the dispenser by the sink. She soaked the sponge in antiseptic before wiping down the floor and both beds. She made sure to tear off the second beds death-stained linens before grabbing the clean, pine-scented linens from the countertop and unfurling them over the bed.
She tried her best not to cry as she helped her parents to their beds. Unfortunately, not even the Green Death was enough to stop her father from doing what he did best: making things worse.
88.3 - Kintsugi
As Ani grabbed him by the arm to lead him into his bed, Alon jerked his arm away from her and shot her a hostile glare.
Whore you? he asked.
Alon Anis mother said.
Ani gasped.
Mr. Alon Lokanok coughed and shook as he turned his head to the side. He was looking for his wife, but he couldnt find her.
Hanako! he said, calling her name. The effort made him wheeze. Wheres Hanako?
Im right here, Alon, she said. Im right here.
Hed been looking in the wrong direction.
Ani slowly stepped back. Daddy? Itay?
Alon responded to his daughters words by turning his head to face her. Ani felt like she was looking at a bulldog that had just caught a scentand that terrified her.
As did the emptiness in his gaze.
Wherere my kids? he said, panting loudly. Gotta gotta be somewhere.
Just help him into bed, Ani-chan, her mother said. Hes been losing his memories since yesterday. Hanako was inexplicably calm. She was like that, from time to time, detached and aloof, even when it made no sense to be.
Ani did as she was told, and not just because it was her job. She was a good daughter.
Or, at least, she wanted to be.
Her father barked at her as she took off his clothes and helped him into the gown shed gotten for him.
Why are you doing this?! he yelled.
Not knowing what to say, she guided him into bed. He didnt put up too much resistance.
Sighing, Ani turned to her mother. Why didnt you call me earlier, Okasan? Ani asked.
I didnt want to impose, her mother said, softly, as if they were talking about the mundanest thing. She coughed terribly.
A couple feet beside her, Alons chest heaved as he laid in his own bed, his head propped up by the pillow. You know what, he said, I bet theyre foolin around. They dont have drive, my kids. Mga tamad na puki.
Anis Costranak wasnt anywhere near as good as her Munine, but she knew her fathers go-to phrases, and that was one of them.
It meant lazy cunts.
Anis lips quivered as she stared her father in the eyes, like she was a laser, ready to burst.
Why would you call your children lazy cunts? she asked.
One of the first lessons Id learned about Ani during her time as my mentee was that she had a trigger word, and that word was lazy. I couldnt count the number of times Ani had come storming into my therapy office muttering the word lazy to herself over and over again, sounding like a tea kettle about to boil.
Everyones lazy! Alon said. They dont got what it takes. You his gaze turned distant. Matatag! he said, jabbing his finger toward her. You gotta be strong. The world dont care. Namamatay ang maliliit na ibon. You gotta be strong. If youre strong, its because you got it and took it. Otherwise, youre lazy. Mga tamad na puki.
Ani pressed her hands against either side of her hazmat suit, hoping that, maybe, if she squeezed hard enough, shed be able to keep herself from screaming.
Around itself, time did coil; static and noise kissed the memory-fragments edge.
Hate. Love.
Ani hated her father and loved him, and she hated that she loved him and hated that she hated him, and hated that she hated loving him. Her relationship with her mother wasnt as complicated, but not by much.
Ani remembered the loud nights the most, the nights where he yelled at Mom, usually because Mom had been yelling at him to stop yelling at the TV.
Sometimes her Mom would be just as bad, but in her own way.
Anis father liked beer; her Mom liked whiskey. They almost never drank together, but when they did, it was wine, and because her Dad only did things like purchasing wine when he wanted to be fancy, the wine would be pricey, so there wouldnt be very much of it.
Ani only had one memory of her mother shattering a glass of whiskey after throwing it in a drunken fit, but the sounds of that moment echoed through so many of the memories Ani formed after the fact, you could piece her traumas together using those sounds alone.
Whenever something bad happened, Ani would hear those sounds in her mind: a clatter and a crash, followed by a yell.
And yet, those sounds were also next to one of the most cherished moments shed ever known: when, the day after the fit, her mother had asked her to help her repair the antique glass.
That was when Ani had first learned about the ancient art of kintsugi: repairing what was broken.
Around itself, time did coil; static and noise kissed the memory-fragments edge.
Anis mother sat up in her bed. Ani, please, look at me, she said, softly. There was a broad smile on her face. It didnt belong there, and Ani couldnt understand why it was.
Come here, Hanako said.
Ani complied.
Her mothers face was sagging and ashen. Hanako had always had a slim, petite build, but now, it was like the life was being sucked out of her.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Ani had seen the same fate in so many others, she just never expected to see it in her mother.
I dont understand, Okasan, Ani said. How can you be so calm? Do you not care? Have you just given up? She scoffed. You, giving up? After all the shit you gave me growing up? After buying the apartment.
Because Alon was poor, the Lokanoks couldnt afford one of the fancy townhouses in Elpeck proper. So, when it came to purchasing the house in which theyd raise their family, the Lokanoks had to choose between a cramped apartment in the middle of the city and one of the cookie-cutter bungalows out in the Valley. Alon chose the lattera nice little home in Polly Brooks, mostly because he wanted to have a house with a great green lawn.
Polly Brooks was to Witchriverthe neighborhood where Id grown upwhat my childhood home was to my house on Angeltoe Street.
When Ani had been in college, age and a bad back had finally forced her father to retire from his job as a construction worker, and as a result, they were forced to sell the house. Ani and her brother had found places of their own by then, but there wasnt enough room for a crotchety old man in either of them. Fortunately, Hanako didnt give up, and with some help from her church friends, she was able to find a dirt-cheap apartment in the middle of the city.
Hanako might have been quiet, but she didnt give up easilyat least, most of the time.
Listen to me, Ani, she said, unshaken by her daughters anger. Ani: listen to me. Though scratchy, Hanakos voice was calm and even-toned. Reaching out, the woman grabbed her daughters handsbut gently; ever so gently, clinking the metal and lakelite bracelets she wore on her wrists.
What? Ani asked. What is it?
These are the Last Days, Ani-chan, Hanako said.
Mom, not you too
Hanako laughed, though that laugh quickly became a cough. I would be a fool to deny what Ive seen with my own two eyes, she said. First those horrid Norms; now, armies of the living-dead?
But
Hanako shook her head. Why are you troubled, Ani? I know we have had our disagreements, but I have always thought you were one of the noblest souls Ive ever had the privilege of knowing.
Anis voice broke. Mom
You have nothing to fear, Hanako said. Soon, we will die, and the Angel and His Blessd Chosen will guide us to Paradise. We will be together there, for ever and always. She shook her head. Dont trouble yourself so. What will be will be. We cannot stop it.
Ani stepped back in shock. How can you believe the Angel would want this? she said.
Her mothers expression darkened. Ani, it is not our place to question the Angel. We are not strong enough, not wise enoughand we never will be. We are not meant to play god. If we were, we would be able to open windows in the air, and get to Paradise ourselves. Yet we cannot.
Okasan Ani said.
Hanako put her other hand on Anis hand. But, Ani where we fail, God endures. She nodded. There are truths that are not ours to know. That is why we worship. That is why we believe in something greater than ourselves. We believe in that which endures.
I believe that Love endures, Ani said. The Angel will save us. I know it. Were going to pull through. Tears trickled down her cheeks. Youre gonna get better, Okasan, you and Dad both. I know it. And the Angel will help me do it. Its kintsugi, just like you taught me. Things break, but then we put them back together and make something even more beautiful than what we had before.
Just like Jonan, Ani thought.
Jonan Derric was the most authentic person shed ever known. He was brilliant, and sexy, and passionate, and bitterly funny, and had a work ethic that would put a machine to shame. As men went, he was an inch short of perfection. His only fault? He wasnt quite sure how to be good.
But Ani had long since resolved to fix that. Jonan was one big kintsugi project, and shed happily dedicate her life to seeing it through to the end. Jonan had too much potential; the world needed him to be good.
As did she.
You know how I like to say Jonan is my kintsugi project? Ani said. Well, now you and Itay are, too.
Ani wanted to apologize for not having said this earlier. These words were many years too late.
But, better late than never, right? Ani thought.
As she looked her mother in the eyes, Ani realized her mothers gaze had drifted away from her own, going over her shoulder, toward.
Dad, she thought.
Ani had perfect timing. She turned around right as her father spoke.
Hey, mamsir, he said, addressing his daughter.
The words made Ani tense up.
In Costranak culture, mamsir was used as a polite term of address for a stranger; one of the many quirks that resulted from Trentons centuries of colonial occupation of the Costranak islands.
Youre a doctor? he asked. Make lotsa money? Nabubuhay sa magandang buhay?
Her fathers demeanor had changed. The man she now saw was the one who schmoozed about with his friends at the recreation center, in between rounds spent marinating in the janky jacuzzi or swimming laps in ice-cold pools. It was smarmy and unpleasant.
But at least it wasnt yelling.
As much as it broke Anis heart that her father didnt quite remember who she was, there was a strange opportunity in this cruel situation. For once, she could talk to him without fear of reprisal.
So she did.
Ani pursed her lip. Why does life have to be about who makes the most money? she asked.
Money is power, he said, his eyebrows rising. And power is life. His expression soured, turning angry and bitter.
I I was a alipin. Mama and Papa alipin, too, he said. His eyes widened, as if he was beholding a dream. There was no strength in his voice. No anger. Just pain.
Seeing that made Anis anxiety melt away. This this was her father. This was the man underneath the hood, someone whod been hurt so bad by what life threw at him, that he never quite learned how to love, or how to be happy.
Worked our hands raw on the Big Mans land. Sugar cane. Sugar cane. Fucking sugar cane. Leaves are like knives. Ang kagubatan ng ngipin.
It wasnt your fault, Dad, Ani muttered.
The dying mans face contorted with anger. No one cared! No one fucking cared! We had nothing! No one gave me nothin!
Daddyitayits me its Ani. Ani wept. She pointed at herself. Dont you recognize me? Dont you remember?
He stared at her. His black-shot eyes narrowed. Youll never be good enough. Nobodys good enough. Lahat ay nagkukulang sa kaluwalhatian ng Diyos.
Ani glanced at her mother, whose expression was crestfallen, to say the least.
Please, Ani, dont do this to yourself, Hanako said. Your father isnt himself.
Ani shook her head. Since when did him being himself ever make things easier? she said.
She turned to her father.
Cant I just be me, Daddy? she asked. Does everything have to be perfect? Cant we just love each other? Cant we just be kind?
Alon stared through his daughter. Kind? He laughed bitterly, and soon broke into a coughing fit that scattered green-dusted ooze all over the bed. I got a daughter. Isang batang babae. She so kind. Kind and stupid. Stupid and kind.
Ani tilted her head back. Her mouth and cheeks churned, as if she was trying to keep a frog from leaping out of her throat. Indignation burned in her eyes.
The dying man struggled to lift his head as he attempted to flick it in consternation. She dont appreciate nothing! He scoffed. In Costranak, shed be dead. Bleed out on the sugar cane leaves. He trembled. She dont know how hard it is. The worlds gonna break her, and I, his voice cracked, I cant keep her safe. Alon wept. Couldnt keep my itay safe.
Alon Hanako whispered.
For a moment, the two women looked at one another. Neither of them had ever heard this before.
I dont get the world, Alon said, in a quiet, frightened voice. I dont understand. Everythings big and fast. The world is cruel. Its gonna eat Ani. And I cant stop it. Cant stop nothin.
Anis voice broke. You kept me safe, Daddy, you
Ani?
Once again, Alon stared at his daughter. But this time, he saw her.
Dont be lazy, he said, his tired eyes looking away. Go study for your exam. Gotta be the best. Dont be a fucking B student. Huwag mag-settle for less.
And then he spasmed as a seizure rocked his body.
Around itself, time did coil; static and noise kissed the memory-fragments edge.
Ani didnt blame her parents. They were victims, just like everyone else. Alon had had it harder than most: a first-generation immigrant whod never so much as set foot on a college campus until his daughters Orientation Day following Anis acceptance at Elpeck Polytechnic. It wasnt his fault that hed had a hard life.
The world wasnt perfect. Good, yes, but not perfect. Mankind had sinned. For better and for worse, that was how the cookie crumbled.
She could save them. She would save them.
She needed to get to Dr. Skorbinka, right away.
Around itself, time did coil; static and noise kissed the memory-fragments edge.
89.1 - Chaperones
Skorbinka Mistelann felt like he was about to die, but he was also having the time of his life. He was no stranger to working long hours in the isolation of a laboratory, though the work-pace had never been as arduous as this. Then again, there had never been a need as great as the one for which he labored.
There were precisely two occasions on which Mistelann could recall feeling pride in being a mycologist. The first time was when he completed his research thesis, and won a prize for it, no less. The second time was now.
If you counted the fact that his choice of specialty was the reason why hed gotten moved to the Cartin Center in Elpeck, there was even a third time of pride: the day hed gotten to meet Nowston Brand.
The mycologist glanced over his shoulder, at one of the other workstations in 3Ba1. Behind him, the vapor diffusion module had nearly completed its latest cycle.
Mycology.
There was no excitement quite like scientific excitement. It was unparalleled. So many scientific disciplines abounded with drama and mystique: high energy physics, industrial engineering, nanotechnology, biotechnology.
But not mycology.
A mycologist spent much of his time bending over, looking through a microscope, or at dirt, or at things growing in dirt, or at things growing on things growing in the dirt. Every once in a while, something exciting would happenantibiotics, bat-killing fungal plague, new psychotropic drug for chemists to chemist over, frog-killing fungal plague, etceterabut, for the most part, much dirt was involved, and, alas, mycology was not even the most interesting science in which scientists looked at dirt.
That would be paleontology.
And yet, Mistelann had been fascinated by fungi. Fungus was the black sheep of biology, and you ignored it at your own risk. As had the people of Odensk.
The Great Blight.
By fouling potatoes across the land, a mere fungus toppled the Odenskaya Tsardom. Millions diedand that was before the Revolution even got into full swing.
And now, the Green Death.
For once, at least, he could say the work was very exciting. But it was also incredibly frustrating.
As a mycologist, Mistelann had adapted to working on mushroom time. Mushrooms were stoic and patient. There was never any rush.
But, as Brand might have said, the Green Death hadnt gotten the memo. It was the highest of high achievers, and murderously speedy. It was a nightmare straight out of Hellas was dealing with the Mark 3 matter printers computer interface. There was no GUI set up, which turned his progress into snails, and, despite his repeated calls to the IT office, no one had come to help.
Please, ALICE, Mistelann asked, can you not set up useful GUI?
Im sorry Dr. Skorbinka, but you do not have clearance to make GUI adjustments. Please talk to someone in the IT department.
ALICE, everyone in IT department is dead!
Well the computer said, after a pause, theres not much I can do about that. Apologies.
Mistelann coughed as he grumbled.
At least she knew how to apologize.
Despite his frustrations, there was progress. The good news was that the hard part was done. The bad news was that the frustrating part had only just begun. Dr. Derric had been quite right to call Mistelanns plan audacious. It was. Ordinarily, much like bacteriophages, one would grow mycophages by infecting a live culture of a suitable host organism. But Mistelann had no time for ordinariness, and so he had turned to biochemical acrobatics in order to circumvent the lytic cycle that naturally governed viral replication.
As hed told the others, the idea was to use the crystallized mycophage samples as both a digital and physical reference material. The now-completed hard part involved uploading the virus chemical architecture and all of its complexities into the matter printers computer system. Thankfully, ALICE had helped with that. Shed helped spectacularly. And, in the near future, when Mistelann had finished the frustrating part, the matter printer would then use the physical mycophage samples in conjunction with the digital model to print fully formed viruses in crystal form.
The frustrating part was making sure the Mark 3 did not screw up the virionthe total viral particle, capsid and all.
Like fungi, crystals were modular. Once you understood their small-scale structure, growing a big crystal was just a matter of replicating that structure until you either got what you wanted, or you killed yourself to escape the monotony. For crystallized viruses, the small-scale structure was the individual virus particle, which itself had an even smaller structure of its ownprimary protein structure level, secondary protein structure level, tertiary protein structure level.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Mistelann was all but certain that, if he managed to live long enough to sleep again and dream, he would dream of -helices and -pleated sheets.
Once the Mark 3 printer was properly calibrated, industrial scale production for therapeutic use could begin in earnest.
Again, assuming he lived long enough to be able to see it.
And if there was even the tiniest error, the final product would be kaka, and everyone would die.
So, no pressure, right? he thought.
NFP-20 was in a race against his sarcasm, to see which would kill him first.
Mistelann let out a long, quiet groan, and then closed his eyes and shook his head.
His hands trembled. His PPE was soaked with sweat. His throat and chest felt like theyd been coated with Capsicum powder. His skin itched. Blisters were starting to form under his joints. That was most likely the work of NFP-20 as it began to digest the outer layers of his epidermis.
He wanted to go to sleep and not wake up. But he could not, not until his job was done. He didnt even take the time for a smoke break; that was part of the reason why his hands were trembling.
At least, he hoped it was.
Human physiology could be extraordinarily inconvenient at times, such as with drug dependency and withdrawal symptoms. Biology was a meat computer, flimsy and utterly absurd.
For a moment, Mistelann felt himself start to drift off, as if to sleep, but then he shook his head and pinched one of the ulcers developing in his armpit. It was an exquisite pain, and the shot of adrenaline it sent roaring through his blood vessels woke him better than even the darkest Odenskaya coffee grinds.
Mistelann took a deep breath, only to wince in agony. He tried to clear his throat.
Because his scheme was going to push the Mark 3 to the limit of its capabilities, not even perfection would cut it. It wasnt enough for things to be perfect. They had to be perfecter than perfect.
With ALICEs help and the physical samples to use as a reference, Mistelann was confident hed properly inputted the virions structure into the computer. But that was only half of the battle. He was trying to do what only nature could do, and out of order, and outside of a cell, no less. Protein synthesis and macromolecular assembly was a mind-numbingly intricate process that depended as much as on order of assembly and spatial orientation as it did on having the right proteins to assemble in the first place. Arranging macromolecular units in the tertiary phase and then combining them together in the quaternary phase could end with the proteins improperly bonding or denaturing outright if even a single piece was out of place.
The worse part, though?
No chaperone proteins. Viral replication normally utilized the host cells chaperone proteins to ensure the proper formation of the virions, but Mistelann had to do without them.
If you didnt already know, basically, chaperone proteins are these super-tiny thermos-shaped molecules (cup and hinged lid!) that carbon-based cellular life-forms use to provide their proteins with a safe, stable environment in which to take on their intended functional shape. Protein folding is so complicated, that the only way nature could get it done in a controlled manner was to make little thermoses in which it could happen.
Crazy, isnt it?
Doing it without hands would have been easier.
He groaned again, coughing piteously.
The diffusion module quieted down, and then, with a soft chime, signaled it was finally done.
The protein crystallization process is complete, Dr. Skorbinka, ALICE said, in almost sultry-sounding Odenskaya.
The viral structural data Mistelann had entered into the Mark 3s computer was the blueprint the matter printer would use to produce the mycophage treatment. But it wasnt enough just to have the blueprint. Production of the mycophage could not proceed in earnest until Mistelann had verified that the blueprint worked, and would make the printer print the right thing. To check this, hed used his latest blueprint to print a small test sample, which hed then placed in the vapor diffusion module.
Taking a deep breath, and wincing in pain because of it, Mistelann opened the vapor diffusion module and pulled several vials out of its dock. Tiny, glistening crystals hung from the underside of the vials lids.
The test samples.
As macromolecules with amphipathic affinities, viruses could be arranged into protein crystals.
Amphipathic substances (amphipathic meaning feeling both ways) are chemical compounds that can interact with both electrically polarized substances (like ions of salts dissolved in water) and non-polarized substances (fats, oils, etc.).
The vapor diffusion module triggered this crystallization process using silicon oils. Much like how chaperone proteins protected proteins as they folded into shape, the vapor diffusion module protected the growing crystals from being contaminated by particles in the air.
The fact of virus crystallization was first discovered by an Odenskaya migr living in exile in Mu, as part of his studies of the spotty turnip virus, aimed at modifying the virus so as to decimate the more hated of the two key agricultural staples of the Odensk Oligarchy.
Mistelann knew he should have known the scientists name, but, for the life of him, he could not recall it.
In practice, viral crystallization was little more than a neat trick, one which illustrated how close viruses were to the blurry line where life became mere chemistry. But Mistelann hadnt just crystallized the test samples for show. Within a crystal, chemistry became physical. To know a crystals structure was to know its chemical properties, and vice-versa.
Stowing the vials in a carrying case alongside the Stovolsk samples, he carried them over to the work-station with the spectrograph. Standing by the counter, Mistelann got a view of the matter printer room through the window in the wall.
Because time was of the essence, Mistelann didnt have the luxury to do a direct comparative chemical analysis of the test sample and the Stovolsk sample. That was where the spectrograph came in. The machine would shine different wavelengths of light at the samples, and then compare how the light behaved as it passed through the crystals. By quantifying which wavelengths passed through, which ones would be absorbed, and how the light was split or bent, the spectrograph would be able to determine how similar the two sets of crystals were, and if they matched, he could finally die happy.
If they matched
This would be his third attempt.
89.2 - Chaperones
On attempts one and two, minor defects in the individual particles had accumulated as more and more of their number were bound together in a protein crystal, and the result was a catastrophic divergence from the Stovolsk samples.
Setting the case down on the countertop and opening it up, Mistelann bit his lip as he placed both sets of samples in the spectrograph. The machine whirred as it got to work, conducting its multiphase diffraction-scattering analysis.
Now came the waiting. The agonizing waiting. They were filled with tension, made all the more unbearable by the incessant muzak.
Please work, he thought.
Without doubt, this was the finest moment of Mistelanns career, which was saying something, considering his career had begun with turnips.
Odesnk was cold and miserable. This was something Dr. Skorbinka would never forget. If you went far enough north and west on the Daxonian continent, the weather would try to kill you, and your plants, too. The Odenskaya winter somehow managed to be both freezing and muddy at the same time.
It was Hell on earth.
To survive, all the most important crops grew at least partially underground. Potatoes gave vodka and bread. Turnips gave coffee, vegetables, and sadness. Together, the two tubers powered survival. Mistelanns father had been a coffee farmer, as had his father, and his father before him. The western reaches of his lonely motherland was a morass of peninsulas and winding fjords. The coffee lands were in the southwest, near Bospupohis mothers hometown. As Odenskaya coffee was made from a turnip, rather than a bean, it was not true coffee. But it did not need to be true coffee to be amazing, and amazing it was: it was a truly spectacular example of convergent evolution. The coffee turnip concentrated caffeine and other bitter, pungent volatiles in its tuber-root to ensure that no animal would ever dare dig it up.
He remembered his fathers words: Only bite into a coffee turnip if you want to know what it is like for an onion to shit in your mouth.
Mistelanns wandering thoughts were brought back into order as the spectrograph chimed, signaling the completion of its analysis. A moment later, the spectrographic data popped onto the screen of the console mounted on the workstation.
Mistelann skimmed down to the all important number at the bottom of the readout:
Divergence Coefficient: 0.75.
Fuck! Mistelann snapped.
It was worse than before!
He kicked the cabined beneath his workstation, rattling the machinery.
Back to drawing board, he muttered.
Alright, ALICE, he said, show current mycophage macromolecular model on Printer 2. Again.
The image on the console screen changed back to the molecular model of the viral particle Mistelann had inputted into the Mark 3.
Zoom out, he said.
The image re-scaled itself, revealing a magnificent icosahedral shape. The twisted, rambling molecules that made up the viral capsid gave the mycophages exterior the texture of nanoscale mountains.
Time to try a different approach, he muttered.
What would it be this time? Building the nucleic acids in conjunction with the capsid glycoproteins?
There were so many possible combinations!
Mistelann groaned. His head throbbed.
And then, things got worse: a soft tone sounded through the room as the doors opened.
He had company.
The combined effects of nicotine withdrawal, exhaustion, sheer frustration, and an NPF-20 infection meant that Mistelann simply didnt have the willpower to contain his rage, which spilled out of him like the boyars of old.
Because the intruder was wearing a hazmat suit, Mistelann couldnt tell who had dared to enter the labbut, at the moment, he didnt care. Turning to face the intruder, Mistelann roared in his native tongue: Get the fuck out of here! Im trying to save the fucking world!This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
I know, Dr. Skorbinka, I know, Ani said, in Trenton. Well, actually, I dontI dont speak Odenskayabut I knew that youd be pissed off at me for coming down here even after you told us you wanted to be left alone but
Mistelann groaned. He wanted to run his fingers through his hair, but he couldnt because he was in PPE, and the gloves he was wearing were so thick, he was pretty sure he could garrote somebody just by wrapping his hands around their neck and squeezing tight.
Please, Dr. Lokanok, he said, in Trenton, apologies can come after we are dead. What is it? What do you want? Mistelann spoke in a low, almost monotone voice. He had a feeling that yelling again would make the inside of his throat bleed, or whatever.
Dr. Lokanok looked down at the ground. Can I be honest with you?
Mistelann narrowed his eyes. If you are not, I will strangle you with glove. He pointed at his hand.
She looked him in the eyes.
Mistelann could see crying behind her big, circular spectacles.
So she said, her voice breaking, my parents have the Green Death, and theyre dying. Itay She sniffled, her lips quivering. My dad has lost his memories. At first, he didnt recognize me, but then he did, only he thinks Im still a kid.
Whatever was left of Mistelanns rage, Anis words had extinguished it, leaving him feverish and dry and filled with dread.
Fuck he muttered.
Yeah, Ani said, nodding in agreement. So, uh I I know you wanted to work alone, Mistelann, but Im going to. And theres uh theres nothing you can say to change my mind. Nope. Ani crossed her arms and shook her head. Not a thing. She bit her lip. I might just be turning into Gennethmaybe thats what happens when youre infected with a Type Three NFP-20 infection, she mumbled, but I need to do something.
Mistelann sighed. I am nervous to like Howle Genneth, he said, shaking his head. He is too likable. Too earnest. Day before yesterday, I tried killing myself, but he shuddered. Dr. Howle stopped me. Worse, I told him my big ugly secret, and he was understanding.
He can have that effect on people, Ani said.
Mistelann turned away, to face his work-station. I am infected, Dr. Lokanok. Type One. I do not want others here. Not only will they be distraction, they will maybe get infected, too, and I do not want to be remembered for spreading infection. He lowered his voice to a whisper. I just want to do one good thing, Ani. Something worth being remembered for.
Mistelann, I I didnt Ani shook her head and made the Bond-sign. By the Angel.
Angel has nothing to do with it, Mistelann replied. Angel is dangerous idea that cause too much trouble.
Youre an atheist, I take it? Ani asked.
No, I am realist, Mistelann replied. He teetered in place, feeling like he was about to pass out and puke at the same time. God is dead, and we have killed Him. But, we also made Him in first place because we have many insecurities, so it is wash, as they say.
Anis footsteps echoed softly on the vinyl floor. So she said, letting the word drag out.
Dr. Skorbinka turned around. Not only was Dr. Lokanok still there, she was standing even closer to him than before. Close enough to see the molecular models on the console screen.
You have death wish, Dr. Lokanok? he asked her.
Yep. Biting her lip, she nodded. Thats why Im in here with you. I mean its better to do something than nothing, right?
Mistelann sighed. His throat was like fire, and the feeling of his breath passing through his throat was like fire on top of fire.
Do you have any experience with matter printer configuration, molecular spectrography, or tertiary or quaternary stages of protein synthesis? he asked.
Ani nodded. Surprisingly enough, yes, I do.
Mistelann stared at her blankly. He moaned. Remember what I said about gloves, strangulation and lying?
Ani shook her head. Im serious. Before I got hired at WeElMed, I was doing work with pharmacokinetics research at the Cartin Center. We did spectral analysis to determine inhibition factors and distinguish prodrugs from their metabolically active forms. And, she added, though I havent done anything in molecular biology since medical school, I still remember the basics. Exons go in, introns go out, and all that. Dr. Lokanok smiled. Jonan makes very high-brow small talk.
Mistelann stared warily at her. Dr. Lokanok, he said, you and Derric Jonan are match made in Paradise. Both of you are very scary.
Anis smile strengthened. Ill take that as a compliment. She walked up to Mistelanns work-station and stood beside him. So, she said, hows it going with the mycophage?
He told her as much as he could as briefly as he could. When he finished, her expression droppedbut only a little.
Sounds very frustrating.
Mistelann let out an agonized cough. You have no idea. He glanced up at the security camera jutting down from the corner of the ceiling. Ask ALICE to play security footage. You will hear and see all of my drama.
Then Ani saw the data read-out on the work-stations console, and her expression dropped even more.
Your current divergence coefficient was 0.75. What was it before that? she asked.
Last time was 0.41, Mistelann said.
What were you doing differently?
Order of compound synthesis was reverse of what it was in third trial, he said.
They talked over the problem for a bit, and then, out of nowhere, Dr. Lokanok proved herself a genius.
Or, rather, Mistelann thought, she proves me fool.
Why not construct the nucleic acids and the amino acids in separate printers? she suggested. Then you can send the products to Printer 2 to be assembled as the full viral particle? Use the matter printers as substitutes for the chaperone proteins.
Mistelann put his hands on Anis shoulders in a display of spontaneous affection. Dr. Lokanok, if I was not infected and you were not with boyfriend, I would kiss you! He turned away and let out another cough.
Why did I not think of this? he said.
It felt like flaming brambles were growing in his chest.
ALICE, he said, do what smart lady said, and then send test samples to vapor distillation module for crystallization.
Yes, Dr. Skorbinka.
The machinery on the printing room floor hummed as it came to life.
Mistelann staggered over to the nearest chair and collapsed in it. Darkness closed in on the edges of his vision.
Now, we
But then Mistelann lost consciousness, and he could do no more.
90.1 - Ich weine viel in meinen Einsamkeiten
Every time I tell this storyand, by the Angel I have told it so many times no matter how many times I tell it, there are difficult parts, where even I have to struggle to keep all the memories together. Rose Monroe, for example, the math teacher with the dog, back near the beginning of the tale; her story always gets to me. Its strange: the tragedies the fungus left in its wake are so vast, it boggles the mind; its a crime that screams out to Paradise, demanding justice, and yet, something as small and heartbreaking as the fate of Rose and Buddy stands out from the rest, and towers over themtall poppies, except for misery, rather than promise.
I suppose my continued struggles with stories like Rose and Buddys speak to the constancy of the human soul. Even after all this time, I am who I am. My psychology keeps on treading down the same old paths, more less. This part of myself can only do so much, even if the rest of me is so much more than that. Thats why the alternate points-of-view Ive woven into this tale affect me so much. Whenever I reach into my vault of souls and pull out a perspective other than my own I feel them, as if they and I were one and the same. Its the same power of connection that lets me bring peace and consolation to my spirit patientsempathy at its most radical.
But this isnt about me as I am now, its about me as I was, back then. That is what you wanted to know, after all.
Alright, fine. Yes, I am stalling, but for good reason. Were about to start what, for me, is the most challenging part of the story. Sometimes, I think I shouldnt have put it right after Anis scenesthat only makes it harder for me to get through itbut, Ive told this story enough times to know that thats the way it needs to be. To be clearobviouslyat the time all these events were happening, the events that I personally struggled with the most came in the fourth part, but, at least there, in the end, I came away with the power to do something meaningful and change things for the better, just like Id promised Andalon I would.
I just wish I could have said the same thing about this event, the one Im about to share.
No matter how much anyone tells me otherwise, I cant shake the conviction that I failed my wife and my kids, and that that failure fell squarely on my shoulders, and mine alone. I have seen Time itself die away and be born anew, yet still, my guilt hounds me, as does the pain. It persists in their memories, and in the knowledgeboth theirs, and minethat I wasnt there for them when I should have been. I failed as father, there, and a husband, and as a man.
This part of the story takes place back at the house on Angeltoe Street. By some miracle I probably didnt deserve, Pel, Jules, Rayph were alive, and not just alive, but alive and wellor, as close to well as people could be in a situation like this.
Then again, being alive isnt quite the same thing as living.
The kids sat cross-legged on the beige shag carpeting in the middle of our rotunda living room. They were wearing weekend clothessocks, and plaid samueplaying together on the GameStation.
Our quasi-benevolent corporate overlords over at DAISHU gifted the Trenton people with many blessings. Samue [Sah-moo-eh] were one of them. The unisex, side-tied, two-piece loungewear was Munine cultures answer to the time-honored Trenton tradition of lounging around in our nightclothes. The loose seams allowed for ventilated comfort in hot weather, or pandemics.
Jules and Rayph had gotten my gamer gene; their mother, meanwhile, preferred arcade games, particularly of the kind you could play on a PortaCon (Tetris, Puzzle & Dinosaurs, etc.). So, for my wifes sake, Id gotten the family a copy of Orimon Carnivale 33, because the arcade-style games of that multiplayer delight were one of the few GameStation titles that Pel could enjoy.
Its a common refrain that, if it exists, it has Orimon in it somewhere, and, amusingly enough, my own story is no exception to this rule.
Orimon is the OG manga franchise. Orimon is a red tanuki-shaped robot with the soul of a real tanuki, who wants nothing more than to become as real of a tanuki as he feels he is, and to that end, hes enlisted the help of Shigeya, an ordinary Munine middle school boy. The manga is about their misadventures, and has been around for nearly a century and half. Though hes not that popular in the East, back in Mu and the West, hes they put him on the sides of aerostats famousthe mascot character to end all mascot characters.
As for Orimon Carnivale, Monimegas multiplayer party game series had been around since Letty was a kid, back in the 64-bit era. Orimon Carnivale 33 was considered the second best third-epoch OC gamethe best in recent memory having been OC 31but I hadnt been able to sell Pel on the idea of motion controls, so I got OC 33 instead.
It also helped make family game night much less of a chore.
Id once tried to get them to play my childhood copy of Quest for the Emerald Chalice, a self-contained tabletop RPG board game. It did not go well.
It was hard for them to have much fun, however, what with the end of the world and all.
It was afternoon, thoughsave for the shaft of Sunlight streaming down from the Eye in the middle of the ceilingyou wouldnt know it. All the curtains were drawn shut, leaving the house in a cool, pale darkness. As the fluctuations in and interruptions to the power supply had gotten worse and worse, Pel had made the decision to haul the portable generator out from the storage room in the basement and hook it up to the system, to supplement the power lines inconstant supply. This also took the strain off the solar panels we had on the roof, letting charge accumulate in the reserve capacitor. Along with the portable generator, that reserve would come in handy once the citys utility network finally gave up the ghost.
As for my wife, Pel sat at the dining room table, with her and the kids PortaCons on the tabletop. Unable to rest or stay calmeither physically or mentallyshed been spending her time scouring what remained of the internet, fighting the temptation of getting into her samue. She didnt want to accept that this was the end, because that would mean acknowledging that the last sliver of control she thought she had really was just an illusion. Instead, wanting to maintain at least some semblance of order, Pel was in her day clothes: blue skirt, yellow blouse, and those plain, dark brown shoes with a heel so slight, you needed a level to measure it. But, even in her dress, she was lying to herself. Yes, she was wearing her day clothes, but she didnt do anything else to keep up with appearances, perhaps for fear of breaking the spell. She wasnt wearing her jewelry, and her make-up might as well have already been in the trash. Finery like that had gone the way of the horse-drawn carriage. They were relics of a bygone age.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
The whole world was shutting down.
Most people had come to terms with the certitude of demise. The internet was now one grand goodbye. It was a wake for the whole world, and everyone was invited.
Everyone was a guest of honor.
People shared memories of their lives. Through written text, or videos they uploaded to the Cloud, they told their stories. Here and there, you could find small groups of people on social media dedicated to keeping abreast of the situation as best they could, recording their observations for anyone who might want to use them.
Dont sleep in close quarters with others. If youre infected, and someone else goes feral, youll get pulled into it, too.
Stay away from the cities.
Try not to think about how, at least in the beginning, the zombies are completely aware of what is happening to them.
Dont drink fluids that werent in sealed containers.
And so on, and so forth.
The internet was also divided on whether or not the Norms were still themselves. For every person who passionately insisted that they were, there was someone who said the Norms were taken over by demons, possibly from the earliest stage of their transformation, and that you could tell when the demons had taken over by the colors of their eyes. But, in spite of the controversy, there was one point on which there was unanimous agreement: being near a Norm was certain death, for they carried the plague, spreading it with their every breath.
Funnily enough, the end of the world turned out to be a real boon for freedom of speech. Content censors were only human, after all, and they died just like the rest of us, except when the censors died, they took their censorship with them, leaving the remaining members of the human community free to express themselves to the fullest.
Paying for digital content was a thing of the past. You could read what you wanted, play what you wanted, and share what you wanted, and nobody cared one way or the other. Property rightsintellectual or otherwisemeant squat when everybody was dead.
On her own console, off to the side, Pel had put on old episodes of John Henrichy Tonight while she continued doing her research. Understandably, Mr. Henrichy himself was no longer broadcasting. Pel imagined hed be spending his final hours with his loved ones.
When was the last time you stopped yourself from saying something you believed to be true for fear of being punished or criticized for saying it? If you live in Trenton, it probably hasnt been long.
Though she wasnt about to admit it to Jules, Pel had started watching online videos of re-runs partly as a way of spiting me. She found herself wondering if our marriage vows covered zombie apocalypses. My wife was understandably angry at my leave of absence, and she couldnt help but feel that our recent (and not-so-recent) struggles were at least part of the reason why I was one of the unlucky few who was, as far as she understood it, being transformed into a vessel for an archdemon.
Thanks to mass immigration, Trenton has experienced greater demographic change in the last century than any other country in history has undergone during peacetime. We cant see it anymore, but our elders know. Suddenly nothing looks the same. Your neighbors are different. So is the landscape and the customs and very often the languages you hear on the street. You may not recognize your own hometown. Human beings arent wired for that. We are told these changes are entirely good, that we must celebrate the fact that a nation that was overwhelmingly Daxonian, Lassedile, and Trenton-speaking fifty years ago has become a place with no ethnic majority, immense religious pluralism, and no universally shared culture or language.
Glancing back over her shoulder at Jules and Rayphthey were playing a party game togetherPel lowered the volume on her console. She didnt want to give Jules a reason to be upset. However much Jules and I might have feuded, our political stances were the same.
So far, the family was safe, but Pel knew only a fool would assume that things would stay that way forever. At any moment, everything could fall apart. Thats why she was so frantically busy, coming up with contingency plans and writing them up in the consoles.
Suddenly, all the lights went out, as did the TV console mounted on the living rooms flagstone wall. The screens of the three consoles on the dining room table glowed like they were windows to another world.
Rayph was the first to scream; he yelped in surprise. Jules merely cursed: Damn it!
Pel got up from her chair and turned to face the kids. Its alright, just give it a moment. She looked at the wall sconces expectantly.
There was a soft hum.
A couple seconds later, the algorithm that managed the houses power supply shifted the houses juice-sources, tapping into the solar panels capacitors to supplement the power coming from the portable generator thrumming in the kitchen.
The lights flickered on a moment later, as did the TV console, and all the other plugged-in appliances.
The GameStation, meanwhile, just woke up from the sleep mode it had placed itself in, thanks to its internal battery, designed to handle situations exactly like this (minus the apocalypse part).
Rayph turned to his sister. Best two out of three?
Jules set her controller down on the shag carpeting. The power just went out, Rayph, she said. We have back-up, because Mom is smart, but, she lowered her gaze, and her voice, not everyone else will. She turned to the big bay window.
The curtains were drawn, as they had been all day long.
Things must be getting really bad out there, she added, in a whisper. Its not so easy to just goof off, you know? Not for me, anyway.
Jules had been pretty adamant in her belief that the plague and the zombies and the transformations had to have some kind of rational explanation. Though Pel understood why our daughter felt this way, it didnt make the situation any less frustrating. That was the trouble with legends and prophecies: they didnt care about your opinions. Prophesying was not democratic. If an event was destined to come true, it was going to come true, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.
Pel was certain the Angel was watching over her and her children. That was the only explanation she could find for how she and Jules had managed to escape unharmed from the Norm at the supermarket. But, no matter her faith, Pel couldnt shake the feeling that she wasnt as safe as she seemed to be. The Norm had seen her, and it had seen Jules, too, that petrified her. She worried it made her and the kids a target.
Mom Jules said. Mom?
Jules words snapped Pel out of her thoughtful daze.
Pel could hear the windows rattling in their panes. The noise set her heart racing.
What is it? she said.
Turning to look, Pel saw Jules standing over by the big bay window, pulling one of the thick curtains aside to peer outside. Rayph, meanwhile, stood near the cone of Sunlight streaming in through the Ceiling Eye in the middle of the living room, with the GameStations two wireless controllers at his feet, staring warily at his sister.
Jules turned to her mother. You have to see this She stepped out of the way to give her mother room to look
90.2 - Ich weine viel in meinen Einsamkeiten
Pel crossed the carpet in a hurry, with Rayph skittering along behind her. She put her hand on the glass as she stepped up to the window. The glass quivered beneath her finger in accented pulses.
Thmmm. Thmmm.
Like the Norms, the creature lumbering down Angeltoe Street shouldnt have been possible. It was one story tall and vaguely quadrupedal, and was covered in quills, like a pin-cushion, or an urchin. Its limbs looked like they were made from the pads of prickly pear cactuses, though with sagging skin stretched between the legs. Though it was moving away from Seacrest Avenue behind it, the creature had no clear front or back ends. Instead, its body was amalgamated from trees ripped from the earth. Fungal growth held it together, serving as both stitching and skin.
Hearing gunshots, Pel flinched. By the Angel she muttered. Her body went stiff. Wanting to get a look, Rayph stuck his head in by her hip, only to scream and tumble back as he got what he wanted.
Pel slid the curtain to the side as more gunshots rang out. She saw sparks bounce off the monsters hide. A moment later, a thin beam of crackling red energy blasted into the monsters flank, igniting the bits of wood and pine needles on the creatures body.
Holy shit! Jules cursed.
Both the bullets and the heat ray were coming from a group of soldiers riding in an open-backed military transport that was approaching the creature from the side. The heat ray was mounted on the transport, in the middle of its bed, and was manned by one of the soldiers.
Rayph, too, had squeezed in to look. What the heck? he said, his jaws hanging slack.
The monster responded to the attack by rearing up like a horse and flailing its prickly pad legs. Green spore plumes puffed out from its burning flanks, which trickled down black ooze as it charred and cracked. The flames smoldered as they contacted the ooze, making the stuff sizzle and pop as dark smoke wafted high.
The soldiers kept firing as they leapt over the transports guard rails and onto the pavement, and then spread out to the left and right.
They were trying to surround it.
No, Pel realized, theyre trying to distract it.
While the monster was busy swiping its legs at the soldiers on the ground, the transport pulled away and turned to the side, giving the heat rays operator a clean, near-point-blank shot at the abomination.
For a moment, Pel actually had hope, but then she heard the sounds of shattering glass and a rush of screams and snarls.
Zombies spilled out onto the lawns of nearby homes. Pel thought she saw the Ahmansonsour next door neighborsamong the figures scrambling onto the streets.
She staggered back in horror.
The soldiers turned and opened fire, heat ray and all. The bullets turned the front row of zombies to an oily pulp, but it didnt matter, because the heat ray operators body stopped obeying him. He let out a scream as his body pushed off the heat ray, throwing himself onto the ground. The laser was still firing as the thrust spun it around half a turn, though it petered out a moment later, but by then, the operator had gotten onto all fours and tackled his nearest comrade, biting and clawing like a wild animal.
Pel lunged forward and closed the curtains as quickly as she could.
Get back! she told the kids. Get back! Get back! Get back!
Outside, screams and roars rocked earth and air.
Mom! Rayph cried.
Pel pulled him into her arms and pressed her finger to his mouth, begging him, Please, be quiet.
Jules looked her brother in the eye. Its alright, she whispered, its not the first time. There were zombies here last night, remember?
But those zombies went away! Rayph hissed.
And so will these, Pel said. The Angel is protecting us.
But then why did her heart feel like it was about to leap out of her chest?
The three of them stayed very, very quiet and very, very still, Pel counting the seconds in her head as she waited and prayed. Rayph tried to be brave, but he couldnt keep himself from whimpering in terror.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
Over the next minute or so, the sounds of gunfire gradually waned. They didnt get closer, nor did they move away. They just grew less and less frequent, until they finally stopped, cut off mid-fire. Soon, the only sounds Pel could hear were her breaths and her childrens breaths, and the rattling of the window panes from the monsters earth-drum steps as it tromped down the street, until everything was still.
Rayph sniffled.
See, Pel whispered, they went away.
She could hardly believe her own words.
But then Rayph raised his head and looked up at his mother. Mom, do you smell that?
Smell wh
Brrreen!
The alarm shrieked, loud and shrill.
Brrreen! Brrreen! Brrreen!
For a second, Pel froze, totally overwhelmed.
Mom? Jules yelped. Mom!?
I thought we were supposed to stay quiet Rayph said.
Thats the smoke alarm, Pel muttered.
It took a second for the implications to link up in her mind.
Smoke. Fire.
Then the adrenaline came screaming through Pels veins.
Fire! she yelled, as she scrambled to her feet and ran into the kitchen.
She gasped.
The cypresses were on fire. She saw it through the window over the sink. The cypresses on the property line between the house and the Ahmansons place were up in flames. For a split second, Pel feared the horrors could spit fire like dragons, but then she remembered the heat ray.
Suddenly, one of the cypresses toppled over. The flaming trunk crashed through the roof of our master bedroom. As Pels gaze swept out, she noticed twitching figures near the base of the hill our house was on.
Theyre climbing up the hill! Pel yelled. Kids, put on your shoes, now! Rayph, get the consoles on the dining room table. Jules, come here to the kitchen!
What!? Jules cried.
Just do it! Pel yelled. Weve got to get as much dry food as we can carry!
Panicked feet scampered across the floor.
Pel ran into the dining room to pick her purse off the dining room table and sling it over her shoulder. Jules rushed into the kitchen as Pel exited the kitchen, and then let out a big Oh shit! as she saw what her mother had seen.
Whats going on!? Rayph yelled.
The house is on fire! Jules roared. Zombies are coming!
Pel ran in to help our daughter. The two of them threw open the shelves and took things out, starting with the cereal boxes.
What do I do!? Rayph cried. What do I do!?
Take the consoles to my car! And unhook the car from the charging station!
The next minute or so was a mad dash all around. Pel ran over to the door to the garage and flung it open, unlocking her pink Pirouette-13 with a swipe of her hand over the door handle, opened the trunk in back, and then darted back into the house and into the kitchen to help Jules while yelling at Rayph for a third time to get in the car.
Together, Pel and Jules ran into the garage and threw the dry goods into the trunk while Rayph clambered into the back seats.
What about our stuff? he cried.
Pel glanced at the trunk. There was still plenty of room left, and still plenty of food in the kitchen.
She looked at Jules. Cmon, lets go.
The two women rushed into the house, but then glass shattered.
They screamed.
The big curtain in the living room billowed and then fell forward as a figure burst through, flailing against the fabric. In seconds, the curtain rod was ripped from out of the wall, sending a flood of daylight in through the broken window. Pel saw three or four zombies rushing across the lawn, drawn by fire and the keening smoke alarm.
Pel spun around on her heels. Car! she yelled. Car! Car! Car!
Her and Jules shoes clicked on the garages concrete floor as they ran to opposite sides of the carJules on the passengers side, Pel on the driversflung the car doors open, and then slammed them shut just as quickly. Pel nearly shut the drivers side door, but then scrambled out of the car with a yell, slammed the trunk shut, and then darted back to the drivers seat.
She slammed the door shutthis time, for good. She turned to Jules and yelled, Open the garage door! as she swiped her hand over the ignition scanner.
She didnt bother with the seatbelt.
The car hummed to life. The console in the dashboard lit up, wide awake.
Jules pushed the button on the garage control overhead. The garage door rose up behind them.
Rayph pointed and screamed. Pels gaze shot to the door to the house.
Fear ran up her spine like lightning.
The zombies were clambering through!
Grabbing the steering wheel, Pel jerked the stick shift back, setting the car to reverse. The dashboard console showed the view from the cameras on the back side of the car.
Shit! Pel hissed.
More zombies were charging up the street behind them. The Ahmansons were lumbering up the driveway.
Hold on! Pel yelled.
She turned the wheel to line up the indicator on the dashboards rear camera view, and then slammed her foot on the accelerator. The car careened backwards and the kids screamed. There was a screech as the car nicked the edge of the still-rising garage door, and then a thump as what had once been Mrs. Ahmanson got a face-full of license plate.
The zombies snarled, turning their heads in unison as they followed Pel pulling the car out onto the street.
Pel looked to the left and right as she made the split-second decision of what route to take. But the sight of the prickly pad creature lumbering down Angeltoe Street at her left made the decision for her.
Seatbelt! she yelled.
Then she pushed the stick shift all the way forwardfull drive!and made a hard right turn, down Angletoe Street, toward Seacrest Avenue.
Jules and Rayphs eyes were glued to the rear-view windows, watching as the car left the zombies in the dust. Meanwhile, Pels eyes were glued to the rear-view mirror, watching her life go up in flames behind her.
She tried her best not to cry. She needed to be brave, for her familys sake.
The kids looked forward as the car turned off Angeltoe Street.
Mom, Rayph said, softly, what now?
It took all of two seconds for Jules to figure out the answer. It wasnt a likable answer. But what other choice did she have?
Pel sighed. I guess were going to grandmas house.
Jules just stared.
90.3 - Ich weine viel in meinen Einsamkeiten
At at least they werent fast zombies, Jules muttered.
Pel had to admit, her daughter was right about that. For all their terrifying ferocity, these zombies werent very tenacious. Shed quickly shaken them off her tail, just by speeding toward Seacrest Avenue.
That was a good thing, right? A victory?
As she reached the grand boulevard, Pel didnt wait for the traffic light to change, she just turned. Yes, it set a bad example for the kids, but right now, staying alive was more important than having good manners.
As Pel turned onto Seacrest Avenue, a feeling gnawed at her, one she couldnt shake. She felt it in her gut.
They hadnt escaped. If it felt like they had, well, that feeling was a chimeraa falsehood. Whatever evil was at work within the zombies, it had chosen to let her go. That was Pels conviction, and she didnt know how to make it go away.
Why waste effort capturing that which had no hope of escape?
She didnt dare tell the kids about this.
She wanted to believe she was wrong, but she couldnt, and as Elpeck Bay came into view and gasps broke out in the car that hope died a little death.
As always, the cityscape gleamed brightly in the midday Sun. A week ago, that brightness would have been true, but now, it was just another liejust a gilded sheen.
Elpeck was coming undone. No longer was it the shining city by the sea. Now, it was a sinking ship roasting in the sun; a ghost in transit, on its way to ruin.
Sounds of war broke the eerie stillness. Artillery fire pounded in the distance. Tanks barrels spewed their loads. Red beams flashed further down the coast, likely more of the militarys laser weapons.
Werent those supposed to be just in the experimental stage?
Well, it no longer mattered.
The city was alive with death. Here and there, Pel spotted a truck or a bus trundling down the streets on the waterfront streets, like ants crawling among graves. Military vehicles buzzed like flies: troop transports; wheeled artillery; hovering aerostats, using up precious fuel. And, sometimes, if she stared, she noticed slender figures flying among the skyscrapers, or in an alleyway, slithering through the shadows.
Or maybe she just thought she noticed it.
The drive down Seacrest Avenues broad curves was more of a crawl. The slowness was almost unbearable. Pel couldnt stop herself from glancing up at the rear-view mirror every minute or so to answer her racing hearts questions.
Were they following us? Were they waiting in ambush?
Pel could feel paranoia squatting behind her eyes, constantly daring her to put the pedal to the metal and blaze down the Avenue as fast as she could to get away from the horrors that had to be stalking her, even though doing so would kill them all.
Traffic was surprisingly bad, considering nearly everyone was dead.
The road was littered with cars, jutting out over the edge of the street, or onto the slender median strip. There wasnt enough clutter to fully obstruct the way forward, but, in a way, that was even worse than a dead end, because it gave her hope.
At any moment, something could leap out, break through the windshield, and kill her and her children, and the only thing she could do about it was continue on forward, slowly weaving her car around the obstacles in her way.
It also showed her so many things she wished she could forget.
Many of the cars werent empty. Their owners corpses still sat in their seats. In some of the victimslikely those who had been dead the longestthe fungus within their bodies had begun to grow into something more than mere disease. Their cars were canned jungles, and burst forth with unholy beauty.
A new kind of nature was claiming the land.
Even so, it was the abandoned cars that worried Pel the most. She couldnt help but wonder as to their owners fates. Had they lost their minds in the middle of the road? Or had someoneor somethingopened the doors, and pulled them out, and claimed them, body and soul?
Guys, Pel muttered, look away. You you dont want to look at this.
She checked the rearview mirror again; still, nothing.
For now, at least.
Finally, they reached the Expressway. By a minor miracleotherwise known as competent civil engineeringthe onramps were completely unobstructed.
Were gonna take the Expressway? Jules asked.
She seemed skeptical, to say the least.
Would you prefer to take the old suspension bridge? Pel said. The ones that the monsters can cross?
Jules gulped. Point taken.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.
But isnt the power out? Rayph asked.
Even if it is, Pel answered, the Expressways solar panels certainly arent.
Mom, he said, are we gonna make it?
Were certainly gonna try, Pel answered.
She clenched the steering wheel.
All right, she said, hold on. Here we go. She drove onto the onramp, which triggered the Pirouettes hover mode. The anxiety in her stomach didnt react well to the g-forces, but her discomfort faded once the car leveled out onto the Expressway, riding atop a mag-lev cloud. It was hard for her not to stare at the thin piles of scrap metal wreckage scattered along the edges of the road.
If she had to guess, they were the remains of cars whose drivers had died or lost control. She could see dents and breaks in the guard railings along the edge of the Expressway where vehicles had crashed, flipped over, or broken through and plunged into the sea. Then a couple of charred wrecks came into view, as did kibbles of flesh splattered on the walls or on the underside of the glass panes of the Expressways barrel-shaped roof. Even here, the fungus was taking root, slowly spreading across the infrastructure.
How much longer, Pel wondered, before it swallowed it whole?
Why are we going to Margarets place? Jules asked. She pointed at the Expressway. The Expressway continues up the coast. Wouldnt it be safer to go past the city altogether?
Jules, Pel said, dont do what your father does. Think about what you say before you say it.
Jules stared at her mother. You have a plan? she asked.
Always, Pel replied, with a nod of her head. As much as I love this car, its not built for long-distance travel, especially anything off-road.More importantly, right now, we just dont have the supplies wed need to leave the city. We need food, fuel, tools, a back-up generator or two, weapons
Shit, Jules muttered, Margarets gun-closet.
Right, Pel said. Jules, you can thank the Sun that your grandmother is a doomsday prepper, Pel continued. Between the penthouse and the dive bar, Grandma Margarets place has two fortresses for us to hole up in, not to mention the RV shes got in the garage.
And the robots! Rayph said.
Pel nodded again. Yes, theyre the most important part. They wont need to fear the fungus, and I dont think the monsters will attack them. Theyd be invaluable to have. We can have them do reconnaissance and scout out supplies while we wait at your grandmothers house, planning our next steps in the event we need to flee the city.
Jules dared to smile. Youve really got this all planned out, havent you?
Ive been trying, Pel answered. She wanted to say that she had, but she couldnt escape the sinking feeling that she was woefully unprepared, and the panoramic view from the middle of the Expressway only made that feeling worse.
From this vantage point, Pel had a clear view of the ships at the docks or out on the Bay. Every single one of them was dead in the water. Down below, not far from the Expressway, a container ship bobbed in the Bay. Most of its containers were little more than spoiled cans, burst open as the fungus growing within them had pried its way out to reach up and bask in the Sunlight. Variations of this fate played out all across the Bay.
Everywhere she looked, Pel saw vessels in the process of being consumed. As she looked, a thought poked at the back of her mind: fungus liked damp, dark places. So why was the Green Death growing toward the Sun?
Everywhere it bloomed, it reached toward the Sun.
But then Rayph let out a shout, shattering Pels thoughts.
Oh shit! he yelled.
Pel looked to where he was pointing.
What is it? Jules said, looking around in shock.
Aerostats! Rayph said.
Looking up through the windshield, Pel saw military aerostats overhead, and they were loaded to the brim with munitions.
Jules rose from her seat and leaned over the right side of the dashboard, to get a better view, and Pel didnt bother chastising her for it. Jules let out a gasp as the aerostats launched a pair of missiles at the corrupted container ship. On impact, the incendiary explosives unleashed a massive fireball which consumed the container ship. Flaming fuel spilled on the water as the dark smoke clouds rose high, and the container ship capsized and slowly sank into the Bay.
Like with the zombies, Pel didnt feel a sense of victory in the ships destruction. It was a negligible gain, a tiny grain against an unstoppable tide.
Evil was not so easily deterred, least of all an evil as great as this.
The smoke cloud passed out of sight as the Pirouette reached the city. Up ahead, the Expressway wove through the city, threading through mid-air tunnels built into Elpecks skyscrapers.
Pel wondered how long it would be before she set out down that road. For now, though, she banked onto the off-ramp, taking the exit for Ledrvo Grove.
The Pirouette thumped as it rolled onto its wheels and the city street. She could hardly believe theyd made it this far. It didnt feel real.
The Expressway let out in the shade, in the middle of the city. Bodies splayed out on the street like roadkill. Pel tried to ignore them, keeping her eyes on the road ahead, letting her inner autopilot take over as she followed down the familiar route to her parents apartment building. From where the on-ramp let out in the middle of Fish Street, Pel took the turn onto Petta Drive. From there, it would be a straight line to her mothers penthouse.
Two-hundred years ago, Ledrvo Grove had been the heart of Elpecks Polovian immigrant community, though, over the years, the Polovians were driven out, first by rising rents, then by soaring skyscrapers. Now, the only remains of its past were the family run jewelry stores tucked into some of the skyscrapers ground floors. The rest of the neighborhood was posh beyond belief, the result of years of catering to the ultra-wealthy businessmen in the Finance District. Ledrvo Grove was the world capital of glitter-infused sidewalks, designer gastronomy, wrought-iron-framed street signs, and the chicest of conceptual art studios. Petta Drive was the Groves main drag, and was no stranger to trafficfoot, or car. On any other day, you could have spotted celebrities and nouveau riche walking among its streets.
But not today.
Petta Drive had never seen traffic as strange as this.
Anarchy reigned. Gunshots and screams rang out in the distance. Bands of masked marauders roamed the streets. They were phantoms of the sidewalk, dashing in through broken storefronts to carry out any luxuries that hadnt yet been looted. Here and there, Pel saw people staggered about, wandering aimlessly, moaning incomprehensibly, their fungus-ravaged minds unable to do much more than repeat short phrases over and over, like a broken record.
So much for the military keeping things under control, Jules muttered.
Pel glanced at her daughter, and then eyed Rayph through the rear-view mirror. Keep the doors and windows closed, Pel said, no matter what.
Whats going on? Rayph asked, his eyes glued onto the window.
People are losing their minds, Pel said.
She drove past one of the Groves blue, double-decker tour buses. Utterly empty, it lingered on the side of the street, indifferent to the chaos around it.
Shit, Jules hissed, watching as a storefront went up in flames.
Well, Pel muttered, there goes Fred Nelbys
The chain of high-end boutiques had been an old favorite of hers. Sure, their employees tended to be shallow trend-chasers, but their advice was solid, and the goodson sale were never anything but the best.
Now, it was fodder for the mob.
Pel couldnt help but slow down to look, watching the fires spread.
Mom! Jules snapped, suddenly frightened. Dont stop! Go! Go!
90.4 - Ich weine viel in meinen Einsamkeiten
Pel sped up just in time. The rear-view mirror gave her a front row seat as a group of zombies came out from the Fred Nelbys and mobbed the looters. They knocked the hooligans onto the street and tore and bit.
The sound of an unearthly chorale swept through the street, sending shivers down Pels spine. Looking up through the windshield, she thought she saw figures flying mid-air, but they were hard to make out in the shadows of the looming high-rises.
Im going to take the side streets, Pel announced.
She hoped it would be safer.
She turned at the next intersection and crossed one block over, and then another, trying to stifle a gasp.
Thered been a Norm on the first street.
Jules turned to her mother and stared. Was that?
Pel tightened her grip on the steering wheel. Were almost there, honey. Were almost there.
The street scene two blocks away from Petta Drive was calmer than the anarchy playing out on the main drag, but that brought little comfort, because it was only calmer because everyone was dead, and in the quiet, the fungus had advanced its conquest, emerging in tree-like forms from the corpses sprawled out on the street, and climbing buildings sides like ivy. The tallest, thickest growths were beginning to sprout clusters of stocky, tubular structures, like the pipes of an organ. Pel wondered if those were the source of the strange sounds, but the noises didnt seem to be coming from them
Suddenly, Jules let out a shriek, and Pels heart nearly skipped a beat.
What is it? What is it?
Jules pointed a trembling finger at the window.
MomI saw something rooting through a trash bin. It was huge. It
Pel yelped, and hit the brakes.
Up ahead, on the side of the street, a luggage-sized cross of a rat and tick waddled out from the gap in between two parked cars, clambering forward on a quartet of bony limbs. It clambered over to one of the corpse-trees and began to feed. Fungal flesh crawled down the trunk as the corpse-trees mass flowed into the tick-rat. The creatures body cracked and twitched as its distended abdomen swelled.
Then Rayph screamed. Through the rear-view mirror, Pel could see him staring out through the back window.
Theres more! he yelled. Theres more!
Pel tapped an icon on the dashboard console, changing the display from the map to the rear-view camera. It showed more tick-rats waddling across the street. Further back, a hand of five jointed legs reached up over the roof of a car.
She prayed: Angel, help us.
And then she pressed her foot on the accelerator, and sped ahead, swerving around the corpse-tree in the middle of the road. The car jostled as it passed over the tick-rat. The creature burst with a wet pop, splattering black ooze onto the corpse-tree. Pel kept her eyes on the road, steering clear of any obstacles.
Suddenly, Pels eyes burned and everything went white.
Mom! Look out! Rayph yelled.
Bear left! Jules said. Bear left!
Pel did so, and the whiteness vanished. Through the flashing afterimages, she saw a fortress of a vehicle up ahead, barreling down the street. Its searchlight shone blindingly bright. Squatting her eyes, she veered left, aiming for an empty space by the sidewalk. Everyone jerked forward as the cars front wheels rolled up onto the curb.
The military vehicle rumbled down the street.
The ground shook as the military vehicle passed on by.
Heads down! Pel said, just in time.
Semi-automating rifle fire spat through the air, shot out from slits in the vehicles sides. The bullets made quick work of the tick-rats. The creatures screeched and squealed as they died, and the sounds sat like acid in Pels head.
She blinked her eyes until her vision returned to her, and then glanced back at the vehicle, only to stare in horror. A stoic corpse clad in full tactical armor was sticking out of the manhole on the vehicles roof.
Shaking her head, Pel steeled herself, squeezing the life out of the steering wheels padding. Putting the car into reverse, she drove off the curb and back into the street, tracking the wheels through monster glop. Then, gritting her teeth, she pushed the stick shift all the way forward and pressed down on the accelerator.
Pel dropped any pretense of caring about the rules of the road. No one seemed to care, anyhow. The police and military patrol vehicles wandering the streets didnt care, nor did the looters, or the zombies, or the people who just wanted to stay alive.
People like her.
Were almost there, she muttered. The words were her prayer. Her mantra. And, for once, her prayer was answered.
Her parents building1337 Petta Drivewas at the tail end of Ledrvo Grove, where the neighborhood merged into the Finance District. The changes in the cars surroundings signaled the impending change: the spacing between the dead, fungus-struck trees grew wider and wider while the high-rises rose higher still. Old new hotelspalatial classics, or neo-medieval revivalsand the new new boutiques stuffed into their ground floors gave way to the Finance Districts austere, steely-hued skyscrapers.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Her fathers company owned nearly every single one.
The Finance District had grown beyond the sway of night and day. If the market was a hive mind, the Finance District was its hive, but that hive was deathly still. No multitasking businesspeople. No cluttered car traffic. The place was as bare and sterile as the spires of metal and glass that towered over its streets.
Pel stared.
Keep your heads down, both of you, she said. Please
Wind howled through the urban canyons, blowing trash across the lifeless streets, the abandoned cars, darkened alleys. Corpses lay prone on the sidewalks, or crumpled at the base of a buildingmaybe huddled in a recesstheir eyes fixed on a sky theyd never see again.
Angel help us, Pel prayed.
Its almost over, Pel said, praying for it to be the truth.
And then something fell onto the roof of the car.
Everyone screamed.
A hairy, wingd thing rolled down the windshield. It bounced off the cars hood and tumbled into the street, flailing its too many limbs. Pel slammed the brakes, but not quickly enough.
The car rammed into the creature. Buts bounced on the seats as the screeching wheels tore into the creature. The horrible shaking lasted for only a moment before the car hit the road once more.
Dont look at it! Pel yelled. Close your eyes!
And the kids listenedbut others didnt. Others, that prowled out from alleys on fours or eights or slithering nones. Pests and strays and worse filed out from the dark corners of the streets. Pel saw them through the rear-view mirror, and was too scared to look away.
There was a shambling figure, with twitching, tumorous clusters of infected pigeons melded into his flesh. Serpent-things snaked down the street, with bodies of dead insects, chained together by the fungus. Dogs and cats scampered along, their trumpet-flower heads in full bloom, branching tail-roots swishing behind them.
And all of them were chasing after the car.
Pel pushed her foot on the accelerator, but the engine sputtered.
Her words were truer than shed known: the Pirouette-13 really wasnt designed for long trips. All the time spent weaving through obstacles had taken their toll on the batterys charge. Worse, the Change Battery had started to flash.
It wasnt fair.
Frantically, Pel looked over the dashboard. The batterys charge was almost gone. There was a smidge left, but it was below the Minimum Safety Level? needed for the car to get moving again.
Oh god oh god.
The monsters drew closer.
Move, dammit! Pel yelled. Move!
She smacked the steering wheel. The horn blared. But the car didnt move, and the creatures didnt stop.
The pigeon-man clambered onto the back of the car.
In a single, mad moment, the girl Id chosen to spend my life with put two and two together by the skin of her teeth.
The needle on the cars charge display. was just below where it needed to be. She only needed a single spark.
Leaning to the side, Pel turned to face the back seats. Rayph, gimme a console! she yelled.
Rayph shoved one of the PortaCons into her hand.
Jules, glove compartment!
Jules opened the glove compartment, and then shrank into her seat as her mother leaned over her and pulled out the universal link cable.
Mommmm! Rayph yelled, staring out the back window.
Pel jammed one end of the cable into the PortaCon, and stuck the other end into one of the ports on the dashboard.
The needle quivered as the dashboard glowed with renewed light.
The engine roared back to life.
Pushing down on the accelerator, Pel grabbed the steering wheel and turned it hard, causing the car to swerve to the side and send the pigeon-man flying onto the pavement. The little pink car sped like never before, turning left and then right, back onto Petta Drive.
The monsters gave chase.
Faster! Jules yelled.
One of the creatures leapt. Pels heart did the same.
Pressing her foot down on the accelerator, she pushed the pedal as far as it would go, and then smashed her hand on the garage button overhead. Her mind raced along with the car.
Pel undid her seatbelt with a single hand.
The engine screamed and the creatures snarled, but the car was faster. Pel pulled into the lead, breaking away from the horde. Up ahead, the entry gates and door to 1337 Petta Drives private underground parking lot swung open.
In the rear-view mirror, the pouncing beast missed its mark, rolling across the street. Pel watched in disbelief as the other abominations leapt upon it and began to feast.
Pel veered hard right, turning down the driveway. The Pirouette caught the briefest air as it zipped over the incline. The thud of the car landing on the parking lots concrete floor made everyone yelp.
Pounding her hand on the garage button, Pel threw open the car door. She ran like mad, racing her heart as she crossed the concrete.
The metal gates out by the street were closing, as were the doors to the underground parking lot, at the top of the entry ramp, but, against the monsters, Pel trusted them about as far as she could throw them.
Rushing over to the ramp, she swiped her hand over the scanner above the plastic guard covering the big red button on the wall at the ramps base. The device beeped, and then there was a shink, and the lock came undone.
The plastic guard swung up.
The label beneath it read: Flood Protection Door.
The thing was a waste of money when her mother first purchased itfloods would never come this far into the city, no matter what Grandma Margret thoughtand it was a waste of money now. But, for once, the Flood Protection System would finally get to be something useful.
Pel pressed the button.
Otherworldly sounds sung through the air, stretching louder as they drew closer. The ground shook, and shook, and shook.
A slit opened in the floor at the base of the parking lots exit ramp. A formidable metal barrier slid up out of the slit and rose to meet the ceiling.
The shaking and the bellowing made Pels head thrum, but the anti-flood door was too high up for her to see what was on the other side.
Just as the doors slid shut, whatever it was that was barreling down the driveway burst through the metal gates and the garage door at the top of the ramp. The metal dented and groaned as something big crashed into the flood protection door. Pel staggered back in fright, falling supine onto the concrete.
But the door held firm.
The thing on the other side slammed into the door again, denting it deeper.
Pel scrambled back, her limbs sliding against the gritty floor.
And then: gunfire.
Bullets rained onto the metal, pock-marking with dents. Unearthly bellows filled the air, accompanied by human screams, until, with a final thud, something wet and fleshy and shrieking smacked against the door, slumped over and died.
And then everything fell silent.
Neither Pelbrum nor Julette or Rayph dared move. It was a long while before Pel mustered up the courage to stagger back to the car to get the kids and the PortaCons. None of them said a word as they walked over to the elevator and rode it up to her parents penthouse. The elevator shaft turned transparent after a second or two, giving them a view of the street as it fell away from them.
Down by the driveway, the gate and the parking lots outer door had been ripped through as if they were paper. In the distance, a military vehicle rolled down the street, leaving behind its twin, which had been ripped open and gutted. The vehicles innards spilled onto the street, among the pieces of its chassis.
But, as for the creaturesthe creature? All that remained was a collage of flesh, blood, bullets, and black ooze, left in the wake of whatever unbegotten life had bits of whatever had gone down the ramp, down, down into the earth.
91.1 - Regrets
Stepping inside Zongman Larks room, Jonan closed the door behind him. Hed had to pull out a lot of stops to get it done, but hed managed to secure a small block of time where he was totally free from any commitments, and could unravel the mystery of why the hugely popular R&B singer had tried to kill himself. The stops Jonan had pulled mostly consisted of cutting to the chase in one way or another, mostly by telling patients to their face that they were going to die, and their loved ones were going to die, and that he and everyone else was going to die, and that there was nothing he could do for anybody other than prescribe painkillers, and even then, there were hardly any painkillers left.
Was it petty to obsess over Larks failed suicide attempt?
Yes.
Did Jonan care?
Not in the slightest.
One of the rules Jonan lived by was that, save for the one, exemplary exception, if a mystery existed, it was his job to figure out where it slept and slice its throat.
Jonan didnt trust mysteries. They caused nothing but trouble. He wanted them sussed out and solved, and, if push came to shove, hed drag them into the Sunlight, kicking and screaming.
More than anything elsemore than even the deaths themselvesJonan couldnt stand the fact that he had no answers for the victims. He couldnt tell them where the Green Death had come from. He couldnt tell them why the disease was untreatable. He couldnt even explain why their memories were getting ripped out of their minds.
It made him want to go out, find a mushroom, and stab it. Repeatedly.
Unfortunately, he didnt have enough time for that in his schedule.
So, Jonan settled for solving the mystery of Larks suicide. Unlike the fungus, Jonan could talk to Lark. He could get the answer straight from the source.
As he liked to tell Ani, I can take all the chill pills I want once Im dead. Until then, its forward, march!
He hoped theyd be able to have sex again before they died.
Jonan sighed into his rebreather unit.
Lark lay in bed. The man did not look good. It had been barely an hour since Jonan and I had determined the singer was suffering from a nasty case of failed suicide attempt. Worse, Lark had the Green Death, and the plague was very much doing its thing; the singers condition had visibly degraded since Jonan had last seen him. His skin was wan and graying, and his facial features had sunken in, likely due to dehydration.
The Green Death was murder for your hydration levels.
Walking up to the bed, Jonan added a second bag of hydrating solution to the IV drip. He tried to not notice the fungal filaments advancing through Larks skin. Theyd already climbed over the top of his hospital gowns collar.
Larks eyes followed Jonans every step.
Hey, he said, as Jonan stepped up to his bedside, look whos back.
Clearing his throat, Jonan raised his head to look the singer in the eyes. Just so you know, he said, what Im about to ask you is very much out of character for me, he said.
Dont worry, Lark said, I can keep a secret.
Good, Jonan said, because I need to ask you for a favor.
Larks brow flattened. Needy white man wants what?
The quip made Jonan smirk. You tried to kill yourself, he said.
Yes, the singer replied. But He glanced at the restraints binding his wrists to the bed. did you really need to put me in restraints?
Yes, Jonan answered. Dr. Marteneiss is a real stickler for doing things by the book. Also, people are turning into zombies, so he sighed. Yeah.
Larks eyes bulged in his sunken sockets.
Jonan took the opportunity to pull up a chairthough not too close.
Why sit so far away? Lark asked.
Social distancing, Jonan answered.
Isnt it a little bit too late for that? Lark asked. Or does it come with perks that I dont know about?
Yeah, its probably too late, Jonan said, but you never know, social distancing might help keep you from turning into a zombie.
Feeling a tickle in his throat, Jonan wondered if this would finally be the moment that marked the start of his own decline toward memorylessness, coma, and death. He was 99% sure he was infected by this point. By now, everyone was, andlike content on the internet that did not yet have a pornographic versionif they hadnt been, they would be.
zombies? Lark asked.
Yep, Dr. Derric added, theyre a thing now, apparently.
Really? Lark asked.
Jonan narrowed his eyes. Have you not been paying attention?
I mean its kinda hard to do that when Im spending all day thinking about killing myself, Lark replied.
About that, Jonan said, raising his finger, thank you for reminding me. He sat down in the chair. So I pride myself on my general excellence.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.
Lark scoffed. You? Excellent? I never would have guessed.
Jonan flexed his eyebrows. They never do. Anyhow I cant tell you how frustrating it is to have to sit back and watch as billions of people die and/or turn into one of several different varieties of monster and not be able to do anything about it. If I wanted to get nothing done, Id have become a lawyer. He shook his head. Really, just take it from me, it is not pleasant. I dont like that.
So? Lark said.
So Jonan said, Im going to figure out why you tried to kill yourself. He clenched the chairs armrest. If I dont get to do something that has an ending other than they died, I think Im going to turn into a zombie, or worse. To that end, for my favor, I humbly request you spill the beans. So Jonan leaned forward, hunching his back, whyd you do it?
Lark coughed, pursed his lips, and then pressed his fingers together in the pyramid of evil contemplation.
A favor for a favor, then, he said.
Alright, Jonan nodded, what do you want?other than not dying, obviously.
Could you put on some music? Lark said. I kinda cant, not with my hands bound like this.
Did you try asking ALICE? Jonan said.
The computer lady? Lark said. Yeah. She said she was busy.
ALICE, put on Bilu?e, Jonan said.
Im sorry, the AI replied, but Im busy at the moment. I will try to get to you later.
Exactly, Lark said.
Well Ill be glad to help, Jonan said, nodding eagerly as he rose from his seat.
Though he could have done it using the console on the swinging table at Larks bedside, for social distancings sake, he walked up to the console on the wall and brought up the music selection screen. One of the perks of being in a hospital owned by the same company that owned 80% of the global music industry was that said hospital had access to a truly stupendous record collection.
He looked over his shoulder at the singer. Any album of yours you want to hear?
Larks eyes widened, as if Jonan had just asked to copulate with him. The singer shook his head in dismissal. Oh, hell no.
Jonan furrowed his brow, confusedworried hed said something wrong. Ohalright. W-What would you prefer?
Lark half-closed his eyes. If you tease me, I swear to your Angel, I will cough in your fucking face. He glowered. I mean it.
Jonan pursed his lips. I sense something nefarious on the horizon.
Lark chuckled, but that chuckle got strangled by a pained, raspy cough. No, he said, just unpopular taste.
Oh? Jonan asked.
This is a DAISHU hospital, aint it? Lark asked.
You know, Jonan said, thats the first time anyones ever asked me that question. But, yes. Yes it is.
Put on the soundtrack from Kathaldris Bilu?e.
Jonan blinked in confusion. The old movie?
It was an opera before it was a movie, Lark said, and a stage play before thatthough, no one really remembers the stage play, on account of it being in Polovian.
If it floats your boat, Jonan said, turning back to the console on the wall, only to pause. Angel, this is embarrassing, he muttered. He looked over his shoulder again: How do you spell Bilooshay?
B as in boobs, Lark said, I as in ice-cream, L as in love, U as in its unfucking believable you dont know how to spell the name of the greatest movie version of the greatest opera ever written, S as in sunshine, but with the diacritic on top that looks like angry eyebrows, he made a V with his fingers above his brow, and then E as in end.
Jonan typed out the letters and hit enter.
And there it was.
Lark smirked. Finally, a miracle! he quipped.
Jonan let the music roll.
Jonan had seen the movie, once, on the DAISHU Classic Movies channel. His mom liked it. It was one of the stronger memories he had of her before her decline. He only remembered the plots general contours. Bilu?e was the daughter of a minor Polovian noble who refused to convert to Lassedicy during the First Crusades. Her father and her estate got destroyed as a result, but she fled to the countryside and was raised by a hedge witch in a peasant village, fell in love with some guy, and then raised an army to oust the Trenton Empire. The scenes with the witch had left the strongest impression on him, mostly because Jonan remembered asking his mother why there was a witch and tree spirits in what was supposedly a real-world, historical event.
The other thing that had impressed him?
The music.
It wasnt to his taste, but, shit, it sure was beautiful.
The room filled with the sound of the overture, which opened with the ringing of a small, high bell. The music that followed was uncrushed and noble, like a grand old tree. As Jonan listened, he found himself remembering bits of the movie.
It had opened with an aerial shot of Polovian woodlandsforests of ancient green spreading out as far as the eyes could see. Solemn chords hushed in the strings as a horn solo played a half-formed, yet achingly beautiful melody. Then the full orchestra took up the tune, making Larks room feel like a cathedral filled to the brim with somber worshippers.
Were they mourning? Praying?
Or, maybe both?
Then a drum crashed and the brass spat and everything suddenly sped up. The strings tumbled down a staircase of wild figurations over an accompaniment of a syncopated rhythm.
I remember this part, Jonan muttered, softly.
He looked at Lark, who nodded.
The fire, the singer said, softly.
Jonan was surprised by Larks reaction to the music. It was not at all what Jonan had expected. It was like the singers upper body had become a marionette, and the music was the puppetmaster pulling the strings. He bobbed his head, beating his arm in time with the musics primal rhythm.
Bum ba-BA bum BA bum bum bum. Bum ba-BA bum BA bum bum bum.
And then the singers entered. Their notes were short and strong, heavily martial, managing to sound elegant while also mimicking a scream. They hopped down long intervals, and then another voice joined in, and another, singing the same melody, but at a different pitch. All of the lines eventually dissolved into a mle with the underlying rhythm.
Music for a battle.
Briefly, Jonans gaze met Larks. The singers eyes twinkled beneath the rooms fluorescent lights.
Jonan wanted to comment, but he held his breath until the music reached its end, the singers sustaining a stratospherically high note above the orchestras punched thunderclaps, only for everything to die into silence in an aural fade-to-black. Then and only then did Jonan muster up the courage to press the pause button.
I see you feel strongly about this opera, Jonan said.
Slowly, Lark shook his head. You dont know the half of it. His hands clenched his beds thin blanket. Seriously, that was just the opening number. Where most operas would have some asinine jibber-jabber among servants or whatever, Bilu?e starts with a bang. Fire! War! People getting cut down where they stand! But the best parts are yet to come. The arias, fucking god, the arias. Its like god is giving you a blow-job, only its somehow in your ears, and it doesnt suck.
That is an image, Jonan said. He cleared his throat, and changed the subject. Just say Console, play Bilu?e, and it will do it for you.
Thanks, Doc, Lark said, youre a lifesaver. Now, he glanced at his restraints, if you could just loosen these restraints, here.
If you tell me whats going on, Jonan said, maybe I will. But before we start on that, he added, sitting back down in the chair, do you mind telling me why you dont want people to know youre listening to opera? Jonan asked. You could have just asked a nurse, you know.
I dont trust them, Lark said. I dont know if theyre fans. They might not understand the horrible, horrible consequences that would happen if people found out I liked opera.
Most people are dead now, Jonan said.
Doesnt matter to me, Lark said. Doc, nothings gonna change the fact that opera just isnt cool. Opera is at the bottom of the awesomeness list, along with anteaters, protractors, and going to church.
Jonan crossed his arms. Thats an excuse, and Im not buying it. You have no reason to fear news of your music preferences souring your fan-base. At this point, Im probably like 5% of your entire fan-base, and, let me tell you, I have no problem with you liking opera. So, what gives? Whats really going on?
91.2 - Regrets
Are you a psychiatrist, too? Lark asked.
No, but I dont need to be. This is just basic people stuff.
Lark sighed. Its about pride, I guess, he said, listlessly. Since you read my blog, you know that before the Morgans, I did musical theater and stand-up comedy. But, what you dont know is the reason why I turned to stand-up. Comedy was my Plan B.
And what was Plan A? Jonan asked.
Music school, Lark said. And not, heres a guitar, heres your wig, now go become popular, music school, but serious music school. The Stamferd College of Music.
You got into Stamferd? Jonan asked, somewhat amazed. Like most people, though Jonan didnt know much about music, he knew enough to recognize the name of one of the countrys premiere musical schools.
Affirmative action for the win, Lark said.
So what happened?
I Lark paused. I flunked out. I wanted to sing in opera, I still do. I just, he sighed, I couldnt make the cut.
I feel like its a good thing that I pulled out a chair for this, Jonan said. Am I on the mark?
Lark laughed. You hit a bullseye, Doc. The singer let out a long breath that collapsed into stuttering wheezes, like a car passing over speed bumps.
I grew up in Tchwang, Lark said. There was a distant look in his eyes. Chu City. The bad part, the hairy taint of the worldnot that the good part of Chu City is all that good.
Otherwise known as the perineum, Jonan said. He leaned toward the patients bed. That means next to the anus, he added, in a whisper.
Lark looked up at the lights overhead.
My parents world was a dinky little apartment in this fuckin concrete cube. We had to boil the tap water before it was safe to drink. My Mom and Dad worked to the bone, and for the craziest reason this side of anywhere: they were saving up money for me and my brother to go to college.
What? Jonan asked.
I might have been born in the slums, Lark said, but my parents werent. They came from the less-assy part of Chu City, but they couldnt make ends meet, so they ended up in the taint. But that wasnt enough to discourage them, oh no. If you asked my Mom and Dad, we were never poor, we were just down on our luck, and once my brother and I became doctors or lawyers or part of some fancy-pants corporate management firm, everything would be peachy. His expression darkened. I think they told that to themselves because they couldnt face the world for what it really was.
And what was it? Jonan asked.
Well growing up, the ritziest building in my neighborhood was a second-rate strip club. It was the kind of place where the ladies padded their bahoongas with fruit rinds to make them look and smell better than they actually did. We didnt have any playgrounds; we just found an alley that someone hadnt recently shit in, and kept away from the druggies and the hobos.
Yikes, Jonan said.
You can say that again, Lark quipped. Still, he tilted his head to the side, it wasnt all bad. I dont mean that it was good, just that it wasnt quite as awful as it could have been. I got lucky in elementary school, for instance. Got one of those inspirational teachers, the kind that usually live in movies. She kept my brother and me from being total lost causes. Then, there was the old fart who owned the strip club. He was a pervert, but a real sweet one. He was a cinephile. Had this huge collection of video disk recordings of movies, mostly old ones. His favorites were film musicals and operas. Once every other week, hed set up a projector in the strip clubs asphalt parking lot and play movies from his collection, using the big, white thigh of the woman painted on the side of the building as the movie screen. His girls brought their kids, and would help watch over us and the other familys kids while we all sat in broken recliners and scruffy plastic chairs and watched the classics in the heat of the muggy night, with the okay part of Chu City lit up across the harbor like fireflies havin a night rave. The Sound of Morning. East Side Tales. Shes the Lass for Me. You name it, he showed it. The old man said it was his duty to enrich the slums.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Jonan was speechless. Hed read every damn post Zongman Lark left on either of his Socialife accounts, but hed never heard anything like this before.
Then, when I was ten, Lark continued, the old geezer put on Kathaldris Bilu?e. The beginning wasnt like anything Id ever heard before. Then, maybe ten minutes in, this gorgeous girl parades on the screen, and then, all of a sudden, shes singing, and the only thing you can hear is her voice and the orchestra off screen, and then Lark slumped back in his seat. Fuck He shook his head and wept. That song she sings, when shes all alone, its his voice cracked, its magic. He scoffed. And the way the melody comes back later on, all proud and alive thats more magic than magic. To this day, I still cant understand how the fuck some guy from two-hundred or something years ago sat down, hunched over a desk with a gas lamp on the wall and a fuckin quill and ink and scritch-scratched that music onto yellowed pieces of paper, the same way youd write a letter to your cousin. That music it didnt feel like it was made. It was like Gallstrom had been walking down the beach one day, and he looked at the clouds at sunset and found a piece of forever hidden inside in those colors and somehow turned that into sound. By your fucking Holy Angel, when Letty Kathaldri sang that music, he swallowed and shook his head, I stopped thinking about the shitty smelling water in the canals, or the way some of the whores kids arms were too short or their heads too big, or the police sirens that rang and rang and rang all night long, or the little voice in my head that told me maybe things would be for my family if I hadnt been bornI mean, theyd certainly have had more money. But, he coughed, when that music came, all that bullshit melted away. It was a fucking miracle, and, from that moment, ten year old me knew that that was what I wanted to do with my life. I wanted to be a part of that. Ms. Kathaldri showed me the way. She showed me who I could be.
Clenching his fist, Jonan managed to find his voice. It was far softer than hed expected it to be. Thats thats a beautiful story, he said. Why havent you ever talked about it before? he asked.
Lark shook his head one last time. Because I wasnt cut out for it. I didnt live up to my dreams. And who wants to admit that?
So, Jonan said, not to be rudeseriously, he pressed his hand to his chest, I am honored you shared that with me, but what does this have to do with you trying to kill yourself?
I was tired of the contradictions, Lark said. He struggled to clear his throat. Then, gagging, he hawked up some awful black glop, dusted in green. It splattered over his gown and bedding.
I couldnt fucking take it anymore, he said.
What contradictions?
There were boatloads of them, Lark replied. He lowered his gaze. It would upset the fans. I couldnt do that to them.
What would? Jonan asked. Singing opera?
I couldnt sing what I wanted to sing, Lark said.
Jonan considered himself something of an expert in the fine art of question-answering. Lark was engaging in what question-answerers referred to as evasive maneuvers. He could have spotted it from a mile away.
The singer was hiding something, just like Ani did when she tried to pull off a surprise party for his birthday.
Dude, Jonan said, youre famous. And not just that, but hella popular, too. I dont know if the opera industry still existseither now, or in the recent past but, if it does, would be fucking thrilled to learn that Zongman Lark wanted to reach out to them. You could serve as an ambassador for their dying, overhyped art-formno offense.
None taken, Lark answered, but it doesnt matter. He shook his head. I didnt complete my music studies. End of discussion.
Your talent and your record of proven success are better calling cards than any fancy college degree, Jonan countered.
Youre right about one thing, Lark said, coughing terribly, opera-lovers are definitely a stuck-up crowd. Theyd turn their noses at someone like me, even if I was the headliner.
Jonan wanted to tell him that that answer didnt cut it, and was still an evasive maneuver, but he worried that might have antagonized the singer, and since that was the last thing he wanted right now, Jonan held his tongue.
At least for the time being.
Why not release an album of you singing covers of famous opera arias, Jonan suggested, and if youre worried about the publicity, you could always release it under an alternate name.
It occurred to Jonan that releasing an album and worrying about publicity were luxuries that humanity could no longer afford, but that was beside the point. He wanted to get to the bottom of this. He cared about it, and that wasnt something he did lightly.
Listen, Dr. Derric, Lark said, gruffly, I fucking told you already, I wasnt cut out for it! There was anger in his voice. I wasnt He coughed; his voice broke. I couldnt sing what I wanted to sing. Now, drop it! I mean it!
But why? Jonan pressed the point. He was close, he could feel it. He wasnt going to back down now. Zongman was being irrational.
It is what it is, Lark said, flatly, and I dont like what it is. I never have.
And thats why you killed yourself? Jonan asked. Because you want to sing opera, but cant?
Lark nodded. Guilty as char
Then the ECG screeched as a seizure rocked the singers body.
91.3 - Regrets
Heggy Marteneiss was as dog tired as a woman could be, but she wasnt going to let that drag her down. Nor could she. Sleep brought nightmares instead of rest. She dreamed of human carnage piling up all around her as a monument to her failures, one wet thud after another. Shadows loomed over her dreamscapes, cast by jungle trees and abandoned apartments, brimming with the ghosts shed left in her wake.
When you served, death followed you, even ifas a combat medicit was your job to chase it.
Despite all the death the plague had brought, it was the losses of her past that lingered in Heggys mind. Lost friends; dead child soldiers; drug mules looking up at her with their frightened, dying eyes, their lips frothing, their bodies convulsing in her arms because of a leak in the bags of narcotics stuffed into their unmentionables.
Like me, Heggy hated being helpless. But while I had no problem confessing to my weakness, for Heggy, such an acknowledgement would have been anathema, as it would be for any Marteneiss. It was their heritage.
The Marteneisses were haunted by their own sense of loyalty. Their loyalty was more than just a sense of faithfulness. It was the expectation that a Marteneiss had to be dependable. Weakness was not an option, because weakness meant your people couldnt depend on you, because you might not pull through for them.
Heggys lineage was one of soldiers and service: captains, admirals, generals, and more. The Marteneisses were nobler than the actual nobles. It started with Commodore Horace Marteneiss, back in the Second Empire. The Commodore was one of the Empires finest privateers, and for his service, he won himself a peerage, only to catapult himself into the pages of history by humbly declining the honor, for fear of vanity. That was nearly a quarter of a millennium ago, and Horatios descendants made sure no one would ever forget it.
To be a Marteneiss was to serve. They served the nation, no matter the cost. The sprawling family prided itself for being a part of the great chain of tradition that carried Trenton even in the darkest of times. For them, it was about patriotism, and honor.
Lesser men have the luxury of weakness, Heggy, her grandfather had liked to say. But not a Marteneiss. The people look to us for strength. We can never let ourselves falter.
Weakness was the enemy. Weakness was the drug lords making human shields out of innocent civilians. Weakness was standing by the wayside while bad guys thwarted the law with impunity. Weakness was losing touch with your inner light and giving in to the dark of the night.
Weakness was leaving the field of battle for the field of medicine. On paper, Heggys discharge was honorable. Even the best warriors could be laid low by post-traumatic stress. But, for her, there was no greater dishonor. She hadnt been fit for duty.
In the rare moments where Heggy talked about these things, I tried to tell her that leaving the military for a civilian job wasnt an act of weakness. It was one of strength. Not many people had the strength to make a second life for themselves, least of all as a doctor of internal medicine, but Heggy had always had trouble swallowing that view. By the time Id come to know her, shed been out of service for over a decade, and though Id never seen her demonstrate any symptoms of PTSD, I didnt doubt her diagnosis for a moment. Heggy bore suffering without complaint. And, in trying times, she did what most of us did: bury ourselves in our duties.
Heggy had spent the morning processing the recent influx of patients, and it was in service of that duty that she stepped into the room, ready to deal with the latest batch: the Broliguez family.
Both father and son had been intubated, with the tubes in their tracheas hooked up to ventilators beside their beds, to breathe when they couldnt. Both men were unconscious. A more honest diagnosis would have been comatose, but Heggy didnt like gilding the lily if she could avoid it. Of the four Broliguezes, their teenage daughter was the least affected. The girl lay quietly in her bed, staring up at the ceiling, occasionally running her fingers through the turquoise beads of her Maikokan-styled hair.
Heggy nodded at the young woman and then walked over to Mrs. Broliguezs bed and pulled up a chair from the corner of the room. The woman was on the heavy side; heavier, even, than Dr. Marteneiss herself. Heggy figured her skin should have been a warm bronze, but, instead, it was the color of mud. Dark, thread-edged stains splattered across Mrs. Broliguezs neck and forearms like rivulets of ash. Wheezes marred her sputtering breaths. Even so, she sat upright in bed, with one arm clutched around her chest.
Miyali Broliguez smiled a little as she caught sight of Dr. Marteneiss. She tilted her head at Heggy in a little bow, wincing as she coughed. Heggy scanned her PortaCon over the womans hand, bringing up her profile on the WeElMed app. She was on a morphine prescription, to be delivered via intravenous dripthe IV bag up on the stand at her bedside.
Hello, Mrs. Broliguez, Heggy said, looking up from her console. She set it down at the foot of the bed. Im Dr. Heggy Marteneiss. Do you know why Im here? she asked.
Miyali nodded. Yes, maam. There was a notable Maikokan accent to the womans terribly hoarse voice. I heard there is some kind of new treatment that you will be testing soon?
Heggy nodded. Yes, and it just so happens that you filled out the paperwork to volunteer to receive it. But, before we can approve you, I need to do a check up.
The daughterNinaspoke up. Cant you just give it to us?
Heggy turned to face the girl. She was on the bed at Heggys back, off to the left. I cant, she explained. Its not ready yet. Should be soon, though.
Then why are you here? Nina asked.
Rules are rules, Heggy said. She nodded at Miyali. Your mother filed an MT-3. MT-3s require check-ups before final confirmation, to ensure the patient is suitable for the trial.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Nina coughed. Were dying from the disease thats killing people like flies and turning them into monsters. Is this really a time for bureaucratic bullshit?
Heggy frowned. Its not bullshit, young lady. Its law and order. We gotta to set a good example. Speakin of which, she turned to face Mrs. Broliguez, Lets get this over with, she said.
Miyali nodded.
The check-up was straightforward: pulse, vitals, blood-workthe latter done by the assay machines by the patients bedsides. Heggy also performed a physical examination to the best of her abilityand not just on the woman, but the men, too. The worst part was when she helped Mrs. Broliguez take off her shirt.
Heggy was familiar with people who had been struck by lightning. Elpeck was a big place, big enough that people couldand didget struck, and when that happened, the unlucky son-of-a-bitch could look forward to the characteristic furcating Brightmountain figures disfiguring their skin. The patterns were the footprints left by the electricity as it flowed through the victims body.
Looking at Miyalis back, Heggys thoughts flashed back to a memory of treating burns on Corporal Stevens back. Theyd been in the middle of raiding a drug lords compound in the outskirts of Vaneppo at the height of Costranak monsoon season, and Stevens had gotten as on the wrong end of a wayward thunderbolt. Even so, Stevens burns didnt hold a candle to the shit on Mrs. Broliguezs back. Youd have to pump Brightmountain figures full of blood and wine until they bulged up from the skin like a foaming sealant before you got halfway to the fungal growths sprawling across Miyalis back.
The sight made Nina gasp. The girl covered her mouth, unable to stop herself from crying.
Miyali, of course, couldnt see the awful state of her back, and Ninas horrified reaction ruined any chance Heggy might have had of softening the blow when she told the woman what she saw.
Heggy made a mental note to pray for the Broliguezes at the hospital chapel as soon as she could, though that would have to wait until later in the afternoon. It was midday during the Green Death pandemic, so there was no hope of finding any spare room in the chapel at the moment, though it was a coin toss as to whether the people stuffed into the chapel would be there for Mass, or because theyd died and their bodies hadnt been carted away .
Heggys heart sank as she sat back in the chair beside Miyalis bed. Shed done what protocol required of her, but, still, there was one extra thing she had to do, for the hospitals sake.
Also, she had a gut feeling that I was somehow involved. You had to be very much in-the-know to know about both the mycophage and MT-3 forms, and, seeing as the Broliguezes were in E Ward, Heggy couldnt shake the feeling that I had been meddlingand she was absolutely right.
If I might ask, Mrs. Broliguez, Heggy said, how did you hear about the mycophage treatment?
One of the doctors explained it to me.
Could I have a name? Heggy asked.
Fear creeped onto Miyalis face as she tried to remember, but couldnt. I I She shook her head. Why dont I remember?
Shit, Heggy thought.
Mrs. Broliguez was already starting to lose her memories. Short-term memory was the first to go.
It was Dr. Howle, Nina said.
Heggy scoffed at that. Yep, that checks out. She chuckled softly.
Dr. Marteneiss had scooped up the trial volunteer case as soon as shed caught wind of it. Its a good thing Im nipping this in the bud here and now, she said.
What do you mean? Miyali asked.
Let me guess, Heggy said, Dr. Howle helped you fill out the paperwork?
Miyali nodded.
Heggy rolled her eyes, shook her head, and sighed. I dont mean to sound rude, she explained, but he really shouldnt have done that. When you file a request like that, it goes into the queue, and anyoneand I do mean anyonewho looks at the database will see it, in all its glory. Its like if the Polovian mafia sent a severed head through the mail; its bound to attract unwanted attention. Obviously, she continued, the longer the request stood unfilled, the higher the chance that some motor-mouth would see it and start blabbin about the mycophage to everyone in earshot, and, before youd know it, WeElMed would have a riot on its hands with people of all sorts clamorin to get the miracle cure. Heggy shook her head. I dont know which is scarier: the treatment working, or it being dead on arrival.
Why would it be a bad thing if it works? Nina asked.
Heggy looked over her shoulder at Nina. If it works, the demand is gonna outstrip our ability to make the damn stuff faster than ice on a hot griddle. We wont be able to make the stuff fast enough, and Angel help us if people start fightin over who controls it. If I had to choose, Id rather die from a plague than that level of human stupidity. We found the cure, but we couldnt share, so everyone died, is not the epitaph I want on my grave.
Heggy pursed her lips.
Dr. Marteiness knew I wouldnt have gone out of my way like this for just anybody. She alsoand correctly, I might addgave me the benefit of the doubt and assumed that I was fully aware of the risk of letting the cat out of the bag re: the mycophage.
Do you mind if I ask why Dr. Howle shared this with you? Heggy asked.
Miyali shook her head, but then Nina spoke up: Uh it was me.
Say what, now? Heggy asked.
I came here a couple days ago with my little brother Lop, Nina said. Dr. Howle helped us. He The girl lowered her gaze. He explained that Lop had a Type Two infection, she added, softly.
Behind the rebreather unit beneath her PPEs visor, Heggys lips made an O. Shit, she muttered.
Mrs. Broliguez furrowed her brow. You know something, dont you?
What, maam? Heggy asked.
Nina said this before, that Lop had a Type Two case, Miyali explained. She coughed. She keeps saying its different from the usual type, but she doesnt explain why. A little while ago, Dr. Howle took her off somewhereI dont know wherebut, she looked at her daughter, when Nina came back, she looked like shed seen a ghost, and shes not talking about it. Not to me.
If I remember right, Mrs. Broliguez, Heggy said, your husband attacked some nurses, demandin to see his son. Would that son be Lop?
Yes, Dr. Marteneiss, Miyali replied. There were tears in her eyes. First Lop goes crazy with the Angel stuff, and then, one morning, he says to me he is dead, and while I worry and worry, he starts flopping on the floor all chabita. Something is terribly wrong with him, I can feel it, but no one is telling me the truth. Im his madre, Dr. Marteneiss. I have a right to know!
Heggys heart sank. What shed hoped would be a simple pre-trial check-up was turning into something much bigger than she could have ever anticipated.
Mrs. Broliguezs words were hitting far too close to home.
Heggy remembered having to harangue the folks at the Veterans Administration to get an explanation for Sarahs death, and theyd hemmed and hawed like nobodys business.
Im her mother, shed told them, I have a right to know! But she didnt get the answer until shed gone and asked Vernon to pull some levers for her.
The whole fiasco left a bad taste in Heggys mouth, one that continued to the present.
Dr. Marteneiss, Miyali said, interrupting Heggys train of thought, I dont know which I hate more: not knowing what is happening to my son, or not knowing what I can do to help him. Especially if Im But her words cut off; she brought her hand to her mouth and hunched over as another wave of coughs wracked her body.
She stared Dr. Marteneiss in the eyes, searching for a miracle-worker.
Mrs. Broliguez, Heggy said, you dont need to say another word. Heggys shoulders tensed. Normally, Id tell you to sit down for this, but youre already in bed.
Miyalis jaw went slack. No no She shook her head. Dont say it! Dont tell me Im going to lose my Lop! I cant lose him! Not again!
Again? Heggy said.
91.4 - Regrets
A couple months back, Lop found the Angel, Nina said. Dr. Howle said it was Eastern Demptists. He wants to be called Paul now. Nina spoke the name with palpable loathing. Its like someone swapped his brain out for another one.
Beasts teeth, Heggy said, Im sorry to hear that.
Like Eastern Demptists, the Marteneisses were of Trueshore stock, born and raised. Close ties with the capital kept the family Angelical while the whole east coast went Irredemptist in protest of Lassedite Agans after Hillemans revolution. The whole denomination was a nest of Norms wearing smiling masks. Trueshore pastors could be positively vicious when it came to pursuing new converts.
Heggy cleared her throat.
I know whats happenin to your son, she said, as coolly as she could. I assure you, Mrs. Broliguez, to the best of my knowledge, Lop But here, Dr. Marteneiss paused. She chose her next words carefully. Your son is not going to die.
Now came the hard part. Director Hobwell might have been dead, but his words were still fresh in Heggys mind: Keep it on a strict need-to-know basis.
Unless and until ALICE or one of the higher ups said otherwise, Hobwells orders still stood. Yeah, she had the discretion to choose how to enforce them, but orders were orders.
Heavy hung the head that wore the crown.
The decision of whether or not Mrs. Broliguez learned the details of what was happening to her son fell squarely on Dr. Marteneiss shoulders. Heggy almost wished Miyali was a Type Two case like her son. At least then, shed have a solid legal argument for keeping mother and son together, though, then again, that would be at the cost of separating Mrs. Broliguez from the rest of her family, and, as a mother herself, Heggy knew just how much of a poison pill that proposition was. Also, you didnt need to be a combat vet to realize that things were gonna get ugly if Miyali learned the truth about Lops condition and wasnt equipped to handle it.
To be fair, Mrs. Broliguez didnt look like she was gonna get up and start running down the hallways screaming about transformations and psychokinesis, you could never be too sure. Type One patients had a frightening tendency of getting out of bed in the later stages of the disease and wandering the hallways, spreading death and misery. Dr. Lokanok had mentioned that perhaps that behavior was incipit zombie-ism, only it wasnt going through to fruitionthough, for what Angelforsaken reason, Heggy didnt know.
All of this had to be nipped in the bud, especially now that Vernon and his men were here, and doubly so, considering the shit they were doing.
Maintaining stability was paramount when your allies were experimenting on people against their will. When things were as FUBARed as this you had to keep the civvies as calm and compliant as possible. Solidarity won wears, and nothing made mincemeat of solidarity quite like panic. Besides, if learning the truth did make Mrs. Broliguez freak out, shed have to be sedated, and, in all likelihood, by the time she came to, shed be in a coma. Shed never see her kids again, and Nina and her brothers wouldnt get to see their mother again, and Heggy didnt want either of those things to happen.
The world was a shitty place, filled with more pain than anyone deserved. Heggy didnt know why the Godhead let that happen, just like she didnt know why Theyd prepared her little girl to die before shed even come into the world.
Vernons prodding eventually revealed that the military had used Agent Yellow in its fight against the Constranak drug cartels, during the years shed served. As a result, any kids Heggy had would be dead on arrival.
Just like Sarah was.
Beasteaten teratogenic defoliant, she thought.
Like me, Heggy knew the pain of losing a child, and though that pain could never be justified, it cultivated empathy within her. It was the rare person who could sympathize with people who suffered pains they themselves had never known.
And, having suffered, Heggyd be damned to let that pain strike anyone else. Not if she had anything to say about it.
She sighed. Mrs. Broliguez, she said, do you mind if I ask you some personal questions?
Miyali stammered. What? Her hair-bun shook to and fro as she shook her head. What does that have to do with
Please, just bear with me, Heggy said. Its important.
Like any good commander, Heggy wouldnt make a judgment call while she still had a chance to gather more intel. She needed to know as much as she could, for her own sake, as much as for Miyalis, Ninas, and Lops.
Tell me about your son, Miyali, Heggy said. May I call you Miyali? she added.
The woman nodded, and then spoke her piece. Hes the other half of my heart, she said. There were tears in her eyes.
Nina turned to Dr. Marteneiss. Hes her little gem, she said. Theyve always been close.
Stop it, miha, Miyali snapped.
Its true, Nina said.
You dont understand. Miyali coughed. After you were born, Nina while you were still a baby, your father and I tried to have another kid. But it was disaster after disaster. Three broken children in a rowall of them miscarriages. And not early. No, late term. Late term.
A shiver ran down Dr. Marteneiss spine.
No, she thought. Please, Queen, no
What? Nina said, slack-jawed. You you never told me that.
Her mother wept.
Because it hurts, Nina. It hurts. Im getting older. Soon, I wont be able to bring any more bundles of joy into the world. When I went to Amelia, the bruha on 26th Street, to get a charm for a safe pregnancy, she said my womb was cursed.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.
What in the world? Heggy sank onto a stool.
Do you know what it felt like, miha, Miyali said, to be told that I am curseda failure of a woman? Miyali cried. The first was eyeless. Her voice skipped and scratched like a broken record. The second died of of some disorder, I dont remember the name. The third
She couldnt finish the sentence. We didnt try for many years after that. But we didnt give up. We tried again, and Lop came to me, and he was perfect. A miracle.
With a gentle kick of her foot, Heggy rolled her stool close to Maryon. She placed her hand on the tortured womans shoulder and held it there, squeezing with just a bit of tightness.
Miyali inhaled sharply, as did Dr. Marteneiss.
Youre not alone, Miyali. Youre not. Heggy let out a long sigh. Before I worked here, I was a combat medic. Three tours in the Costranaks, fighting in the goddamn Drug Wars. Insurgents, terrorist drug lords, you name it.
Nina gasped. The Drug Wars? That means She brought her hand to her face.
Heggy nodded solemnly. Agent Yellow. This was before news of the scandal went public. Her eyes grew misty. I had a daughter, once. Heggy smiled tenderly, batting her eyelashes. I was gonna call her Sarah, she whispered, lowering her gaze. The fetus came out premature, lookin more like a misshapen spider that got in a tussle with a tumbleweed than a human being created in the image of the Angel Himself. Heggy shuddered. Sarah lived for a week. It was the worst week of my life, and the worst week of hers, too. Though, to be fair, Heggy added, with a bitter smirk, this past week might have it beat.
Miyali tried to speak, but she couldnt find the words.
Heggy made the Bondsign.
I still pray to the Angel every day about her, that He might see it fit to let her into Paradise, and let my little girl finally get to be a little girl. But, even more than that, I beg Him to let her know how much her mother loves her.
Try as she might, Heggy had never mustered up the courage to tell her folks that Sarah was the real reason shed shoved off for civilian life.
That was more weakness.
Heggy could have convinced herself to keep going, despite the PTSD, if shed known that she had a little girl waiting for her at the military base, every time she came in from a mission, a little girl who was happy and proud that she had a mom who had making the world a better place in her job description. She didnt even need Jeb to raise her. Whether it was this life or any other, Sarah would be the best thing that cheating bastard would ever do with his life. But Heggys dreams had died before they were even born, and that had sapped her will to press on. She couldnt continue. Thats why Heggy had become Dr. Marteneiss. It was for all the Sarahs of the world. And knowing that her folks wouldnt understand hurt Heggy beyond belief.
Im sorry for your loss, Miyali muttered.
Heggy nodded. And I yours. She exhaled. Miyali would you describe yourself as religious?
Sniffling, the woman nodded. I keep the old ways. She looked over Heggys shoulders to her daughter. We all do.
Youre not Lassedile, then?
Only my son is, Dr. Marteneiss, Miyali said.
Heggy thought of making the quip, Some people would say Irredemptists arent Lassediles, but decided against it.
Do you believe in demons? Heggy gulped. In the Norms?
Snakes are not evil, Miyali said, mustering the slightest of smiles.
Hearing that, Heggy decided to take a risk.
Miyali Lop is turning into one of them; one of the Norms.
W-What?
Mama its true, Nina said.
W-What? This time, it was Heggys turn to be surprised.
Nina nodded. Dr. Howle explained it to me. He took me to see him. To see Lop. She started crying. Mama hes not human anymore. Hes one of those things.
Is this some kind of joke? Miyali coughed and shook her head. Nina, why would you do this to me? Why
Nina coughed. Its no joke. He doesnt have a mouth anymore, Mama, he cant talk. But I think hes still in there. Hes still who he was. Nina stared blankly at her bedsheets as she shook her head. I dont know if that makes it better or worse.
Miyalis breathing grew unsteady. She gasped and gulped, trying to speak, but she could only manage groans and half-started thoughts. Then her ECG began to shriek.
Shit! Heggy hissed.
As always, there was no rest for the weary.
Around itself, time did coil; static kissed the memory-fragments edge.
Ani didnt know Dr. Skorbinka very well. He was a latecomer to the fabric of her memoriesa mere blip in the grand scheme of things, though, certainly, a potent one.
After Mistelanns collapse, Ani had wheeled him into the ICU all on her own, only to leave him in Nurse Kaylins flabbergasted hands as she ran back to 3Ba1 to finish the mycologists work for him. It was the most difficult challenge Ani had ever faced, which made the reward for completing it that much more satisfying: a refrigerator car filled with ampules of a murky fluid the color of ash and spoiled beer.
Shed barely finished loading the thing when the call came in.
Ani dashed over to the console by the door.
Yes, this is the matter printer lab, she said.
D-Dr. Lokanok? The call was audio only.
It was Dr. Marteneiss!
Wheres Dr. Skorbinka? Heggy asked.
The ICU, Ani replied. She coughed and then cleared her throat.
Im picking up the slack.Is the mycophage ready? Heggy yelled.
Yes!
Then hang up, and get the hell over to Room E17, pronto! Heggy barked.
Ani moved as fast as her legs could carry her.
Around itself, time did coil; static kissed the memory-fragments edge.
Heggy pressed the defibrillator paddles to the portly womans chest.
Clear! she yelled, as the current flowed.
Mama! the girl cried, coughing up a storm.
Quiet, Nina! Heggy snapped.
The woman on the bed in the family room was in cardiac arrest. Heggy described it as a case of broken heart. The familythe Broleepezes, or something?had managed to get to the head of the line of test subjects to receive the first batch of the mycophage, but that wouldnt matter if the mother died of heart failure before the treatment had taken effect!
Get the doses ready, Dr. Lokanok, Heggy said.
She might not make it, Ani said, and I cant put the dose back in once its out.
Miyali is in line to get it, Heggy replied, as is the rest of her family. Just do it!
While Ani pulled an ampule of mycophage out of the refrigerator cart, Heggy smeared a little more electroconductive gel on the defibrillator pads.
Clear! she yelled.
Once more, blips hopped along the ECGs line. But this time, they stabilized.
Heggy stowed the defibrillator in their case, hung the case up on the wall, and slumped into the chair beside the womans bed. Thank the Angel, she huffed,
Mama! Nina yelled, with fresh alarm.
Dr. Marteneiss! Ani said.
Shit! Heggy leapt back to her feet. Shes seizin!
The mother jostled in place, flicking the sheets off her bed.
Hold her still, Ani said. Her arm! Keep her arm still.
Heggy tried her best, but it was difficult. Miyali wasnt a small woman. Dr. Marteneiss held one of Miyalis arms by the wrist, while pressing her other hand down on the womans stomach.
Heggy looked up at Ani. Its now or never.
Ani nodded. As she stepped up to the Miyalis bedside, Ani noticed out of the corner of her eye that Nina was on her knees on her bed, with her eyes closed and one arm pointed toward her mother. Suddenly, Ani felt something like a breeze brush against her, and the next thing she knew, Miyalis body went stiff, as if an invisible hand was holding her torso in place.
Dr. Marteneiss? Ani asked.
Heggy shook her head. I dont know what the fuck is happenin. Just give her the damn shot!
Right, Ani nodded again.
She leaned in and made the injection.
A moment later, Nina let out a soft groan, and then her mothers seizure returned with a vengeance, eventually petering out over the next thirty seconds or so.
Ani looked Nina in the eyes. Did you do something? she asked.
Nina averted her eyes.
Alright, Heggy said, loudly, and with a sigh, lets give it to the rest of them. She turned to Nina. Youre sure you, your father, and your brother want to try this?
Nina nodded.
Heggy returned the nod, and then glanced at Ani. You heard the woman. Lets get crackin.
Around itself, time did coil; static kissed the memory-fragments edge.
92.1 - ???????? ??????
Our minds are hard-wired to detect patterns. Its how we survive. Its how we learn, create, and grow. Its also why were our own worst enemies. We have a habit of looking for order where there is none. We expect it to be there. We go out of our way to anticipate it, and in doing so, we draw all sorts of conclusions, while forgetting that conclusions are always subject to future division. Most of us assume that our ideas are the right ones, and we dont take kindly to suggestions toward the contrary. This leads to conflict.
From birth, we are bound up in the patterns that define us. We would rather fight, suffer, and die than relinquish our patterns, let alone renounce them. A man would rather starve than be patternless, for patternlessness is next to meaninglessness, and meaninglessness is anathema to the soul.
Its unfortunate, and painfully ironic. Patterns are not gods. They are mere structures, and structure has no meaning outside of relationship to other structures. The value of patterns lies in how they relate to us, and one another, and to the chaos all around us. Only by keeping our patterns to ourselves long enough that we might see the world for what it is, rather than what we think it is, can we attain enlightenment, and grow.
Though, I suppose that belief is also a pattern. So it goes.
One of the most important encounters of my life happened on the sixth day after the Third Beginning. At the time, it was so improbable and unreal, that the only way I could explain it was to think of it as an act of god. And in a way, it was, though not in the way most would think. In that moment, God was there. No, not the Angel. God. Real God. The Big Kahuna.
Despite having spent my whole life searching for God, I admit it would take me an embarrassingly long amount of time before I could look back on this moment and point to where God was within it.
I wonder if youll fare better.
It began in the simplest possible way. After escorting Nina back to her rooma long, painful walk, where many words were shared, about demons and AndalonI decided to help process the influx of new patients from the militarys convoy. Quite a few of them were still waiting to be situated. Also, in the back of mind, I wanted to see if there were any transformees among them, so that I could tell them what to do and where to go.
As much as it pained me to admit, the Self-Help Group was doing a far better job of treating the transformees than me or any of my still-human colleagues. The folks sequestered in places like Room 268 were sorely at disadvantage. There was so much they needed to know that they werent being told.
The staff had been working overtime to scan all the incoming patients and upload their data onto the hospital network. While this might seem like a needless waste of time considering the circumstancesand it wasALICE required the data to be uploaded, so as to ensure that the hospitals resources were not being fraudulently used. (And, to think, people said AI would make things better!)
Opening the WeElMed app, I glanced down the list of most-recently-uploaded names to assess the incoming patients from a birds-eye-view. How many were severe cases? How many were Type Twos? That sort of thing.
I was walking down the hallway when I saw something that made me grind to a halt, as if a lightning bolt had just struck the top of my head. Shocked as I was, I didnt notice an oncoming bed until it had rolled into me and knocked me to the side, sending my PortaCon flying out of my hand and clattering onto the floor.
Out of the way! the nurse yelled.
I didnt say anything in response, being fixated on picking my console up off the vinyl floor. Thankfully, the device was undamaged. Its protective plastic case had done its job splendidly.
Andalon floated up alongside me to get a look as I gawked at my consoles screen. I was double-checking, just to make sure it was real. Yes, I could have just consulted my memories, but at that moment, my abilities as a wyrm were the furthest thing from my mind.
The thing Id seen that had thrown me for a whirl? It was a name. But not just any name:
Himichi, Kosuke (M-92 / E9)
Whats it say? Andalon asked, from where she floated above my shoulder.
One of these days, I need to teach you how to read, I muttered, glancing back at her. Anyhow, it says, Himichi, Kosuke, male, aged 92, is in Room 9, here in E Ward.
Was it possible that there was another, 92-year-old man with the same name as my favorite mangaka, and that this improbable personage happened to be in Room 9 of the very Ward I stood in? Yes. Was it likely?
I didnt care in the least.
Then, as if by some baleful magic, an exclamation mark appeared in parenthesis beside the name. That was what happened when someone had officially inputted a notice of an emergency regarding the patient in questions.
(As youd imagine, most of the names on the patient list had exclamation marks beside them.)
Tapping the exclamation mark brought up a pop-up which contained an explanation of the problem. The explanation was particularly succinct, in that there was none at all.
I hauled myself over to Room 9 on the double. It was on the next hallway over. I knew where I was needed the instant I turned down the hall.
It was where all the screaming was coming from.
Just shut up already! a woman yelled.
Nono! a man replied, I dont want to forget!
Hold him still! said another.
People seated nearbyon chairs, or on the floorlooked toward the commotion. Fading voices asked questions in between wheezing breaths. Any kind of drama, no matter how foolish or tragic, was a distraction from dying and death, and everyone with the eyes to see it wanted to know what all the fuss was about. Many of our newer rooms had sections of their wall made from solid panes of reinforced glass. These window-walls faced the hallway, and when their curtains were open, onlookers received a clear view of whatever was happening behind closed doors. The panes even had built-in displays that could be set to display the patients vitals on the glass in brightly colored alphanumerics with a touch of a button.
Room 9s window-wall was open for all the world to see. As I sped down the hall on psychokinetic-boosted footsteps, the view broadened enough to let me see what was going on. It was a wrangled knot of arms and torsos, reaching and screaming.
I dont want to forget! the old man yelled.
Get the sedative!
What kind?
Leave me alone!
Any kind!!Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
The other end of the hallway opened onto Ward Es reception area, beyond which lay its lobbythe main waiting room. Much to my horror, I saw a couple of soldiers heading toward the commotion, with rifles in hand.
Did they think this was a zombie incident?
Fudge.
Room 9s door was ajar. Everyone get back! I said, yelling as I darted through the doorway. Im a doctor!
The few standing onlookers scattered, though I couldnt tell if the approaching soldiers had done the same.
Turning to the nurses on duty, I bellowed. What in the world is going on here!?
Technically, it was a nurse and an orderly, not that the distinction really mattered at this point.
One of the nurses was bent over the patients bed, next to the IV drip stand, which had toppled to the floor. The nurse held fast to a pair of frail arms, loosely skinned. The other nurse stood with his arms astride her.
It was at this point that I remembered I had magic powers.
Seeding up my thoughts, I slowed my perception of time until the actions seemed to freeze before my eyes.
Boy, what a difference that made.
The first thing I noticed was the light glinting off the syringe in the male healthcare workers hand.
Oh, fudge, I thought.
They were going to sedate him.
As per my usual ethical stances, I was against involuntary sedation, at least as long as the victim wasnt a full-on fungus zombie. This was especially important, given that I wasnt yet sure what exactly was going on.
But then, I noticed the source of the scufflethe patient in the bedand then nothing else mattered.
He was as the app had described: an elderly Munine man. Wan-faced, emaciated, covered in freckles and wrinkles and liver-spots galore, he lay on his side, with his limbs sprawled about, all jumbled up with his blanket and sheets. He stank of sweat, age, fungus, and tears. Plagueborn nodules marred his clavicle, just above the hem of his gowns collar. Anguish was still fresh on his face; his left arm was frozen at his side, mid-tremble.
There was no denying it. A miracle had occurred.
This was Kosuke Himichi. Artist and writer, mangaka, weaver of nightmares and dreams. I could count on my fingers the number of times hed done televised interviews, and I had seen them all. The most recent had been nearly a decade ago, but I recognized him all the same. Scarcity made for the most indelible moments. Though, to his creditnot counting the Green Deathhe hadnt changed much. Hed gained a few wrinkles and lost some more hair, not that hed had much left to lose when Id last seen him.
What do you say to the shaper of your bewonderment? To the intimate friend you never thought youd ever meet? And now, here we were.
I wanted to cry.
Mr. Himichi wasnt just dying, oh no. What I saw on his face was much worse than imminent death.
He was heartbroken.
I let time speed back up.
The nurse had looked back at me, and had already started to talk, but I wasnt listening. I wanted to, but I couldnt; it took all my self control not to screamor, Angel forbidsend someone flying with a barn-busting thought. I breathed in and out, counting to three thrice over until the shimmering plexus filaments building around me had faded away.
The nurse spat back at me. She was livid. This is none of your
But then she saw me. Her face bleached with shame as she stepped away.
I wondered how much Nurse Kaylin was going to dig into her for losing her cool the way she had.
Unfortunately, as the nurse stepped away, her male accomplice thought the movement meant it was time for him to lunge forward and inject the sedative.
Behind me, Andalon yelped in alarm as I charged at the orderly. I slung my arms under his armpits. At first, he flinched, but then he surged in my grip.
Let go of
Marv, no! Its Dr. Howle!
What?
But then we all heard the click of rifles, and the room went from white hot to stone cold. Marv held up his arms, staying perfectly still. The ECG chirped like a bird in a broiler.
Whats going on!? one of the soldiers yelled.
Everybody just calm the fudge down, I said.
I slowed time, recentered my consciousness into my Main Menu, and took a couple of deep breaths before letting things continue.
I looked over my shoulders, at the soldiers.
Theres no need for violence, gentlemen.
Marv, I said, turning to face the back of the man in my arms, heres whats going to happen. Im going to let you go, and then youre going to take two steps back and the both of you, I glared at the other nurse, are going to tell me whats going on, and the nice men with the guns are going to walk away and get back to keeping people safe, okay? The zombies have no semblance of reason. Thats a very low bar, and its one I expect everyone here to meet. I really dont want to have to tell Dr. Marteneiss that you two are throwing away what precious little law and order we have left.
Oooooh Andalon cooed.
I tried not to grin too much.
When she wanted to be, the little minx could be quite the peanut gallery.
Marv let his arms drop to his sides, and then grunted. Fine.
Happily, everyone did as I said, and then the men with the guns went away and nobody got hurt.
Imagine that!
I took a couple steps back before I addressed the nurses. Listen, were all running on empty, I said. Dont waste precious energy fighting with the patients. Just walk away. I sighed. The Green Death will solve all of our problems soon enough.
Dr. Howle, the other nurse saidDeborah, as indicated by her name-tag, everyone whos ever mattered to me is dead. Deborah glanced at Mr. Himichi, who glared at her from underneath his blanket. Im not gonna stand here and get yelled at by geriatrics. Fuck, she added, with a hiss, only to cough as she lowered her head in anguish. Maybe I should just give up and let the plague take me. Its already broken me.
Taking a closer look at her, I saw the streaks of days-old mascara that had bled down her cheeks, like some kind of tribal war paint.
Dont say that, I said.
Its just I dont know if I can go on anymore, she said. I mean what are we even fighting for anymore? The plague has worn us down to the nub.
I cleared my throat. Moments like this, I said. Thats what were fighting for. To keep them alive, for as long as we can, and to stay human as best as we can manage.
Glancing at Mr. Himichi, I sighed, and then turned back to the two nurses.
Now, I said, what happened here? Start from the beginning.
This patient is a boor, Deborah replied. I
Deborah? I asked.
She shook her head and stuck out her hand. Sorry, I she coughed, Ive been having trouble with my memory.
Through my wyrmsight, all three of themDeborah, Marv, and Mr. Himichiwere bright with the fungus riotous, magenta-rainbow aura.
Marv glanced at Mr. Himichi, and then at me. I heard it, Doc. He was moaning and moaning about wanting to draw, needing to draw, dying, forgetting.
Yeah, Deborah nodded. I showed him the Art App on the console, but he
Mr. Himichi sat up as tall as he could. No! he snapped. A thousand times no! He coughed. Why dont you listen? He clenched a fistful of blanket.
He doesnt stop, Dr. Howle. Deborah shivered. He wouldnt stop. Hes miserable, and Im miserable, and I just thought that wed both be better off if he was sedated and I were somewhere else. I was in F Ward an hour ago, but they forced me to end my shift, so I transferred to E, knowing you guys could use the help.
They forced you to end your shift? I muttered. I raised my brow. When was the last time you took a break?
The question spooked her. No, no, she quivered, I cant. Im so tired, Doctor, but I dont want to sleep. Ive been having such nightmares I dont know if Ill wake up again.
I sighed. You need your sleep, I said, working yourself to a pulp will only accelerate your decline, and that doesnt do any of us any good.
Her lips quivered as tears glinted in her eyes. I know.
Beside me, Himichi sniffled and snorted. I would sleep, if I could. He swallowed something that had gobbed up in his throat, and then looked me in the eyes. I can feel it going, Doctor. So I have to draw it, otherwise his voice trailed off. Like Deborah, he wept. His tears glinted beneath the fluorescent ceiling lights.
I dont trust the electronics, he continued. It needs to be a hard copy. He slapped his fist against the mattress. But I forgot them my supplies. I left them at home. He shook his head. But Ive never gone anywhere without them. And now his voice, already soft and fragile, began to break. Im running out of time
He shuddered, and I shuddered with him.
I turned to Marv. Marv?
He coughed. Yeah?
Stop trying to inject people with sedatives against their permission. Save the sedative for the zombies, I said. I think well need it.
I walked over to the console mounted by the door and waved my hand over the scanner to access my account and start pushing the necessary buttons.
If, by some dark miracle, I said, either of you ever find yourselves with a patient asking to draw with the old-fashioned physical materials, all you need to do is place an order with the Mental Health division, in C Ward.
Tapping the submit button on the screen, I did just that. There was a little whoosh from the consoles speakers as my request for drawing supplies to Mr. Himichis room got shunted down the digital pipeline.
Mental health facilities keep a range of arts and crafts supplies on hand at all times, for therapeutic uses. They even have modeling clay.
I turned to the nurses once more. Got it?
They nodded.
And, Deborah?
Y-Yes?
Please get some sleep, I said. Doctors orders.
I turned my gaze toward Mr. Himichi, slowed by an unwanted feeling of dread. Ill deal with the patient.
Marv trudged off with all the resolve of a sleepwalker. Deborah gazed at me, full of mourning and fear, and stricken with shame. Her uniform was disheveled, looking like it might fall off her at any moment.
Im sorry she muttered, as she turned and walked away. She took her presence with her, leaving a vacuum in her wake.
92.2 - ???????? ??????
So, in addition to putting in the order for the art supplies, while at the console, Id also made an executive decision in my capacity as part of the triune head of Ward Es CMT to have Mr. Himichis case assigned to me.
Now, with only Andalon to accompany me, I stood on my dead, tired legs at the side of the bed of my childhood hero, painfully aware I was being selfish. Yes, Kosuke Himichi was in need of help, but so were countless others. But he was important to me, and, I admit, that importance gave him power over me. The yearning for gods we could hoist above ourselves was, perhaps, the quintessential human longing. Through them, the world received the order we wished it to have. They let us believe the leviathan had a tamer.
So, when one of your gods came to you, battered and broken, how could you not give them all of your everythings?
Or was I just rationalizing it?
Andalon sat cross-legged on the floor, looking up at Mr. Himichi in wonder.
Thats really Mr. Michi? she asked, for the third time.
Yes, I thought-said, really really.
Andalon cried tears of joy as she basked in his presence.
Though I didnt mind Andalon being there, she couldnt help but be an uncomfortable reminder of all that had transpired since the world had begun to end. It was nothing she did; her presence alone was enough.
Even at the earliest stage of her manifestations, Andalon had demonstrated knowledge of Himichis Catamander Brave. Most importantly, she had cited that storys wyrms as the reason why she, herself, was turning people into wyrms.
As in the manga, it turned out salvation was wyrm-based. Who wouldve thunk it?
Andalon did! Andalon said.
(Recall, she can hear everything I think.)
Also, somehow, the manga was connected to the AngelAngels; plural, I thought, correcting myselfHell, and the Last Days.
And now, the guy whod written it all was three feet in front of me, looking up at me from under the covers with an attentiveness that stole my breath away. He sat up in his bed, blinking and sniffling. The streaks of tears on his cheeks had only just begun to dry. His lips pawed at the air, reaching for speech, but not quite finding it.
Well, at least I wasnt the only one to be tongue tied.
I didnt know how to begin, let alone where. My thoughts snowballed down a hill, spinning faster and faster, but never going anywhere, except to the metaphorical rocks where they dashed to pieces to the accompaniment of me trying to clear my throat.
After a couple of seconds going nowhere, I realized I wasnt as ready for this as I thought I was, and so I pressed the pause buttonfiguratively speakingand let time slow to a crawl.
Honestly, if I ever met the Angelour AngelI would complain that He hadnt given human beings this self-pause ability. It would have solved so many problems.
Anyhow, my surroundings transformed as I recentered my consciousness into my Main Menu. The cluttered, close-quarters of Mr. Himichis hospital room gave way to an endless expanse of still waters and days sky.
I dematerialized my hazmat suit with a thought. Yes, I might have still been wearing the darn thing out in Thick World, but in here, I was just a figment of my own imagination, and I had standards, and not being hot, sweaty, and miserable was absolutely one of them.
I ran my fingers through my hair.
Angel, that felt good.
I was fully me againhuman me100%.
All of five seconds passed before my doubts took over. I glanced down at the ground and muttered. Who am I kidding? This is going to be a disaster.
Andalon looked up at me. Whats a matter, Mr. Genneth?
I cant do this, Andalon. I cant.
You said that before, she said, but then you did the stuff. The thing.
This is different, I said.
Andalon glanced down in thought, and then looked back up at me. Is it cause of Mr. Michi?
Yes, I said. Very yes.
Why? she asked.
So, ignoring the fact that Ive literally dreamed of this happening Mr. Himichi has probably already begun to lose his memories. The moment I open my mouth and start talking about the wyrm stuff, hes going to think Im crazy.
Andalon paused. Why? she asked.
Because normal people dont talk about wyrms and the afterlife and apocalypses, I said.
Why? she asked.
Yes, it was cuteespecially if, as I suspected, she wasnt doing it intentionallybut, other than that, it was not helping!
I ran my hands through my hair. (Again, this felt very nice.)
You could always just wait for him to go away, Andalon said.
Wait, what? I asked.
When he becomes a ghost, I mean, she said.
Thats called dying, Andalon.
Oddly, Andalon shook her head. Nuh-uh, she said. Dying is when you go away forever. But Mr. Michi would still be here, hed just be all ghosty.
Her words hit me like a bucket of ice water.
Angel I muttered.
I was looking at this the wrong way. I was treating this as my one and only shot to learn the truth from him, but that wasnt what it was. It wasnt an end, it was a beginningor, at least, the beginning of a beginning.
I needed Mr. Himichi to get to know me now, while there was still time. There was no predicting might happen going forward. If I wasnt nearby when he died, his soul might get uploaded into another transformee, and then Id never be able to find him. But, if he knew who I was, then, at least a chance. He could pester his wyrm to go find me.
I cant believe Im doing this, I muttered, as I closed my eyes and moved my consciousness back into my body.
I let time roll on like it should, though I still didnt know what to say. Fortunately, Mr. Himichi took the liberty of breaking the ice for me. He did it with a question and a breath.
So, youre a doctor, are you? Well, he said, what kind?
Im uh, I stammered, Im a neuropsychiatrist.
Really? he asked, flatly.
Mr. Himichi sniffled again, his eyes threatening to water. For a moment, he turned his head to the left, watching the hallway through the rooms window wall.
I walked up to the glass and drew the curtains closed.
Thank you for that, he said.
I nodded. Youre welcome.
Ive known you for only a little bit of time, he said, most of it less sane than I would like, but, already, turning slowly back to me, I wish, he glanced down, I wish more people would do as you didlisten and act, rather than conclude and react, or turn their heads away like nothing ever was.
Without looking awayhow could I turn away?I reached back and palmed the air until my gloved fingers landed on the supple faux leather of a wheeled stool, which I then rolled under me and sat myself down in, minding my tail. I wouldnt have been able to keep standing, even if my legs werent brittle and dead; not with the words I had on my mind.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Ive done my fair share of work in our Mental Health Department in Ward C, I said. As useful as the tech might be, sometimes, theres no substitute for the old fashioned approach, I said. The t-tactile stimulus, you know.
There was a pause. Im dying.
Th
Dont take me for a ride, Doctor
He squinted at me, but wasnt able to read my name-tag.
Howle, I said, Genneth Howle.
Ive been dying for a while, he coughed, and not just because of the chemotherapy.
W-What?
Mr. Himichi had cancer?!
Andalon looked up at me. Whats cancer, Mr. Genneth?
A nasty disease, I thought-said. It kills people.
Mr. Himichi rolled his eyes over to me. Eh, its a kind of slow-growing multiple myeloma. It has a long name which is difficult to pronounce, and which I no longer remember. He chuckled. They told me its treatable, but not curable, but look at me now. Im no longer worried about blood cancer. His expression turned distantNow everyone is dying e gave me a wry look. Youre probably dying, too, he said, only Im better at it.
He managed a smirk, but then, there came a pause. In the silence, I watched his thoughts wander down some pensive trail.
I can feel my mind going, he said, softly. I made the mistake of turning on the television. There arent any shows anymore, only ads. One showed a beach and, in front of that, the sea, but it took me a minute to remember what the sea was. Until I did, all I saw was the nameless bigness beneath the sky. His face turned to stone. It took me a minute to remember that I was looking at the sea.
He coughed again, wincing in pain.
Unable to bear the sight, I stood up, picked up the toppled IV stand and set up the morphine drip. But as I moved to insert the IV line into the port on Mr. Himichis arm, he lifted his hand and shook his head.
I dont want false hope, Dr. Howle. I dont have enough time for it. He looked askance as he spoke, avoiding my eyes. My mind is already growing cloudy. The drugs make it worse, and I dont want that.
I bowed my head in apology. Im sorry. I removed the bag from the drip.
It was almost empty, anyway.
Mr. Himichi tilted his head toward me slightly. I thank you for intervening in that ridiculousness back there, and thank you even more for having art supplies sent to this room. He raised an eyebrow. They will be coming soon, wont they? The supplies? He stared at his hands. I worry about how much time I have left. The sand grows finer with each passing moment, he added, in a rough whisper.
Yes, I said, nodding, theyll be here. Soon.
He nodded back. Good, good. Now, if you do not mind, unless you have something to say, I would appreciate if you
Thank you, I muttered.
They were so inadequate, those words. I felt like a dog offering its master a dead bird it had found in the road.
Mr. Himichi wheezed in response. I wondered if I was to blame.
Sitting back onto the stool, I leaned forward, scooting the stool a couple inches closer to the side of his bed.
Thank you, I repeated. The words were stronger, clearer than before. Thank you for the heart of my childhood, I said. Thank you for all the daydreams. And, my voice nearly broke, thank you for getting Cat back home.
For once, I wasnt the most astonished person in the room. Expressions mixed on his face in a four-way collision of smirk, sigh, smile, and a sob. He looked at me for a while, and againeven more strongly than beforeI felt like the dog whod brought his master the dead bird.
If youre here to ask about the release date of my next project, he said, Im afraid its going to be delayed, he said, almost casually dismissive. And yet, beneath his pursed lips, his eyes had gone a-twinkle.
The fans always want me to get back to work, but, you know, he said, no matter how much they want it, I want it even more. More than they could ever know.
So, moment of truth, over the course of my life, Id sent hundreds of letters to himall the fan mail you could imagine. But never once had he responded. And thered always be a little part of me that resented him for that. I resented his silence and anachoresis.
Why did he hide himself away from the world?
Yet that resentment would never overtake my adoration for him. It couldnt.
I would never even think of ordering you around, sir, I said, shaking my head. Its not my place.
Mr. Himichi let out a sound that, at first, I thought was a cough, but then I realized, no, it was a scoff.
Nonsense, he said. Youre the audience. You order me around just by existing. In fact, Id say it was your duty to order me around. He raised an eyebrow. Youre doing it now, even as we speakas well you should.
Excuse me? I said. I felt as timid as a mouse. This was my god I was talking to, after all!
He smiled kindly. Its really quite simple. The audience tells me if Ive done a good job. How else am I to know, except through them?
But youre you! I said. Youre a genius.
Mr. Himichi nodded. That may be true, but in the end, what does it matter Were all wanderers in the dark, looking for signs of light. Having others around gives me a reason to try to shine.
He coughed terribly. By the time hed finished, Id already gotten up and brought him some water in a plastic cup, which he graciously accepted.
A libation, he said, approvingly. He drank it down, despite his trembling grip on the cup. Ah, he added, with a kind smile, just what the doctor ordered.
He winced with pain as he repositioned himself and his pillow.
Dr. Howle, he asked, turning to face me, do you mind if I tell you a story? You are here, and the tale is important to me, and I need the practice. His expression grew quiet. This is something I dont want to forget.
It would be an honor, sir, I said.
Andalon and I looked on in wonder as the old man spoke.
I had a fearful childhood, growing up in Noyoko. I was introverted and shy, scared of nearly everything that moved. I took refuge in my imagination. I loved kaiju movies. Those fearsome creatures were so big, so strong; they werent afraid of anything. One of the corner of his mouth curled in the slightest of smiles. When I was on my ownwhich was often, for my parents worked long hoursI used to pretend I was a kaiju. Id knock over play-sets and action figures, drunk on the fantasy of it all. Of course, my imagination only made it that much harder for me to make friends. He lowered his head. No one likes the chniby.
He coughed.
I remember when the Trenton Prelatory was overthrown. I was young so I didnt understand what it meant, but I felt it. It was like the world was turning beneath my feet. Ill never forget that feeling. I remember thinking that that strange, far-away place called Trenton must have been a magical land, the way people raved about riches to be gained there. It was like the legends of Uminokami, only this time, everything was turning out right. Friendship was the word in everyones mouth. The Turentu migrs had already brought so much wealth to our lands. People were agog with the thought of how much more they could gain, now that Trenton was liberalizing. It was a mad scramble. Even us kids were affected. It was the age of the transfer student, and I was one of them. My father took me out of my middle school and transferred me to one of the migr schools, where anyone who was anyone would go, to get a bilingual education. Mr. Himichis gaze fell. I had struggled so much to form what few connections I had, all of them vanished overnight, leaving me more alone than ever.
And yet he drew in a long, quavering breath, thats where I met her. He gulped. Riri
That last word was unlike the rest. There was no trace of an accent in any of his words. Like Suisei, Mr. Himichis Trenton was even cleaner than mine. But, with that last word, hed dropped any pretense of rhoticity. He could have easily said, Lily, but he didnt.
I think everyone is born incomplete, he said. We are pieces of a puzzle, and we live out our lives searching for the parts that are missing. The question is: what are you willing to do in order to find it? And what happens when you finally do?
I didnt know what to say.
Tears trickled down his cheeks.Riri was my missing piece. She and her family were from herefrom Elpeck. Theyd moved because her parents had gotten a job as localization consultants for real estate developers here in Mu. But, at the time, I hadnt known any of that, nor had I cared. I only saw her.
Here, his language turned to poetry.
She was the girl with hair like the sun, he said. I was the boy with hair like the night. Silence bound us to one another. I didnt talk to anyone because I was too afraid to open my mouth; she didnt talk to anyone because she didnt know how. He nodded. n a city where the skyscrapers press up against the mountains and the sea, you might be forgiven for thinking magic had gone awaybut you would be wrong. The tea gardens in Noyoko are the things of fairy tales. Just go and sit on a at the edge of a moon bridge where it soars over the placid waters, and youll know it for yourself. Sitting there, over the water, watching the koi among the lily pads, the sounds of the twenty-million footsteps melts away, until all you can hear are swan-wings beating on the water as time itself breathes.
I was spellbound.
In those mystic gardens, he said, we fell in love, her and I. We fell in love a thousand times over. And when, at last, we were wed I was happy, truly, and perfectly. They were halcyon days, the kind that make life worth living. But, he shuddered, they did not last. He looked me in the eyes, his voice breaking, It was because of a wire, Dr. Howle. Thats what shattered it. A wire short-circuited, so a signal failed to send, and a track failed to turn, and a train derailed, taking everything I had with it. He scoffed and coughed. And they said I was one of the lucky ones.
H-How did you survive? I asked, breathlessly.
Mr. Himichi looked away from me. He winced in pain as he swallowed hard.
The derailment happened at the front of the train, but I wasnt there. Id gotten up to go to the bathroom, you see. The nearest working one was several cars down from where Riri and I were sitting. He paused. I paid for my survival with months of braces, pain, and shame. They had to put screws in my bones, just to keep me from falling to pieces. For solace, I turned to drawing, one of the few things I could still do. It had always been a hobby of mine, but, by the end of my recovery, it had become something more. In many ways, I never left that hospital room. Ive been there all this time, waiting for someone who will never come. He looked up to the lights. Even now, I still dream of the train, of those last moments, and of what might have been.
There was nothing you could have done, I said.
But thats just not true, he said. Before Id gotten up from my seat, I could have told her I loved her. I could have drawn her close and stayed there with her, even if it was only for a moment. Its so often the smallest moments that have the deepest dignity.
He coughed, hard and harsh.
Here, I rose from the stool, let me get you some more water.
I took his cup and went back to the sink, where I filled it to the brim. With my legs so weak, I had to take extra care not to spill it on the way back.
After Mr. Himichi had gulped it down, he let the empty cup roll down his body to the foot of the bed. He took another deep breath, and it sounded clearer, but only a little, and not for long.
Thank you for sharing that with me, I said. It I teared up. It means a lot to me.
He nodded approvingly. Im glad. All stories want to be loved. He sniffed and snorted, trying his best to clear his throat. Now that Ive shared something with you, he said, as per the sacred rules, you must share something with me. I cant promise Ill be able to remember it for long, but I will try my best to listen.
He looked at me expectantly, as did Andalon.
Where to begin?
92.3 - ???????? ??????
I dont know what to say, I said.
I hate it when that happens, he replied. Fortunately I have some ideas to spare. He sat up against his pillow. Tell me, Dr. Howleif you wouldnt mindwhat did you do with Catamander Brave? I would like to know.
While I mulled over what to say, Andalon covered her eyes.
I feel the same way, I thoughtsaid.
I was terrified I was gonna crash and burn.
It did for me what kaiju did for you, I guess, I said. It gave an awkward kid some sorely needed delusions of grandeur.
Mr. Himichi responded with a wry smile. That was one sentence. I think you owe me more than that.
I tried to look him in the eyes, but it was hard. I wasnt prepared for how vulnerable I felt.
Nervous, I coughed. Well, I began, when you spend enough time waiting to be picked up after school that you can get nearly all your homework done before youve gone home life gets very lonely very quickly, I said.
This was before my sister had gotten her drivers license.
Eventually, you have nothing to do but pace in circles in the courtyard, talking to the flowers or the fountain, or maybe checking to see if someone had forgotten to lock the doors to the library. I sighed; he nodded. Theres only so many different ways you can go up and down a set of steps, I added, and, I should knowI tried them all.
Go on, Mr. Himichi said, with an encouraging nod. I like where this story is going.
My lips quivered, barely able to believe they had a reason to smile. One day, one of the school counselors reached out to me. She sat down next to me on the grassI remember it was grass, because I was wearing shorts at the time, and they werent doing the best job of keeping the grass from tickling my legs. We talked about my Dad for a while, and about why the Night was dark, and at the end she handed me a copy of Catamander Brave. Her son worked in the publishing business; she got copies for free.
After that, the school courtyard was never a courtyard for me, ever again. Id stick out my arms and tilt and skip, I said, sticking out my arms to demonstrate, pretending I was Cat, sailing beyond the Night, across the Sea Between the Worlds.
Mr. Himich coughed, but smiled anyway. Rich with hope, adventure, and more, he said, quoting his own, immortal lines.
And when he finally made it back home For a second, I looked away. I cried. Cat, Sina, Masks of Truth, Red Fred they kept me up late, night after night.
Even though I was knee-deep in a hazmat suit, my old habit of deep breathing to stay calm took hold of me.
My life hasnt been as lucky as I would have liked it to be, I said, but at the very least, when I close my eyes and think back to your stories, and the time I spent sharing them with my children that gives me a reason to smile.
Breathing in and out as best as he could, Mr. Himichi stared at his hands, crossed in his lap.
Now came the really hard part. For all my reverence, I couldnt keep my doubts silent. I had to let him know.
Why didnt you respond to my letters? I said.
Mr. Himichi stared at me for a while, and then sighed. The smile he gave me broke my heart and then built it back up again.
Im shy, he said. Tears twinkled in the corners of his eyes. Even after all these years, Im still afraid of people. Im sorry. Truly, I am.
I was speechless. I didnt know what to say. B-But
I didnt respond to any of the letters, he said. I couldnt. To this day, it pains me that I couldnt.
Just because you were shy? I said, unable to believe it.
He nodded. That was part of it, but it goes deeper. I Mr. Himichi sighed. I didnt know what to say.
I dont understand I said, desperate for clarification.
People say that my work moves them. But he swallowed, my words are nothing compared to the letters my readers send me. Every letter I receive is the greatest work of art the world will ever know. They move me more deeply than any of my own creations. It makes my work seem lifeless in comparison. And, if I may be honest with you I dont know what I am doing. I never have, nor have I ever been convince that what I have made is of any real quality, except in the smallest pieces here and there. So to receive praise for what I have done? He shuddered. That, Dr. Howle thats a kindness that goes beyond all others. If I tried to reply to the letters, Id spend my whole life fussing over how to express my gratitude in a way that did it justice, and I would not have made anything else at all. I am rather indecisive, after all. The best I could manage was to infuse my works with my gratitude.
I nodded, tears in my eyes. I recited the dedicatory that began each and every one of Mr. Himichis works. To you, my reader, I give my deepest, most woefully inadequate thanks. Please enjoy what I have to offer. It means more to me than you could ever know.
He smiled.
That was the best I could do. Im sorry, he said, bowing his head. Please forgive me.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
I grabbed hold of his hand. Thank you, I said. Thank you.
Pulling away from me, he brought his hand to his mouth and wept.
I quietly waited for him to calm back down.
He managed a quiver of a smile. You make me think t might not have been as bad as I thought it would be. And its what Lily would have wanted. He nodded at me.
You dont know how much that means to me, I said. I forgive you. I forgive you. I nodded, crying. How could I not? I added. You were the maker of my dreams. And youre not the only one who struggles with indecision.
And you dont know how much that means to me, he said, his voice cracking. Now, here, at the end, I just wish all the others could forgive me, too.
They would in a heartbeat, if they knew what youd just told me, I said.
He bowed his head again. I am glad my stories made for such good company, Dr. Howle.
It has always been something of a struggle, you know.
What? I asked.
He nodded again. s much as I love telling stories I loathe having to make them. It is good to know that my struggles were not in vain.
You? I gasped like a gossip columnist. Loathe?
Oh yes, Mr. Himichi smiled, wiping a tear from his cheek with his trembling hand. As he moved, the light shone through the thin fabric of his hospital gown, especially around his arms. Through the light, I could see the infection lurking in himsplotches of shadows beneath his drooping sleeves.
Im terribly distrustful of myself I have to squeeze and squeeze to figure out what I want. Some people can build a world from just a face or a pebble. Their thoughts flow down from the mountaintops of their mind, and they join together in rivers and seas. For creators such as them, story-telling is story-making. I wish I could do that, but I cant.
I couldnt tell if he was looking at me or looking through me. It was like a spigot had come loose somewhere inside him.
Im indecisive as heck, I said. I hate it. I hate it so much.
He raised an eyebrow. What flavor of indecision do you have? he asked.
Im worried Im not going to be good enough. Im worried that I wont make the right decision.
How do you know whether youve made the right decision? he asked.
I pondered that for a while.
I guess thats the whole problem, I said, I dont.
He nodded. Never stop trying to find out, Dr. Howle, he said, it makes all the difference.
What about you?I asked. How do you know?
Well, he said, as a matter of principle, I believe it is a terrible thing to care more about a set of rules than about doing good however you can. But, in that, I suppose Im just as much of a hypocrite as the next person. More than being good, I care that my work is faithful to my ideas. Whether its the characters, the twist, the world, or the moments themselves I want to domy ideas justice. I exist for their sake, not the other way around.
For a moment, he raised a trembling finger, as if to accuse.
If I was willing to let my ideas become something other than their truth, my miseries would be a millionth of what they are. But what kind of father would that make me to them? He shook his head. We cant rewrite our children, least of all by a wave of the hand. You have to build them up in a billion million pieces, step by step, until the day when they are ready to leave the nest and live a life of their own, even if they never do. And you want them to be good, even if they arent.
But why? I asked, thinking of my own children.
Thinking of all the people Id tried and failed to save. Why go through all that pain and anguish?
Mr. Himichi tilted his head to the side. I suffer for them because the only thing that hurts more is the thought of a life where I hadnt. When every step forward is a battle, its hard not to fall in love with what youre fighting for. And when others look upon what I have made, I will live again, and, with luck, in a way, maybe Lily will, as well.
He coughed and wretched. The noise broke the spell his words had cast over me.
Why are you telling me this? I asked.
I told it to you to give it to you, he said. I think I can trust that youll keep it safe. I
Mr. Himichi looked up at the fluorescent lights in the ceiling-grid. He watched them like an eclipse of the moon.
I need the extra room, he said, ominously.
I gulped.
And I dont know, he added, maybe I hoped that you might understand, as a professional in fixing those who are broken.
Here, I cried. I didnt bother hiding it. It wasnt just Kosuke Himichi anymore; it was my wife, my children, my friends; those who were soon to leave me, and those who had long since departed.
I think in that moment, sitting there, talking with my hero, I finally understood what it really meant for a world to end. Its not just you that goes; it was everybody, and everything. Even the truths that seem to live forever die when the world ends. The fires go out, for there is no one left to carry them
For once, I guess, I said, with hesitation, were both in luck. I nodded. I know what you mean, about marching onward, even when almost everything is telling you to stop. I lowered my head, briefly glancing at Andalon on the floor beside me. As a kid, my father wasnt there for my sister and I as much as I would have liked. And, my voice broke, now, hes gone. But he left me so many precious things. I chuckled through my tears. He left me enough money to pay off my student debt. And he left me music. The sound, the heart, and the soul. The clarinet started as his favorite instrument, and that made it mine, as well. It still is, to this day.
I took a deep breath.
Years ago, I said, dredging up the calamity, I lost a son, Rale. Everyone I know thinks its my faultmyself, most of all. He might be gone, but Im trying to make sure that, like your Lily, he lives on. And not just him. For years, now, Ive been slowly writing a Sonata for Clarinet and Piano, slaving over it, down to the very last rest. Its a sepulcher for those Ive loved. Its not quite finished yet, but one day, I hope, it will be. I want to see it soar, the way your creations have.
And I would like to hear it, Genneth, Mr. Himichi said.
Someday, I nodded, wiping the tears from my eyes.
Behind me, a fist rapped against the glass. I turned to see a knight-like figure armored in PPE, with an oversized, plastic container in his arms. It looked like youd need a power tool to cut through those thick, bulky gloves of his.
Art supplies, he said, the words muffled by his helmet-visor and the rebreather unit.
I got up and opened the door. He thrust the container into my arms, and trod off back to the battlefield.
Tears streamed down Mr. Himichis liver-spotted cheeks as I brought him the treasure trove.
On the bed, he said, eyes glistening in the light. On the bed. He patted his hand on the blanket.
I placed the container between his legs and popped open the lid. Mr. Himichi pulled out tools by the handful: paper, erasers, pencils, pens, crayons, rulers, markers, and on and on. I could only imagine the heady aroma the stuff might have had: the earthy graphite; the marker ink, pungent and fruit-scented; the fine musk of fresh, white rubber; the paper sheets, slicing through the air.
Taking the lid from my hands, he reached for the swinging arm table at the bedside. I grabbed it for him, swinging it into position right in front of him.
There you go, I said.
Mr. Himichi grabbed a sheet and held it in his trembling hand.
He turned to me. Thank you, he said. Thank you for letting me share, and for sharing with me in return. But now, please leave me.He turned his gaze to the blank sheets. I must work, while I still can.
What vistas did he dream there, I wonder? And would I get to see those boundless horizons for myself?
I looked at him, and he looked at me, our pasts and presents meeting eye-to-eye. And then, he went to work, and I drew the curtains over the scene, and left like the wind.
93.1 - Foreigners
Memory was a rude mistress. She would linger when unwanted, only to readily betray in your hour of need. Now, she haunted him like never before.
The world was no longer what Yuta remembered it to be.
Worse, the last memory he had of the world he had known was one he wished to forget.
He remembered the night air. Its touch was ice against his fevered flesh. The smells still seemed to drift before his eyes.
Sweat.
Smoke.
Blood.
He remembered the disk of the moon overhead. Horse hooves drummed on the forest road underfoot. The noise was like the throb of blood through his head.
Trunks and boughs passed, stars flickering between the pines.
But that was then, and this was now.
Or so he told himself.
Even now, as he lay in the bed, when he closed his eyes, he could still hear the carriages rickety wheels down below. He could feel the wood jostle with every bump and swerve. And when he tightened his grip, he felt the touch of his childrens hands as he held them in his, letting them know their father was still there.
The sight of his estate burning in the distance was a mountain of fire that lit up the night as Yuta fled with his family and his retainers, hoping to escape the Trenton wrath. verything after was lost in unknowing darkness.s next memory was of awaking in this strange place, and learning from the oddly clothed men about the impossible made real. He learned of the loved ones the Wheel of Rebirth had ripped from his life, and he learned of all the lost time.
wept for a long time, stopping only when exhaustion forced his hand. He was drained, now. Gone were his vitality, his passion, and will.
He was so tired.
His heart drowned in snow.
From across the room, there was a sound of water. Ichigo yelped.
Letting out a yawn, Yuta shook his head and lifted his tired eyes to his retainer.
My Lord, Ichigo said, you see this. He glanced back at his master. These Tsurento sorcerers can spirit water out of no!
Ichigo stood off to the side while pointing at a basin indented in the polished stone countertop across the room. An eared metal articleperhaps a spigotprojected out from the countertop and hung over the basin.
To Yutas eyes, it looked like a sink. It even had a hole to serve as a drain. Still, he though it was somewhat odd that there wasnt any water flowing into it. What good was a sink without an active water source feeding into it?
Cautiously, Ichigo pulled at the metal objects ears. Water poured from the spigot as the ears turned. Ichigo jerked his hand away as quickly as he could, eyeing the device with a mix of worry and wonder. Hestitanly, the young man stuck his finger into the stream and then, steeling his body, popped it into his mouth, very clearly expecting something to happen, even though nothing did.
Yuta chuckled, but then sighed.
Ichigo made for an amusing diversionsuperficial, but amusing all the same.
Yuta felt like a held breath, one he couldnt releasenot until he heard more about Hoshi. Days before, a brash Trenton man and his Munine fiance had come to the room, both of them dressed in those suits of solid color with the windows over their faces. Theyd carried one of those weighty quadrangle windows whose hearts danced with color and form. Through the window, hed seen what looked like a coffin, only it was see-through, and it held his little girl within its embrace.
Hoshi. His star.
Shed been sleeping, though with many, many of those translucent strings biting into her body, along with strange paper-patches that made a quilt of her skin.
Ichigo had been noisy then, as well, breaking out in irate howling, only to go quiet as Yuta gave him the order to do so.
Ichigo wasnt a fool, he just had the temper of one.
In wonder and fearful hope, theyd watched Hoshis chest rise and fallHer skin stayed on her body. Her eyes no longer wept out blood.
The strange physicians had pulled off a miracle the akumanithe demon windfrom YutaIchigos. And now, they were doing the same for Hoshi.
wait. So, wait, he did
Ichigo, on the other hand, could hardly sit still. But that was to be expected. The young man had a fire burning within him, one that could not be doused. He
At the moment, Ichigo was the sinkit was a tsukumogami . mutter something under his breath. It sounded like a Daiist sutra.
One of my favorite bits of Munine folklore, a tsukumogami was an object that had come to life. Yes, its very silly, but its fun. According to legend, when an object turned 100 years old, it gained a spirit of its own, and thereby became a self-aware, living thing, after a fashion.
Think about that the next time you sit in an old chair.
turned back to Yuta once hed finished.
It does not appear to be poisoned or tainted, my Lord. He nodded. Im no onmyoji, but I tried all three of the Mighty Apetrope Sutras, and there was no reaction, so, I dont believe its an evil enchantment. He glanced back at the stream. Even if it is sorcery.
Apotropaic, Yuta said, correcting his young ward.
Ichigo narrowed his eyes. Maybe they a tsukumogami into their serv
Objects do not gain sentience, Ichigo, Yuta said. A hundred years, a thousand, it makes no difference.
Ichigo stared back at the sink, and then, to both mens surprise, a feminine voice spoke out of nowhere: You seem to be interested in the sink. How can I help you?
Ichigo staggered back in shock, wide-eyed. He drew his katana. Or, he attempted to, but then remembered it had been taken from him.
I knew it! he said. See, Master? It lives!
These people have boxes that can talk, Yuta replied. A talking sink, though ridiculous, is no proof of spirits, least of all when we dont understand its operation and construction.
He sighed.
Please sheathe your sword, he added.
Ichigo did so, albeit begrudgingly.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
That the young man even believed in tsukumogami said a great deal about his background. Backwater nobles ones that leapt to the Tsurento lands in search of wealth, prestige, and powerwere little better than the peasants they ruled.
Fortunately, it was nothing that a bit of learning couldnt fix. Then again Sakuragis astrologer was revered as one of the most learnd men in the Colonies.
Astrology
Of all the branches of natural philosophy, Yuta supposed astrology had to be the oldest. In their ignorance, men of ancient days could hardly be blamed for looking up at the night skies in wonder and daring to see human meaning in the cosmic ballet. had felt that wonder, himself. Hed known its pull since childhood, planted in him bywouldhim from beneath the gently-swaying palm trees.
The stars made mans struggles seem so petty
If astrology had its use, it was to spark mans curiosity about the stars above. It was to astronomy what a child was to an adult. Even now, just the thought that men bowed to astrologers claims
wish could see the now,
He felt on the precipice of collapse. But that was nothing new.
Why? Ichigo asked.
Theyve always comforted me, Yuta replied. Have I told you why I stargaze?
For your studies? Ichigo asked.
Yes, but theres more to it than that, Yuta replied. The calm you see in me is just a front. I am a wreck. My life falls apart, and I have to build it back up again. Again and again. Im no stranger to nightmares and long, sleepless nights. Stargazing helped me while away the hours.
You have nightmares?
Yuta chuckled bitterly. Mother Nature loves to gift warriors with nightmares. Mybloody canvases, decorated inoffor., too often, by my. , I. With time, Is long before me. I. But, bsomething just another distraction. He coughed and cleared his throat. You are a skilled fighter, Ichigo. Perhaps one day, you may even be a great one. And yet if you abandon yourself to fully become the weapon in your hand, you will never find rest or comfort.
I He looked up at the ceiling for a moment, and then back at Ichigo. els, you know? In that way, the heavens helped to ground meironic as it might sound. You are more than your prowess in battle, Ichigo, and more than your petty, pent up rage, just as I was memyhe comfort
I will kill any who would dishonor you, my lord, Ichigo said, dipping his head. Those nobles are cowards! Buffoons!
You will do nothing of the sort! Yuta snapped. But then, with a sigh, he calmed himself. Though, to be fair, I dont think you could reach them from where we are now, even if you tried.
Ichigo groaned in frustration. At least let me deal with this demon water spout! he said, glaring at the sink once again.
Why are you so fixated on the sink? Yuta asked.
Its sorcery, Master. Its plotting something, I just know it is!
Im worried youre letting your mind grow too narrow.
What? Ichigo asked.
Have I ever told you about High Honorable Gaikyo-sama? Yuta asked.
You tell me so many things, how can you expect me to remember them all? Ichigo replied, frustrated.
Yuta leaned back against his exquisitely comfy pillow.
ma was I was younger then, and had only just begun to study astronomy with any seriousness. When I first arrived at Sakuragis estate as a bodyguard, I was terrificallyd about meeting Gaikyo-sama. I remember thinking, finally, here was , someone who would understand my starry pursuits better than the other soldiers.
Yuta curled his lips in disgust. tatGaikyo-sama was just anotherHe saw himself as beyond reproach. He had no fear of being wrong, and it led him to absurdities. He
Ichigo stared at him. It doesnt? He could hardly believe it.
Yuta clenched his fists and let out a long sigh. We are not going to have this argument right now, he muttered. Do you know why astrology is nonsense?
Something to do with squares, right? Ichigo asked.
That was the trouble with mathematics: it was very hard to pay it the attention it required in order to make any sense.
Im glad you were paying at least some attention, Yuta said, with a smirk. Long ago wise men discovered that if you take the diagonal of a square and lay it next to itself end to end, again and again and take one of the squares sides and lay it next to itself end to end, again and again, they will never form lines of equal length. This is because the length of the diagonal is incommensurable with the length of the squares side. The planets movements are incommensurable with one another. Conjunctions and oppositions occur at random. They have no more meaning than where the first raindrop falls. The evidence is irrefutable. But Gaikyo-sama refused to accept this. He thought he was infallible. If he hadnt been so narrow, had beenit Tsurento insurgents. He was wrong, and people died as a result.
Yuta looked up again. Even the stars ought to move, if viewed from far enough a distance.
Contrary to popular belief, the celestial sphere was not fixed. At least, thats what Yuta believed
But absence of evidence was not evidence of absence.
Ichigo turned to the sink But what does that have to do with the sink?
Ichigo, said, feeling more than a bit irritated, aqueducts in the Tsuanaka capitl in Noyoko and the Emperors gardens
No? Ichigo said, unsure of himself.
Bwere built up along the mountains and the hills. They down the slopes, carrying wfrom the high places. Unless there is a drought, the aqueducts bringIt is reasonable to a is behind this sink
Tsuanaka is a land of barbarians and demon-worshippers, Lord Uramaru, Ichigo said. I would trust a Tsurento-jin before a Tsuanakajin.
Ominoki Honda wrote an account of Ang-Zus aqueducts in the Book of Many TravelsIts what inspired Emperor Ashi to bring that technology to Mu. furrowed his brow. Ominoki a liar?
Ichigo blanched. ,, he said, bowing severely Im not familiar with that work.
Yuta sighed. This is why I tell you to read more
Yuta didnt blame his retainer for his ignorance. It was been born an aristocratlet alone a minor one to have been born to one of the Costranak women Vaneppos Lord-Governor liked to pick up off the streets and ravage by candlelight.
I dont want your mind to become ies, he added.
knew every detail of the tea ceremony, and could recite a dozen classic poems, none of which he understood. He knew by heart the prayers for the blessings of kami and kamui, as well as many excerpts from the sutras, for appeasing wrathful barashai. He knew how to enter a house without angering its tsukumogami.
Of course, none of these things were useful in the slightest.
In my experience, Yuta said, aresand I would like you to be better than that.
Unfortunately, Ichigo was caught up in his own na?vet.
As I always tell you, Ichigo, there are problems that cannot be solved by the sword.
For better and for worse, the young man lacked the cruel experience needed to understand the horrors his single-minded views could bring. But that same inexperience meant there was still a chance to steer him right, and keep him from becoming hollowed and desensitized.
I dont want you to become someone you would regret, Yuta added.
Ichigo was strong, highly perceptive, and athletic and nimble. ith either bow or rifle, he could shoot a raven in the forest in the dark of night while riding on horsebackwhich was no small feat. Most importantly, he was willing to learn, and by that measure alone, he was a far better man than most of the men that stood above him.
Ichigo had suffered the weight of others expectations. Add to that the ignominy the young man felt at being forced to serve a half-breed of lowborn origins freshly raised to a noble rank, and his anger was somewhat understandable.
Yuta said, with a smile, so far, youve been He glanced at the sink. Sinks notwithstanding.
In the time Yuta had known , thanks to his tutelage, the insecure, tempestuous adolescent had managed to become almost decent. It was a major accomplishment, to be sure, and Yuta looked forwardthe man Ichigo might become
Would it be enough?
His first son, Uz, was of low birth, like Yuta himself, but that hadnt stopped him from drinking his fill of battles allure.
For both his own sake, and Ichigos, Yuta hoped, this time, he would succeed.
It was while Ichigo was bowing in submission that the physician, Suisei Horoshaentered the room.
Who turned on the sink? .
93.2 - Foreigners
Ichigo Yuta said.
Lifting his head, the retainer nodded, and then darted over to quell the waters flow, though not without stealing a glare at the sorcerer in the room.
Suisei nodded. Im sorry for the delay, he said. Everythings a mess like you wouldnt believe. Ive had nightmares that werent this bad. He sighed. But, as promised, I am here to make things clearer.
Make things clearer? Yuta asked.
To give explanations, Horosha clarified.
The physicians speech was odd informal. It made him sound like a youngster, which was certainly a curious thought, since Yuta was all but certain he was Horoshas senior.
Yuta tugged his beddings out of the way and sat up, cross-legged. Is there any chance my ward and I would be able to see these crises for ourselves? he asked.
Not quite, Horosha replied.
Yuta looked the physician in the eyes.
Why?
Horosha stepped toward the bed, only for Ichigo to lurch forward, pointing his finger at him accusatively. Dont you take another step closer, sorcerer!
Horosha rolled his eyes at Ichigo, and then laughed.
You think I!? Ichigo snarled. He reached for his katana, only to remember that he no longer had his katana, and paw at the air in frustration.
No, Horosha replied, pulling a stool out from underneath the counter, I get that youre dead serious. Its just that given circumstances, what you said is actually pretty darn funny.
Yuta noticed the seat could rotate in place, and that the stools feet were wheeled. Hed never imagined such a thing, but now, here it was.
Remarkable, he thought.
Ichigo glared at it as Horosha sat down, which caused Horosha to glance down at the stool and then scoff. Let me guess, the stool? he said.
sit on contraption! Ichigo snapped.
What I wouldnt give for a situ-comu with you and Dr. Houru, Horosha said.
A what? Ichigo asked.
Ichigo? Yuta chided.
The retainer bowed to his lord. Yes, Lord Uramaru?
Please dont antagonize Dr. Horosha, Yuta said. So far, other than the woman in the suit, he seems to be the only person here who can communicate with us.
Lord Uramaru, Ichigo pleaded, these have trapped your daughter in their magic window We find an onmyoji to free her
Dr. Horosha pointed at Yuta. Why are you so calm, while hes so
Do not mistake silence for calm, Horosha, Yuta said. an error .
Placing his hand on his chest, Ichigo stood up tall and faced the physician. Im the second son of the fourth son of the brother of the retainer of Emperor Yumahitos chamberlain.
Ichigo spoke the words as if they were a thing to be proud of.
Horosha grinned. So nobody important?
He glanced at Ichigo. And with that unimportance comes the ambitions of a thousand conquering generals, not the wisdom, or the means, Yuta replied. But I have hope for him.
Horosha turned to Ichigo once more. The retainers eyes glowered beneath the peaks of his long, dark hair. For the last time, he said, pulling one of the windows out of the pocket of his strangely colored apron, these arent magic windows. Theyre more like spyglasses, though theyre not limited to whats in your line of sight.
sorcery! Ichigo hissed.
Yuta snorted humorlessly, only to cough rather harshly.
He felt wrong.
He sighed. orgive him, an aristocrat.
Arent you an aristocrat? Horosha asked.
By deed, yes, and also by blood, though only half-way, thank the gods.
I see, Horosha said. He nodded. Interesting.
But, Yuta said, enough dithering. Im not well, and I have many questions He stared the physician in the eyes. Where are we? What has happened to us? He looked around the room and its weird, unknown contraptions. Surely, this cant be
Unfortunately, Horosha said, it is. I told you spoke, when I was with Dr. Houru.
Yuta shook his head. But thas impossible.
Tell me, Horosha said, before you were here, where were you? And what year was it?
Before this, Yuta replied, I was fleeing from my estate several days journey from Erubeku, in the Trenton colonies the 11th year of the reign of Emperor .
Horosha nodded slowly.
Youve traveled quite far, Lord Uramaru, he said. Youre still in Tsurentu, and in Erubeku, but the Colonies are no more. He glanced at the window in his hands. Its been 409 years since the start of Emperor reign.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Yutas eyebrows rose. What?
Yourecrazy! Ichigo barked. You
But the retainers lips sealed as Yuta stuck out an arm and motioned for him to stop.
tim, Yuta said, softly. ats an extraordinary claimAnd extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence, if theyre to be believed. How could have happened?
Im not really sure, myself, Horosha answered, but I have some guesses. He looked up at the ceiling. One thing Im certain about, though: the Holy Angel is involved.
Somewhat troublingly, Yuta saw Horosha make the Bond-sign.
You are Rassudaiu? Ichigo hissed. He stepped back, as if struck. Pique rose in his eyebrows.
Horosha nodded.
Then you really are , Ichigo said, almost growling.
Horosha gestured at his surroundings. Believe what you wanna believe. The evidences all around you.
ahyour sorcery! He grinned with confidence, as if there was an argument, and he was somehow winningeven though there wasnt, and he wasnt.
Yuta sighed.
Ichigo had made progress, yes, but in times such as these, he had an unfortunate habit of regressing.
Ichigo, Yuta shook his head, how many times I tell you? Sorcery isnt an explanation, its an absence of one. Its an invent. He turned to Horosha. Horosha, if principles at work within these , .
Its a little bit beyond you, the physician replied.
Yuta coughed, but then smirked. Yes, and as long as you keep it hidden, he said, it certainly will .
ou asked for it, Horosha said.
Yuta could have sworn the physician spoke his next words more quickly than
Connectionless lightning-wind sent from a signal-hearer-maker in one doodad goes out in every directionpass through stuff without doing anything, until it hits the signal-hearer-makers in another doodad. This gets a little-river in the closed-road in the doodad-that-receives, which sends
ou us compoundIve never heard before Yuta said, frown. Dont be flippant with me, Horosha. He glanced at Ichigo. I can assure you, you will regret it.
For once, the young man smile.
Imagine a long string, Horosha said. He spoke more slowly this time. Theres at either end of the string, holding it. If one of them shakes the string, the other guys gonna feel it. Now, make a not-so-secret code to use with the shakesone shake means yes, two shakes means no, and so onand you can send messages through the string. The conusuru operates on this very principle.
Conusuru? Yuta asked.
Yes, Horosha answered. Thats what the doodads called.
Yuta scoffed.
Ichigo crossed his lean, muscled arms. I see string.
You cant see the wind, either, but there, the physician countered.
Ichigo frowned at him.
If you really wanna know, Horosha said, the string is made of light. Light, like music, comes in different sounds, and we can only see a little of that. Just like how therere some sounds you can hear from another room, there are kinds a light that can go through walls.
What does one do with this light? Yuta asked.
So much stuff, Horosha answered. So, so much. He stood up from the stool. Can I show you? Ive set time aside for this.
Yuta nodded. I insist.
ButLord Uramaru!
Yuta glanced over at his retainer. Arent you the least bit curious
The young man groanedloudlyas Horosha approached Yutas bedside. The man of the future woke the window sleeping in the beds adjustable metal arm by tapping at its darkened surface while swinging the arm to bring the window close to Yutas chest. Like before, Yuta beheld it in awe. Glowing with an inner light, it displayed a grid of crests and insignias whose meaning eluded him.
Yuta and Ichigo watched attentively as Horosha tapped one of the insignias, and then, the devices window filled with something like a portal to another world.
For a split second, Yuta saw a man with face-lenses seated in a room of glass and cyan and blues. He spoke in Tsurento. Images moved in a large square next to his face, showing landscapes swathed in horror. Strange, dark branches spread beneath his pale brown skin, reaching up onto his face.
What youre seeing is a moving picture. It was recorded day before yesterday. The man is explaining information.
Then Horosha tapped a symbol floating in the upper corner of the rectangle, and the sight changed altogether.
Weird, pictureless canvases flickered by. Yuta saw blocks of bright color filled with Tsurento script text. High, discomfiting tones rang from the device. Many of the canvases were churning sprays of black and white. They made a sound that reminded him of the tide rushing in.
What? Ichigo demanded.
The worlds falling apart, the physician replied, only to chuckle as another world coalesced in view. Of course thats still on, he said.
Out of nowhere, a crowd of voices laughed along with him.
The device displayed two images at once. They met down the middle of the window, yet neither interfered with the other. On the right, a comely housewife of a woman; on the left, a young girl, just shy of marrying age. Both were Tsurento-jin and they wore the strangest clothes Yuta had ever seenand hed seen the long, skirted coats favored by Tsurento lords.
They were risqu, to say the least.
The woman was in some kind of paradise. She looked over a humming maw of some dark material filled with shelves that were stuff to the brim with fresh produce, several of which looked entirely alien to Yuta. Behind her, he recognized Tsurento breadstuffs, wrapped in cloth that was so fine, not only could Yuta not see any trace of threads, he could see through the cloth altogether! Boxes covered in gaudy colors and big-eyed figurespeople, animalsfilled the shelves behind her. Yuta could have spent a lifetime lingering at the image, but it moved on its own, as if riding on a cloud.
The image on the left next to it, on the other hand, flickered back and forth between two different states. One moment, it showed the girl with one of the conusuru devices in hand; the next, it showed the conusurus window. Text-filled leaves sprouted in the white window beneath her clasping fingers.
The mother on the right kept glancing at her own conusuru, using her spare hand to lift produce in and out of a metal basket on wheels, growing more and more exasperated with every passing moment. The chorus of laughter kept erupting, getting a little louder each time.
What is this? Yuta asked.
The woman is the girls mother, Horosha explained. The moms gone to the market to get food for her family.
Yuta cursed. Thats a market? He pointed at the window like a monkey. Is she lty?
The physician smiled. .
What about the laughter? Ichigo demanded. Whos laughing? And why? Whats so funny?
Its a play, Suisei answered. A comedy. The laughter is so that the people watching know when a jokes happening. They dont gather in one place to see this. They see it from the comfort of their houses, all across the country.
The image faded to black.
It must be a shitty comedy if the audience needs to be told when to laugh, Ichigo said, but Yuta silenced him with a wave of his hand.
A new image appeared. It was dusk. The skys colors faded to black up above a kind of road that wound along a coastline. The road was made from a dark, reflective substance that reminded Yuta of fragments of volcanic glass hed sometimes fnd on the beach as a child, after the earthquake.
A thing zoomed over the road, hovering above the ground, like a crane gliding over a lake.
How does it move so quickly? Ichigo asked, in a wide-eyed whisper.
It was some kind of vehicle. There was a man inside it, seated behind what seemed to be a wide pane of curved glass. Two bright spots on its front end glowed like a wolfs eyes, spewing cones of light into the encroaching darkness. In the background scenery flickered past at speeds faster than anything Yuta had ever known. Gorgeous wilderness, rife with mountains and pines. In the distance, the sea lit up like a mirror.
And yet, the scene left Yuta feeling discomfited. Something was wrong here.
It took Yuta a moment to realize what it was. As soon as he did, he turned to Dr. Horosha and asked, Why are there no stars in the night sky?
So, it is as I suspected. There are stars in your skies.
93.3 - Foreigners
Yuta shook his head in dismay, only to cough painfully.
His chest felt like it was on fire.
What do you mean? he said.
There are no stars here, Horosha explained.
If there arent stars here, then why the hell do you know about them He turned to Yuta. Master, hes obviously lying.
Ichigo was right. If the people of this place did not know of stars, Horosha shouldnt have known about them, either.
Yet he did.
Horosha bowed his head toward the retainer. I am a sorcerer, he said he people here would call me one, if they knew, butthank the Angel Dr. Houru knows. He kinda knows. Looking up, he nodded. Obviously, to anyone.
Yuta stared at Ichigo, wondering if his retainer might have had the right idea after all.
He turned to the physician. If you are a sorcerer, why should we trust you?
Youre speaking a really, really old version of Munine, Horosha replied. Assuming anyone here could even understand you, if you tried to blab about meor starstheyd think you were just crazy.
Well-put, Yuta thought. Then at least, tell me this: where have the stars gone?
Theres a darkness out there, Horosha said. I barely understand it, myself. Theres a crater here, in the middle of Trenton. They call it Kurantoru Pit. Im no astronomer, but, given the eroding effects of wind and rain, Id have to guess that it is under a dozen million years in age.
Yuta stammered. dozen millio
Ichigo narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Thats very number.
Numbers can get far , Horosha . ince there the crater exists, we can guess that at least in the recent geological past, this night sky wasnt totally empty. He narrowed his eyes. If I correctly, that might be explainable if we assume this universe is expanding sufficiently quickly. In that case, fungus or not, it might be only a matter of months before spacetime rips itself apart. Though that solution does have its own problems.
Ichigo stared, not bothering to pretend that he understood in the slightest.
I do not understand, Yuta said.
Horosha sighed. Then just assume I dont know what the answer is
After staring for a moment in silence, Yuta touched the conusuru at the same spot that Suisei had.
The image changed.
In the window, a woman stood at a podium, giving a speech. Her skin was ebony, and hair was like winding ivy. Despair filled her face, which agony then stung.
She keeled over and coughed.
An ulcer festered on her right cheek, eating into the flesh.
Ichigo stepped forward and touched the window. The image changed, showing mountains covered in sumptuous verdure. Both Yuta and Ichigo gasped at the sight, not because of the mountain itself, but because of its viewpoint. Through the window, they looked down on to the mountain, as the birds would see. From this altitude, the thick forest was like moss. The landscape rambled down into foothills which melted into a riverine plain whose waters emptied into the sea.
As the view slowly turned, Ichigo gasped once more. Ediyaki, he muttered. A chain of lonely shrine-gates waded through the shallow waters at the lands edge. The wood was painted blue. Brighter than the water below, yet darker than the sky above, the color made the shrine-gates seem like scars in the air.
For the first time in a long time, Yuta saw tears glisten in his young retainers eyes.
Yes, Horosha said, speaking over the Tsurento voice in the background. Thats the Sunken Way, Ediyaki. Are you familiar with it? he asked.
Ichigo lowered his head. I was very young when we left Mu. I remember the cherry blossoms and the quiet, green forests. And I remember the shrine gates. Mother took us there, on a pilgrimage, to pray to the kami for a safe voyage across the sea. He sniffled. I never thought Id see it again.
The view slowly turned, revealing
Yuta inhaled sharply. Then that, he said, must be Ediyaki, itself.
Though Yuta had never been to Mu, he could recognize bits and pieces of its peoples architecture. Isolated estates of Munine design hid away here and there, up by the mountains, or scattered among the low-lands. But, so much of what he saw was strange to him. Though hed often wondered what his first glimpse of Mu would be like, he never would have imagined it would be as strange as this. The structures erupting in the distance had the shape of steel fangs or swords uncurved. They towered impossibly tall, clustered on either side of a river, their surfaces glistening in the noon.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
At this distance, he thought, they must be massive.
As he watched, he noticed dark, ant-like specks moving along the ground.
What are those structures? Ichigo asked.
Buildings, Horosha answered.
How? Yuta asked.
Theyve got metal skeletons.
As alien as the previous sights had been, this was the most alien of all, and because it was so close to what should have been familiar, yet it wasnt. For the first time, Yuta began to understand the changes that Time had wrought. It filled him with a blizzard of mixed emotions.
What happened to the Empire? Yuta asked.
Whose? Horosha replied.
What do you mean, whose? Ichigo said.
When the Tsurento ended the colonies, they also started an empire of their own. They even took control of the Kasu Islands.
The Soran Empire, Yuta said, of Mu.
The end of the Colonies was really embarrassing for the Empire. Emperor Yumahito got assassinated, and everything broke up into warring states. Mu sealed itself off from the world.
Ichigo staggered back in shock. The Emperor? Assassinated? He trembled. Who would do such a thing!?
One of his cousins, Horosha said, I think.
Typical, Yuta muttered.
It gets better, Horosha said. About two-hundred years later, the Tsurento lent their support to one of the biggest clansthe Zaibatsuwho then unified the country and brought all their fancy steam technology with them. Two hundred years after that, and, well this is what you get.
No Ichigo mumbled, shaking his head. I dont believe it. I cant.
Belief or disbelief rests with you, Suisei said, but truth marches ever onward.
For Yuta, it was Horosha quoting from The Lengthless Road that proved to be the final straw.
Yuta laughed. It was not a happy laugh. It was a farce, a sardonic farewell. It was the sound of an empty heart leaping off a cliff, into the abyss. Lord Uramarus laughter was brief. It died in sputters of acrimony and shame.
So, he said, with a cough, that is how it endedDecades of blood and hate, gone with the wind. Cities and settlements razed by all sides. Rebels strung up and left to drown on rocky Costranak shores, or be starved and bird-eaten in the marshes of Erubekus Bay, akumani swirling all around as the world sneered at usat everyone. All of that, abandoned, only for the people we oppressed and ruined to come back and remake us in their own image
He wept.
Tell me, Dr. Horosha, he asked, what does this future have to offer me? A man can understand a thing from one corner of the earth to another without ever belie in it. Tell me, Horosha: what do I have left?
The future, Horosha answered, but not for long. Its dying. Everythings dying.
Fresh pain dragged old rages out from their shallow graves. Is there peace? Yuta asked. Or is still slaughter and war? Does hate still have a place in the hearts of men in this shimmering future?
Yes, unfortunately, Horosha answered. But, he added, I dont think its our place to judge.
Its not a matter of place, Yuta answered, with a glare. Judgment will be passed. Ive lived that truth, doctor ou hiding from it.
What? he asked.
Ive known your faith, Horosha. I know what it does. It seeds fire and death in its wake. It slaughters families to steal their children, leaving their parents dead bodies on stakes at the side of the road. Ive killed more Rassudai than I can count, and all of them went down with hate in their eyes, eyes that shine with the conviction that as long as they act for the sake of their cause, they can do no wrong. You can build a future on pain or you can build on lies, but not both. Mixing them will bring disaster.
I dont say this often, Suisei said, but I dont understand.
Yuta recognized that. Averting his gaze, he glanced down at the bedding, clutching the sheets in hands. And then he wept.
Why did they have to die? Yuta said, softly. Sukuna, Genta, He shuddered. Why do I get this world of marvels while they get the grave! He shook his arms. them. He shook his head. I don''t deserve it. I have too much blood on my hands
Old pains were the hardest ones to conquer.
I killed for othe approval, . He shook his head again. I shouldnt be here!
Horosha made the Bond-sign. I dont know why the Godhead allows us to suffer, he said, but I have to believe its for a greater purpose. He sighed. Otherwise why go on?
To Yutas pleasant surprise, Ichigo spoke up. So that others might escape, he said. He quoted the sutras: Brightest shines that life which aids others down the road. He nodded. Its like the Festival of Light. Emperor Shonu stopped the Great Dark, and for that, the Court of Heaven raised him to godhood. So many more would have died suffer. Every year, when the Festival came around, Ichigo continued, my mother would remind me of this as we set the lanterns on the watercelebrate the Emperors victory over the akumani. Ichigo stopped to cough, and then pointed at himself. Thats what I w to do. He locked eyes with Horosha. I want to live a life worth celebrating. Your God doesnt provide, so the Wheel must step in. We save ourselves.
But what can we do? Yuta muttered.
By sheer luck, it was at that precise moment that I opened the door and entered the room. I didnt go all in at first, instead choosing to stick my head in through the gap, helmet and all. But then I spotted Lord Uramaru sitting on his bed, weeping into his arm, and I realized I was needed, more than ever.
Though I still had absolutely no clue what the time-traveler was saying, seeing him beset by pain and heartbreak was the only go-ahead I needed. Without a second thought, I thrust open the door, and stood out of the way as Ani stepped forward and guided a woozy-footed little girl into the room. The little girl was wearing a bright blue hazmat suit, fresh from the matter printers, with a prophylactic dose of the mycophage coursing through her veins. Hers had been epic journey across time and space, and hospital regulation, but, finally, shed come home.
Someone wants a word with you, Uramaru-sama, I said, as Ani and I gently pushed Hoshi toward her father.
You didnt need to know Munine to understand what happened next.
I certainly didnt.
The little girl called out to her grieving father, and he turned and stared back at her, in gobsmacked silence. For a perfect moment, everything was still.
Electrochemical gradients sparked through ganglia and neurons, overloaded with feeling.
hen father embraced daughter, staggering out of bed and kneeling onto the floor. Both of them wept. She clutched to the back of his hospital gown while he ran his fingers through her hair, muttering what could only be, verythings alright, over and over again.
As I stood and watched, I wanted more than anything else to embrace my own family.
My wife.
My children.
And, though I couldnt, I suppose seeing Yuta reunited with his daughter was the next best thing. And for once, that was enough.
Even for me.
94.1 - Chaconne
I left Yutas room with a smile on my face. As much as it pained me to admit, for much of my career, the evergreen, sunshine smile I wore on my face was a courtesy for my patients benefit, and to help me cover up my own pain. But, this smile? It was the genuine article. This was a victory, gosh darn it, and boy did it feel good! And, considering it happened in the aftermath of my meeting with Mr. Himichi, it was quite cathartic, too.
My encounter with my hero had shaken me to my core. I could swear, I felt the Moonlight Queens hand at my back as I turned a corner and saw Heggy and Ani rushing down the hallway, wheeling a refrigerator unit that held none other than the first batch of Dr. Skorbinkas mycophage. Obviously, I asked them what they were doing, and, just as obviously, theyd spilled all the beans, and then one thing led to another, and we made the decision to take the now-recovered, Darkpox-free Hoshi to see her father, having administered the mycophage to her as a prophylactic.
Apparently, Jonan had made chaos out of everyones schedules in order to set up time to work with Lark one-on-one. (To be fair, the idea of keeping schedules at this point was completely ridiculous, so Jonans manipulations were tantamount to sprinkling a pinch of salt into the sea.) The singer had a seizure, as did nearly every patient afflicted by the Green Death. The attacks came in waves, and, inevitably, when they passed, more of the patients memories would be lost to the ether.
Unsurprisingly, Dr. Derric had managed to hack into the hospitals database and put Lark at the top of the list of patients chosen to receive the first wave of mycophage treatments used.
To be honest, a lot of people were rooting for him, as was I. Lark didnt deserve to dienor did anyone else.
Now, if only Hoshi would be able to stay plague-free.
Time would telland far sooner than Id expected, too.
As I walked down the hallway, moving away from Yutas room, Andalon fluttered alongside me, riding my good mood like a butterfly on the breeze. At this point, I wasnt even going anywhere anymore, just traveling in circles, giving aid where it was neededwhich was everywhere.
Suddenly, Andalon floated out ahead of me. To my surprise, there was a smile on her face.
She stuck her arms up in triumph. Mr. Genneth, she said, I did it!
Did what? I asked.
You asked if there was anything Andalon could do to make the Green Def less bad.
Suddenly, Andalon had my undivided attention like never before. But none of that mattered. All that mattered was Andalons news.
Yes! Yes yes yes yes yes! I clench my hands into trembling fists. What is it? Whats the good news?
I think we can make it stop, said. I think its cause Amplersandalon is helping.
Please, Andalon, what do you mean by stop? Use your words. When you say stop, does that mean you can cure people now?
What is cure? she asked.
Its when the people who are sick stop bein sick and become better, I explained.
She shook her head.
Fudge! I hissed.
When Andalon says stop, she said, Andalon means this. She stepped forward, and then froze in place.
Alright, so shes literally stopping it.
Okay, okay. That means theyre not getting worse, right?
She nodded. Yeah.
I clasped my hands around my head. This is a freaking miracle I muttered.
I felt giddy.
For the first time since getting put on Ward Es CMT, I had something I couldnt wait to share with my colleagues. Unfortunately, fate had other plans in mind.
My console pinged.
Pulling it out, I saw a message from Nurse Kaylin:
Theres a very angry Mr. Elbock here you see you by the Main Reception Desk.
Reading those words yanked my world back in time. I felt like a movie camera panning backward through the past few days of my life, a feeling which only worsened as my surroundings bled away.
My control of my hyperphantasia was definitely improving. The Daydream Alley wyrmware Greg had given me automatically created a progeny consciousness into which it then recentered my mind, letting a doppelgenneth take over my body while I dealt with the latest drama unfolding in my mind.
As my surroundings melted into a hyperphantasy of that night, a week in the past, I felt my body shift back to my default human form as my consciousness recentered. While my body kept walking down the hallway in WeElMed, Andalon and I now found ourselves standing on the lawn outside my house, drawn from the middle of dinner by a police car that had parked itself at the Elbocks house across the street.
The scent of the lavender flowers in Merritts garden tickled my nose.
Closing my eyes, I shook my head, banishing the image and sending myself back into my body.
Then again, you know what they say: the more things change, the more they stay the same.
I let out a big, long, Fuuuuuuudge
After spending three seconds in Thick World standing like an idiot, I slowed down my perception of time. At this point, meeting Storn was basically an impromptu boss encounter, and I didnt want to make things worse by going in unprepared.
Where to begin?, I thought.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!
Mrs. BokBok, Andalon said.
Yes. Thats how this whole mess started. Merritt came in and asked me to kill her, because she thought she was a zombiewhich, of course, I didnt. Instead, Id had her sedated and put on suicide watch, and, unfortunately, Id gotten distracted and had failed to notify Storn that, at least for the moment, his wife was, as the kids these days would have said, terminally kookoo. Though, obviously, the fault for that lay with me, I liked to think that my situation was at least somewhat understandable, both because of how bizarre her condition had been, and because there was a little bit of a mass shooting later that same day, andas is well knownmass shootings have a tendency of interfering with ones prior obligations.
What happened next? Andalon asked.
Storn arrived home that evening, only to find that his wife was missing. So, hed called the authorities, and after the deeply humiliating experience of apologizing for my goof, Id promised Storn Id make up for it.
My words played in my head with perfect fidelity. I could even hear the police cars siren.
I managed to set her up for an MRI first thing tomorrow, so, if theres anything abnormal, well know about it soon enough, and I promise, I will let you know.
Wait, Andalon said, floating up off the ground. If you promise to do something, doesnt that mean youre supposed to do it?
Yep, I thought-said.
But you didnt do it.
Also yep.
That ship had sailedonly now, it was coming back to port.
If it werent for Andalon and her quest, I would have been happy to let Storn rip my head off my shoulders. It would bring peace to both of us. But it was not to be.
Worse, no matter how much I thought about it, I kept coming back to the same conclusion.
There was no way around this.
So, returning my perception of time to normal, I started off on my death march to Ward Es reception area. Much to my dismay, I made good time, and soon stood at the mouth of the corridor, facing the reception desk and structural columns at its center. The thought of whatand whomI was about to confront made me lower my gaze in shame. Unfortunately, that only made things worse, giving me a clear view of the people huddled on the floor, up against the hallway walls, coughing, moaning, weeping, and dying. With desperation, they talked as much as they could, whether to themselves or to the people beside them, trying to keep hold on to as many memories as they could, but every once in a while, theyd twitch and spasm as a little bit more of their soul got ripped out of them.
I couldnt help but look up and turn away, andjust my luckthat brought me face to face with Storn Elbocks waiting eyes.
My long-time across-the-street neighbor stood by the reception desk in a hunched-over pose, clutching his cane in both hands as he leaned into its support. I was used to seeing him play at being an old codgermostly when he wanted to be left alonebut he wasnt pretending anymore. He wobbled every few seconds, his posture constantly teetering on the brink of collapse. But, more than just not looking good, Storn looked angry.
These two things were almost certainly related.
Patches of his gray, buzz-cut hair had fallen away, and there was a striking collection of fungal filaments branched beneath the skin of his neck and collar. It was like a dead tree reaching into a pallid sky.
I adjusted my bowtie before daring to open my mouth. It did not help.
Hi, Storn, I said, I
The next thing I knew, I was on my back like an overturned tortoise. Apparently, despite his age and a Type One NFP-20 infection, Mr. Elbock had a killer right hook.
He must have been trembling in anger.
I didnt blame him for that. Fortunatelythough, not for guiltId been expecting that, and had erected a force shield around my body while Id fidgeted with my bow-tie, so, the pain I was feeling didnt come from the middle of my chest, where hed punched me, but from my back and tail as I fell on it.
Also, my self-esteem.
I screamed like a little kid.
It said a lot about how worn down everyone was that it wasnt until after Storns follow-up punch that anyone did anything about, and even then, it wasnt the healthcare workers that did it.
I heard boots clomp on the vinyl floor.
Looking up, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a couple of soldiers coming out of a nearby hallway. They held their guns at the ready.
Pushing myself off the floor and sitting up as best as I could, I waved my arms and yelled.
Dont shoot!
Storn came at me with a third punch, but I managed to dodge it with a gentle plexus push off the floor on my right. The little psychokinetic burst sent me rolling onto my side, out of the way of Storns fist.
Livid, Storn screamed as his blow bounced off the vinyl floor. You bastard! he yelled.
Rifles clicked as the soldiers took their aim.
Sir, one of them said, step away from the doctor. The techno-visor obscuring his face made him quite intimidating.
As did the gun.
Storn backed up as the soldiers approached me. One of them offered a hand to help me up, which I grabbed.
Thanks, I said.
Are you alright, doctor? he asked.
I glanced at Storn, and then at Andalon. She was watching from off to the side, with her hands on her face and her eyes peering through her fingers.
Turning to the soder, I sighed. No, I said, with a shake of my head, but thats my fault, not Storn Elbocks.
I looked back at Storn for a second time and nodded slightly. I deserved that.
No kidding, he growled.
Just so you know, I said, Merritt isnt dead. Shes
Scowlinghis sickened veins bulging on his neckStorn lunged at me with a yell. The soldiers managed to hold him back, with one of them walking up to stand between the two of us.
I pleaded for peace. Gentlemen, please!
The soldiers looked at me askance, but only for a moment, because Storn hadnt stopped writhing in their grasp. His vest and shirt sleeves rustled against their carbon-fiber breastplates and gauntlets.
Some angry looking, harshly coughing nurses glared as they walked around us.
I can take you to see your wife, Storn, I said, softly, looking him in the eyes. Shed want to see you.
Storn stopped. He stared right back at me. If youre trying to make me forgive you, dont. It wont work. He nearly spat out the words.
Briefly, I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. I know, I said. I lowered my gaze. Im not asking for your forgiveness, just that you stop punching me.
Storn exhaled sharply. Fine.
Andalon floated over. Is everything okey-dokey? she asked.
Not yet, I thought-said.
Storn and I turned to the soldiers.
Thats enough, I said, you can let him go.
Stepping away from him, they did. One of them had set Mr. Elbocks cane on the reception desk, which Storn picked up with an irascible grasp.
He paused for a moment, stifling a wicked cough. Lead the way, he said, in a mordant jibe.
And lead, I did. I took him down the least-overfilled hallway, toward the operating theater where Merritt and Dr. Arbond were still sequestered.
I didnt say anything to Storn for the first minute of the trip. There were too many people around, and, knowing the conversation we w inevitably have was going to be as painful as it was personal, Id rather wait until we were out of public view before we opened this latest can of wyrms. Ward Es staff had enough problems to deal with. I didnt want to foist my own failures onto them, toowell, not more than I already had.
There was my guilt, again.
Eventually, we came to a good place to talk: niche in a corridors wall, bearing pairs of vending machine, water fountains, tables with chairs, and potted plastic plants. It was obvious a transformee had been snooping around recently, within the past day. Not only was the vending machine utterly empty, about a quarter of it was simply gone, and in its place was a big hole eaten into its left side. I could only assume a framed painting or paper sculpture had once hung from the naked hooks jutting out from the wall. Some of the metal looked like it had been suckled by hungry mouths. The fake plants were thoroughly ravaged, with only leafless, branchless, leafless stalks sticking out of the wood chip soil, most of which was already gone. Tiny black indentations had been etched into the floor here and there, no doubt burnt into the vinyl by a transformees saliva spores.
The scariest part? I had no idea where these transformees were coming from. I wanted to think it was just the self-help groups transformees, or maybe others like them, but part of me worried it was something more.
Andalon? I thought-asked, what do you think about it?
She gave the scene a studious examination, and then turned to face me and give her report.
This was done by a wyrmeh, she said, with deadly seriousness.
At this point, I didnt even bother to roll my eyes. I just went with it, and made a mental note to deal with the mystery of the wandering wyrms at the next available opportunity.
Unfortunately, right now, I had atone for my sins against my neighbor.
94.2 - Chaconne
I pulled out a chair for Mr. Elbock. Sit.
He did, and he kept his eyes on me the whole time.
I sat on the edge of the chair on the opposite side of the table.
Storn was the first to speak. He spoke softly, staring me in the eyes as he did so. It made him seem like a storm bound in human form.
You said you would take me to my wife.
And I am, I answered, but first, I sighed, there are some things you need to know.
His reply? A silent, tight-lipped stare.
I spent a moment searching for the right words, and found them. Storn interrupted me the instant I opened my mouth.
Youre going to tell me my wife is one of those giant snakes, arent you?
It was a very matter-of-fact interruption.
I guess thats one way to break the ice, I muttered. How did you know? I asked.
I heard Ilzee and Kirk talking about it the other day, he said. They were trying to be rational about it. They refused to let themselves break. They talked about the footage, and then some calls came in, and there was some talk about what the early signs were that you or someone you loved was maybe possibly being turned into a vessel for an archdemon. The most notable sign? The changes always started with the victim thinking that they were dead. Thats when I knew. He shook his head slightly. Ms. Rambone spent her last hours of her life trying to convince anyone who was still watching that people kept their sense of self when they became Norms. If thats even half true, I can only imagine the theological bullshit thats been going through your head lately, he added.
Storn couldnt hide the tears glinting in the corner of his eyes.
But then it got her. It got her just like it gets everyone else. The poor woman descended into rambling and fear like everyone else. I think it might be the first time a demons stolen a soul on live television. His lips bent themselves out of shape. It did not inspire confidence.
Then why are you here? I asked.
To rip you a new asshole, and to see whats left of my wife, even if its only just to say goodbye. His eyes glistened. They actually thought I was nuts, you know?
Who did?
Storn swallowed and cleared his throat. I came here on one of the buses, after my attempt to drive here had ended poorly. A manic tint stained his eye. And while nearly everyone around me was praying their heart out for the Angel to save them, I was on my way to go visit my wife, or what was left of hermonster, demon, tragedy I dont know.
Im sorry, Storn, I said, Im so, so sorr
Save your apologies, he said. You apologized six days ago, when you promised to let me know if anything abnormal came up on the MRI. And, you know what? He scrunched his shoulders. You didnt.
I didnt bother to ask if hed be willing to accept th fact th these were extenuating circumstances. I dont think I had that right.
I know youve been flakey in the past, Howle, but this He shook his head. This is beyond the pale.
Ilzee was right, I said, figuring I might as well just be out with it. The transformees keep their sense of self, even when they become wyrms.
Ill believe it when I see it, he said, after staring at me for a moment.
Pushing off the table, I rose to my feet. Well then, gird yourself.
He rose, too. Genneth, soldiers had to rescue me from my car because Id gotten stuck in a car vending machine hiding from the easteaten zombies that are now roaming the city streets. Consider me well-girded.
Point taken, I said.
And off we went.
It wasnt long before we reached the sepia-colored quarantine barrier with its wasp-colored warning tape. It was kind of funny, in a way. The barrier was a remnant of that quaint time, several days ago, when the worst case scenario was staff getting stuck in a spore-filled room.
I waved us through, opening the door in the barrier with a swipe of my hand chip across the consoles scanner.
What happened here? Storn asked.
When we realized what was happening to her, I explained, I asked her if shed be willing to undergo exploratory surgery. The hope was that if we got a look inside her, we could better figure out her condition, perhaps even find a way to reverse it. So, they went in, and opened her up, but the surgeons cut something they shouldnt have. The operating theater was inundated with infectious spores. Merritt, Dr. Cassius Arbond, and two of his colleagues were all sealed inside the operating theater under quarantine protocol. Cassius became a transformee. The other two surgeons died.
I decided to spare Storn the gory details about how Merritt (and, presumably, Cassius, too) had eaten Dr. Mistwalker and Dr. Nesbitts bodies.
As we walked down the hall, I heard sounds that reminded me of brass players practicing their instruments. Of course, there were no earthly horns or trombones that could make the eerie reverberations I was hearing. Chorale-like gestures melted in sumptuous chromaticism as the voices slid from tone to tone.
Whats that sound? Storn whispered.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.
Its how they speak.
Andalon stood up ahead with her back to us and her hands clasped together at her chest, watching in respectful silence.
I led Mr. Elbock through the plastic quarantine tunnel sticking out from the operating theaters glass double doors.
Wait, I said, pausing in place.
Storn looked at me. What is it?
Looking at the airlock the plastic tunnel formed in front of the shattered glass doors, Id realized the airlocks walls were drooping. Theyd lost much of their turgor, though not enough to keep them from vibrating from the sound of the wyrmsong, which had only grown louder with our approach.
A thin drift of spores hovered in front of the doors, looking like motes of dust in a shaft of sunlight. When I squinted, I could make out small holes the spores must have melted into the plastic. As for the glass, the doors were still just as shattered as it had been when Id last paid Merritt and Cassius a visit, though I noticed that many of the shards on the floor had gotten significantly smaller, like melted ice, only without any water.
Genneth? Storn said, concerned.
The spores have burned them away, I muttered.
What? he said.
I looked him in the eyes. Dont let the spores touch you.
Im already dying, he quipped.
Well theyll make it worse, I said.
Turning ahead, as I looked through the doorway, I could see the two largeand now, long-since driedstains where Dr. Mistwalker and Nesbitts blood had pooled on the floor of the operating theater. Behind it trailed the end of wyrms tail, scaled in deep blue.
Cassius.
The walls of the operating theater were covered in gaping holes, exposing half-eaten circuitry. Cracks shot through the paint on the walls, damaged by the ionizing radiation Cassius and Merritt had produced when theyd metabolized the machinerys metallic components.
I looked over my shoulder at Storn.
Are you sure you want to do this? I asked him.
Storn opened his mouth to speak, but then he just closed his lips and nodded.
Turning forward, I crept ahead, toward the airlock.
Merritt? I said. Theres someone here to see you. I projected my voice as loudly as I could, and let my hazmat suits built-in speakers do the rest.
The instant I spoke, the wyrmsong stopped, as if Id just stabbed it in the heart. A couple seconds later, I heard the smooth sound of brushing scales. Little wisps of spore-clouds curled over the floor.
Merritt came into view.
Be careful, Merritt, I warned, dont get too close.
The Mrs. Elbock Id known was gone. In her place was a creature from the legends beyond legend. She was sheathed in dark green. Beneath the operating theaters lights, her scales gleamed like a boa constrictors.
Specifically, the ones that hadnt been eaten.
Structural iridescence, Brand would have called it.
Two black horns grew from the back of her jawless dragons-head, tipped in stubby finger-like branches. The mane that trailed down her back and neck, was narrow and grassy, and the color of mold on bread. Her claws folded were drops of curled midnight, even blacker as her horns. Her three pairs of solid gold eyes blinked irregularly, betraying the wyrms anxiety, as did the trembling of her head.
No, I reminded myself, not the wyrm. Merritt.
She must have spotted Storn, because she ducked out of sight barely a second later, by which I mean she turned and stuck her foreparthead, neck, arms, and the beginning of her torsoout of sight while leaving the rest of her lengthy wyrm-body sticking out, in plain view of the doorway.
It was almost funny.
Storn shoved me out of the way and walked up to the hole-ridden airlock.
Merritt he said.
The only response was a nervous twitch from the green wyrm-body sticking out through the doorway. A moment after that, the tail started trying to figure out how pull away, with little success.
There was a loud, woody echo as Storn stamped the base of his cane on the floor. Dammit, Merritt! He didnt bother to hold back his tears as he yelled. Come here! he said. I came all this way to see you, and Im going to see you.
Slowly, Merritt shuffled back into view. It started with her making a U-turn of her body as she turned around and stuck her head back in view of the door, only for her to lose confidence halfway through and pull away moment later. The air shook with a deep, resonant cooing sound, which was followed, albeit hesitantly, by a softer reply. A moment later, Cassius blue-scaled tail swept out from the background and toward Merritt, gently tapping at her flank.
By this point, I was lost in tears, but, even so, I couldnt help but smile. Prodding someone like that was absolutely thing Cassius would do.
Finally, Merritt slithered back into view, pulling the rear end of her body out of the way. She held her hands at her chest, claws interwoven, stooping her head and neck down to get closer to Storns eye-levela powerfully human gesture, especially considering it was coming from a wyrm.
Stores mouth hung open. I think hed finally understood that, despite appearances to the contrary, the creature in front of him was still very much the wife he knew and loved, foibles and all.
His next words were as broken as the glass beneath our feet.
Honey, why didnt you tell me? he said. Whyd His voice broke. Angel, Merritt, you, the kids, weve weve just wanted you to come home. Body teetering, Storn leaned forward on his cane and reached out to her. We were But he shook his head. No, no. He stuck out his palm, as if to say, stop. Im not upset with you, he said, I Glancing down, his tears dripped onto the floor. I love you, Merritt. I love you, no matter what you are. Youre the strongest woman the world has ever known. Coughing, Storn looked back, shooting a glare at me. I just wish this idiot hadnt kept me in the dark for so long.
Then, reaching out with a claw, Merritt spoke. She spoke softly, her tones warm and resonant. Thin sheets of spores drifted down from her snout. It was beautiful, deadly, utterly alien, and completely incomprehensible.
Andalon, I thought asked, do you know what shes saying?
Not really, she answers, but shes sad-happy, Mr. Genneth. Really, really sad-happy.
As usual, Andalon had her way with words.
Im sorry for not being here, honey, Storn said, I
Storns coughing intensified as the spores from Merritts words drifted into the tunnel.
Merritts golden eyes widened as she saw her spores eat away at the airlock. Realizing this, Merritt backed away, shaking her head to toss off any loose spores.
Mr. Genneth! Andalon yelled.
I know, I thought-said, I know!
Storn fell to his knees. I rushed toward him as Merritt slunk away. I grunted as I mustered some plexuses around my arms, lower back, and legs, to boost my strength, and to give me some extra leverage as I bent down to pulled Storn out of the airlock, away from the thickening cloud of spores.
Wait, I thought, thickening?
Looking up, I saw Merritt twitch, staring at me with terrifying intensity. Tapping her claws at her chest, she pointed at me. Merritt was agitated; her breathing had increased, thickening the tide of spores she was spewing into the air.
Shes scared-sad! Andalon said.
Merritt kept making the same gesture over and over again, tapping her claw on her chest and the pointing at me.
Merritt! I yelled. You have to calm down! Your spores are melting through the walls!
Everything around us was starting to sizzle and bubble.
Stepping away, I pulled Storn out of the transparent plastic tunnel and into the hallway. No longer holding anything back, I used my psychokinesis to lift Storn off the floor. Patches of his clothes were dissolving where the spores had made contact. Mr. Elbock stared at me with a nameless expression as I sat him down, but that was instantly forgotten as we set off in a tottering, three-legged race toward the sepia-colored barrier further down the tunnel, the sound of Merritts mournful wyrmsong echoing at our backs.
Storn slipped from my grasp as I burst through the barrier door. He fell onto his hands and knees in the larger corridor, gasping for breath.
Help! I yelled. Help!!
94.3 - Chaconne
The music was beautiful. It would have made Nina cry, had she had any tears left to shed.
Nina Broliguez lay in her bed in silence, eyes closed. Shed asked the computerALICEfor calming music. For a machine, it had done a pretty good job. The music was simpler than simple. Just a single violin, wandering through an imaginary dark, stuttering one moment, twitching the next, rocking and gyrating, movement sublimating in and out of existence. Maybe it was just because she was at the edge of death, but Nina saw things and felt things she hadnt known before. Butterflies in the dark. Moths, slowly circling a dying light. Pawing through a loved ones leftovers, sorting through memories and dissolutionthe remains of a life.
Ever since shed stepped away from the sight of the creature Lop had become, Ninas thoughts had been like panthers, prowling inside her head, refusing to rest in peace. But the music helped with that.
It helped her want to live, if only to hear it again.
Her hospital gown was rough and sweaty. The air was thick with the warring smells of antiseptic vanilla and the plagues heavy, sickly sweet tang. Nina sat up in her bed, with her back against the pillow, which wasnt giving her as much support as she would have liked.
Then again, what was?
Not much, thats for sure, she thought.
She really hated the waiting, and wished the fungus and the fancy new meds would make up their minds and decide what to do with her. Nina figured if she could handle being alive, she could certainly handle being dead. Being stuck like this, though? That was for the fucking birds.
Still, the music helped with that.
Opening her eyes, Nina looked around the room, the nice, big room the doctors had set her and her family up in. It was bigger than the living-room-kitchen they had at the apartment, back home. Every once in a while, the machines the doctors had hooked them up to would chirrup, beep, or burp. The music was stronger, though.
Papa and Quatmo were both unconscious, as was Ninas mother, who had recently joined them in that pastime. Her mothers bed creaked beneath her mothers weight. She was still breathing on her own, though Nina couldnt tell if her coughs and labored breaths had gotten better or worse.
She hoped that meant the myco-whatever was doing its job.
Quatmo was still hooked up to his breathing machine. The way the ventilator probed into his face and throat made for what had to be the worlds worst blow-job. It was violating and horrible, yet he needed it to breathe.
Nina swallowed hard. Her throat was still sticky and raw, but her head wasnt throbbing anymore. The feeling of knives crawling beneath her skin had gone away.
That was a good sign.
A better sign, though? Her dad.
Theyd taken him off his ventilator.
It had made the nurses crybut good crying, though. Tears of joy.
Nina wanted to be happy about that. She wanted to smile, knowing that she and her family might actually have a chance of getting through this horror.
But she couldnt.
Their rooms door was slightly ajar. Through the gap, and through the window in the door, Nina could see the plastic quarantine tunnel that jutted out from the wall into the hallway. Some soldiers were walking down the hall. Or maybe they were just standing guard. To Nina, the tunnel looked like one of the ones people used to board an aerobus for a long journeya cross-country journey, or a trip overseas. Shed never been on one, though; shed only ever seen them in the movies. The Broliguezes werent the kind of family that could afford that kind of fancy stuff.
Ever since Lop had become Paul, Nina had stopped giving thought to the what ifs and the tomorrows. What was the point of tomorrow if it was a tomorrow without family?
It was like her Dad liked to say: You dont have nothing if you dont have family.
Part of her almost wanted the plague to kill her. Dying would be so much easier than living. How could she move on when she blamed herself for what her brother had become? So what if shed always wanted to fly to the countries across the sea? What did that matter, now? There wasnt going to be anything left to visit, and, even if there was, would she even want to go?
Part of the reason she wanted to go was because her family wanted to go. She knew her Mom did. And she knew Lop did. Her little brother had told her, once, about all the places he wanted to visitMu, most of all. He talked about it like it was some kind of wonderland. Hed wanted to ride those fancy bullet trains, and take a tour of the DAISHU Labs at Mt. Aoi.
She could picture him saying it: Thats where the real inventors are, Nina!
But that was from before. Before Lop had become Paul, and before Paul had become that
Nina didnt want to think about that.
Her trailing thoughts guided her to a quiet, bitter laugh and a painful cough.
As much as it hurt her to think it, at least the newest version of Paul couldnt use Lops words anymore. It felt like justice, maybenot that Nina really knew what justice felt like, anyhow. Hed stolen Lops lips, lips that had once babble about math nobody couldnt understand, or gobbled up horchata porridge fresh out of Mamas kitchen. Nina didnt want to see Paul use them. He didnt deserve those lips. He didnt deserve Lops mind, either.
Suddenly, the violin did a beautiful thing. After a trill, for some reason, the music became sunlight. There was a dawn, and it ushered in something noble and warm. Nina didnt have words for it, only gratitude and tears. The music struck many strings at once, the way a guitar might. But they werent plucked. They vibrated. For the briefest moment, the sound would be harsh, but then the strings would sing. The music did this many times, and the musician pulled it off flawlessly. She wondered where such beautiful sounds would go at a time like this.
She wished she could follow them.
By and by, Ninas thoughts returned to her little brother. She stuffed her face into her pillow, begging it to soak up her tears.
Nina was afraid of getting better, and she knew exactly why.
I dont deserve it, she thought.
She was torn. She wanted her parents to wake up, so that she could hug them and tell them they were safe, and that they were going to be okay, because then they would tell her that they loved her, and then theyd return her embrace, and prove their words true. But a part of her wanted them to stay sleeping. At least in the world of dreams, they could still be a family.
The music turned sad again. Its middle section was like the day, and, like the day, now it returned to the night from which it came. The void returned, with its butterflies, circling in the dark, and it ended in the stillness of a solemn unison.
Just like life, she thought.
But life was not yet dead.
Not quite.
Ninas heart skipped a beat as she heard a man groan. She turned toward the sound.
Sheets rustled as a body stirred.
Miha?
It was her father. He was up! Yeah, his voice had more gravel than the desert, but it was there. He was speaking.
Nina watched in shock as her father sat up in his bed. His thin mustache twitched. She held her breath, only to gasp in fear as her father bent over and coughed up a storm, splattering trails of black ooze on his gown and beddings.
Water, he begged, reaching out with his arm. He was too weak to go anywhere.
Ignoring her aching legs, Nina got up from her bed. She trembled as she stood. The vinyl floor was bracingly cool beneath her bare feet. It felt like fire and ice at the same time. Lightheadedness stirred inside her skull, closing her eyes, she told it no and powered through it, staggering over to the sink. She fumbled for a plastic cup, filled it with water, and hobbled over to give it to her father, and then hobbled back to get a cup of her own.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Nina drank another cup, and then another, and another, and then doubled back to her father to answer his cries for more. By the third time shed handed the cup back to him, she was already feeling winded from the exertion. Unable to make it back to her own bed, she went down on her knees at her fathers bedside, leaning onto the bed to support herself, her arms splayed over the mattress.
ALICE, lower the music, please, she said, raising her head.
The music had changed to something loud and stupidly peppy.
With his thirst quenched, Ninas father shook his head. He sat up more, only to clutch at his chest as he groaned in pain.
No, Papa, Nina said, you got shot, remember? Dont move. Just rest. Rest. Please, she coughed, for once, just listen to me.
Her Dad coughed too, wincing in pain before he finally settled down. He looked around for a bit before turning to face her. What? What happened?
Nina nodded. The doctors, they treated your gunshot wound. They gave us medicine for our pain, and then Dr. Howle got us put on a special new treatment for the Green Deatha mykofage, I think he called it. Some other doctors came and talked to Mama about it, and then gave it to her and the rest of us when she started going chabita.
Why does Wincing again, her father brought his hand to his throat. My throat? he rasped.
Nina could see the sweat on his cheeks and forehead had begun to dry.
SmilingcryingNina reached out and held her fathers hand. They put you on a ventilatora breathing machine. A little while ago, after they gave us the new treatment, they took you off the ventilator. Nobodys ever come off the ventilator before.
Her fathers brow furrowed. Where is your brother? he asked, softly enough that he didnt rasp. Wheres Lop?
His words broke Ninas heart all over again.
He didnt know Dr. Howle had taken her to see Lop, just like he didnt know about her powers.
None of them did.
Hes hes fine, Nina lied. Hes in another room.
Why isnt he here with us? A boy should be with his family.
Though Nina definitely felt a little better, her thoughts were still muddy, as if she hadnt gotten enough sleep. She came up with her explanations as quickly as she could.
Theres not enough room.
Her father frowned. Bullshit. Jerking his hand away from hers, he turned, swinging his legs over the other side of the bed.
Nina pushed off the mattress and stood. Papa, what are you doing? Please, she begged, I dont want to have a fucking fight. Not here. Not now. She was on the verge of tears.
I Her father panted heavily. I want to see him. He breathed in hard. If he pressed his thumb against his chest, if my son is better, he should be here. He pointed at the floor. He can believe whatever he wants to believe. I dont care what he calls himself. But hes gotta be here. A mans gotta be a man.
Reaching out with a trembling arm, Ninas father grabbed the stand of his IV drip. He leaned into it as he rose, using the stand as a cane.
Hoping to stop him, Nina went around to the other side of the bed, clasping the footboard for support. She reached out and grabbed him by the arm as he took his first steps away from the bed.
For all his stubbornness and his quickness to angerand, fuck, there was a lot of it!Nina knew, deep, deep down, her father was a kind man. He was just too stubborn for his own good.
Their gazes met, making Nina tremble. When her father looked at her like that, it was as if she was pressing his fingers into the core of her soul.
She knew that gaze. It was one to be wary of. It was the look that Gar?o Broliguez wore when hed made up his mind to do something, and once that happened, not even the gods could stop him.
No, papa, she said, you cant.
Nina, he said, again pulling his arm away, I am your father. You will listen to me. He coughed.
Nina tugged at her hair, rattling her turquoise beads.
The next thing she knew, her father had flung the door open, instantly drawing the attention of the soldiers in the hall.
Shit! Nina thought.
Even at deaths doorstep, her father hadnt lost his flair for bad timing.
Sir, get back! one of the men said. Text flashed across his helmets visor. It was reflected and backward and weirdly filtered; Nina couldnt make heads or tails of it. But she had no trouble recognizing the picture that suddenly appeared on the visor: a photo of her Dad and her brothers. He had a big smile on his face as he wrapped his arms around them.
Mr. Garko Broliguez, the soldier said, mispronouncing her fathers name.
Her Dad coughed. Who wants to know?
You need to get back in your room.
Not until I see my son, her father replied. Where is Lop?
Another soldier spoke up. He doesnt look feral.
They never do, the first soldier said, and then, bam, they are.
Gar?o stepped forward, the IV stands feet clopping on the vinyl floor. He moved into the airlock, pressing his spare hand against the tunnels transparent, ribbed walls for support. The plastic crinkled beneath his touch.
Papa, Nina yelled, stop!
One of the soldiers raised his rifle, turning off the safety with a dry click.
What are you doing? the other soldier asked. I can just use the taser.
The taser is more likely to make them go feral than bullets are, corporal, the first soldier replied. You know that.
The other soldier cursed under his breath, and then turned to Ninas father.
Id listen to your daughter, sir, he said. Get back in your room, now. This is not a request.
Gar?o scoffed. A man goes where he pleases.
Not when people are turning into zombies left and right, answered the soldier with the rifle. The safest place for you to be is right behind you.
Gar?o stomped the IV stand on the floor. Not without my son, he said.
Ninas heart was racing. She felt lightheaded.
Cant you ask the nurses? the other soldier said.
Gar?o coughed. I already tried that!
I cant fucking take it no more, Nina thought.
She couldnt lose Lop and her father.
Nina stepped forward. Papa, hes not Lop anymore. Hes not even Paul anymore.
Looking over his shoulder, her father turned back to face her. What?
Hes turning into one of those things, Nina cried, those serpents! Her voice broke. Hes not human anymore.
A scratchy noise crackled in Gar?os throat. He shook his head. The IV stand rattled in his grip. No, that cant
But then, narrowing his eyes, he reared back, bearing down on Nina with an accusative glare. How do you know that, miha? His words were barely above a whisper. How would you know what happened to him?
Suddenly, Ninas mouth was a desert. She could feel her bones rattle inside her limbs.
Fuck it all! she thought.
Because a doctor told me, she said. Dr. Howle. The same guy who got us the treatment. She shook her head. When I left Lop here a couple days ago, it was because Dr. Howle told me Lop was turning into something that wasnt human. He promised to help, and hes been trying, but Nina found her tears again. He hasnt been able to stop it, she said. She sniffled. A little while ago, he took me to one of the places where theyre keeping them the transformees. She gulped. I saw him, Papa. I saw Lop.
Nina looked her father in the eyes, and, seeing him looking in hers, she knew he believed her. It filled her with hope. But then Gar?o turned around and kept walking down the tunnel, and her hope caught fire.
Papa, stop!
Sir! the soldier yelled. Get back! Sir, get back, now!
But he didnt.
A lot of things happened next: Ninas father plowing forward, the plastic crinkling as he pushed off the side of the tunnel; the soldiers screaming as the one with the rifle fired at Gar?o at nearly point-blank range with a weapon whose only purpose was to tear through human flesh. But the most important thing was what happened in Ninas mind.
It was a reflex, more than anything else. Just a girl looking out for her Dad.
A pleasant buzzing sensation cushioned the back of Ninas head as she called on her powers. It felt like all the practicing shed been doing had been leading up to this moment. Without even needing to move, Nina wove a sheet of unseen light in front of herself and her father, bending it around them like a windshield. Nina sensed the wall of energy unfurl in her minds eye. The side that faced the soldiers was covered in spikes. The spikes were there because she wanted them to be, and because, in a mix of memory instinct, she knew that that was what needed to be done in order to do what she wanted to do.
The forcefield thickened, visibly glowing where the bullet struck it. Light rippled across the surface as the bullet was knocked back.
Nina could almost see the soldiers eyes gaping behind his visor as the man lowered his gun in sheer disbelief.
What the hell? he muttered.
Panting heavily, Nina stepped back and pulled her arms inward, dragging the forcefield along with her. It bent in a U shape around her father as it pulled back.
The other soldier fired, and more than once. Ninas barrier flashed at every impact, deflecting the bullets one by one. The ammo clinked as it fell to the floor.
Stop it! she screamed. Stop it!
Nina let her anger guide her. Her thoughts ripped through the forcefield as she pulled out a memorya trick shed come up with for boiling water. It would be simple to change the weave to make it shoot little bursts of pale fire, but she had something else in mind.
Water boiled, and blood was mostly water. Shed learned that much at school. And if blood was water, then it could boil, too.
She focused on the madman whod shot at her and her father. She didnt want to kill anyone, but he had to be stopped. So she boiled him, but just a little bit. It was just like with the water in the sink at home.
Shed been practicing, just like Id told her.
Furious, Nina flicked her hand. In her minds eye, she sensed her powers jittering tendrils wrap around the soldiers arms. They sprouted from the air like vines. For an instant, she felt the slightest bit of resistance, the soldiers will butting heads with her own. But, if there was anything he could have done to stop her, he didnt know how.
The soldier dropped his rifle as his arms began to tremble. Splotches of discoloration spread all across his body, and steam rose from his mouth and nose. A heartbeat later, all the blood vessels in eyes burst, drowning his eyes in red.
Realizing what shed done, Nina recoiled in shock.
Blood didnt stay in one place; it moved around.
In human beings, blood travels through the entire circulatory system multiple times per second.
But it was too late.
The soldier barely had time to scream before he fell to the floor, twitching and frothing, smelling of steam and seared chicken, and then he moved no more.
Ninas father turned to face her, as did the remaining soldier. They looked at her with utter horror.
As arms gripped her from behind, Nina turned around to see her brother, Quatmo, standing behind her. The breathing machine that had been hooked up to him lay on the floor behind him, covered in green-stained saliva and black ooze.
What are you? Quatmo whispered. He was barely able to speak, but too horrified to stay silent.
For a moment, Nina trembled, not knowing how to respond. Then she felt something pinch her, and the next thing she knew, electricity poured into her body, spiriting her away in pain, shock, and the smell of burning hair.
The General is gonna want to see this, the soldier said.
And then everything was darkness.
94.4 - Chaconne
A lot of things happened after thatafter Storn collapsing due to his exposure to Merritts spores, I mean. By sheer luck, some nurses passing nearby had heard my cry for help, and came running to Storns aid within a matter of seconds. I explained what happened, and they berated me for taking Storn into the Norm Zone, as they called it. The moment was as terrifying as it was awkward, a surreal combination, I know. But, what else could it be, when the nurses who were helping me save my friend and neighbors life were as tired and sickly as he was? They were wearing their PPE for other peoples protection, not their own.
It would be a little while longer before I learned about what happened to Nina.
It was too late for them.
I wondered how much longer theyd be able to continue working before the disease took the rest of their strength.
By another stroke of luck, the nurses had had an empty hospital bed on hand. It was filthy, stained with blood and black ooze, but it was a bed and we had a need for it, so it would have to do.
We stripped off Storns spore-contaminated clothes. I hobbled over to the nearest incinerator chute and tossed them in, only to find that Storn had started seizing. The nurses wheeled him off to intensive care, and though I wanted to help, theyd brusquely told me off, saying Id done enough alreadyand not in a good way.
Andalon winked back into existence as soon as the nurses were out of earshot. Id asked her to keep her distance while I was dealing with them, and I wasnt exactly in the mood to doppelganger myself.
I had Merritt on the mind. I had those mysterious gestures of herstapping her chest, then pointing at meplaying on repeat inside my head. I was fixating on it so strongly, my hyperphantasia had come of its leash and started to have its way with my surroundings. The surfaces of the walls, floor, and ceiling in the hallway where I stood were undulating, as if they were being stretched around the body of a wyrm. Then, from all over, clawed arms thrusted out and tapped and pointed.
Focusing, I closed my eyes and willed away the unwanted images.
Mr. Genneth?
I opened my eyes. Yes, Andalon? I asked, exasperated.
It wasnt her fault, though, it was mine.
It was mine.
Mrs. BokBok could see you.
What?
Mrs. BokBok has wyrmeh sees, Andalon said, just like you.
A shiver ran down to the tip of my tail as I made an O with my mouth. She was able to see my plexuses I muttered. No, not just that. Shed also have been able to see the wyrm transformation aura coursing over my body.
Suddenly, Merritts gestures made a whole lotta sense.
Fudge.
I leaned against a wall, weighed down by dismay.
What is it? Andalon asked.
I looked her in the eyes. Merritt could see that Im a transformee, I said. I I bit my lip. My voice cracked.
Knowing Merritts personality, she couldnt have been asking me about whether I knew that I was infected. Merritt wasnt anyones fool; she had a smart head on her shoulders, so she wouldnt have been asking me if I knew that I was a transformee. Though there were a lot of conditions that you could have without being aware of it, a Type Two case of the Green Death was not one of them.
No, with the way Merritt thought, always putting others before herself, there was only one possible interpretation.
I think she was asking if she had been the one to infect me, I said.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Obviously, me and my guilty conscience meant I had no choice but to immediately haul my butt back through the warning-tape-covered door in the sepia barrier, and from there down the hallway to Operating Theater 12.
When I arrived, I found the plastic tunnel had begun to deflate, not that it had any air in it; rather, its walls were coming down. The last vestiges of Merritts spore waves were settling onto the floor, lightly dusting it. The effect was quite dramatic: black burn marks blossomed on the vinyl like toxic flowers, their nectar powdery and sizzling. Fearing what it might do to my hazmat suit, I kept my distance from it, treating it like it was a whale carcass rotting on the beach.
Merritt? I called.
Mrs. Elbock slithered into view a moment later. This time, she kept her distance, choosing to lean against the operating theaters far wall. After another struggle against her transfigured body, she managed to wind herself into a sloppy coil, two turns high.
Swallowing hard, I stepped forward, with Andalon floating at my side. Corroded fragments of plastic and glass crunched beneath my feet.
Merritt must have spent some time thinking about what to do, because, this time, instead of trying to talk to us, she tapped one of her claws right below one of her rearmost pair of eyes. After that, she extended her forepart over her coils, lowering herself to the floor until she was close enough to dig her claw into the vinyl. I cringed at the sound of her scraping a question mark into the floor. The symbol was crooked and horribly misshapen, mostly because Merritt had gone out of her way to draw it upside down, so that it looked right-side up to me.
After doing this, she made the gesture from beforefirst claw to chest, then pointing it at meonly this time, she added a final tap of her claw on the question mark on the floor.
At this point, I was crying freely. My whole body tingled with what Andalon would have probably called sad-happiness. It was sobering to see Merritt fully transformed. Her grotesque wyrm form was a grave reminder that my humanity was on borrowed time.
It was one thing to see a wyrm on TV. It was another to face one down with my own two eyes while realizing that I was looking at my future.
And yet, despite that, it was crystal clear to me that she was still the same, meek, lovable, worry-prone sweetheart Id come to know over the years. Horrifying, fantastical circumstances notwithstanding, this, right here, was peak Merritt-ness. The only way it could have been more Merritt-y was if shed had a cherry casserole baking the oven. I had no doubt that, ifby some miraclewe managed to get her into a properly stocked kitchen before this was all over, Merritt would have at least tried to bake a cherry casserole, or whatever other treat she was able to cook up.
There was no doubt about it. Not even the slightest shadow. On the inside, Merritt was still the same person, and that knowledge brought me immense relief. It was like letting go of a breath I hadnt known Id been holding. Though I wasnt going to stay human much longer, I would remain Gennethplus or minus a few extra copies.
Sniffling, I took a deep breathnot that I needed to breathe anymore. (Again, old habits) With a psychokinetic wave, I swept away the glass on the floor and the spores clinging to the air, clearing the way for me to step up to the operating theaters broken double doors. As I did so, Merritt raised her head.
It was clear she knew that I knew that she knew.
Shaking my head, I sighed. It wasnt your fault, Merritt, I said. Later that daythe day you came to methe Dressfeldt Shooter Aicken Wognivitch spat in my face as we were wheeling him into the hospital. He later died in surgery, of what was probably one of the first Type One cases of the Green Death that we had here at WeElMed. It wasnt you. By the Angel, it wasnt you.
More wyrm scales rustled along the floor as Cassius came into view. Spores and polyphony spread ahead of him in short spurts. He craned his neck around as he looked toward me.
Fudge I muttered.
Cassius was more or less the same size as Merritt, only dark blue compared to her dark green. His claws were grayish, and his wyrm-head was as bald as his human head had been. Unlike Merritt, he didnt have a trace of horns. He didnt have a mane, either. Instead, multiple short, wide vanes jutted out from his flanks, looking somewhat like pieces of shelf fungus growing from a fallen tree trunk, only without any flimsy gills strung up beneath them.
Cassius didnt even try to say anything. He just stared at me, narrowing all six of his eyes. He made a V with two claws, pointed at his snout, and then at me, obviously meaning, Im watching you, only to slink away a moment later.
So, he knew, too.
I sighed.
Merritt, I said, looking her in the eyes, I swear to you, Im going to fix this. Somehow. Im going to make this right. I shook my head. Theres so much more going on here than you know. I nodded. Storn is going into intensive care. He collapsed after I brought him outside. With the help of an Odenskaya mycologist, weve begun using an experimental treatment for the Type One infection. Ill make Storn a priority.
Suddenly, I bent forward and groaned, while clutching my stomach.
Fudge.
Hunger hit me like a tsunami.
I guess it was that time of day again.
Saliva started to pool in my mouth.
Merritt lurched forward, clearly concerned for my well-being.
I wanted to believe I was worthy of her regard, but it was a hard sell, to say the least.
I reached out with my arm. Its alright, Im just hungry. I nodded. Theres so much I want to tell you. There are transformees here who are off the grid, so to speak. If I cant manage to make it back here in time, Ill tell them to pay you a visit. Maybe theyll be able to work something out. I looked her in the eyes again. You dont need to go through this alone, Merrittneither you, nor Cassius. Just, I sighed, please, stay here, for now. Its I turned to look down the hallway. Its dangerous out there.
She nodded, and then I lumbered off as quickly as I could.
It was time food.
95.1 - The Tempest
Pel sat at the dining room table of her mothers penthouse apartment, pensive, and frustrated beyond belief.
Youre sure there wasnt an error? she asked. The notification went through?
Yes, maam, the robot replied. If you like, he added, I can send it again.
Yes, Ferdinand, Pel said, with a nod. And, please ask her to send a reply. Im worried about her.
The robot nodded. Certainly, he said, blue light flashing in his voice tubes.
Pel was worried she was losing her mind.
In the drive to the penthouse, shed confronted impossible horrorsthe stuff of nightmares, made flesh. Pel liked to think she was a sensible person, and, as a sensible person, that meant that when the world was churning out monsters and madness, she would have reassessed her priorities accordingly. Survival was what mattered now. Aches and pains and other little troubles no longer mattered.
Yet here I am, she thought, freaking out that Mom is here, butfor some reasonisnt talking to me.
It shouldnt have mattered. Pel knew she should have just been patient and waited, but she couldnt. Right now, seated at the dining room table, she felt more worried about her mother than she was about the zombies or the end of the world.
Ferdinand, she said, looking up to the robot butler standing beside her, am I going crazy?
The lights of Ferdinands mechanical brain flickered with activity. Sparks of electricity leapt between the coils in his head
What do you mean? he asked.
I should be thankful that we made it here in one piece, but Im not. Im still worrying, and about my mother, no less.
Its just stress, Pel, Ferdinand replied. Youre probably still in shock. Ferdinands motors whirred as he took a step away from the table. Shall I go fetch your consoles from your car? he asked.
Shed forgotten the PortaCons in the car.
Pel shook her head. No, please stay.
Ferdinand, Ariel, and Gonzalo.
The three robots had been part of Pels life for as long as she could remember. The DAISHU-made machines looked like eggs legs, if by legs you meant two stout columns made from a sequence of truncated spheres stacked on top of one another. Save for their body colorsFerdinand was red, Ariel was blue, and Gonzalo was yellowthe three machines were of identical design. Their arms were more slender than their legs, consisting of several interlinked joints tipped by three-pronged hands far stronger than any human limb.
The Revenels robot butlers were Prospero units. Originally designed to serve as combat units, their sluggish, awkward movements doomed any hopes the model would be able to serve in a military capacity. And though that issue could have been fixed, unfortunately, classic Trenton paranoia had its way, and no one wanted to buy them, for fear that DAISHUs battlebots were part of secret plot to conquer the world.
Obviously, this was silly. Why waste money on battlebots when international finance and economic imperialism could give you your conquest for a fraction of the cost and orders of magnitude of higher revenue?
So, DAISHU just cut their losses. Late in development, they reinvented the Prospero series as personal servants to be marketed for the ultra-rich.
Boom. Profit.
I appreciate your company, she added.
The robots had massive heads. Making up nearly a third of their total height, their heads jutted out from the top of their bodies central chassis in an egg-shaped plastic dome. The dome was their skull, and it was transparent throughout. The sights of the robots minds at work had fascinated since she was little.
Coils sparked. Lights flashed. Phosphorescent circuits glistened and hummed.
Should I get Gonzalo? Ferdinand asked.
Turning, Pel looked out through the double doors from the dining room to the living room, where Gonzalo stood, doing his best to keep Jules and Rayph amused. At the moment, Gonzalo was using his holographic projector to superimpose fantastical scenery on the living room and its furniture, turning make-believe into reality.
She remembered what Id called it: Augmented Reality Gaming.
From the look on her face, Jules seemed happy enough to play along, even though it was clear to Pel that Jules was mostly doing this for her brothers benefit. Pel could see me in our son; both of us were endlessly fascinated by the robots parlor tricks.
As for Ariel, the lone female of the robotic trio, she was busy in the kitchen, preparing dinner, while Ferdinand was here, in the dining room, helping Pel with her worries.
Of the three, Gonzalo was far and away Pels favorite. The yellow robot brought up so many memories. Shed been incredibly close to him as a child. For better and for worse, Pels parents hadnt really been cut out to be parentsher mother didnt have the right temperament, and her father was simply too busy with businessso, more often than not, the three robots had had to step in and act as their surrogates. As a result, they had more or less raised Pel and her older brothers.
Suddenly, Ferdinands servos whirred as he spoke up. Pelbrum, he said, Im happy to report your mother has responded.
Oh, thank the Angel! Pel said. She clutched the icon of the Angel on the necklace under her blouse as she sighed in relief.
She says: I told you to expletive wait. Ill send someone up soon enough. Stop worrying. Dont be like your husband.
As usual, when relaying spoken words, the robot used a digital recreation of the speakers voice.
Pel sighed in resignation as she let her arms come to rest atop the silk tablecloth.
Its just Mom being Mom, I guess, she said.
Is there anything else I can do, maam? Ferdinand asked.
Pel shook her head. Not at the moment. She smiled. Bless your heart, Ferdy.
The red robot tilted its egg-head forward in a slight bow. Its my pleasure.
The light show playing out inside the robots head quieted as he stepped back and leaned against the wall, putting himself to sleep.
Pel stared at the machine with envy.
I wish I could go to sleep that easily, she thought.
It had been several hours since theyd arrived at her mothers place. Much to Pels and Jules surprise, theyd stepped out of the special express elevator only to find the Revenels penthouse apartment suite eerily emptysave for the robots, of course. After rousing them from sleep mode, Ferdinand had explained to her what had happened: Margaret was having lunch with Rufus again when some guests had arrived, upon which shed moved to Forty Feet Under to give them a proper reception.
Oddly, when Pel pressed Ferdinand for more details, he said he couldnt give any, nor could Gonzalo or Ariel. When Pel had asked why, Ferdy had said it was on Margarets orders. Frustrated, shed then tried to call her mother using her console, only to realize shed left it in the car, and when she asked ALICE to contact her mother, the penthouse suites AI responded much the same way the robots had: Margaret had asked not to be disturbed.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.
Jules had described the situation as having left her with mixed feelings. Pel wanted to chastise Jules for that, but she couldnt manage to go through with it, because, secretly, she envied the way her daughter felt. Pel would have much rather had mixed feelings than the distilled, unadulterated dread that weighed on her chest.
Getting up, Pel pushed her chair under the dining room table and walked into the living room where Gonzalos projections were hard at work. Though the holograms could work in a well-lit room, for maximum effect, youd need to dim the lights like Rayph had done. It made the colors really shine, and it added to the illusion that the objects and scenery depicted in the full rendered 3D holograms were truly there. It took Pel a couple of seconds for her eyes to adjust to see the scenery instead of the outlines of armchairs and sofas.
Jules and Rayph stood at the edge of a picturesque marsh, rural and rustic. Cat-tail reeds soughed in the wind at the sides of the dirt path. Green hills rolled out behind them, projected onto the mantlepiece and the curtains. Rocky concretions on the hilltops reached up at the holographic sky.
But it wasnt just the scenery that had changed. Gonzalos projections had also put the kids in outlandish clothing. Jules wore a flowing red robe with a matching, pointed, wide-brimmed hat. She held a gnarled wooden staff in her hand, topped by a polished jade orb.
She was playing a wizard; an Evocation specialist.
Her brother, meanwhile, was a knight in miniature, covered head to toe in armor.
Actually, he was playing a paladin. Specifically, a paladin of Lexar, the god of justice.
His weapon? A two-handed sword, swathed in magical flames. As far as Pel could tell, they were currently fighting some kind of imps.
Goblins, not that Pel knew the difference.
Waving her hand, Jules shot a narrow blue beam at one of the creatures. The water around the imps feet froze, locking its legs in an icy hold. With the imp unable to move, Rayph lunged forward, free to strike with impunity. He swung his flaming sword in a wide sweep, drawing copious amounts of blood.
Repent, evildoers! he said.
Rayph was definitely more into it than Jules was, though that was par for the course.
Had Pel not been fighting as hard as she was to maintain her composure, the smile on Rayphs face would have probably brought her to tears.
She needed to stay strong, for her childrens sake.
She also thought of me, and the embarrassment Id caused her by playing along with the kids. That was one of the most painful, deeply discomforting experiences of happiness that Pel had ever known.
Regardless of what I felt about the ultra-wealthy, I had to hand it to them: they certainly knew how to have fun.
If you had the moneyboth for the holographic projector system, and for the actual game itselfyou could pay for interactive augmented reality versions of a wide range of triple-A titles. I fully and freely admit to having used some of my in-laws sweet, sweet lucre to order an augmented reality copy of Vaults of Mornn. At the time, Id justified this to Pel by saying the purchase would make me more likely to visit her parents, which it did, because there was no way in heck Id pass up the opportunity to play one of my favorite RPGs as if I was my character. To that end, the Revenels Prospero units were a match made in Paradise. With their built-in holographic projectors, the robots could project the game environment onto our surroundings.
He really could be such a child at times, she thought.
Of course, as far as Pel was concerned, Id been taken over by a demon, who, even now, was hard at work, slowly transforming my body into that of a monstrous Norm.
Shaking her head, Pel leaned back against a support column. The program Gonzalo was running for the kids reminded Pel of the Fairyland program shed played with as a child.
She treasured her memories of those days.
On rainy days when her brothers had been ganging up on her because they were being too dumb to have known any better, she could retreat to her room with Gonzalo at her side, and when the lights dimmed, the yellow robot turned into an enchanter, using his holographic magic to make her bed and dressers into a palace, her as its little princess, on a mission to suss out its mysteries.
Id once told Pel that the (in my opinion, unjustified) affection she felt toward her parents was a result of her deep, unfulfilled need to earn their validation and praise. In being distant and elusive toward their children (or, in Margarets case, utterly disinterested), Mr. and Mrs. Revenel had created circumstances that would naturally lead their children to develop an unhealthy desire for their parents approval.
The harder something was to earn, the more desirable it seemed.
While I genuinely dont know whether or not Mortimer had planned all this from the beginning, I certainly wouldnt have put it past him. He was just that kind of a guy.
Suddenly, a soft chime rang out from down the hall. At first, Pel was the only one to notice it; Rayph and Jules were too caught up playing their game. But thenwithout stopping the hologramsGonzalo slowly turned his head to face the source of the sound.
Pel waded through the holographic river between the sofa and the big TV console, and past the thick, gnarled tree projected onto an intruding corner of the room as she moved toward the sound. From the dining room, she heard motors whirr and hydraulics hiss.
Ferdinand was waking himself from sleep mode.
Turning, she saw the red robot lumber out into the living room.
Down the hall, Pel saw the express elevator slide open.
A young man staggered out into the hallway. He was blonde, handsome, and disheveled, butmost of allhe was missing his left arm, which had been amputated just below the elbow. The wound was horrific. Thick clumps of clotted blood clung to the edges of the recently cauterized flesh.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Pel was aware her mother had said shed send someone up, but, at the moment, that line of thought was out of reach. Instead, all she saw was a wounded stranger with a frightfully intense look on his face.
Pel staggered back in shock. Help!
Warmth smacked her back as she collided into Ferdinand.
Turning around, Gonzalo joined Ferdinand in marching toward the hallway, his metal footsteps dully thudding on the carpet. As the yellow robot left the living room, he took the holograms with him, so that the only light in the living room came from the dining room and the hallways.
Short struts emerged from compartments that opened up on the two robots flanks, bearing small, rocket-shaped laser pistols that they aimed at the intruder as they turned down the hallway. The rings near the tips of the pistols started glowing as the weapons powered up.
If youre wondering, Hey, why dont they use robots to attack the fungus?, at the risk of getting ahead of myself, the answer is we did, its just that the militarys artificial intelligences werent in human(oid) form. Our armed forces were thoroughly equipped with AI, from the HUDs on our soldiers helmets to the auto-aiming algorithms in the gyros in our rifles, or the digital co-pilots that helped man our tanks and aerostats.
The kids scattered. Jules bent over to help her mother off the ground.
Gonzalo! Pel shouted.
The intruders eyes went wide. Dont shoot! he yelled, raising his one remaining arm. Dont shoot! Margaret sent me!
At the mention of Margarets name, the noisy, red-hot glows building around the robots lasers petered out.
Pel motioned for the kids to move off to the side as she stepped forward, squeezing herself into the narrow gap in between the two robots.
ALICE, she said, lights.
The living rooms wall sconces lit up in response, giving Pel a better look at the stranger. He looked even worse in the light than he did in the dark. His brown hair was a mess, as was his stained white, buttoned-up shirt. A striped, red and gold tie hung loosely around his neck. A lone, dark thread of fungus grew up the side of his head, and he coughed and wheezed.
Seeing that, Jules eyes bulged like saucers. Shit! she cursed.
Sticking one hand on her brothers mouth and the other on her own, she pushed Rayph away from the stranger, and then skittered away with her brother the very next second. A distant door slammed shut a moment later.
Pel glanced at Gonzalo. Gonzalo She tilted her head in the direction the kids had dashed off in.
Bowing his head, the robot trundled toward the bedrooms. Ferdinand, meanwhile, kept his laser pistols trained on the stranger.
ALICE, Pel asked, covering her own mouth with her hand, are there any masks in the house?
No, the AI replied.
Shit, Pel thought.
The stranger coughed and laughed. Oh, thats adorable.
Stop coughing and start talking, Pel replied. You say you know my mother?
Yes, I do. The one-armed man nodded. Very well, in fact. He coughed. He looked in the direction the kids had run.
Those were your kids, I take it? he said. Jules and Rayph?
Knowing that he knew her childrens names made Pels heart race even faster.
Who are you to my mother? she asked.
My name is Eyvan Midspew. I work for a non-profit organization. Your mother is one of our principal benefactors.
This is one of Lady Revenels guests, Pelbrum, Ferdinand said. His motors quieted as he slowly retracted his lasers into his body. The compartment doors closed with satisfying clicks.
Really? Pel asked.
Electricity leapt between Ferdinands head coils. Yes, Pel, really.
Sighing, she turned to Eyvan. Well, out with it? What are you doing here? she asked. And what is my mother doing down in the bar?
Pel couldnt help but flinch when Eyvan coughed and cleared his throat.
Maam, he said, would you describe yourself as a woman of faith?
Pel nodded stiffly. I would.
Eyvan smiled. Ms. Revenel, a miracle has happened. The Lost Lassedite is Lost no more; Mordwell Verune has returned.
W-What? Pel stammered. She felt her words die in her mouth.
He is Blessd, Sister. He is the Godheads chosen. The Moonlight Queen pulled him from his time into ours. He has powers like you wouldnt believe. He rivals the Lass Herself. And hes here. Eyvans voice trembled. Hes down below, with your mother and my associates.
Pel gripped her icon of the Angel and made the Bond-sign.
Eyvan nodded. I wouldnt have believed it either, but I saw it with my own eyes. He beckoned with a wave of his hand. Come, Ms. Revenel. Bring your children, too. The Angels messenger is here and He wants to meet you.
Pel felt like the world was spinning around her.
Eyvan smiled. You dont need to be afraid any longer. He has come to save us all.
And then, from beyond the corner, where our daughter watched in stunned disbelief, Jules quietly mumbled, What the fuck?
95.2 - The Tempest
It was a long ride down to Forty Feet Under.
Pel had never really understood why they needed to have a dive bar underneath the building, nor, for that matter, why her mother was so fond of it. The whole idea of the dive bar just rubbed Pel the wrong way. It wasnt right for people to be that deep underground, far away from the Sun.
Finally, with a shudder, the elevator came to a stop.
The first thing Pel noticed was the smell: an overpowering, sickly sweet odor with an almost citrusy tang, and she noticed it before the elevator doors had even opened. It made her eyes water and her throat itch as it percolated through the doors.
Then the doors slid open.
Nothing could have prepared her for what she saw.
She screamed.
The dive bar was now a den of serpents, filled with demons in various stages of transformation. The one behind the counter seemed almost human, what with his human chest and human head, and human hands and armseven if they were speckled in steely scales that matched the ones that framed his face. But it was a false appearance, just skin being shed. His hair was falling away, and his eyes were pupil-less and golden. The lower half of his body showed the truth: he had no legs or thighs, just a thick Norm tail, coiled beneath him.
The others were so much worse, as was the bar itself.
The bar floors tables and chairs had been pushed up against the back wall to make room for a gruesome abattoir. Pieces of dead zombiesripped, or tornlay on the floor in sizable piles. Every once in a while, one of them would twitch or gurgle. Several figures knelt beside the piles of the corrupted dead, feasting on the zombies. Pel saw them change as they ate.
Their bodies twitched with growth.
She closed her eyes to try to make it go away, but she could still hear it. Sounds of creeping flesh, and of scales brushing against the floor.
Moans like revelers at an orgy.
Holy shit! Jules said. The scream startled Pels eyes open. Holy shit! Holy sh
Jules and Pels fuss drew the attention of a maroon-scaled Norm who was coiled around small table in the corner of the room. Rearing up like a cobra, he accidentally bumped his head into the ceiling, gouging holes into the drywall with his obsidian horns. His muscle-corded arms ended in sharply clawed, three-fingered hands.
And he wasnt alone.
A vaguely feminine figure lay beside him, her lengthening body entwined around his, her red scales against his maroon. The she-Norms legs were blackened husks that left crumbs on the floor whenever she moved. Her arms were monstrous, even larger than the males.
On instinct, Pel stepped in front of Jules and Rayph, motioning with her arm for them to move behind her.
Bits of zombie floated through the air, moving in and out of the kitchens doorless entryway like goods at a haunted factory. Every few seconds, one of the pieces would haphazardly collide with the wide-mouthed glasses that dangled upside-down from cords attached to the ceiling. The shadows cast by the LEDs mounted to bottoms of the jars rocked side to side as the jars swung from the impacts. Many of the jars were broken, their glass jagged glass edges slicing through the air like fangs.
Pel cupped her hand over her mouth as she made the Bond-sign once more. Demons! she cried. D-Demons!
The steel-colored Norm behind the counter looked at her for a moment, and then turned away and stuck out an arm, causing a chunk of infected flesh to rise up from one of the heaps on the floor. He grabbed it once it floated into his grasp, and then stuck it into his mouth, sucking on it like a dog on a bone.
Angel! Pel screamed. Angel!
Yet none of the demons seemed concerned in the slightest.
Pels mind fired on all cylinders, desperate to outrun her boiling panic. She looked around for something she could use to defend herselfa weapon, a tool, anything.
Come on now, Eyvan said, stepping up behind her. Lets not keep everyone waiting.
Pel felt him nudge her forward.
Shrieking, she spun around and smacked him in the face, using her knuckles in a backhand strike that made him yelped in pained surprise. While he was still stunned, Pel jammed her knee into his crotch and clawed her fingernails into his face.
Pel didnt need fingernail extensions to feel she looked good, but what a difference they would have made, had she had them here. Still, her strike crumpled Eyvan, sending him to his knees, which gave her the opportunity to pull the kids behind her and shove Eyvan into the elevator.
If we survive, she thought, I can beat the crap out of him later.
But the next thing she knew, an invisible force had grabbed her and lifted her off the ground. She struggled against it, flailing and kicking, but its grip quickly enveloped her whole body, until she could move her head and nothing else.
She could no longer feel the support of the ground beneath her.
Hearing Rayph scream, Pel whipped her head around to see he and Jules had been immobilized just like her. All three of them were floating in the air. Their feet dangled several inches over the dive bars floor.
The force holding Pel slowly turned her around, bringing her to face the rest of the room.
Then the maroon Norm looked her in the eyes. Now hold on, lady, he said, his voice eerie and resonant.
Pel froze.
The demon was actually talking to her. She noticed he was holding up one of hands.
Its not polite to start beating people up out of the blue like that, the Norm added.
Pel trembled.
Cat got your tongue? the Norm said.
I think shes just in shock, the red female said.
Mom! Jules yelled. Mom!
Finally, Pel found her tongue. What are you doing to us?! she screamed. Where is my mother?!
Mother? the maroon asked.
Pel heard groans behind her. She wanted to look over her shoulder to look, but she couldnt. He started to speak Shes but then he groaned again, and coughed before he finally got the words out.
Shes Margarets daughter, he said.
Oh the maroon said.
Pel could have sworn she felt the weight of all the eyes in the room turning toward her and the kids. That feeling drowned her, and she kept drowning in it until a familiar voice shook her out her daze.
Alright, what the hell is going on?
It was her mother, and it had come from the kitchen behind the counter. Her mothers voice sounded richer than it should have, and was accompanied by grunting noises, along with the shuffles, scrapes, and squeaks of something being dragged across the floor.
The maroon Norm turned his head to the kitchen. Eyvans back, Maam, he said. He brought your family.
Then another voice spoke. It sent shivers down Pels spine, even though shed never heard it before.
Well, Margaret, he said, with an otherworldly resonance, I believe it is time to show yourself.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!
With o without the resonance, it was a striking voice. It was firm and commanding, and instantly memorable.
I could use a little help, Your Holiness, Margaret said.
A mustard-yellow demon with a short, thick tail that filled the space between his weakening legs craned his neck toward the kitchen entryway. I dont think shell fit, he said. Its too narrow.
The alluring voice chuckled softly. My child with God, all things are possible.
Mom, whats happening? Jules said. What the hell is going on?
Rayph just cried.
Suddenly, the drywall around the kitchens entryway loudly cracked. On either side of the opening, vertical strips of wall ripped themselves away, immediately doubling the size of the entryway. The two strips floated to the middle of the room where they broke up into several decent-sized fragments that promptly clattered onto the floor.
A great turd of a creature floated out through the opening, hovering several inches above the floor. The patches of scales that covered its pallid flesh were the color of phlegm: sickly white with the vaguest hint of green.
The demons among the corpse piles used their powers to move bits of zombie out of the way, clearing a spot in the middle of the room, where the creature settled down a moment later.
No, Pel thought, not the creature.
Mom.
Jules shrieked.
Pels tongue swelled in her throat. She felt like she couldnt breathe. Her heart hammered against her ribs.
The demon wearing her mothers skin was a slug with a face, arms and breasts. The upper half of her torso strained against her stained blouse, while her legs were stubby blackheads protruding from the back of her body. Her arms were twice the length of what theyd once been, and were bony and distended, like a frogs legs, and with claws that dwarfed her fat, grubby hands.
Nodding, the demon grinneda big, toothy smile. Black ichor stained her teeth, and you could have mistaken the spores encrusted around her lips for powdered sugar, dyed in green.
Hello, dear, she said.
For Pel, those words were rock bottom. This had to be the worst of all possible worlds. Truly, a hell on earth.
And then, it got worse.
All the demons in the room bowed their heads toward the entryway as a figure trudged out from the kitchen, shuffling along the floor. A demons hand stuck out of the opening, grasping the hole in the wall. It was wickedly clawed, and tiled in tiny scales the color of jaundice and pus.
No! Pel cried. No! No! No!
Look up at the ceiling, Pel closed her eyes and prayed. O Holy Sun, O Holy Sun / please let me know thy grace to come / for through thy face, I yearn to go / when Nights erased and sin atoned.
What is that?! Rayph cried.
Pel shut her eyes as hard as she could. By Angels blood, I am redeemed
But the voice interrupted her.
You need not pray any longer, Pelbrum, he said. I can assure you, he continued, your prayers have been answered. I am here to do the Angels will.
With words like that, Pel couldnt not look.
If Im going to be damned, she thought, I should at least look my damnation in the face before it swallows me whole.
Opening her eyes, she saw a figurea mix of man, lizard, and serpent, all rolled into one.
And he was wearing the Hummingbird Robe.
He was a snake with limbs, forced into a permanent crouch by the way his legs jutted out from his flanks. His rotting thighs bulged against the Hummingbird Robes iridescent, blue-green cassock. The sacred garment was riddled with burnt-edge holes, eaten away by flecks of black ooze and green spores. His neck was distended, an S-shape curve that bobbed around when he moved or looked about. One of his hands was still partially human, while the other was the demons claw, massive and monstrous.
And his face
Pel gasped.
Not only was it still human, she recognized it. Anyone would.
It was the same face as the one in the famous Verdinset portrait that hung in the halls of the Melted Palaces halls. For a maddened moment, Pel wondered which of the two faces would look more true to life if you put them side by side.
No Pel muttered. She felt faint. No, please no
Behind her, she heard Eyvan clear his throat.
Stepping forward, the young man knelt on the ground, with his head held low.
Ms. Revenel, he said, may I present his Holiness, Mordwell Verune, 250th Lassedite.
Pels breath curdled in the back of her throat.
I am Lassedite no longer, Mr. Midspew, Verune said. The Church is of the Lass, and the Lassedites followed in Her footsteps. We march to the beat ofa greater drum. The old Church is dead; its purpose fulfilled. We are the new Church, the Last Church, and we are a Church without end.
Pel didnt know what to think.
Perhaps this really had been Lassedite Verune, long, long ago. But that was then. Now, he was an arch-demon. A Norm among Norms.
Or was he?
The Last Days were here; Pel was certain of that. These horrors were living proof positive. But proof was not prophecy.
The world had stepped onto untrodden ground.
The Last Days had always been shrouded in mystery. Scriptures never described it at length, and what little lore was known about it was uncertain, contradictory, and arcane.
Pel had never thought about what would happen to the Church once the Last Days had come. No one had.
Now now, Verune said, addressing the other demons, you need not lower your heads any longer. Bringing his hand to his chest, Verune pressed his inhuman hand onto the Hummingbird robe. We are divine beasts. We all have a role to play in the Last Days. None of us is greater than the others. I am but a first among equals, and ever the Angels faithful servant.
W-What? Pel muttered. Divine beasts? She shook her head. Youre insane!
Is that truly what you think? he said. Is that what you see?
Youre monsters, all of you! Pel yelled.
Verune sighed, breathing out faint, green plumes. His expression fell. It is unfortunate that you say that. It seems you are not among the righteous.
Now, your Holiness, Margaret said, just hold on a minute.
Pel didnt know which impossible happening was harder for her to wrap her mind around: the fact that her mother was turning into one of those serpents, or that she had dared to contr the wearer of the Hummingbird Robe.
Lost Lassedite or not, only a fool would take this Verune lightly.
The Lassedite motioned at himself once more, locking eyes with Pel. We are mirrors for the soul, Ms. Revenel, as are all that come from the divine. As with the Witnesses who recalled in horror at Angelfall, when you stare into the divine, you see your true self reflected black. Only a monster would look at the stuff of God and call it monstrous.
Verune, Margaret said, gesturing with a distended arm, Pel is often a fool, and shes as stubborn as her father was, but shes no dummy. Margaret nodded at her. Shell come around, I know she will. Maybe even my grandkids, too. Margaret smiled. I mean, look, I got her to stop listening to that faggot atheist husband of hers and come here, where its safe.
Verune nodded. If that is what you feel, I shall leave them in your care, he said. He bowed at Pel. It was a pleasure to meet you, Pelbrum, he said. For your sake, I hope you will choose the Light. The Angels mercy is greater than any of us can understand, least of all sinners like ourselves.
The creature in the Hummingbird robe waddled back into the kitchen. Pel heard a metal door squeal open and shut.
Jules broke the silence. S-Safe? she said, stammering indignantly.
Margaret nodded. Absolutely. She flopped an arm toward her chest. Us divine beasts are the only ones who can take down the zombies. Its our duty. We devour them. They are evil. We destroy evil. She grinned. How do you think I got like this?
Youre not my mother! Pel cried.
Beside her, Jules scoffed, even as tears slicked her cheeks. Uh, no. Mom, thats totally Grandma, she said. She finally looks as awful on the outside as she is on the inside.
Margaret scowled. Jules, dear, she said, Im only gonna say this once: you better stop talking trash about me right now, young lady, or else. Being my blood grants you certain privileges, obviously, but they wont save you from getting your just desserts.
Pel trembled in her invisible vise. The creature talked just like her mother would. It was a perfect simulacrum of her mothers personality.
M-Mom? she muttered. Is there anything still left of you in there? Or has the Norm taken over?
Pel, Margaret said, youre being stupid right now. Youre supposed to be the brains in this family, sweetie, but here you are, acting like your beasteaten husband. Stop it. She flicked the end of her short, stubby tail. Im still me. Im still the woman who pushed you out into the world. Im your fathers wife and your childrens grandmother. Always was, always will be. But, she stretched out an arm, Im also becoming something more than that. The Hallowed Beast is infusing us with Its power. Margaret glanced at the others. Believe me when I say were becoming something wonderful. I mean I used to be human, myself. I know what its like. Compared to what Im becoming, the person I once was was as blind as a bat.
Without looking away, Pel shook her head. I almost believe you, she said, her voice breaking.
Good, Margaret said, now just go the rest of the way. Join us. Youll get Paradise, I promise you, and you wont even have to shed your human skin. The Angel will take you just as you are. You just gotta believe. The Last Church is going to be pulling the ropes from here to Paradise. Well be taking the righteous souls across the rainbow in no-time.
Grandma, Jules said, youve lost your mind if you think Mom is going to listen to any of this.
I sure hope not, Margaret said, narrowing her eyes. Pel, Jules, Rayph, sweethearts, she gestured around, this world is toast. Hells on the march, and were the only ones with the power to keep you safe. For your sake, I just hope you and he kids are smart enough to ante the faith youll need if you want to survive.
Margaret glanced at the maroon serpent. Put them in one of the holding cells, Steyphan. Ask Henrichy to talk to them. Hopefully, hell be able to talk some sense into them.
Pel and the kids were incapable of resisting Steyphans powers as he levitated them into the kitchen. All they could do was scream and yell. Steyphan lowered his head as he slithered past them and opened a thick, metal door beside a cupboard that had been slid away from the wall.
Pel had been in the bars kitchen once before. Shed never seen that door.
With a wave of his hand, Steyphan floated them through the door, into rooms and hallways splattered with death and gore. They passed feasting demons and diced-up zombies. Pel gawked at the sight of perfectly human beings packing guns and worse into containers and crates.
What in the world? she thought.
They turned down a claustrophobic corridor that dead ended in a reinforced door with a narrow viewing port in it.
Steyphan levitated them toward it.
If you change your mind, he said, theres a console in that room that you can use to voice your repentance. But, he waggled his finger at them, no funny business, or youll regret it.
The door at the end of the hall swung open with a metal groan as Steyphan floated Pel and the kids through the doorway and launched them at the ground. The Norm used his powers to cushion the impact, but only slightly. Rug fibers rasped against Pels skin as she slid to a stop.
The door slammed shut before she could even rise to her feet.
95.3 - The Tempest
It was a while before any of them said anything. The shock was just so much.
Pel, Jules, and Rayph had been sealed in a cruelly austere place. The start white walls seemed ready to melt beneath the heat and buzz of the lights in the ceiling. The only furniture was a ratty, barren, un-soft rug in the middle of the room. The walls had ghostly outlines of dust, and dings and dents where theyd once been abutted by chairs, tables, and desks. A lone console was mounted on the wall next to the reinforced metal door.
It was the kind of place where time lost all meaning.
Pel sat on her knees with her back to the wall, trying not to hyperventilate. She clutched tightly to her icon of the Angel tightly. The Sword and the sharp wings dug into her fingers and palm, but she didnt care about the pain.
You didnt get this far in life if all it took to dissuade you was a little bit of pain.
She tried to pray, but she couldnt get her lips to make the words. Even her mind was failing her. Every time she tried to collect her thoughts and turn them calming contemplation of God, evil shoved its face into her mind.
She thought of the zombies, and their broken corpses.
She thought of people like her mother, devoured by Norms in body and soul as their forms were remade into something worthy of the primeval chaos.
She even thought of me.
She couldnt bear it.
She felt like a failure of a mother.
No, not felt. She was.
What kind of mother would lead her kids to Hell?
That was it. That was the truth. That was why she couldnt pray anymore.
There were no prayers for the souls damned to Hell. There was no escape.
This was Hell, and she was in it, and shed brought her children with her.
What a thing for a mother to do, she thought.
The pain of Rales death was shallow compared to the horror of this moment. It was one thing to lose a son. It was quite another to lie in wait at the threshold of Hell, your future soon to end in a demons maw.
At least Rale had a chance of getting to Paradise.
But not us, Pel thought.
They were in the belly of the beast, surrounded by demons who were going to devour them whole and lock them away in Hells icy torments for all eternity.
And its all my fault she thought.
There was no prayer to help with this. Though the Godheads mercy was boundless and all-encompassing, there were some sins that not even the Angel had the power to forgive.
And so, she wept.
It was Rayph who broke the silence.
Mom, he said, speaking barely above a whisper, whats gonna happen to us? He sounded like he was on the edge of tears, but he wasnt crying.
Pel raised her head and looked at her son.
She shuddered.
He was too scared to cry.
I dont know Rayph, she answered. I dont know.
A thought rose within her. Not hope, but consolation.
At least we wont be alone.
The thought brought her the tiniest sliver of relief.
Theyd be in Hell, but theyd be together. Together in Hell.
Maybe Genneth will be there, waiting for us.
She laughed a dead, silent laugh.
Hed probably try to convince himself it wasnt real.
She was too broken to laugh.
Holy Angel she muttered.
She wept.
She really did deserve Hell if she felt relief from the knowledge that her loved ones would be joining her in Hell. Hell was the worst possible thing. Anything would be better than Hell. Anything.
Pel clasped her hands together. Please, Moonlight Queen, she whispered, spare them. Take me, instead. Take me now. Just I beg you let them go.
It wasnt a prayer. Prayers never asked for anyone to go to Hell.
Mom? Jules croaked.
Biting her lips, Pel shook her head, and then got up and ran over to Rayph and Jules and knelt before them and held them in her arms, so, so tightly, her head drooping in shame.
Im so sorry, she sobbed, Rayph, Jules, Im so, so sorry. You dont deserve this. Its my fault! Sword stab me, I should have loved you more. I should have believed in you moreyour father, too. Now now Her voice broke. Now its too late.
Mom, Jules said, pushing her mother back with her hand, what are you talking about?If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
Pels lips contorted. Honey the demons are going to take our souls. She looked up at the solid gray ceiling. By bringing us here Ive damned us all to Hell.
Mom I
Pel shook her head. Theres nothing you can say, Jules.
Yes there is, Jules replied. Its not your fault. I can say that.Sniffling, Jules grimaced. Her mouth got stuck between a laugh and a scowl. Grandma Margaret such a bitch, she muttered.
Pel shook her head. She was too broken to even bother admonishing our daughter for her language. Thats not your grandmother, sweetheart. Its its a monster that just happens to be wearing your grandmothers skin, and only a little bit, and not for much longer, thank the Angel.
Jules took a stand; she stepped back and looked her mother in the eye. Mom, she said, I dont know how to explain whats happening here, but, theres one thing I do know. She pointed at the door that thing out there thats Grandma Margaret. She even said so herself.
Pels expression turned cold. Theyre Norms, Jules. You cant trust anything they say. Theyre evil incarnate; Chaos in the flesh.
Jules turned to her brother. Cmon Rayph, back me up on this one. That was Grandma out there, right?
Rayph hesitated. I He clenched his fists. It sure sounded like Grandma, he said, softly.
I mean, look at this place! Jules said, turning to face her mother. Did you know that Grandma built some kind of secret compound inside her dive bar, because I sure didnt!
Maybe its doomsday prepping? Rayph suggested.
Why would she need so many guns, then? Jules said. She glanced at the walls. This place is waaay too big to be Grandmas private safety bunker.
What are you saying? Pel asked.
I think Grandma might be a terrorist, Jules whispered.
Jules? Pel said, at a loss for words. She narrowed her eyes our daughter. You cant be serious.
But Jules just glared back at her.
wrong with you? Your Grandmother is dead! Shes been possessed by a Demon Norm, andeven if she wasntits not like shes going to keep her mind once she fully transforms into on of those things! If shes not a demon now, shell be one soon enough!
Jules expression fell. Shit, she mumbled, I hadnt thought of th
was interrupted by a knock at the door. A moment later, the shutter covering the doors viewing port opened up, revealing the face of a man watching from the hall outside.
Rayph was the first to notice him. Hey, he said, pointing at the door, is that? Its that guy from TV!
Pel and Jules turned around and looked at the door same time, and stared in disbelief.
John Henrichy stood on the other side of the door, bow-tie and all.
Jules gently tugged at her mothers upper arm. Mom, she said, in a quiet, monotone voice, am I crazy, or is John Henrichy standing on the other side of that door?
Pel nodded. I see him, too.
Im flattered, Henrichy replied, with a roll of his eyes, not that it fucking matters. The whole worlds going down the drain.
Why are you here? Pel asked.
Both in general, Jules added, and with us, in particular.
It looked like she was embracing the absurdity of the moment.
Youre youre Margarets daughter, right? Henrichy asked.
Pel nodded wordlessly. Im Pelbrum Pel, Mr. Henrichy, she said.
Mom, please, Jules said, with a glare, dont talk to him! She hissed through her teeth. Hes toxic!
Oh, for the love of Henrichy groaned. Just listen to me. Im only going to say this once.
Why should we listen to you?! Jules said. You dont care about the truth, you just care about yourself and your quest for power!
Speaking as her father, of all the things Jules ever did or would ever do, I think this one is my favorite. It makes me so proud to have been her father.
Youre right, he said, nodding his head, I dont care about the truth. Why care about something that never mattered? People are going to believe what they want to believe. Life is a rat race, and confirmation bias is the motor revving us along. Truth is a bump on the road, and if it doesnt speed you up, its gonna be smoothed out and paved over. Its a dick-measuring contest, and everyone wants their dick to be the biggest dick, but there can only be one because all of us are too fucking insecure to settle for second placeI know I am.
Fuck you, Jules hissed.
Henrichy nodded approvingly. You must think youre pretty clever, dont you? He shook his head and chuckled. Well, congratulations, young lady, unlike the rest of the rubes, you know how to think critically.
Youre not welcome, Jules grumbled.
You can point out hypocrisy till youre blue in the face, its not going to be enough to save you. Critical thinking couldnt save us before the world ended, and its certainly not going to save us now. Thats exactly why you need to listen to me. Im a survivor; I know how things work.
Well then, John, Pel said, walking up to the door, what do you make of all this?
Henrichy shook his head. You dont get it, lady. Answers dont matter, only questions do. Frankly, I have no idea whats going on, and I dont care. It wont make a difference one way or the other. But, since you asked, he lowered his voice, I dont think anybody here actually knows whats going on, least of all Verune. He pointed down the hall and lowered his voice. These freaks are out of their minds. They think theyre becoming part of the Hallowed Beast or something. And maybe they are, or maybe theyre not. But, its like I said: the answer doesnt matter. All that matters is that theyre turning into powerful creatures with magic powers that can stop the zombies in their tracks. Since I want to survive, Im going to be on their side, and Ill say whatever the Hell they want me to say to stay there, and if you have any sense, you should, too.
So nothing matters to you? Pel said, disgusted.
I dont care. There are two sides, one of which wants to eat me. Im going to be on the side that doesnt, full stop.
Pel stared him in the eyes. Genneth was right about you she muttered.
Henrichy sighed. Listen, he said, just a couple of hours ago, I was where you are now. I came here because Id heard Lassedite Verune had returned, and that he was at Margaret Revenels place, and since Im on good terms with your mother, I figured I might as well ingratiate myself. If only Id known what was waiting for me here. He shook his head. But, its too late for misgivings. Sure, it took me a little while to earn their trust, but you? Youre Margarets family. Just say the words and shell believe it. Shes not very bright.
Jules grimaced, aghast. Youre just playing along with them?
No, young lady, Im playing along with them and staying alive because of it. Now, if you dont mind, Ive got snake-ass to kiss. He nodded. The world is dead. Long live the world.
And then he slid the viewport shut, leaving the family in silence.
Yet again, Pel sank to her knees, swallowing hard as she turned to face her kids. She pressed her back against the metal door.
Maybe were already dead, Jules muttered, and this is Hell.
Mom, Rayph asked, what are we going to do?
I I Shaking her head, Pel balled her hands into fists and pressed them down on her skirt, atop her thighs.
She really didnt have any control at all. She felt like poorly-baked clay. One wrong move, and shed fracture and fall to pieces.
She stared at our children.
If nothing else, she thought, I have to protect them.
Pel sighed a long, deep, ragged sigh. Hes right, she said.
Outraged, Jules glared and crossed her arms. Hes insane! she said.
But Pel shook her head. No, not insane. Just amoral. She sighed quietly. I cant believe I ever looked up to him.
Jules raised her eyebrows. Told you he was an asshat, she muttered.
But he wasnt wrong, Pel said, not about this.
Mom? Rayph murmured.
She looked her son in the eyes. We need to get out of here. We need to get out of this room; out of this building; out of this city. Its our only chance, and to do that Angels mercy well play along, and for as long as it takes. But, at the first opportunity, were getting the hell out of here. Were gonna make it. We have to.
Its like the Morgans song, Rayph said, Fake it till you make it.
Pel chuckled humorlessly. Yeah I guess it is.
And then, after a third and final silence, Pel stood up, reached for the console, and braced herself to tell the demons what they wanted to hear.
96.1 - The Slap
After my quick meal and the couple of blue flames that merged with Andalon, I decided it was finally time to share the good news with my colleagues, face-to-face.
Id start with Heggy.
Pulling out my console, I dialed Dr. Marteneiss number and started up a videophone call.
The strain was clear on her face, but she was still almost as feisty as ever.
Angels tears, Genneth, she said, youre still wearin that cumbersome thing? It must be like a sweat lodge in there!
I rolled my eyes.
Well, did you just call me to get fashion advice, she continued, or is there somethin I can do for you?
The mycophage is working! I said, putting on my brightest smile.
She nodded. Yeah, so Ive heard.
Wait, I said, really? I wanted to be the one to break the good news.
Genneth, I dont know where youve been, but the whole damn ward cheered when we took Mr. Broliguez off his ventilator.
It must have been while I was talking with Mr. Himichi, I said.
Heggys eyes narrowed. Wait, isnt that that cartoon guy you like?
Hes a mangaka, I clarified.
Small world, Heggu muttered. She sighed. Anyhow, Im glad youve found something to be happy about, she said. I just wish I could say the same.
Whats wrong? I asked.
Something happened with the Broliguez girl, Nina, she said. Her father got up out of bed and wanted to see his sonthe one youre overseein in 268. Soldiers told him to back down, he didnt, and then Heggy shook her head. Im not sure what happened, exactly, but she used some kind of transformee abilities, but that doesnt make any sense. Shes a Type One case.
Fudge.
I hoped Heggy hadnt seen my eyes widen in shock.
Instead, Dr. Marteneiss expression fell. Somehow, she killed a soldier. Boiled him alive, it looks like.
No I muttered.
Heggy shook her head. Theres nothing we can do. Vernons men took her, and unless you want to go up against some very angry, very desperate soldiers, I recommend you let the issue be. Ill try to figure out more, if I can.
I sighed. And to think, I wanted this call to be uplifting for both of us.
Beside me, Andalon looked almost as downtrodden as I felt.
Well, Heggy said, there is something you can help me with, if that will make you feel any better.
You know me so well, I replied, drolly. How can I help?
Heggys expression darkened. Even with the matter printers backin us up on the essentials, our medication supplies are runnin on empty, and now that the mycophage seems to be workin, teams are at work settin as many of the damn things to producing mycophage ASAP, so the pressure on our supplies is skyrocketin. Ive been workin with some nurses to help set-up rationin plans, and, well weve checked the pharmacy records twice over, and it looks like were nearly out of barbicane.
Darn it, I muttered.
You can say that again, Heggy said. Its no cure, but it lets them die with a little more dignity, you know?
Barbicane was one of the workhorses of the barbiturate family. Wed been using it to ease the passing of many of the Type One patients. Yes, it was a sedative, butat least when I used itI asked my patients first. It helped prevent some of the loss of motor control that occurred in the later stages of the disease.
But, what little we have left has been going away. I know its a minor thing, but no ones got time for that stuff anymore, Heggy said. Youre good with people. Im sure you can figure it out. She clicked her tongue. Angel, what has this world come to? Heggy sighed. Keep an eye out in case you see anyone overprescribing it.
I didnt bother asking about when we could expect to be resupplied.
Heggy stared at me. Everythins precious now, Genneth. Supply lines are crumblin, and not just for barbicane. Vernon has his men loadin up the dead into dump trucks, you know?
I did. Id seen it.
But we cant give up, she said. We cant let the system fall. Were not animals, and Ill be damned if I let people throw common decency out the fuckin window.
Dr. Marteneiss let out a long sigh. Tears glinted in the corners of her eyes. Sorry for gettin uppity, she said. Ive been talkin with Vernon too much. There are widespread riots out by Angels Rest. You cant tell whos still human from whos a zombie or worse. Its like a bad dream that just wont end. Her head hung low. Ive given up on the big battles, Gen. I gotta focus on the little ones, or or else Her voice cracked. She coughed. If ever there was a time not to be a beasteaten bastard, nows the time. But, some people
Heggy My voice trailed off.
She sniffled.
Ill see if I can figure out where the missing barbicanes been going, I said.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
She stared at me for a silent while.
So many are people dyin, Genneth, Heggy added, in a whisper. Even if the mycophage lives up to its promise, Im afraid it wont be enough.
We I gulped. Well get through this. Well get to see our families again. Somehow. We just have to endure.
There was a moments pause, during which we stared at one another. What Id said was a lie, and we both knew it, and we both knew that we knew it. But Heggy nodded all the same. Bless your heart, Dr. Howle. She smiled as she wept. Dont you ever change, except for the better.
Then the call ended.
I slumped forward, letting out all the tension Id been holding in my body.
Darn it I muttered.
What should have been a spirit-raiser turned out to be anything but.
I wanted to hope that Nina was okay, but, in my gut, I knew she probably wasnt.
More fodder for my guilt, I suppose.
So, whatcha gonna do, Mr. Genneth? Andalon asked, looking up at me with a curious eye.
Im going to do what I said I was going to do. I shook my head slightly. Id rather not break any more promises than I already have,I said.
I crossed my arms in thought.
So barbicane.
The word rang a bell. Sifting through my memories, I immediately found the source. Granted, Id seen barbicane elsewhere, but one instance of it stuck out over the rest.
Jonan had pocketed a bottle of barbicane pills when I accompanied him to the pharmaceutical dispensary three days ago.
Was there a chance that it was just a coincidence?
Of course.
Was I going to let it slide?
No fudging way.
I tapped on my console screen, texting a message to Dr. Lokanok.
Are you available? I think there might be a problem with Jonan.
I glanced down at my console as Ani texted back:
Yeah, Im by the reception area. I feel a need to slap him. Meet you there?
I quickly inputted my reply:
Sure.
Something told me things were about to get interesting.
Andalon clasped her hands together, staring up at me in a plaintive gesture.
Mr. Genneth, she asked, looking up at me. Why was Dr. Eggy so sad? Thats thats not how shes sposed ta be.
I swallowed hard. No, it isnt.
I think Heggys dour mood had affected Andalon more than Id thought it had.
I knew it had affected me more than Id thought it had.
Also, I could sense that Andalon was still torn over the heartrending interactions Storn and I had had with Merritt.
So, for good measure, instead of leaving Andalons distress as an open wound, I decided to nip it in the bud. Recentering my consciousness, I transported the two of us to an identical copy of the hospitals hallwaywith me in my day clothes, of coursewhile I had a doppelgenneth walk my body to the rendezvous point Ani had specified.
I got down in a squat, bringing myself down to Andalons eye-level.
One of the many benefits of existing as a figment of my own imagination was that I no longer had any problems with my lower back or knees.
I thought about Heggy. Over the past few days, Id been slowly coming to grips with the reality that the world was ending. Too many people were dead; there was no coming back from this. But, Heggy?
I looked into Andalons eyes.
You know how you feel lost, Andalon?
She nodded. Yeah?
You feel like nothing makes sense, I said. Theres so much you cant remember, and theres so much thats still uncertain.
Puzzled, Andalon tilted her head. Uncertain?
It means you dont know what is going to happen next, I said.
She nodded bigly at that.
Andalon is very, very, very uncertain, she said.
That she was.
Is Dr. Eggy uncertain? she asked.
Well I smacked my lips. Right now, she is, but thats not whats upsetting her.
Then what is? Andalon asked.
I pointed at myself, and then her. Some people, like us, are used to feeling uncertain about things. But, Heggy? To my knowledge, shes never really felt that way. Shes always had faith that there was a place for her to be. That feeling gave her confidence.
Does Dr. Eggy not have conflidence anymore? Andalon asked.
Yeah, I said, nodding a sad, gentle smile, pretty much. I sighed. Im worried about her.
Can you give Dr. Eggy her faith back?
Well, uh Twiddling my thumbs, I briefly glanced down. I wish it was that easy.
Since my consciousness was still coupled with the doppelganger in my body, I saw the exact moment when Ani emerged from Ward Es reception area. I recentered my consciousness back to my body right then and there. The short-lived mind-world of the hospital hallway melted away as it gave way to the reception area.
Ani thrusted her arms down at her sides. I cant believe him! she yelled. She was in a hazmat suit, but that wasnt the only reason her face was flushed a sweaty, beet red.
She was furious. The two of us walked away, down a hallway, keeping as close to one another as social distancing measures allowed.
Whats wrong? I asked.
See for yourself. Ani held out her console, which currently displayed a text message thread between her and Jonan.
His latest text read:
I heard about what happened to your parents. Im so sorry. My thoughts and prayers are with you, always. I know youll be able to give them all the care they need. I love you.
Ani stuffed her console in her hazmat suits waist pocket. She shook her head in dismay. Can you believe it?
Actually no, I said, that sounds almost selfless of him.
Ani chuckled, but her expression quickly turned sullen. Her supple cheeks were wet with tears.
The Green Death killed my Aunt Hinata. Her whole familys dead. My mother went over to helpand, of course, my dad went with herand in the process, they got infected themselves.
I gasped. Im so sorry, Ani. I cant imagine what thats like. I cleared my throat. All I can say is, if Dr. Skorbinkas mycophage treatment makes good on its promise, your parents will be one of the many that well use it to help.
She smiled sadly. So, you heard the good news?
Whats wrong? I asked.
Ani sniffled as she shook her head, sucking snot up her nose. She alternated between coughing and clearing his throat.
Oh, just everything. I feel like crap. I cant stop worrying that the mycophages early successes arent going to last. Oh, she chuckled joylessly, and, if you havent heard, she added, my parents arent just infected, theyre here, at WeElMed. Like, right now. She looked me in the eyes. They arrived on one of the buses this morning. Her voice cracked. Ive set them up to receive the mycophage treatment once the next batch is ready.
Ani, thats great! I said, with probably more enthusiasm that I should have.
I immediately felt guilty for that, and it didnt help that even Andalon cringed at the way Id said it.
Ani nodded sarcastically. Oh yeah, it should be, she said, but, you know my Dad, he always finds the thorns. She lowered her head in shame. Or just makes them himself.
How cruel it was, unrequited love between parent and child?
So Ani continued, hes being an ass, as usual.
And your mother? I asked.
Ani bit her lip. She thinks these are the Last Days. She looked me in the eyes. You remember what I said this morning?
Of course. I nodded. You think otherwise.
Ani placed her gloved hand on her chest. In my heart of hearts, I know the Angel would not do this. The Godhead would stop it if They could. But, everyone else She sniffled. People like my mom think all of this was predestined. And if everything is predestined, then theres nothing you can do except look for signs that you can use to tell yourself that what you think is right really is right and that other people think really is wrong. Oh look at him, hes miserable and dying, so he must deserve that and theres nothing we can do to change it. Ani clenched her fist. I hate that. I hate that so much. I hate seeing people just give up and let go. Her voice broke. I hate seeing that in my Mom. But then she took a deep breath. Fuck
96.2 - The Slap
Shaking her head, Ani waved her hands in a dismissive gesture. Im sorry, Genneth. Im all over the place.
That she was.
This is supposed to be about Jonan, not my mother.
Were all out of sorts, Ani, I said.
But Ani just doubled down on her outrage. Yeah, well Jonan Derric is out of line! she yelled, her eyebrows deeply angled behind her glasses.
We stopped in our tracks. I stepped off the side, into a vending machine niche. Much like the one Id visited with Storn, this one had been ravaged of all its supplies. They hadnt just eaten the plastic plants, theyd gotten the ceramic pots, too! Faintly blackened rings of dust and spores covered the floor where the pots had once stood.
Andalon sat down on the floor beside us, unseen to all but me. Her pale gray nightgown splayed on the floor. Meanwhile, Anis posture slumped.
Im sorry, she said, apologizing for her angry outburst, its just Ive been running low on idealism. Its this plague. It doesnt stop. Im worried I dont even know whats real anymore. Even in my dreams, Im working my shifts.
It was a bad sign, to say the least.
Ani, what happened? I asked.What did Jonan do? Ill be honest: I dont really trust him. I know hes a hard worker, but, still
Jonan is too zealous for his own good, Ani replied. Sometimes I worry he might be too much of a fixer upper, even for me, she added. She looked me in the eyes. Genneth, up till now, I hadnt told any of my friends or family that my parents are here, and are infected.
I furrowed my brow. But I stammered. You just showed me a message Jonan sent you, where he gave you condolences about what happened to your parents! Is he a time-traveler, too? This doesnt make any sense.
Ani nodded. I asked him the same thing, and you know what he told me?
What? I asked.
Hed hacked into my console, she said.
What?! I yelled.
Several patients seated in the hallway turned to the noise. The rest didnt, either because they were unconscious or dead.
So many bodies
Andalons eyebrows leapt up. Whats hack-ing? she asked.
I gave a quick thought-answer: Jonan looked where he wasnt supposed to look.
Andalon pouted. Bad JoJo! she said.
You could say that again.
Yeah, Ani said. You heard it right, and he said it so casually, too. Hes spyware and everything. Apparently, hes been monitoring my text messages and social media posts for years. He says its for my protection.
Doesnt this make him a stalker? I asked.
But Ani shook her head. Thats just it: when he says he thinks its for my protection, I know he means it one-hundred percent. She glanced at the floor. I dont know whether to punch him or kiss him.
Social distancing guidelines recommend you avoid doing either, I said.
Ani gave me such a look.
I raised my hands defensivelyeven though Id probably deserved it.
At the risk of being obtuse, I asked, isnt it a bit petty to be worried about this, considering everything else thats going on right now.
Ani stared for a long timenot at me, but slightly askance. When she spoke, her words were fragile and impossibly sweet, like a pear made of glass, shattered on the sidewalk. She whispered.
Hes my Light, Genneth. I dont want to think ill of him. I cant. I I dont know what Id do if
I fought my instinct to reach out and grab Ani by the hands, but then fought against that fight and did it anyway, grabbing her hands and squeezing them tightly.
You dont need to say anything else. I shook my head. I completely understand. I sighed. Im all too familiar with the pain that comes from having a conflict hovering over a deeply felt bond.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Then come on, Ani said, hes this way.
Ani led me to one of the several side hallways we were using to deal with the massive patient overflow. The situation was completely out of control. Just days ago, the patients that had been coming into Central Wings five wards had been mostly coughers, and snifflers, their complexions flushed or wan, with something worse stick out from the surge every once in a while, whether it stumbled through the sliding doors or got rolled out from an ambulance and rushed down the hall.
But now, it was everywhere.
People stumbled in, bent over their loved ones shoulders, moaning as they spurted out ooze and vomit. I saw faces, arms, and legs bruised and bloodied by the infections touch. Tremulous voices wailed and cried, asking unanswerable questions about things they no longer remembered.
It was hard not to gainsay that all this was really happening. It barely felt like real life anymore. It was more like we were the reels of an auteurs horror movie. The same scenes played out time and again, perhaps with minor variations, as if the films deranged director expected to stumble upon the right way of doing it through the method of exhaustion.
And Jonan was there, right in the thick of it.
He was checking up on patients one at a time, moving with an uncompromising, almost mechanical industriousness as he made up for the time slot hed spent working with Lark. Even some of the soldiers stared. Compared to him, Heggy seemed almost slothful.
In my years working in healthcare, Dr. Derric was as near to a miracle worker as Id ever seen. It was a shame he was so full of himself.
We walked toward him, only for Ani to rush up and wallop him with a smack of her hand before I could react. Though, to be clear, as Jules put it, I was a total wuss, and as such knew essentially nothing about how to beat someone up, even I could tell that Anis slap left much to be desired. From what Id seen, it looked like shed been trying to hit so as to maximize pain without either injuring him, or compromising his PPE. If she hadnt loudly shouted, Jonan, you jerk! as she slapped him, you might have thought it was a show of affection.
Or, perhaps, some sort of sexual fetishnot that I would judge.
Jonan leered at Dr. Lokanok for a moment, before saying, almost lecherously, Hit me baby one more time
We both stared at him.
Really, nothing? he said, after a moments silence. Fine. He rolled his eyes. What is it? Not to be rude, but, he gestured at the people around him, I have my work cut out for me.
I have some things Id like to ask you, Dr. Derric, I said, in private.
He leaned over and tapped some icons on a nearby console. There, Ive requisitioned a replacement for myself. He reached out to us, as if we were about to handcuff him. Do with me what you will, he said.
We stepped out of the triage area into an adjacent hallway, and then through a door and into a stairwell, just for good measure.
Ani let him have it before I could even open my mouth.
I still cant believe you were bullheaded enough to think Id be happy to hear my boyfriend was spying on me!
Jonan snorted. Youre fine with DAISHU spying on you, he said.
Ani shook her head in confusion. What?
Jonan raised an eyebrow. Somehow, he still managed to look suave, even with a mask on his face and a hairnet over his golden hair.
It wasnt obvious already? he said. I mean, you attended a Reform Party rally, Ani. Dont tell me you really believed that you could go out and advocate for stuff reinstating personal and corporate income taxes without getting monitored by DAISHU. Before the plague hit, they were still trying to get the social credit system they have back in Mu established here in Trenton, butfor oncethe racism of the racists over in the National Diet ended up being a good thing, because it kept the lobbyists from getting what they wanted. Until thenand, again, before the plague hitthey would have settled for monitoring your personal communications, which they did, and I know because I stopped them. I trapped the spyware in an isolated subroutine. And no amount of system updates is going to set that bugger free, let me tell you. Im keeping you safe, Ani.
Keeping me safe? Ani replied, grim and mocking. Jonan, she pointed at the wall, there are literal zombies out there! That doesnt change the fact that youre still spying on me.
Jonan nodded. True, it was more meaningful back when DAISHU and scammers were still a threat. Theyre not going to be much of a problem for the foreseeable future.
You two can continue this argument in your spare time, I said. Right now, though, theres a more pressing concern. I looked Dr. Derric straight in the eyes. Dr. Marteneiss tells me that our supply of barbicane is basically goneeven though it shouldnt be. Heggy already has enough on her plate to deal with. We all do, I said.
So?
So I said, echoing Jonan, only without the condescending tone, I seem to recall you extorting a worker at the dispensary a couple days ago. Her name was Mildred, and you asked for a big fat bottle of barbicane.
Jonan narrowed his eyes at me. Are you sure youre not being paranoid, Dr. Howle?
I wonder what Mildred would have to say if I asked her? I replied.
Good luck with that, he said, shes dead. Everyones dying. He looked up at the stairs coiled overhead. Yeah, thats always been true, but its never been quite as true as it is now. He turned away from us. Talk to whoever you want to talk to, Im just trying to do my job.
So you are responsible! I said, shaking my fist in victory. Doing so let me feel my fingertips crumble as they rubbed against my gloves, which definitely dampened my sense of triumph.
Jonan, Ani said, why are you doing this?
For a moment, he looked her in the eyes, but then sighed and lowered his gaze. Its because of you-know-what.
Anis arms suddenly went slack at her sides. Oh, she said.
I looked at both of them, utterly lost. I I feel like Im missing something here.
Hes
No no, Jonan said, interrupting Ani, Ill explain it. Looking me in the eyes, Jonan stuck out his hands and spun two fingers around in a tight circle. Gather the crew. Im gonna say this once, and only once.
Jonan Ani said, crestfallen.
We cant just drop everything on your command, Dr. Derric, I said.
Jonan shrugged. Then sync our next lunch break, or something. Schedule a time that works for you. Let me know, and Ill be thereI swear. Now, if youll excuse me, I have dying people I need to console.
And then he walked off, leaving Ani and I staring, mouths agape.
I guess wed better tell Heggy about this, I muttered.
97.1 - Hinter den dunklen Fichten!
Alon remembered that he did not remember. The rest was drifting away from him, vanishing into the sea of agony rising high within his chest. He looked around, groggy and uncertain.
He didnt know where he was, only that it was not where he had been.
He tried to move, but he couldnt. Looking down, he found himself covered by a pale gown, with restraints binding his limbs. He was upright, mostly, strapped to a flat, steeply angled surface. Bright lights flared in the ceiling, making him wince.
He coughed, and his cough was fire in his chest. It felt like his ribs had been sliced through. He blinked his eyes to adjust to the light. There was something on top of his head. Something lightweight and curved. Shaking his head, he tried to fling it off, but he couldnt. Something was holding his head in place, keeping him facing forward.
And not just him.
Alon wasnt alone. Far from it. The room was filled with people, and nearly all of them were bound, just like him. Many metal tables were laid out on the floor, their wheeled feet bound in place. Gowned people were strapped onto the tables, which had been tilted until they were nearly vertical, and then rolled up to the wall, one next to another, forming a forest of pain.
People coughed, moaned, cried, screamed. Alon saw faces and limbs ravaged by ulcers and sores. Black lightning spidered beneath their skin.
There were dome-like devices on their heads, studded with with
Wires?
Was that the word?
Whatever they were, they were plugged into machines at the tables sides.
Off to the side, there was a transparent wall with a door in it, separating a part of the room from the rest, though it was difficult to see, because it was at the corner of his vision.
Suddenly, Alon remembered he could scream.
Screaming felt like the right thing to do here, so Alon did, only for a man in dark armor to walk up and stuff something slick and smooth in his mouth. It made him unable to close his jaws. He had to breathe through his nose.
And the same thing was happening to the others.
Alon raged, kicking and screamingor, at least, he tried to, but it came out muffled and impotent.
A few of the metal tables had been left out in the middle of the room. Various devices were loaded on top of most of them, and on the counters along the walls.
One of the tables had a young woman strapped onto it. A girl, really. Her hair was done strangely, strung up with sea-blue beads.
Something in Alon told him that that wasnt what a girls hair ought to look like. Something else told him that he ought to care for her, because she was like someone important.
Someone he knew.
The girls table was level to the ground, and, unlike all the other captives, she didnt seem to be conscious. Like the others, she was in restraints, only hers were metal chains.
What are you going to do with the girl?
The voice came from one of the figures standing near the middle of the room. The speaker was tall and imposing, and decked in black armor. He was addressing a middle-aged man in a strange yellow body-suit. Both had see-through helmets on their heads.
Honestly, the man in yellow said, I have no idea. He turned to the girl, and then looked up at the man in black. Those powers she displayed, thats theyre not supposed to be physically possible. She boiled that soldier alive. She boiled the blood in his veins. At this point, I wouldnt be surprised if she could shoot lightning out of her hands.
You think I dont know that? the man in black replied. Thats what folks like you are for. We cant deal with it if we dont understand it.
There arent any tests for this kind of thing, sir. The best we can do is hook her up to the electroencephalogram and the neuroimager and see what happens.
The man in black crossed his arms. Is there a chance shes turning into one of those creatures, like Private Sylar?
The man in yellow shook his head. No, sir. She has a Type One infection. Type One and Type Two appear to be mutually exclusive. You get one or the other, not both.
The man in black nodded. Well maybe Sylar can help you unravel this mystery.
The man in yellow looked down at his feet for a moment, and then looked the man in black in the eyes.
Permission to speak freely, sir?
The man in black nodded. Permission granted.
The man in yellow pointed at the far side of the room. If youre willing to trust these demons, youve lost your marbles.
Some people might say Ive already passed that line by experimenting on people like this, the man in black said. Say what you will, Dr. Ironshard, at least Private Sylar volunteered. He wants to serve his country. Or whats left of it.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
Country? Alon thought, not remembering.
It hurt, not being able to remember.
General Marteneiss, Sir, the man in yellow said, with all due respect, Private Curtis Sylar is dead. He pointed. That thing is a Norm in human clothing!
Alon tried his best to look at what the man in yellowIronshardwas pointing at. Trembling with effort, Alon was just barely able to make out a manin a gown, much like his ownstanding on the far side of the room. This Private Sylar had short hair and a kind, but nervous face, and of all the people in the room wearing that gown, he was the only one who wasnt restrained.
The man in black glanced at the Private warily, as if he was someone to be feared. And then, Sylar turned, and Alon understood why.
One of his eyes was not human. It was a featureless eyeball, glistening and golden. And he had a a thing trailing behind him, through a hole in his gown.
It was unnatural.
I thought you were a man of science, Albert, the man in blackGeneral Marteneisssaid.
Alon focused back on their conversation.
I am, Sir, Dr. Ironshard replied. But this goes beyond science.
What do you mean? the General asked.
If you ask me, Ironshard said, we need chaplains, not laboratories. And maybe a couple of templars, too. Were dealing with the supernatural, and only a fool would think you could find rhyme or reason behind the supernatural. If you could, it wouldnt be supernatural. Thats the whole fucking point!
Ironshard, the General said, your job is to try to find a rational explanation. You might be right, there might not be a rational explanation for all this, but we cant know for sure unless we look and try to find out.
Im telling you, Ironshard said, this is a fools errand.
Noted, the General said. Anything else?
What are you going to do when he stops being human? Ironshard asked. All our reports indicate that these transformees eat people. The more they eat, the more they change.
Your point? the General asked. Those same reports also indicate the transformees maintain their sense of self.
Sir, thats exactly what the demons want us to think. Of course the monsters would claim they were the same people they used to be. They want to catch us off guard.
Lieutenant, the General replied, with Gant dead and the Diet overrun, Upper Command is all that remains of the Trenton government. And, Angels breath, they all think just like you. Fredericks, even Coldhopethey all think the answer lies in scripture.
Because it does! Ironshard snapped. He pointed at the girl in the metal chains. For all we know, this girl might be one of the fucking Blessd! There have been reports of them popping up all over the place. These go back weeks. And then theres the UFOs. The one over Polovia. The one down the coast, months ago. These are the Last Days, General Marteneiss, its all coming together.
The Blessd are supposed to fight Hell, the General said, not get infected by it! Be rational about this, Ironshard. Were putting all our eggs in one basket if we all try the same tactics against this thing, and Angel help us if turns out we picked the wrong fucking basket! No one else is trying to work with the transformees.
The scientist scoffed. Before theyre even halfway changedsometimes even soonerthe transformees start breathing out clouds of spores. The clouds melt our tech, and everything else. In mere minutes, a Norm can make the surrounding air incompatible with life as we know it.Y oull fall into a coma within a minute, maybe less. Itll kill our own test subjects, assuming Private Sylar doesnt eat them, first.
Id need to put a lot of ketchup on you before I even thought of eating you, Private Sylar said.
Private, dont back-sass the Lieutenant, General Marteneiss said. Hes still your superior.
Understood, sir.
See? Hes co?perative, the General said, turning to face Ironshard. Why cant you be like that?
Because what happens to my soul is a hell of a lot more important than what happens to my body, the scientist replied.
Its our job to save lives, Lieutenant, not souls, Marteneiss replied. We fight for people, not ideas. The General sighed, briefly fogging up the inside of his visor. As for your concerns, he added, I wont deny them, but well cross that bridge when we get to it. Now, is there anything else, or are you ready to carry out your orders?
The scientist thought for a moment, and then nodded. Actually, yes, he said. Id like to go on the record as saying I disagree with the course of action you have chosen. I think its a fools errand, and its going to end badly.
If I go down, the General said, let me go down in flamespreferably worthy ones. Until then, I owe it to my country and to my brothers and sisters in arms to do what I can while I can. Now, get to work. He turned to the transformee. You have your orders, Private.
Yes, sir, the two men said.
They saluted the General as he stepped out into an adjacent room.
Several other men stepped into Alons view. They wore black, like the General, and they followed in his footsteps, too, leaving the room and closing the door behind them until all but two remained.
Two, and Dr. Ironshard.
Raising his hand, Ironshard walked through the door in the transparent wall, and the men in black followed suit, sealing the door behind them once they reached the other side.
Ready to get started? the Private asked.
Dr. Ironshard made the some kind of sign. Alon had memories of two women making that sign. He didnt know who they were, but he found himself worrying about them.
The scientist turned toward Private Sylar. You might have duped General Marteneiss, he said, but Im not so easily fooled. I dont trust you, demon. I dont, and I never will.
The Private crossed his arms. Im the only one here who can safely neutralize the zombies. He looked over at the people in restraints. If they all turn feral, Im the one whos going to buy you time to escape.
Couldnt we just shoot them, sir? one of the men in black asked.
Dr. Ironshard stomped his foot. No, dammit! Its like I told the General. The patterns weve seen suggest the zombies are a defense mechanism. The demons dont want us interfering in their plans. He glared at Private Sylar for a moment. We thought the ordinary infected were bad, with their bodily fluids becoming caustic as soon as theyre exposed to the air, but then we found out the stuff turns caustic inside them once they go feral, just like youd expect from a defense mechanism. At this point, Id be willing to bet that theyre turning feral because were shooting at them. And, you know what, they certainly arent shooting people here at West Elpeck Medical. He huffed. Listen: were here to study why WeElMeds patients arent becoming zombies. I dont care if the Moonlight Queen herself inscribed this miracle onto the Tablets of Destiny. Im not going to test my luck by giving every beasteaten Type One case in the hospital complex a reason to go feral.
You realize I still need to eat, dont you? Private Sylar said.
Im well aware, Ironshard replied. Ill have something for you once were done with this experiment. Do as youre told, and youll get fed, and I wont have you pumped full of lead. I respect the chain of command, even when I dont agree with it. But, I swear, the scientist pointed in anger, if I catch you so much as nibbling on one of the test subjects, you will be terminated.
Alon didnt quite understand what they were talking about.
Zombies?
And yet somehow, the brief exchange filled him with dread. His heart raced in his chest. Every beat was like a hammer against his aching ribs.
So, Sylar asked, are you ready, or what?
Ironshard walked over to a tall device built against the wall, one with many glowing surfaces, one of which he tapped.
Introducing Subject A to the enclosure.
97.2 - Hinter den dunklen Fichten!
A snarling creature lunged through the doorway. Alans heartbeat quickened.
Zombie.
The word echoed in Alons mind. He cried. Memories of people in a large moving room flashed before his eyes, along with images of a nightmarish land of fire and night.
Muffled screams rippled out from the wall of restrained people. They couldnt move, and there was nowhere to run.
The zombie had long, brown hair. Once, she might have been beautiful, but now she had no face.
Was that why she was weeping?
Partially sloughed-off skin drooped from her cheeks as her mouth hung wide and low, exposing fat and muscle corrupted by the fungus touch. There was a crimped, bloodless wound where one of her arms would have been, and her tattered clothes were splattered with black and green.
Green-dusted ooze dribbled over the edge of her lips.
The Private made the the sign, while muttering something under his breath.
The zombie moved forward with single-minded need, dashing toward the men standing behind the transparent wall. It stumbled into the tables in the middle of the room, only to knock them aside and bash into the transparent wall, striking it again and again with its one remaining hand.
At first, Ironshard and his guards flinched, only to stand up tall once they realized they werent in danger.
Ironshard stared.
By all thats holy he whispered. He turned to the men in black at his sides. Bring up the neuroimagery, now! he hissed.
The two soldiers took their posts at devices similar to the one Ironshard manned. They ran their gloved fingers along the glowing surfaces.
I cant believe it, Ironshard said, eyes going wide. It really is a miracle.
One of the men in black pointed at Alon and the others restrained around the room. If this were Tonevay, he said, all of them would have already turned.
Gagged screams thumped and wept aAlons sides.
Ironshard nodded. Something is suppressing it. He stared at pictures of heads filled with spiderweb lights. There isnt any aberrant neural activity in the non-feral subjects.
Seconds passed. The only sounds were the zombies smacks and moans.
Damnit! Ironshard yelled. He slapped the machine.
Whats wrong? Isnt this what we wanted?
No, Ironshard answered, its not! He looked up from his device. Are either of you picking up any signs of a carrier wave? Or an EM signal?
The other man in black shook his head. No, sir.
Ironshard stepped back, shaking his head. I warned Marteneiss about this, he said. The General wants to believe theres a rational explanation for how the infected go feral. A rational explanation forbids action at a distance. If X triggers Y, there has to be some kind of intermediary making that happen: a chemical signal, an electromagnetic wave, subatomic particles, something. He chuckled bitterly. But, its like I told him. This is a fools errand. How can we figure out how feralism propagates or what in this beasteaten hospital is keeping that from happening if were not registering any signs of a fertilization signal.
Maybe youre not detecting it because its being blocked by the thing thats blocking it? Sylar said.
Sir! one of the men in black yelled. Sir! Look!
The zombie had stopped clawing at the plastic wall.
Slowlyhesitantly at firstthe zombie backed away from the wall. The movements were heavy and ungainly.
It turned to face the nearest subject restrained against the wall.
It lumbered toward the wall of people.
No no no no no no.
Alon was afraid. Somehow, he knew something horrible was about to happen. And, worse, he didnt know what it would be.
The victims struggled fruitlessly. Tears ran down their sickly faces as they yelled through their gags.
Somebody tell me what is happening! Ironshard yelled.
Private Sylar approached the zombie from behind, dragging his tail behind him.
No, you idiot! Ironshard yelled. Not until I know what
Rising up onto its tip-toes, the zombie threw itself onto the restrained patient. It bit into him. It scraped its fingernails on the mans face.
One of the men in black screamed. Holy shit!
The bitten patient spasmed and screamed as the zombies body began to melt and deform. Garments ripped and burst as the zombies flesh melded into him. Strands grew from corpse to corpse, branching out and taking root. Hyphae stormed into his legs, which cracked as they swelled with growth.
The mans bones sapped. His eyes rolled back into his head.
Private Sylar let out a yell. Rushing forward, he thrust his arms out and then pulled them to either side, as if opening curtains. The two bodies intermingling on the wall suddenly split down the middle with a sickeningcrack. Deformed, ink-black viscera spilled from the tear; tiny tendrils writhed out like worms.
The Private pulled his arms back, and his mysterious power tore the broken corpses from the restraints. He ripped the horror in half, and half again, and again, until it was nothing more than a collection of wet kibbles on the white, vinyl floor
Private Sylar fell down onto one knee, heaving for breath.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.
The kibbles writhed. They crawled like inchworms. The motion drew the Privates fearful attention.
Ironshard yelled at him to stop, but Sylar didnt listen. He picked one of the kibbles off the floor, stuck it in his mouth, and gnawed, squeezing it tight in his hand.
One by one, the kibbles stopped moving.
The men in black drew their weapons.
Sylar looked up in alarm. Dammit! he yelled. Im just eating to restore my strength. That took a lot out of me.
The men in black looked to Ironshard, who nodded.
They lowered their rifles.
Was all of that recorded? Ironshard asked.
One of the men in black nodded. Yes, sir.
Ironshards face twitched with excitement behind his suits plastic visor. Incredible, he said, softly. It was trying to form some kind of amalgam. But then his excitement turned to terror. Fuck. He turned to his men. Do you realize what this means?
Just tell us! Sylar snapped, his mouth full of food.
It knows were onto it! Ironshard replied. Shaking his head, he stepped away from the device.
Console. The word echoed in Alons mind.
Wait, what? one of the men in black asked.
Ironshard gestured with his arms. The fungus was trying to stop us! He glanced at his men.
But you said this would be a fools errand, the other man in black replied.
Ill admit it, the scientist answered, I was wrong about that. Dammit, he cursed, adding with a hiss, shit, now Im really scared.
You need to keep going, Private Sylar said. If what you say is true, you must be on the right track.
Nodding, Ironshard turned to his men. Release Subjects B and C.
Both of them?
Lieutenant Ironshard? Sylar said.
Hed finished his meal.
What is it? Ironshard snapped.
I need to eat more. There was a distant look in Sylars eye. He kept glancing t the chunks of flesh on the floor. I cant just leave them here, he said, stammering. His eyes widened. This is wrong. Youre wasting them!
Ironshard grimaced. What?
I I dont know, the Private replied. I the words just came to me. He shook his head in confusion. I dont want to leave this freaking stuff on the floor. Its not safe.
Ironshard stomped his foot on the floor. Step away from the remains, Private. Now. Thats an order!
I thought you didnt think I was a soldier anymore, Sylar said.
It doesnt matter one way or the other, Ironshard said. He tilted his head toward one of the men in black. If you disobey a direct order, I can have them blow your brains out. Either way, I get what I want.
Scowling, Sylar begrudgingly stepped away from the kibbles on the floor. He wiped his mouth on his forearm, hungrily sucking up the residue.
One of the men in black tapped a console screen. Then, somewhere out of sight, another door swung open.
Alon could hear feet shuffling across the floor.
Moments later, two more zombies entered the room, just as gruesome and rotten as the first.
One of them stared Alon in the eyes.
Get away from me! he thought. No! No!!
But then subjects B and C turned away, beelin for Dr. Ironshard and his men.
They crashed into the transparent wall.
On the metal beds leaning against the wall, the trapped patients writhed and screamed.
Alon cried. He felt like a child lost in the dark.
He was going to die soon.
Break the Tablets! Ironshard shouted. He pointed at the console screen. Look at that!
The men in black stepped up behind him.
All the while, the two zombies kept clawing at the wall. Their rotting fingertips frayed against the plastic.
There, the scientist said, in the frontal cortex, and the cerebellum. Theres aberrant neural activity! This is the fungus fingerprint.
Wait a minute, one of the men in black said. He stepped up close, only to pull back in alarm. Beasts teeth, look, its
Shit, Ironshard said, youre right. Its fading. He made the sign. Something is damping the signal. He looked over his shoulder. Were recording this, right?
Yes, sir.
The scientist huffed in relief. Good, good. As long as weve got a recording of it, we can try to isolate it later. With this alone, we could potentially detect when and where the infected are at risk of going feral.
Suddenly, the girl on the table in the middle of the room stirred. Her body flexed against the metal restraints as it was rocked by a violent coughing fit. Then, out of nowhere, a gust of wind roared through the room, rolling the tables across the floor. The wind caught Alon''s fever sweat, chilling him to the bone. Droplets of blood and ooze kicked off the floor, whipping into a thin whirlwind that swirled around the girl.
Alon trembled as he stared.
One of the men in black rush over to his wall-mounted console. Sir, he yelled, its the girl! Shes
Subject B and C ceased pounding against the plastic barrier and turned toward the girl.
Ironshard slammed his hand on the console. Stop them, Private! he bellowed. Dont let them touch her!
Private Sylar spread his arms as he moved forward to intercept the two zombies.
Restrain them! Dr. Ironshard yelled. Restrain them if you can!
Sticking his arms forwardpalms facing outthe Private squeezed his hands into fists. Alon saw dark veins bulge at the sides of his head.
The two zombies lifted off the ground until they hovered several inches over the floor. They thrashed and snarled, knocking a few tables out of the way.
Move them into the other room, Ironshard ordered. Ill close the door, and then you can, uh let go.
Nodding, Sylar walked toward the open doorway. The zombies moved along with him, floating by his side. Each of the Privates steps was shakier than the last.
The strain was eating away at him.
Drool trickled down his chin, landing on his gown and the floor in droplets that quickly began to sizzle.
Then, when he was about three-quarters of the way there, Sylar let out a groan and fell to one knee. He kept one arm up, but it trembled, as did the zombies.
One of the men in black yelled. Sir!
Alon looked up.
Oh god. Oh god
The zombies movements changed. They stopped thrashing. Instead, they moved with purpose, each lifting a single arm.
No! Ironshard yelled.
The zombies reached out to one another, as if to grasp each others hands.Their hands flexed wildly, like hungry mouths. Open, shut; open, shut. They swung and stretched.
Stop them, Private! Ironshard yelled.
Sylar yelled through clenched teeth. I cant! I
The zombies reached again. Their fingers nearly touched.
Move them apart! Move them apart!
Groaning, Sylar pushed up off the floor and called on his power. A wave of force rippled out of him, knocking back the wheeled tables.
The two zombies floated away from one another. This caused their bodies to tilt outward, which was enough for them to make contact, gnarled foot on rotting leg.
There was a violent snap as the flesh fused at the point of contact. Sylar kept on pulling the zombies away from one another, but their bodies were just changing too quickly. Mass flowed out of their torsos and into their legs as their merging body stretched into a lengthy spindle that grew thick in the middle. Their other limbs snapped and elongated as they shifted onto the central mass.
Spikes of bone sprouted from the things many limbs.
Kill it! Ironshard screamed. Kill it now!
Bending down, Sylar threw his arms onto the floor, his power ripping the developing abomination in half.
Split them again! Ironshard yelled. Again!
But this time, the Private did not comply. His body twitched, his will interrupted.
Private!? Ironshard yelled.
But Sylar could no longer hear him. Instead, the changing man lunged at where the flesh spindle had fallen onto the floor, and dug into both halves.
Alon thought he saw silver flash in the Privates eyes.
Everyone screamed.
The Privates bones snapped and popped as the abominations flesh flowed into him. His spine grew out in both directions, forward and back, stretching his body long. Clothes tore. Arms bulged. His skin peeled away as his head blossomed like a flower.
Shoot him! Ironshard yelled.
The men in black opened fire, punching holes in the transparent wall with their bullets.
The pain burning in Alons chest burned a little hotter. Glancing down, he saw dark blood pouring down his chest.
His blood, fresh from a bullet wound.
The creature Sylar was becoming turned around, absorbing the bullets into his changing face. He let out an inhuman roar.
golden eye had turned silver.
Sylar lashed out with a growing arm, launching three blades of pure vacuum with a crack that matched his changing limbs. The blades sliced through the plastic barrier as if it was paper. Ironshard and the soldiers bodies exploded as the vacuum filleted them, painting the blades with falling blood. Many of tables leaning against the walls were knocked over, including Alons.
The edges of Alons vision started to darken.
The creature let out a roar.
The last thing Alon Lokanok saw were severed chunks of flesh on the floor beginning to move of their own accord once more, and then there was quiet and Alon was no more.
97.3 - Hinter den dunklen Fichten!
What is it? I asked.
Ani looked away.
Ani, please, tell me.
She looked me in the eyes. Im sorry, Genneth. She shook her head. Its not my place to tell it.
Suddenly, Andalon looked up at me, her eyes wide with panic. Mr. Genneth! she yelled.An invisible wind whipped at her pale nightgowns hem.
Whats wrong?, I thought-asked.
Something awful is happening! Theyre hurting a wyrmeh! Theyre, she blubbered, theyre
Where? I asked.
She pointed at a seemingly random wall. A quick check of my mental map of WeElMed told me she was probably pointing toward the central courtyard.
Ani must have noticed my concern, because she turned to me and asked, Genneth, whats wrong.
I I stammered. Fortunately our consoles buzzed at once.
Ani and I pulled our PortaCons out of our hazmat suits belly pockets.
The message waiting for me was not a good one.
Theres gunfire out in the central courtyard!
Ani gasped. Genneth She looked at me. Get my parents the mycophage ASAP, she said. Ill deal with this bullshit.
She ran off down the hall.
Mr. Genneth! Andalon yelled, insistent.
This cant wait, can it? I asked.
No! Andalon yelled.
Fricassee me! I thought.
I hopped to it, running down the hall as fast as my atrophying legs could carry me. I turned down the hall, taking a quicker, crazier route than Ani had taken, bypassing beds and death and Wards A, B, and C as I ran down the main corridor, into the Hall of Echoes, and out onto the street.
If I passed Ani on the way, I see her.
It was evening now, the sun having set behind Crusader Hills storied curves. The militarys black metal fortifications had grown substantially from what Id seen earlier that morning. All of the watchtowers were up and running, spotlights and all, most of which were trained on the General Labs building, to the left of the Central Wing. People of all stripes had gathered along the cordons in the street and in the Garden Court, though most of them looked to be healthcare workers.
I wish I could have said they stood unopposed. Unfortunately, they were facing off with soldiers wielding riot gear: transparent shields to keep the crowds at bay, and softly electrical clubs for when the shields werent enough.
Where, Andalon? I thought-asked.
The blue-haired spirit floated forward and up, and then turned around and looked down at me.
There! she said, pointing through the heart of the crowd, toward GL.
Importantly, Andalon wasnt pointing straight ahead at the big, ornate old building on the left side of the Garden Court Drive.
She was pointing down.
Fudge, I muttered.
Just in case it wasnt already painfully obvious, I had a really bad feeling about this.
Down meant basement. And basement meant well, too many things.
At the risk of judging a book by its cover, it was hard not to worry that Vernon and his men had something to do with this.
Though WeElMeds basementsparticularly the first levelconnected nearly all of its buildings together, the underground extensions were deepest in two places: beneath the Central Wing, and beneath GLthe General Labs building. GLs basements spread out like rootsor fungal mycelium, as Brand or Mistelann might have saidlinking GL up all of the surrounding buildings basement-level labs. GL was to WeElMed what the liver was to the human body. It was the main hub for testing, analysis, and research, and it had more machines in it than it did people.
WeElMeds main laboratory was on GLs first basement level. The buildings above-ground floors were used for surgery and medical and biochemical research, as well as for classes for students of Elpeck Medical School.
Back in the Second Empire, GL was Elpeck Medical School, but then, in the middle of the First Republic, theyd gotten a fancy new campus of their own out by Marshdale, about a forty minute drive away from WeElMed (traffic pending).
Andalon floated down to me. Are they doin something there? she asked.
I sighed.
Well, I muttered, theres only one way to find out.
Scanning my cufflink-soldered chip over my PortaCon, I brought up my profile on the WeElMed app, complete with all the latest information about how I was the member of a Wards Crisis Management Team, and all the shiny privileges that came with it. Grabbing my console in both hands, I lifted it up with its screen facing forward as I charged across the old stone street and onto the Garden Court.
Mr. Genneth, that way! Andalon said, pointing down at the ground.
Instead of stepping onto the grass, I turned to the left and went down the stairs that sunk below the gardens low-lying wall, heading toward the underground Undergreen Galleria. Of course, this took me right into a military checkpoint.
The stairs down to the Galleria werent direct, but opened up onto a spacious landing halfway down. At the moment, a handful of soldiers were standing there, atop a tiled floor that had been scuffed up almost beyond recognition.
They raised their weapons at me, but I thrusted my console in their faces.
Im medical, I said, let me through.
They nodded and stepped out of the way.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
I slung my console under my arm as I went down the remaining half-flight of stairs to the Galleria floor, sliding my fingers down the metal handrail.
Despite the urgency, I couldnt help but slow down and gawk as I stepped out into the Galleria Under the Green.
Heggys brother knew how to keep things ship-shape, thats for sure.
In barely twelve hours, Undergreen had undergone an astonishing transformation.
A week ago, before the world had ended, the Undergreen was high up on the list of Elpecks premiere commercial venues. The Undergreen was an ivory dream beneath the courtyards lush gardens, formed by two halves of a hexagonal, shop-lined corridor that wound around an open, central area. A lattice of stalwart, square, polished granite columns stood on the Gallerias white tiled floors. Shafts of fading daylight rained down through the skylights in the ceilingartful caps of glass and steel that rose up like gazebos among the gardens verdure. The design guaranteed a constant flow of air and light through the space all day long. Even now, with night approaching, I could feel the air as it pressed against my hazmat suit.
A week ago, the Undergreens central area would have been filled with people talking as they sat at its tables, munching on something from one of the Gallerias shops, or from one of the glass-walled kiosks around the humble fountain, among the pillars. Now, all of it was gone. Most of the tables had been ripped out of the ground, and the kiosks were being used as operation centers or meeting rooms. The two halves of the hexagons shopping corridors had been sealed off, to be used as barracks and munitions depots.
Mr. Genneth! Andalon shouted.
I know, I muttered.
I wasnt blind.
Turning to the left, I passed beyond the left-hand half-hexagon, approaching the long glass wall that separated the Undergreen from the first level of WeElMeds celebrated main parking garage. Through the glass, I saw crowds of people pushing against the guards stationed at entrances to Central Wing and GLs first basement levels, as well as the mouths of the staircases leading to GLs main entrance. As I walked up to the double doors in the middle of the glass, I got a near-panoramic view of the garages first floor.
Flibbertigibbet, I muttered.
Tanks and troop transports sat in the garage and its driveways, in stark relief against the mosaic seascapes on the columns, floors, and walls.
I opened the doors and stepped through. The parking garages air was as dank and stale air as ever, though it now boasted hints of burning metal. I heard sparks and soldering.
What are they doing? Andalon asked.
Maybe some kind of repairs?, I wondered.
Andalon followed alongside me as I walked up behind a column, which I gripped, hiddn from sight in the shadow of an orange mosaic octopus.
Shit! someone yelled.
The scream came from behind methrough the open glass doors.
Dont shoot! yelled another. Dont shoot! Just keep them away from the Undergreen.
I turned around and looked.
And then gulped.
The dam had burst. The guards manning the stairs had been overwhelmed.
People streamed down the stairs, flooding the Galleria with their coughs, yells, and footsteps. Soldiers started corralling the crowd as the tide of onlookers moved toward the open doors in the middle of the glass wall.
Regroup! someone said.
I recognized that voice.
Looking ahead, past the column, I saw Heggys brother. He stood at the other side of the garage, in front of the entrance to GLs main basement lab. He was still wearing his black hazmat suit.
To me! he called. His voice boomed off the garages walls.
His suit must have come with a built-in megaphone.
He wasnt alone, though. He was flanked by what could only be several elite soldiers. Their armor was sleek and whitehelmets roundwith dark parts on the undersides of their arms and legs and a black, chevron shaped visor covering their faces.
Their slender, white guns were unlike anything Id ever seen.
Mr. Genneth! Andalon said, nervously.
In seconds, I found myself trapped between two walls, one in front of me, the other behind. Behind, a crowd of angry, terrified civilianspatients and healthcare workers alike. In front, a line of soldiers with riot shields upheld, marching to meet them. The tension was almost unbearable.
The crowd shouted.
Whats going on?!
I heard shooting!
I saw wounded men!
Why were you holding us back?!
Spying a narrow, unoccupiedand very uncomfortable-lookinggap between a structural pillar and a parked car, I darted forward and ducked into it, hiding behind the car in the likely event someone decided to start shooting.
Mr. Genneth, Andalon said, use your wyrmy sees!
Good idea, I thought.
I thickened my wyrmsight, but only on the part of my field of vision where I had a clear view of the entrance to GLs basement lab, making sure to avoid thickened wyrmsight where the crowd happened to be.
Or, for that matter, where the soldiers happened to be.
I knew what Id see if Id thickened it there, and I had no interest in seeing any of it.
It would only make me more upset.
As my wyrmsight thickened, I could make out the fungus riotous, multicolored aura filling GLs rooms immediately adjacent to the garage.
Andalon floated up beside me. What about the wyrmeh? she asked, full of worry.
I focused.
There, I whispered. I see it.
I detected the tell-tale violet, ultramarine runic circuitry of a transformee, though the signals were rather faint. Whether that was because the walls were thick enough to interfere with my wyrmsight, or it was because I was seeing something located in a room that wasnt immediately adjacent to the garage, I didnt know.
Andalon rose up over the cars in front of me, and pointed. Mr. Genneth, look!
A steady trickle of nebulous, phantom forms was wafting out through the walls.
Spirits, I muttered.
The spirits were moving up and out, rising into the ceiling as they crossed the garage.
I got it, Andalon said. I got it.
Wait, I stammered, wha
But Andalon floated up and away, toward the spirits, who she approached and touched, one by one. She touched them all, swooping and banking about. Sometimes it was with a tap of her fingertips, other times, she simply flew through them whileen route to another. Copies of the spirits peeled off their spectral forms when she touched them. The copies rushed toward me, like moths to a flame, soundlessly disappearing into my body. Every contact made me ripple with gentle lightheadednessthe feeling of these souls being uploaded into me.
And then someone climbed onto the roof of a parked car and yelled.
Quiet!
It was General Marteneiss.
Silence rippled through the crowd.
You want an explanation? he said. Im more than happy to give one.
He stood up tall. Under my supervision, and the supervision of my most trusted scientific advisors, we are conductin research to try and understand but then his voice petered out. You know what, he said, to heck with formality! He shook his head. It wont matter once Im dead.
Confusion rippled through the crowd.
Vernon coughed softly, which everyone heard, thanks to his fancy, armored hazmat suits built-in megaphone. He cleared his throat.
You see those doors, folks?
He pointed at the doors into GLs basement.
Well were experimenting on zombies in there.
Gasps and yelps echoed through the garage. Even some of the soldiers with the riot shields looked up at their commanding officer in shock.
Any sounds of combat you might hear are our brave men and women in uniform doin what needs to be done to keep these experiments goin. Pausing, the General looked down in dejection. An experiment went wrong, and, unfortunately we just lost Dr. Albert Ironshard and two very brave men. Forgive me for not givin a eulogy; there are too many that I need to give, and I start, I dont think Im gonna be able to stop. He sniffled.
He was crying.
Holy Angel
The crowds anger transformed into grief.
Im gonna be level with you, Vernon continued. High Command has given me an ultimatum. Either we figure out why WeElMed isnt overrun with zombies and use that secret to save whats left of the world, or this city and everyone and everything in it is going to be nuked until even the atoms are blown to smithereens. These experiments of ours have already killed people, and theyll doubtless kill more before were through, but theyre our only hope.
The crowd was so quiet, we could hear the sounds of Vernon smacking his lips.
So, he said, would yall kindly stay away from these labs?
I walked out from behind the car. Many eyes looked t me.
How will we know if somethings gone wrong? I asked.
I was willing to trust Vernon Marteneiss for the simple reason that Heggy trusted him. As far as I was concerned, anyone Dr. Marteneiss trusted was someone worth trusting. But, I did not trust the system from which hed come.
In response to my question, the General nodded and then pressed his fingers onto the console built into the forearm of his hazmat suit. Show them the alarm, Jerry, he muttered. Three seconds.
The air filled with shriek. Turning around to face the source of the sound, I saw flashes of red light pouring down through the Undergreens skylights.
Three seconds later, the sound ceased.
Weve set up an alarm system, Vernon explained. If yall hear that sound, or see the lights on the watchtowers flashin red, then yall have my permission to freak the fuck out. But, for your sake and ours, just stay out of our way. He looked over the crowd, and then over his own men.
Dis-missed! he said, in a loud, clear voice.
The crowd quickly dispersed.
I turned off my wyrmsight as I entered the Central Wing from its garage entrance.
General Marteneiss wasnt giving us the full story. There was a transformee in GLs main lab, and Vernon hadnt said a word about it. If the good General was anything like his sister, he wouldnt lie. But unfortunately, the truth and the whole truth were two very different propositions.
Thankfully, I wouldnt need to take the General at his word. Whatever had happened in that lab, I was going to hear about it straight from the (spirit) horses mouth.
98.1 - Ein kalter Wind beugt ihre Stengel nieder
DAY 8
So, about the horses mouth it turned out, as of this, the morning of the seventh day after Merritt asked me to kill her, the horses mouth wasnt really having the best day. This was understandable. Honestly, most people werent having the best day.
I wonder why?
I would have said wed all had a rough night, but that would have hardly done it justice.
First off, there were the deaths. People fell down in waves. Dozens, maybe even tens of dozens of Type One cases would go into seizures in unison, or simply drop dead where they stood.
I couldnt begin to imagine how awful it would have been elsewhere in the world.
Second, both among the public and among us healthcare workers, the people who had yet to die were causing plenty of trouble of their own. There were multiple instances of near-riots, and the causes were manifold. Sometimes it was fear or anger at the military doing experiments on zombies right under our feet. Other times it was rumors about monsters and powers. News about Nina having apparently boiled a man alive was somehow spreading, despite our best efforts to curtail it. Prayer circles formed throughout the hospital, in spite of social distancing protocols. When Id made my midnight visit to the Self-Help Group for some rations, Id passed a ring of corpses sprawled out in the hall in a demented fairy ring.
Much to my horror, the SHG chose to add those corpses to their rations.
I, obviously, refused to eat that sort of meat.
But where was I?
Ah yes: the general awfulness of everything and anything.
If were talking about corpses, I need to mention the horror-fest that our body disposal system had become. The system was as simple as could be: take bodies, put bodies into dump truck, drive dump truck to big hole in ground, empty dump trucks contents into hole.
But even that was falling apart.
Due to roving zombies, wyrms, fungal abominations, and who knows what else, wed settled for driving the dump trucks down Merchant Boulevard and emptying their contents into the river. This was a safe drive, and a short one. The shortness was important, because it meant that when the driver keeled over and died, someone else could easily walk up to the truck, chuck the body in the back, and start driving it themselves.
Now, as for me, Id set up shop inside my mind-offices, expecting ghosts from GL to arrive at any moment.
But they hadnt.
By the time morning hit, Id gone through several dozens of souls, none of whichexcept a nurse from our rankshad ever even heard of WeElMeds General Labs building.
I guess I would be going through my backlog of souls bottom-up.
It was around the time my body felt the need to feed that I couldnt take it any more, popped out of my mind-office, and entered my Main Menu, hellbent on getting to the bottom of the lab ghost no-show.
Andalon, I said, glancing down at her, where are the ghosts? I asked. The ones you picked up for me in the garage, I mean.
Andalon looked up from where she sat on the ground. Maybe theyre comin soon? She immediately returned to playing with Mr. Humby.
She really liked the big hummingbird plush.
Tweefee twee, fee fee twee, she muttered, in a sing-song voice.
I sighed.
At the moment, I sat in a chair floating near the swarm of soul crystals at my Main Menus heart. The chair was minimalisticjust a chrome exteriorbut it had very comfortable upholstery. I could move the chair around with just a thought, which was very convenient.
Not gonna lie, though: it kind of made me feel like a supervillain.
Well, at least I wasnt making the finger pyramid of evil contemplation.
The swarms crystals slowly gyrated before my eyes. More and more of the crystals had lit up since I was last here, casting a soft, golden light on the wet, reflective floorthe sign of new souls having taken up residence within me. The crystals would grow in size if I focused on them, and started emitting the sights and sounds of the memories of the soul housed within. Some of the crystals floated all on their own, while others had clustered together, like ice in snowflakes; those were souls of families and friends who had chosen to share their afterlives with one another.
Staring at them, I noticed many of the crystals were only partially full, with the light inside them sloshing around as it slowly filled them up.
Andalon, I asked, pointing at one of them, what are but then my voice trailed off as I answered my own question.
Somehow, just by looking at the crystals, I instinctively understood what I was seeing.
The partially filled crystals were my in-progress uploads.
And not only that, I could sense, at a glance, where Id picked up the soul being uploaded into a given crystal.
As I watched, I noticed that some of the crystals were filling up much more slowly than the others.
I asked Andalon about that.
You gotta get closer to them, Mr. Genneth, she said. Its, uh its like wee-fee.
Wee-fee? I asked.
Standing up, Andalon slowly turned her arms in tight circles while making a vibrating, pulsing sort of noise.
I furrowed my brow. Wait, do you mean Wi-Fi? I asked.
She nodded excitedly. Yeah, yeah, that!
She didnt know what eyes were, but she knew what Wi-Fi was?
Go figure.
Well, I said, if it works like Wi-Fi, then hmm I put my hand at my lightly bearded chin. Are you trying to say the uploading goes faster the closer I am to the source? The body?
Yeah! she said.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.
That was useful to know.
Groaning, I pressed my hand to my forehead. Darn it, I muttered, that means its going to be slow going as long as Im not in or near the General Labs building.
I felt kind of like I was waiting for an app to finish downloading or updating on my console, only the fate of the world was possibly at stake.
Even though Id been feeling much better about my ghost management, those good feelings didnt amount to much when I knew that Vernon was one call away from dropping atomic bombs on WeElMed and the rest of Elpeck.
Andalon, I need to hear from the lab ghosts, I said. I have to know what Vernons people are doing in General Labs!
They have a wyrmeh! she said.
Yeah, I need to know that too!
From what Id seen, the situation developing in GLs basement had all the hallmarks of a ticking time bomb.
I shook my head.
There was no way in heck I was going to sit back and let that timer run out. It would be like Kreston and Joe-Bob all over again, only a thousand times worse.
I needed to stop problems before they exploded in my face, not after or during.
Maybe enoughs been uploaded that I can work with what Ive got, I muttered.
Bidding my floating chair to get close to the swarm, I reached out and flicked my hand across the swarms edge, which caused the collection of crystals to rotate in place. I made a gripping gesture with my hands as the crystals for the incoming lab ghosts passed in front of me, stopping the swarms rotation.
Much to my dismay, their crystals were mostly empty.
Those look very not-full, Mr. Genneth, Andalon said.
Im gonna try anyway.
Closing my eyes, I focused on the crystals, trying my best to summon any memories that might be housed within them. Anything would be helpful.
But nothing happened.
Opening my eyes, I lowered the chair, and turned it to face Andalon.
Why cant I access them? I asked.
Wait, wait, Andalon said, Andalon knows this one For a moment, she was lost in a vacant-eyed stare. Error uh 404.
I thumped one of my elbows on the armrest and then ran my fingers through my hair. Gosh darn it!
I looked Andalon in the eyes. Is there another way to do this? I asked. Like a backdoor, or something, a way to tap into the minds while theyre being uploaded?
Andalon shook her head. No.
But you get memories that people have forgotten. Neurophysiologically, I shouldnt be able to remember every single detail of my lifelet alone of my ghosts livesbecause that information no longer exists in the brain, but I can.
Thas different, she said. Peoples thinks are already in them, theyre just super duper hard to find. She shook her head. But you cant find what isnt there. Nuh-uh.
Blowing out air like a whale, I spun my seat around, shrinking the swarm of soul crystals with an inward wave of my arms. The swarm rose up as it shrunk, and the lattice of crystal cubes beneath itthe worlds Id made, or could makegrew in prominence. Unlike the soul crystal swarm, which was lit up like a Harrow Stone at Shrovetide, the lattice of cubes was mostly dim and meager, filled with small worlds, like my mind-offices, or the settings Id made for the SHGs tutorial demonstrations.
I focused on the one world that was neither dim nor meager.
Lantor.
The cube-crystal housing my least unsuccessful mind-world swelled in size, pushing away the other cubes and crystals until it alone hovered in my Main Menus air. The cubes orange faces became translucent as it grew past Andalon and I, eventually disappearing altogether, leaving the two of us standing in a dark void. In front of us floated a glowing, twinkling cloud of orange dustan abstract representation of my creation.
What the fudge? I muttered.
Leaning forward, I willed the dust cloud to come closer and get bigger, to give me a better view.
The cloud had grown since Id last used it, and substantially, too.
Gregs procedural generator was just supposed to fill in the parts I couldnt make up my mind over, I said, turning to Andalon. But this is a heck of a lot more than just that. What happened?
Uh, Mr. Genneth
Andalon stepped up beside me.
What is it? I asked.
Andalon pointed at the Lantor-cloud, her blue eyes going wide. Theres somethin there.
What do you mean, something?
Andalon shook her head. Theres some kinda ghost there. Its different. Its so quiet. So far away, but its also close. Too close. Her hair and eyes briefly glowed bright. Her head trembled. Fighting, fighting, fighting!
She ended in a yell, only for her lights to go out. She collapsed in a fit of wooziness, though I managed to catch her after going down on one knee.
Andalon! I cried. Whats wrong?
Tears trickled down her pale cheeks. Mr. Genneth, I dont like it, she said, vehemently shaking her head. Andalon does not like it. She pushed me back and floated out of my embrace. Make it go away, she said, with a fretful spin. Make it go
Andalon, please, calm down.
As more and more memories had returned to hertransferred into us from her greater selfmoments like these where she glowed and freaked out had become increasingly nerve-wracking for me. When each revelation was bigger and more profound than the last, it was hard not to get worried when I could feel one coming over the horizon.
And, boy, could I feel this one.
I felt like I was at the edge of a vast abyss, one that was all the deeper because I couldnt witness it for myself. No, I could only interface with it through Andalons experiences, her terror and her dismay.
Take a deep breath, I said.
She did. Clenching her fists, she floated toward the ground, toward me, breathing deep and slow.
Good, good, I said. Now, Andalon, I need you to think. Glancing over my shoulder, I pointed my thumb at the Lantor cloud. Why dont you like it? Think about why. No matter how powerful they might seem, feelings are always grounded in our minds. They never occur without reason, I rolled my eyes, even if we cant remember it.
I Andalon pursed her lips. It hurt me.
What?
I told you before, she said, nodding fearfully.
I remember, I said, nodding back.
How could I forget?
My thoughts began to race.
The same night I first met Greg and the others, Andalon and I had established that something had attacked her, and recently, too. That was why shed been bruised and injured in the dream in which shed first appeared to me. Andalon had made it clear that she was petrified her assailants might have followed her or would strike againthough, she wasnt able to give any details beyond that.
At least, not yet.
I figured I might as well assume the worst case scenario.
Is whats happening to Lantor related to the bad guys that hurt you? I asked.
Yeah, Andalon said, nodding, and crying freely. Yeah.
Turning around, I stared at the Lantor cloud.
What I shuddered, a shiver running down my spine. What does this mean? I asked.
Theyre followin me, Mr. Genneth. She stammered. I I
Fudge, I muttered.
Rising to my feet, I walked up to the Lantor cloud.
What you are doin, Mr. Genneth?
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw shed walked up behind me.
What about the sparey-mint ghosts? she asked.
I looked back at her. If this really is the same thing that attacked you, if its found you again, its going to want to try to hurt you again, isnt it?
She nodded.
Going down onto my knees once more, I put my hands on Andalons shoulders and stared her in the eyes. I promise you Andalon, Im not going to sit back and let it hurt you, I said. Were making a difference here. Im not going to let some eldritch abomination jeopardize that, I smiled sadly, especially when a child is getting hurt in the process.
Yes, I knew Andalon wasnt a childshe just looked like oneand, for that matter, thought and acted like one, toobut that didnt change how I felt. Just as Andalon was afraid of Lantor because of her fear of the beings that had hurt her, the pain I felt in having lost Rale meant there was no way I could stand by the wayside when a child was in danger.
For the time being, I said, I guess the militarys experiments will have to wait.
Closing my eyes, I focused on the doppelgenneth currently running my physical body. There was a brief wave of dizziness as I recoupled with him and brought our minds up to speed.
Got it, he thought-said. Ill try to get close to GL. Hopefully, that will speed up the spirit uploads.
Good luck.
Thanks, I thought.
I decoupled my consciousness from his.
Its time to get to work, I muttered.
I didnt know what I was going to find. A new enemy to fight? Probably. But, perhaps also answers.
I kept my eyes on Andalon as I lifted my arms from her shoulders and stood up. Andalon, I need you to come with me.
She clasped her hands in front of her chest. Im scared.
I know you are, I said. Reaching out, I gently grabbed her by the hand. But Ill be here. And I promise Ill protect you.
Shakily she nodded her head.
Turning around, I reached for the Lantor cloud, willing myself to appear at the source of the incursion.
Everything dissolved into light.
98.2 - Ein kalter Wind beugt ihre Stengel nieder
So, confession time: Id made a character.
A player avatar.
If there was a silver lining in the frustrations Id faced in designing the pangol race, it was that that whole debacle had given me enough to create a character for myself. Greg was very vocal that his ultimate plan for his wyrmware was to develop it to the point that it could function as wyrm-based freeware that could be distributed to other transformees, and thereby realize humanitys dream of making a VRMMORPG (Virtual Reality Massively Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Game). It was escapism at its finest, and outrageously ambitious, to boot, and Id be lying if I said I wasnt interested.
The wyrmware Greg had given me came with a beta release of his software, the descendant of the voxel prototype Id helped him with.
So, yeah I was going to play as a half-pangol character. My doppelgenneths had spent all day having fun at developing him and leveling him up while I was busy manning my body, tending to the plague, and theyd exploited the flexibility of the Thin World-Thick World time differential to its fullest. Throughout the day, Id been recoupling with every now and then, to briefly bask in the glee of getting to do something fun for once. Yes, my indecisiveness caused a couple of rough patches, but the possibilities were well enough constrained that the overall experience averaged out to be enjoyable.
Wed settled on a Cleric build. It was a nice mix of cool powers with moral responsibilities, not to mention it came with the in-universe guarantee that my characters deity was always watching over him.
In entering Lantor to ascertainand, if necessary, confrontAndalons tormentors, I was stepping into a world that had grown with the fruits of several weeks worth of world-building, both willful and procedural. More than that, though, it was going to be my first time stepping into the shoes of my half-pangol alter ego.
It would not be an understatement to say that I didnt know what to expect, and I couldnt help but worry that I was stepping into a disaster.
Then, I felt myself materialize. First came weight and sensation, and then the rush of cool air as I took in my first breath.
I opened my eyes, I gasped. My surprise condensed in the wintry air. A cold wind ran through the pangolin scales and the scaled parts of my half-pangol body, making me shiver. Fortunately, I was still effectively Lantors god, so I wished up a fix for the cold, though, for immersions sake, it kept the fix small.
A long, dark, baroque appeared on me, atop my enchanted, boiled-leather armor.
Historically, leather armor like this was never really a thing, but it was in games, so it would be in Lantor, too.
Would you believe it was a desert?
In most peoples minds, badlands and deserts are dry places where heat shrivels up and dies on naked earth, beneath a scorched sun. It wasnt that there was no water, rather, the water was often hard to find, and the land wasnt very good at keeping water safe and cozy at the surface. But there was water there, all the same, and where there was water, there could be snow, and when that happened, winters hand would sculpt the badlands into dreamscapes.
I stood above a grand canyon. A river ran far below, deeply set in the rocky ground. Up atop the flanking hills and cliffs, sandstone pointed its striated fingers up at the sky, like the Pillars of Haim in miniature. Dusk was approaching. The sun was a jewel. Its light toyed with the fairy chimneys and the slot canyons that loomed over the gravelly riverbed.
And all of it was dusted with snow.
A wind whipped over the scene, scattering snowflakes and petrichor.
And to think, it was all procedurally generated!
I buttoned up my overcoat, a surprisingly fresh experience, considering the short pangol claws on my fingertips.
Though there was a river down below, I didnt need a reflection to know what I looked like. I was pretty much my human self, just a half-pangol version: scales, claw, and tail added, and with most of my facial hair replaced by patches of little pangolin scales.
My overcoat included an extension that draped over the first foot or so of my tail. My tail was on the thick sidewhich is what you get when you base your fantasy race off ground pangolins rather than tree pangolinsbut it was still flexible enough to be useful. Like my overcoat, my trousers were tail-friendly, and warm and comfortable beneath the overlaid solid metal greaves. The boots I was wearing were a little big on me, but that was to make room for my toe claws. My doppelgenneths hadnt been able to settle on a weapon, so theyd randomized it, and that was why I had a crossbow on my back.
Andalon stepped up beside me, crunching the snow beneath her bare feet. Her nightgown blew about in the wind, as did her hair, which she pushed out of the way with one hand as she pointed at the large, prominent, \pointing-worthy structure that spanned a nearby section of the canyon.
Whats that? she asked.
Its a Precursor structure, I answer.
Though the great (and still-ongoing) Lantorian Indecision War of 2020 had claimed many victims, there was one idea that I had been happily able to settle on, and that was the backstoryor, well, a key part of it.
My idea? Lantor was a world long past its prime.
Long agolong, long agoLantor was home to the mighty Precursors. Who or what were the Precursors? No one knew. They were gone now.
Had they died? Had they left? Had Lantor been their birthplace, or was it just a stop on some grand, unfathomable journey?
No one knew.
Actually, I would have preferred there to be a canonical answer, but I didnt have one, andyou guessed itthat was because I couldnt make up my mind about it.
Thankfully, thats what the no one knew option was for: a trapdoor to flee through when the creator was too frazzled or lazy to come up with an explanation of their own.
We only had what theyd left behind.
Here, in this place of snow and wind-shaped rock, the Precursor structure that had captured Andalons attention was a bridge of sorts, which spanned the canyon, high above the river below. It was assembled from diamond-shaped unitslarge, tall, and slender diamondmade from an iridescent, metal-like substance whose edges glowed with a soft turquoise light. At its far side, the bridge rose up in a tower that looked like a sheaf of icicles superimposed on top of one another. Giant shards of some related material protruded from the canyons walls near the bridge. Beneath their shimmering surfaces, you could see something like circuitry.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Whats it for? Andalon asked.
Nobody knows, I said, with more than a bit of dramatic flair. But it looks awesome, doesnt it?
She nodded.
Gregs software had procedurally generated it from some suggestions Id given. I had to admit, it was far better than anything I would have been able to come up with on my own.
Mr. Genneth Andalon said, looking up at me with nervous eyes.
I inhaled sharply. Dont worry, I havent forgotten.
We werent here to sightsee. Andalons assailants had made landfall somewhere in this canyon, and I needed to find it.
Mr. Genneth? Andalon said, again. This time, her tone was more perplexed than fearful.
She tugged at my tail.
And then I heard a voice I wasnt expecting.
Dr. Howle? it said.
I turned around.
K-Kreston? I said, shocked. What are you doing here?
Young Kreston Palmwitch stood behind me, in the same turquoise tunic hed been wearing when wed last seen one anotherthe disastrous luncheon where Joe-Bob OHouhlighan had been corrupted and turned into a demon.
The boy stared at me for a bit, confused by my half-pangol-ness. But then I saw the recognition light up in his eyes. I could even hear his thoughts:
Oh, thats right. Everythings crazy now.
I smiled slightly at that.
The boy shook his head and then stared at his hands.
Whats the last thing you remember? I asked.
He looked up at me. We were in an examination room. I He looked himself over, twisting his arms and legs. I was a kitsune, he said, and my Mom
His expression tensed.
What happened to my mom? he asked.
I sighed. Its a long story. My scaly tailtip curled by my feet.
There was an awkward silence, made only more awkward when Andalon walked up to Kreston, smiled, waved her hand, and said, Hello, Kres-Kres, remember me?
Kreston did not reciprocate. He just stared. Then, sighing, he turned back to face me.
Why am I here? he asked.
Hmm I blinked. Wait I groaned.
What is it? Kreston asked.
Whats wrong? Andalon said.
I rubbed my claws together. I think this is my fault. I face-palmed. I had you and Joe-Bob on my mind when I accessed the soul crystals and entered Lantor.
Well why isnt Joe-Bob here, too? Kreston asked, quickly adding, Not that Ive got a problem with that.
Andalon sealed him away! Andalon said, with a big smile.
What? he asked.
I exhaled. Thats another long story.
Well, Kreston replied, Ive got plenty of time.
I pursed my lips. Unfortunately, I glanced at Andalon, I dont. But, I raised a claw, I know how to fix that.
I offered my hand. Grab my hand, and Ill shunt all the information directly into your brain, I said.
He stared at me for a moment, and then asked, Seriously?
I nodded. Yes.
Hesitantly, he reached out and grabbed my hand, and I willed him to know the most important parts of what I now knew. I made the painful decision to withhold sharing the events that involved his mother. I didnt want to have to bring that up now if I could avoid it, and I wouldnt want to foist that on a doppelgenneth either.
Id tell him later.
Kristens eyes blossomed on his face as he staggered back in shock.
Whoa whoa whoa! he yelled. This He closed his eyes and shook. This is nuts.
I smirked. You dont know the half of it.
Kreston looked over his surroundings. Is this place even real?
I shook my head. Thats a question for another day.
Suddenly, Krestons eyes went wide all over again.
Holy crap he muttered. There were tears in his eyes.
What is it? I asked.
He looked to the wind as he wiped the tears from his face.
My Mom he said.
I nodded and sighed. Yes. Shes like me. Shes turning into a wyrm.
Wyrmeh! Andalon said. She smiled, sticking her arms up in the air.
I shook my head. Thats not helping, Andalon.
Why couldnt my Mom see me? Kristen asked. If shes like you, shouldnt she be able to see me, too?
Yeah, yeah! Andalon said. Once Mr. Genneth gets wyrmleh enough, he can share ghosts. All wyrmehs can!
Wait, really? Kristen asked, only to stop, close his eyes, shake his head and then nod. No, shes right, you can. He looked at me. Once your voices change, they sound like music.
Yes, I said. Polyphony. The transformees in the Self-Help Group had changed enough that they could use wyrmsong to communicate and share data, if you will.
But you cant? Kreston said.
I shook my head. Not yet, anyhow. Im trying to stave off my changes as much as I can. I want to keep being useful; I still have a role to play as a man of medicine. Im not going to just throw in the towel. Not yet.
Mr. Genneth, you can already share ghosties; you do it by touching, like you did with Greggy.
Kreston looked me in the eyes. Id really like to see my Mom, Dr. Howle.
All I could do was lower my head in shame.
What is it? Kreston asked.
I cant? My words came out like a moan.
Krestons expression sharpened. His gaze soured. Why not?
My patients dont know that Im a transformee. My colleagues dont even know. Im afraid of what theyll do if they find out.
I cleared my throat, though that made the moment even more awkward.
Wait, you you havent told them? he asked.
I sighed.
Turning away, Kreston let his arms fall to his sides.
I didnt need to see his face to know he was disappointed in me. Maybe even disgusted.
Darn it!
I wanted to slap myself.
I walked up beside the boy. We stood together, overlooking the turbulent waters rushing down below.
I I bit my lip. Kreston, I promise Ill reunite you with your mother. I swear. Just I huffed. Please, just give me some time. I promise, Ill do it.
So, when you do? he said.
Yes.
Sighing, Kreston kicked at the snow-covered dirt, kicking up some pebbles. I mean, its not like theres anything I can do about it, he said. Youre god-modding in here. You hold all the cards.
No, I said, thats not true.
Yeah, yeah, he said, I know, youre protecting us from demons.
Speaking of which I said. Kreston, what Im doing here its probably going to get dangerous. I pursed my lip. I think it would be better if you went back into your crystal.
I dont have anything in my crystal, he said. You didnt set anything up for me.
Its alright, I said, I can have a doppelgenneth
No, Kreston said, shaking his head. I His expression lowered. What you did for me, he said, I owe you. And, he smirked, maybe itll guilt you into taking me to my Mom faster.
I I paused. Im starting to worry about you.
You should be worried about yourself, he said. You havent been doing very well with all this stuff, you know. He pointed at the Precursor bridge. Take this, for instance. Do you even know where these intruders might be? he asked.
At that, I looked around for a bit, but to little avail. The awe-inspiring surroundings only made it that much more difficult to figure out where to go. Worse, for a force capable of harming Andalon, I couldnt see or sense any indication of where the trouble had struck.
Im not picking up anything, I said.
Frowning at me, Kreston turned to Andalon. Do you know where the intruders are? he asked.
For a moment, Andalon tilted her head and stared at the landscape. Then, she floated up and pointed at a location on the other side of the canyon. Its that way, Mr. Genneth. Her words quivered.
I lowered my gaze to the ground. Why didnt I think of that? I muttered.
Thats why I need to be here, he said. You need help. You need a lot of help. You havent even been able to tell the truth to the people you work with!
I sighed. I My dismay turned into amusement. I smiled. Youre absolutely right about that. I do need help.
Kreston pointed where Andalon had. Can we fly over there?
I was planning on walking, I said.
In response, the boy narrowed his eyes at me. But you can do anything in here
I nodded. Fine, fine.
We set off with a jump. Well, I did; Andalon and Kreston rose off the ground and soared alongside me. Traveling forward, we flew away from the trail along the cliffside and began to cross the canyon. We moved at a decent pace, but not too quickly. I didnt want to rush, for fear of missing anything.
Also, when there was a chance there was an ambush lying in wait for you, the last thing youd want to do was to run into it, headfirst.
Could I maybe have wings, please? Kreston asked.
I nodded. Sure, it would be purely cosmetic, but, who was I to judge?
There was a sound of fabric ripping open as white, feathery wings sprouted from Krestons backside. The back of his shirt reformed to accommodate the new limbs as he started flapping them.
The crystalline Precursor bridge passed below us. We were about halfway across the thing when Andalon floated in front of me.
Mr. Genneth, Kres-Kres wait.
Hearing the warning, Kreston turned around to look. But he was too late.
One moment, he was right there, flying in front of us. The next, the air rippled around him and he disappeared. The ripples spread far, revealing that the land had been split down the middle by some kind of invisible giant curtain.
Kreston? I said.
The boy did not come out.
By then, the ripples had stilled.
98.3 - Ein kalter Wind beugt ihre Stengel nieder
What is this, Andalon? I asked.
She pointed at the barrier. Its right here, she said.
What is?
She looked me in the eyes. The bad guys.
Fudge, I muttered. What do we do?
I Andalon glanced down for a moment. I think you have to touch it.
You think?
Its very scary! she said, emphatic.
I floated up to the invisible wall and reached out to it, biting my lip as I touched it with one of the tips of my claws.
I expected ripplesbut I did not get them. Instead, cracks shot out from the point of contact. I wined at the awful noises as the cracks grew and spread. It was like the worlds biggest windshield was coming apart before my eyes.
What did I do wrong!? I yelled.
You connected! Andalon said. You connected!
Fearing the worst, I willed myself out of Lantor.
A window popped up in front of me.
| Error 404 - Command Authority Not Found |
What?! I yelled.
We werent going anywherebut the cracks were. They spread as far as the eye could see. The cracks leapt onto our surroundings, and then the invisible wall fractured into countless pieces and everything came tumbling down.
And then things glitched out.
Everywhere, all at once, all the colors ran wild. Parts of the landscape flickered in and out of being, a chunk a time. Featureless geometric objects appeared, clipping through the canyon walls and the Precursor ruins like they werent even there. Entire blocks of the sky lost touch with time. Some turned bright and sunny, others black as night.
And suddenly, I was falling.
Andalon screamed in terror.
I plummeted toward the middle of the Precursor bridge. The winds buffeted me, flailing my coat and tail as even as the landscape continued to glitch out all around me. I willed myself to fly, but nothing happened.
I yelled, screaming the command. I want to !
But nothing happened.
Mr. Genneth!
I looked up to see Andalon flying down at me, her hair and nightgown streaming in the wind. She reached out with her arm, desperate to grab me.
I reached for her hand, but the winds plucked both of us away.
I spun.
I tried everything I could think of. Wings. Rocket boots. Giant trampoline. Turn into a bird. Invert gravity.
None of it did anything.
, I thought.
Nope.
Down below, in the middle of the bridge rapidly hurtling toward me, I saw a small, winged figure struggling to his feet.
Kreston.
He still had his wings.
With the ground rushing toward me, I tried deleting his wings.
Nothing happened.
I splayed out my limbs as I fell belly-first.
Oh fudge.
I think Lantor had just become real.
I had maybe three seconds until I crashed.
But then the feeling of the wind through my pangol scales gave me an idea. It was a crazy idea, but when then the alternative was becoming a blot of flesh-putty splattered on the Precursor bridge, what other choice did I have.
Whats the one thing any cool beastfolk hero character has been able to do since basically the dawn of time?
.
And had I given my half-pangol Cleric-class hero character access to ?
You bet I had.
I could use the ability three times per day.
So, yeah, it was giant pangolin or bust.
I shouted in my mind: !
And then, I felt myself grow. Pressure crushed my head long and slender as my body beefed up and bulged, exploding in a mass of thick scales and myrmecophagous attitude.
There was a twitch at the base of my chest where my tongue anchored itself and grew impossibly dextrous and long. It was an incredibly strange sensation, but there wasnt time for that!
Bending forward, I tucked my head down and curled into an armored ball. The next thing I knew, a massive pressure dug into my back, only for me to bounce up off the ground like a schoolyard ball, spinning mid-air.
I tumbled and rolled.
Against the backdrop of my frantic heartbeats, I heard crystals shatter and metal groan.
I screamed.
I unrolled right as the ground underneath me began to give way.
Once more, I tumbled down, belly up. Above, I saw the hole in the side of the Precursor Bridge where my giant pangolin body had crashed through.
Kres-Kres?! Andalon screamed.
The boy was diving toward the river, riding the air with his wings. Chunks of broken bridge fell like boulders around him, and though one smacked him on the side, he managed to swerve away from them by gliding side to side.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Then I hit the water, back first. I bobbed in the rapid current like a bottle on the sea. Flailing my limbs, I managed to flip myself over, sinking my furry underbelly into the current. Fortunately, I had tail power on my side.
While arboreal pangolins had slender, prehensile tails, the ground pangolin species Id used as the model for the pangol had thick tails. This made them excellent swimmersespecially if the pangolin was car-sized, as I currently was.
Lifting my snout above the water, I flicked my powerful tail for a burst of thrust, scrabbling with my feet and my front claws in a giant dog-paddle stroke.
I aimed for the shore.
Flick tail. Stroke, stroke, stroke!
Finally, I caught the shores rocky edge. My claws scraped the stone as I pulled myself onto dry land, huffing and grunting.
Mr. Genneth! Andalon yelled. Behind you!
Craning back with my pangolin neck, I saw Kreston caught in the current, flailing his arms, legs, and wings.
Straightening out my back, I stiffened my tail and stuck it over the water, as far back as it could go.
Kreston! I yelled. Grab on!
And he did, though only after smacking into the big scales on the fringe of my tail.
Go! he yelled.
Digging my claws into the dirt, I pulled myself forward and then turned around, bringing my tail out of the water. I rolled onto my back as soon as I heard the scamper of Krestons feet across the ground.
Then, with a groan, I sprawled out on the ground, a big, wet mass of stressed-out pangolin, my underbelly facing the sky.
I shook my head.
Mr. Genneth! Andalon cried, floating above my chest. She was darting around like a frightened bumblebee.
As for me, I felt like I was about to throw up.
, I muttered.
The effect was immediate. I shrunk, and a wink later, I was my half-pangol self againfully clothed, thank the Angelleft staring up at the sky.
A little help here? I said.
Kreston skittered over to help, grabbing my arm and pulling me up while I pushed off the canyon floor with my other arm. My tail scales scraped against the ground as I righted myself.
Dr. Howle, Kreston said, whats going on?
Panting for breath, I knelt down and looked up.
I I
I gasped. My mouth felt thick and dry, and I swear, my pangol scales were standing on end.
The canyon had been violently transformedand whatever process at work was still having its way. An alien landscape had been superimposed onto the Lantorian terrain. Landmasses cut through our surroundings, overwriting whatever had been there before. Some hung mid-air, untethered from the ground. A few even floated upside down.
And they were at war.
Overhead, two skies struggled for supremacy. One was Lantors familiar blue. The other was hazy orange, like chicken soup, only putrid and impossibly cold. They alternated in patches, blue here, orange there.
Clouds of dark, ruddy soot trailed through the swaths of orange sky. I smelled almonds and ammonia. The chunks of ground beneath those skies were nearly as dark as the clouds, and seemed to have a five oclock shadow: minuscule, black stubble stuck up in patches here and there. Vines like barbed wire wove thick nets on the ground, covered in flexible, flimsy disk-like leaves. Tall, seemingly metallic structures grew in the distance, standing on ropey struts; I couldnt tell if they were living or dead. Some of them had their struts grip the sides of cliffs as if they were roots.
Impossibly blue rivers and seas spilled off the edges where the floating land masses dead-ended into Lantors sky. They looked more like paint than water, and they smelled like burning urine. Pale, colorless smoke streamed off the falling liquid, beneath the fiery explosions that rocked the boundaries where the two skies met.
My eyes watered as waves of heat and cold buffeted the rivers shore. Geysers blasted out from the canyons river where the paint-water poured into it.
I brought my hand to my mouth.
It was getting hard to breathe.
Andalon huddled on the ground, on her knees, her hands on her head, shivering in terror.
I felt dizzy and lightheaded.
Kreston yelled something, only to bend over and puke up what looked and smelled like chicken katsu.
The smell of ammonia in the air was beyond nauseating.
I fell to my knees, short of breath.
I looked up. Explosions continued overhead unabated. Rain spilled down from the fire, turning to steam as it passed through the paint-water.
The air I muttered.
I closed my eyes and focused.
, I said.
As soon as the words left my mouth, the three of us were enveloped by a faint yellow glow. Immediately, my breathing relaxed and the dizziness faded. My eyes stopped watering. Yes, the air still smelled like ammonia, urine, almonds, and Angel-knows what else, but I could breathe.
I laughedgiddy, elated, and terrified in equal measure.
Kreston groaned and coughed.
What he wretched, what the hell is going on here?
A level two Cleric spell just saved our lives, thats what.
Human senses are very lazy, and, for once in my life, I couldnt have been happier about that.
Because human physiology had evolved to detect things that might kill us and to make us take action to avoid them, once it became clear to your eyes, ears, tongue, and nose that something wasnt going to kill you, your body would put the sensory input on the back burner and forget about it.
Right now, the air was thick with ammonia, and with what I was pretty sure was cyanide. The reason we hadnt suffocated was because there was still air in the air, and because Lantor and the intrusion-world didnt bleed into one another everywhere, but just at isolated points where they overlapped. Granted, the amount of poison in the air was more than enough to have killed us many times over, but, thanks to my spell, it would have to settle for just being really, really unpleasant-smelling.
I still cant believe that worked, I said, under my breath.
Id like an explanation, Dr. Howle, Kreston said, his arms crossed in frustration.
You and I both, I said.
I took in more of our surroundings. Steam and smoke hissed off the chunks of dark land and orange sky that floated over the canyon.
Angel, I muttered, what I wouldnt give for Brands thoughts on all this. I said.
There was just so much to it. I made sure to commit it to memory, so that I could share it with Greg and the other SHG transformees, to get their input.
I dont understand, Kreston said.
Neither do I, I replied, but for whatever reason, Im pretty sure the orange parts of the sky you see have ammonia and cyanide in them.
C-cyanide? Kreston stuttered. Isnt that a
Yes, I nodded, and thats why I cast .
He breathed in nervously. It feels weird when I breathe, he said.
That it did.
I turned to Andalon. She was still on the groundon her kneesbut she wasnt cowering as much. Instead of screaming when another explosion burst in the warring skies overhead, she just flinched. Her face was pale and her eyes wide.
Andalon, is this it?
She nodded shakily, her lips tightly pursed.
I shook my head. I dont get it.
What do you mean? Kreston asked.
Do those look like violent attackers to you? I said, pointing to one of the otherworldly barbed-wire things. It grew on a landmass that jutted out of a nearby fairy chimney.
Those explosions seem pretty violent, the boy said. His wings shivered.
Andalon shook her head. No, Kres-Kres, the bad thing is worse. Much, much worse.
I turned back to Kreston. What happened after you passed through the invisible curtain? I asked.
I found myself here, he said. My wings werent keeping me airborne, so I fell, though I lucked out and managed to glide to safetywell, mostly. He rubbed the bruise forming on his upper right arm.
What about all this? I pointed to the craziness overhead.
Did you try to go back the way you came?
Yeah, though its not like it mattered, he answered. I could barely control my fall.
We kept staring for a while.
Its like were looking at another world, I said. Or, maybe its a world reaching out to us. I blinked. Wait. This is just like what happens with the wyrm link.
The what? Kreston asked.
When I connect to another transformees mind by making physical contact with them.
Coughing, Kreston rubbed his head, closing his eyes to focus. Thats Greg, right?
Yes, I said. When he first let me into his mind-world, and I didnt have any control over it until he gave it to me.
Do you think thats whats happened here? Kreston asked.
I shrugged. I mean, what else could it be? If we assume the ripple-curtain-wall thing was the point where the two worlds met, if we can get back there, we should be able to return to my mind-world by going back through it.
Flexing his arms and shoulders, Kreston flapped his wings. He stirred up a small breeze with his wingbeats, scattering the snow on the wet, gravelly riverbed.
It was quite impressive, but it didnt get him off the ground in the least.
Why cant I fly?
Well, I uh I stammered, when I gave you wings, it was purely aesthetic. I didnt give you the ability to fly. I just made two floppy attachments grow out of your body.
Why? he asked.
Well you didnt ask for that. It would have probably involved making more substantial changes to your body, or maybe giving you a special ability, and well, if were really in someone elses mind-worldor something like thattheres no guarantee that it will acknowledge the abilities I gave you.
Then, howd you turn into that big critter?
Its called a pangolin, I said.
Kreston glowered at me. You know what I mean.
Looking off to the side, I quietly mumbled, , under my breath. I didnt know if it was going to work, and, honestly, part of me didnt want it to work, but
Boop.
Kreston flinched as a bright blue, text-filled rectangle appeared a couple feet in front of me.
I quickly glanced over it, checking what needed to be checked.
, I said.
Mercifully, the window vanished.
Kreston stared at me, his eyebrows narrowing. Was that a stat window? Wha
Cmon, I said, waving my arm as I started to walk off. Its gonna be a long hike back up to the bridge. only lasts for an hour, and Id rather save my other spell slots for later.
Andalon and Kreston followed behind me. Gravel and snowy slurry crunched beneath Krestons shoes.
Why do you have game stats? he asked. Can I have game stats?
98.4 - Ein kalter Wind beugt ihre Stengel nieder
I sighed.
Angel, this was mortifying.
That was one of the details I hadnt shared with Kreston when wed done our mind-meld, because it made me feel embarrassed. Unfortunately, now that I was in a mind-world other than my own, I no longer had the ability to mind-meld, so, I had to answer Krestons questions the old fashioned way.
If only provided protection against cringe
We traveled along the rivers edge, careful to steer clear of the geysers erupting from the water where the paint-waterfalls poured into it. We tried our best to ignore the pungent stench and the occasional explosions.
So Kreston asked, after Id finished my explanation, what class are you?
Cleric, I said.
The boy smiled. Oh, I get it, its because youre a doctor, right?
Yes, I mumbled.
Mr. Genneth, Andalon said, why are your face-sides turning apple color?
Obviously, I didnt answer that.
I think Oracle is better, Kreston said, its a spontaneous
Yes, yes, I know, I said, Oracles are spontaneous casters, and min-max builds generally favor spontaneous casting because blah blah blah blah.
Traveling down the river, we eventually came across a narrow tunnel in the canyon wall. Though I had no problem entering it, Kreston was having some trouble with his wings.
He yelped in pain as his wings scraped against the stone.
Waving my hand over him, I muttered a spell command under my breath.
.
I felt the nigh-indescribable feeling of one of my spell-slots getting used up as a shimmering, watery blue, egg-shaped forcefield appeared around Kreston, insulating him against physical damage, and lubricating his attempts to squeeze intoand throughthe slot canyon. As an added bonus, the energy field chipped some of the rock away from either side of the side-canyons opening, enabling Kreston to stumble through.
It also cushioned his fall when he fell flat on his face.
Mind the claws, I said, as I reached out to help him up.
He (and Andalon) gawked at the energy field around them.
Did you just cast Armor of Faith? he asked.
I nodded. Yes, yes I did.
I groaned.
Whats wrong? he asked.
I sighed. Im scared and embarrassed. I could handle one of those, but both? I shook my head. Not a chance.
Kreston lowered his gaze. Sorry, he said, I shouldnt have asked.
No no no, I said, shaking my head again, and my tail, its my fault. Ive been thinking about what you said, I explained. I know I shouldnt be keeping my condition a secret from the others, but I first made that decision because I was scared out of my mind, and now Im scared that Im in too deep. I looked up. Lets just take one problem at a time, okay?
Okay, he said.
We spent the next few minutes walking in silence. The air was cleaner here. The slot canyon was a narrow, winding channel that branched off from the main canyona passage, etched into the hills. Autumnal striations undulated along the curving stone. I let my claws run along the wall as I walked, letting the vibrations run up my arms.
Why are you doing that? Kreston asked.
To keep myself grounded, maybe? I said.
The sky was splotches of blue and orange through the gap overhead.
Bit by bit, the narrow canyon wound its way up through the rock. Here and there, patches of furled, abstract, gray leaf-things and those ruddy brambles stuck out from the canyon walls or floated overhead. They burned with pale flame, or let off smoke. Blobs of orange air clung to them, leaving little room for us to cross without touching them.
I didnt need to know what they wereand I didntto know that touching them was almost certainly a very, very bad idea.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
The things radiated cold, like bonfires in reverse, and every once in a while, theyd glitch out, and suddenly duplicate or superimpose over themselves.
Kreston, I said, you have the energy shield. You should go first.
He looked back at me.
I dont care if I have an energy shield, or , he said, covering his mouth and nose with his hand, theres no way in hell Im walking through that stuff.
Sighing, I casted two more times, once for myself, and once for Andalon.
I only had five level one spell-slots, and, once Id used them, Id needed to take a long rest before I could do so again. Ordinarily, this wouldnt be that big of a deal, but resting meant letting the effect of expire, and, unfortunately, with all the deadly poisons in the air, that was not an option.
Alright, I said, lets go.
I went first. I had to splay my tail along the wall to press myself against it as I side-stepped past the weirdness smoking and glitching mere inches from my face. Fortunately, the did its job, keeping the plant-things from touching me. The cold coming off them was so intense, when Id moved out of their way, my nose was left running and numb.
I then guided Kreston and Andalon through the gapa harrowing experience, to be sure.
Once we were all safely past the obstacle, Kreston turned and pointed at them. Why does it keep glitching out like that? he asked.
Hmmm I pursed my lips. Maybe its like me and &alon, I said. Whatever connection the intruders have with me isnt fully established yet.
Kreston stared at me. Whoa. I just felt you use the and symbol.
Its called an ampersand, I explained.
Kreston glared. What happens when the connection is fully established?
I shook my head. I dont know.
Finally, we reached the end of the slot canyon, where it opened up onto the hilltop. The big canyon loomed at our left, and the river down below, and the gravel and the geysers and the smoke and the snow.
Kreston and Andalon darted ahead. I pressed on to catch up, only to stop, gawk, and shiverand not just because of the cold.
Half of the big canyon was obscured by incursion terrain. A sheet of alien woodland hung overheador, at least, I thought it was woodland. The sights continued on the ground, up ahead, where the landscape had split in two, one half Lantor, the other half a world of nightmares in orange haze. I saw groves of tubular, gray leaf-things, down from which spilled thorny, epiphytic brambles. Mats of metallic tendrils wove along the ground like overgrown roots, only to intertwine and rise up in branching trunks that pulsed with an inner light, shining through the haze.
Mr. Genneth Andalon muttered, pointing in horror. Theres something there
Kreston, I said, use your wings. Blow back some of the haze.
Nodding, he did so. His wings might not have been good for flying, but they did a heck of a good job at stirring up a breeze.
We all gasped.
The plant-things cracked and bubbled, fuming pale smoke as Kreston wafted Lantorian air over them with his wings. But that wasnt what made us gasp.
Whats wrong with them? Kreston asked.
I gulped. Theyre infected, I muttered. Its the Green Death, I said, with a gulp.
The Green Death had struck the incursion world. It was shocking, seeing the familiar deep ulcers and dark lightning cutting through this fever dream. Black ooze scattered everywhere, like the droppings of giant beasts. The trail up from the slot canyon made a sharp turn that took it straight into the depths of corrupted incursion.
And, unfortunately, the otherworldly, fungus-tainted landscape stood directly between us and the bridge.
Tingles ran down the scales on my back, all the way to the tip of my tail.
Kreston shook his head. How is that possible?
Add that question to the list, I said. I shook my head. We have to go through, I muttered. This is the way to the other side of the Precursor bridge.
Will these forcefields protect us? Kreston asked.
Actually, there was something I could do about that.
, I said.
A moment later, I felt the energy of a spell slot being consumed. A moment after that, a mote of glittering light began to spin over each of our heads, gently raining smaller motes down around us.
This will keep us from
I know what it does, Kreston said. I just hope whatever creepy crawlies are waiting for us dont make their saving throws.
Sanctuary protects its targets from being attacked, allowing them to move freely and perform non-harmful actions. An enemy attempting to harm someone under Sanctuarys protection had to succeed in a saving throw, or their attack would be negated. Anyone under Sanctuarys protection would lose their protection if they performed a harmful action, though.
Just dont stop flapping your wings, I said.
We huddled close as we entered the forest.
The air was dusty, bitter, and impossibly cold and dry. The ground was like permafrost, only brittle and fragile, crunching beneath our every step. Kreston and I gasped for breath, feeling lightheaded.
Krestons wingbeats slowed.
Dont I panted. Dont stop. We need the air.
I I feel like I cant breathe, Kreston said. Is this the poison? I I thought you said
I coughed, and then spit out bitter, dark blue granules. They set off fumes where they landed on the ground.
It was like breathing in sand.
No I said. Theres just not as much air here.
Shaking my head, I decided to bite the bullet and spend a spell slot on a healing spell, but not for me.
Varm, I muttered, as the words for came to my tongue.
Soft turquoise light enveloped Krestons body.
What was that? he asked, his breathing noticeably eased.
Healing spell I panted. Just keep flapping, please.
Nodding, Kreston flapped his wings with renewed vigor, which definitely helped.
We pressed on.
Andalon whimpered as we traveled. Whenever she did, Id turn and catch a glimpse of a living shadow lurking in between the alien foliage. I think I even saw one floating in the middle of a rock. It had the shape of a bear on stilts, only without any trace of a head, and topped in structures like trumpet flowers. At times, I saw patches of flesh appear on thembraided from gray, metallic threadsonly to disappear, as if their owners were trapped in the aether between worlds.
Krestons wingbeats pulled Lantors blue skies along with us, forming a corridor in the orange haze. As we stepped forward, parts of the corridor of blue collapsed altogether where the barrier between the two worlds simply broke down.
The deeper we went, the more the shadows diversified. I saw silhouettes shaped like devil rays swoop, there one moment, gone the next. I heard sounds of sparks and electric songs, and the pitter-patter of metallic limbs on the grainy earth.
Mr. Genneth? Andalon whispered.
I felt her tug at the back of my overcoat.
Quiet, I said, whispering back.
I could feel it, too.
We were being stalked.
98.5 - Ein kalter Wind beugt ihre Stengel nieder
At last, the frozen forest opened into a clearing. Orange bled into blue. Heat and fresh air streamed in, creating a welcome breeze.
Thank the Angel, I muttered.
Kreston and I stumbled into the clearing and fell to our knees, and for once, the ground beneath us didnt feel like the inside of a freezer. We shook out our limbs and snorted and coughed, bringing the warmth back into our bodies.
Were almost there, I said, helping Kreston up off the ground.
Up ahead, Lantors snowy grit gave way to steppes of scrubland littered with bushes and orange-brown boulders. The land rolled down into a valley and then rose up in a hill on the other side. Beyond that, the land dipped down, and though I couldnt see what lay in the second dip, the Precursor Bridges far end was clearly visible at the top of the incline behind it.
We really were almost there.
Maybe that was why I felt so much dread.
We werent quite home free yet. Bits of the incursion-world extruded from the valley and its hills like thick fangs. The rocky precipices fumed with pale gas and orange haze. Wisps of blue clouds rained down and dissolved into smoke where they glinted in the sunlight.
Cmon, I said.
Andalon grabbed Krestons hand as we moved down the terrain, winding between rocks and bushes. Behind us, the frigid incursion-landscape crumbled and fumed under the heat of the setting sun.
We made good time, quickly reaching the base of the first valley. The climb up the hill beyond it was invigorating. It definitely warmed me up. For a moment, I even forgot my dread, seeing nothing but the hilltop past the bushes and cacti up ahead.
With a burst of speed, I ran up the last few yards to the top. Gravelly soil crunched beneath my boots as I staggered to a stop.
I stood and stared. Andalon ran up behind me and hid and grabbed onto my hand.
Mr. Genneth, she said, in a quivering voice. She repeated my name over and over again in a terrified whisper. Mr. Genneth. Mr. Genneth.
I cursed under my breath.
Fudge
Standing atop the middle hill with one valley at my back, I now had a clear view of the second valley down below, across which the Precursor Bridge lay waiting, at the top of a second slope.
Holy crap Kreston muttered, coming up from behind. What is that?
I I shook my head. I think its a battlefield.
That was really the only word that came to mind, though, if it truly was a battlefield, it was unlike any battlefield Id ever seen.
Massive objects littered the scene. They were silver and oddly geometric, like chunks of quartz you might find in the dirt. Wide furrows scarred the land, stretching out from the objectsa crash trail, perhaps? Some of the objects had grown upward, almost crystal-like.
Also, none of the silver objects rested on Lantors soil. Rather, they sat in chunks of the incursion world that intruded on the valley. It gave the ground a mottled look: brown and darker brown. Clouds of hot steam rose up from where the river at the valleys bottom got cut off by the alien earth. The steam mixed with billowing plumes of orange and blue, and the sounds of cracking ice.
We I turned to Kreston. We have to move as quickly as we can. I pointed at the entrance to the bridge. Thats our target, got it?
You cant be serious, he replied. Look at all that smoke and stuff! I can barely see anything through it. His wings shuddered as they folded against his back. What if somethings there?
Mr. Genneth Andalon said. I didnt need to see her to know she was speaking through tears.
I could feel her trembling behind me.
, I muttered.
There went my last spell slot.
Golden light briefly spiraled around me, filling me with strength. I felt my muscles bulk up a little, causing my scales to rustle against my armor.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.
Then, without asking for permission, I turned around and hoisted Andalon up off the ground, cradling her in my arms.
She was crying.
Lets go, I said, glancing at Kreston, and dont look back.
He nodded, and then we ran.
Andalon started freak-out babbling, but I just muttered, Quiet quiet quiet, over and over again. Thankfully she seemed to get the message.
Some of the silver objects flickered in and out of existence as we passed them by.
Whatever these things were, their presence here was tenuous, to say the least.
The lightheadedness returned as we descended into the valley. The frigid particles in the air coated my mouth and nose. I could feel them bubble and hiss as they sublimated into gas. I coughed, spitting up blue.
As we crossed the river, we passed a cluster of the silver objects, underneath a massive tower of smoke and gas. Beyond them, the air cleared a little, which gave me my first glimpse of the last leg of our journey, and once more, what I saw stopped me in my tracks. The scales on the back of my neck stood up on end.
Everything tingled.
A group of figures stood on the other side of the river, on a patch of the incursion worlds soil, flanked by its thorny brambles and those gray leaf-things. The figures moved in spastic, laggy glitches; others lay on the ground, utterly motionless. None of the figures were complete. I only saw them in bits and pieces of them: here an arm, there a leg, there a wing. It took me a second to form a mental image from all the pieces.
Green feathers, along with whites and browns and patches of iridescent reds.
Beaks.
My tail stuck up behind me.
Hummingbirds? I muttered.
But they werent hummingbirds. Hummingbirds didnt look like people. Hummingbirds didnt stand three-and-a-hap feet tall with wings on their backs and scales on their arms and legs.
There are two kinds of impossible; two kinds of unknowns. The known unknowns, and the unknown unknowns. The difference is a matter of our awareness of our own ignorance. Hummingbirds werent an unknown. They were the sacred animal, a living symbol of the faith. Tales of them wove their way through Lassedicys myths and legendsbut not like this.
No, nothing like this.
The ground rumbled. Andalon closed her eyes and she screamed.
Run! I yelled.
Kreston and I ran.
The hummingbird-people stumbled about. Shells of spherical light flickered in and out of existence around them. Some of them foamed from their mouths and fell to the ground, dead and twitching.
One of the silver objects surged with growth, rising up from the earth like a beanstalk from a fairy tale. Polyhedral chunks clustered in shapes like spiders and shrimp spilled out from the rising silver. The creatures spread and swarmed, their legs beating the earth.
Curtains of auroral energy swept across the landscape.
And then, from the jungle, a monstrous shriek.
Fungus-touched things crawled out from the alien trees. I saw gray praying mantises with flowers for heads, their limbs snapping off as the fungus devoured them. Trees uprooted themselves, whipping their tendrils about. Amalgams of the manta rays and the headless, cord-fleshed elephants swept their distended bodies in wide arcs, swatting at the hummingbirds and the geometry spiders. Swords clashed. Spears of light sliced through the fungal abominations, leaving seared wounds that cracked and fumed as they bubbled into gas.
I ran like heck.
Whole swaths of the nightmare flickered in and out of existence. One moment, the land was dusty badlands, shrubs, and a riverbed; the next, it was orange air and dusty clouds, with groves of furled gray and trees of bundled wires. The level of the ground changed beneath my feet, dropping by at least half a foot. I stumbled forward, nearly toppling, but managed to stay upright by sticking my tail out behind me, letting its weight pull me back.
Otherworldly sounds blasted behind us.
Kreston and I raced up the hill. My lungs burned for breath, but I waited until the sky was blue before I sucked in air. I pushed myself as hard as I could go.
I was almost there! The ground turned into Precursor metal.
Then Kreston screamed. Dr. Howle!
Turning back, I saw the boy had fallen forward, stumbling over the changing ground.
, I thought, activating it once more.
Thank the Godhead was a free action.
I moved Andalons increasingly tiny body into the crook of my arm as I shifted and grew, freeing my hands as they turned into forelimbs. Sparks flew as I scraped my lengthening claws against the bridges metal.
Spinning around in place, I whipped Kreston with the end of my tail, flinging him forward. It would have injured him severely, had s blue energy shield not softened the blow.
Bouncing off the ground, he skidded forward along the bridge like a water-skipped pebble, hurtling toward the hole Id made in the bridge on my first outing in .
No!
So, scampering forward, I did the only thing any self-respecting pangolin could do in that situation.
I stuck out my tongue.
The slender, slimy thing had to be almost half as long as I was.
I wrapped it around Kreston, holding onto the energy shield like it was a big blue egg.
And then, slurping it in, I ran like heck, dashing across the snow-covered bridge, toward the invisible curtain that cut through the sky.
The curtain rippled as I passed through.
Now that I was back on my side of the world, the intruders landscape had disappeared from sight. But I could still feel its presence.
Fortunately, in having passed through the curtain, Id gone from being just another truck-sized pangolin to a truck-sized pangolin with god-modding powers.
The first thing I did was to will myself and my companions up into the air.
The second thing I did was to raise my arms.
The third thing I did was to summon an impenetrable barrier of see-through crystal.
Below, the earth rumbled as my barrier grew, stretching to the ends of the horizon and the roof of the sky. Our pursuers slammed into it, denting it with a sound like concrete hail.
Canceling , I shrank back down to my good old half-pangol self. Gobs of my sticky pangolin saliva still clung to the Krestons forcefield.
Now what? he asked.
Good question, I muttered.
99.1 - Pictures at an Exhibition
Pel dug her nails into the leather of her cars steering wheel, holding on for dear life as her Pirouette-13 raced ahead at zero miles per hour, staying in place and going nowhere.
At least, not yet.
She squeezed the leather so hard, she worried her fingers would snap open at the joints.
Even Jules was staring.
Mom
Pel huffed. I did what had to be done, she said.
She looked our daughter in the eyes.
Were gonna make it, honey. Her voice broke. We have to.
It was agony to say those words. Pel hated lying, but what else could she do? She couldnt get herself to believe those words, no matter how hard she tried. So shed lied to her children, and that was a sin. And it wasnt her first sin, either, nor would it be her last.
She was an apostate, now.
Back in their prison in the compound down below, Pel had given in. Shed put a message in the console by the door, just as the maroon-scaled Norm had told her to do. The second shed done so, the door swung open and Henrichywhod been standing there, waitingthen escorted her and the kids back to the dive bar, where Margaret was waiting, languorous among the corpses.
As she stepped out of the kitchen, Pel told herself that she could smooth things over with ease. Her mother had been making unusual, excessive demands for as long as shed known her, so she knew how to deal with them. She just needed to ignore that a demon had taken over and transfigured her mothers body and treat this as yet another attempt to earn her mothers henpecked praise.
For the first few minutes, at least, it was pretty much exactly that: she repudiating her initial outburst; she even apologized to Eyvan.
I was just scared, shed said, and everyone but Henrichy and her kids seemed to believe it.
And for a moment, Pel believed shed done it.
But then steel-scaled Norm slithered over the bar and looked her in the eyes and demanded that she prostrate herself before Verune and the other divine beasts, and renounce her former faith, and Pel hadnt expected that at all.
She also hadnt expected her mother to be so cavalier about the fact that shed been bankrolling terrorists for yearsthe Innocents of the Mountainand had built the dive bar to serve as a front for one of the Innocents main bases. But, by this point, the horrors were so numerous that that particular revelation and slid off her like oil off water.
Or maybe she had, but just didnt want to believe it.
That was the thing about hope: it just refused to die, even when all it brought was misery.
You still have an icon of the Angel on your chest, the Norm had said. Im glad to see Margarets daughter is a woman of faith, but please, get rid of it.
Why?
It was proper to have it before the Last Days. But now that the Angels Blessd are here, it is no longer necessary. Verune has come to us, Angel-sent, to make to fulfill the promise in the Bond of Light. The covenant is complete. Why contemplate candlelight when you can behold the Sun?
As hed spoken, holes had started opening in his cheeks, forming muscular pores that lent musical inflections to his heresies.
Prove your contrition, he said. Renounce the old ways, just as we have shed our human forms. Our truth is the last truth, and there can be no other.
And then hed pointed at Rayph and Jules.
Theyre you children, arent they? he asked, slithering out onto the floor. Be a good mother; show them the right path to take.
She wanted to be dreaming, because then she could wake up. But there was no waking up.
There was no way out.
Pel had no choice but to debase herself in that den of monsters. She forswore the one, true faith.
The Angels Covenant is fulfilled, shed said, repeating the words hed told her. We are bound to it no longer. Paradise awaits.
Apparently, the demons had gotten around to crafting the words their converts would have to speak to pledge their faith to the Last Church.
Pel had to work very hard to keep her hands from shaking. With those words, shed abandoned the rock of her being. She was adrift now, lost and irredeemable.
There was no undoing what shed done. She had blasphemed against the Angela sin that cried out to Paradise, and Pel hated herself for not being strong enough to endure that trial.
She just loved her kids too much. When push came to shove, shed failed to do the right thing. Shed been selfish. Shed let her desire to see her children live overcome her obligation to love the Holy Angel and His one, true Church.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
God was goodness itself, and shed forsaken that for worldly gain. Shed thought herself better than Goodness itself.
Pels fingers dug a little deeper into the steering wheel.
Jules and Rayph had to survive, otherwise, the eternity shed spend in Hell would be truly meaningless.
The console on the cars dashboard lit upan audio-only call.
Are you ready to go, Pel?
It was Margaret. She was speaking to them through a PortaCon of her own. It hung from a string shed put on around her neck, like some kind of barbarian totem.
Pel remembered staring in shock as Verune had levitated Margaret into one of the vans.
What could she do against something like that?
She looked up at the rear-view mirror.
1337 Petta Drives garage was abuzz with unholy activity. Her mothers cult of terrorists were loading Norms and guns into the many vans scattered around the garage. For years and years, those vans had rested quietly in their reserved parking spots, and Pel could never get her mother to explain what they were for.
Id made a game out of getting the kids to imagine what the vans might actually be used for.
Maybe they were where the Revenels stored all their money.
Maybe it held the bodies of all the architects theyd used up.
Maybe they were used by private investigators to stalk the Revenels enemies.
Remember when Dad joked Grandma used the vans for terrorism? Jules muttered.
Pelbrum? Margaret said, when Pel failed to reply.
Mom Rayph said.
Y-Yes, Mother, Pel said, relaxing her grip on the steering wheelbut only a little. She looked at the kids: Jules in the front passenger seat; Rayph in the backseat behind it. Were just about ready.
Pel waved her hand over the ignition. The Pirouette-13s engine revved awake.
Good, Margaret said, well be leaving shortly. Ill keep in touch.
There was a moment of silence after the call ended.
Mom Jules said.
Pel stayed quiet.
You did a really good job of convincing them, Jules said.
Shuddering, Pel sighed. I know, Jules. I know.
ehicles started revving up all across the garage.
Pel turned on the window tints. She didnt want anyone looking at her, or the kids. Her shame was already more judgment than she could bear.
Setting the stick shift to Reverse, Pel slowly pulled out of her parking spot, and then pushed the shift into Drive as she turned the car to face the exit ramp at the far end of the garageright where the Norms were.
Right where Verune was.
The Lassedite stood in front of the closed Flood Protection Door at the base of the exit ramp, flanked by several of his most monstrous followers in a V-shaped formation. He stood with his back facing the Pirouette, which gave Pel a clear view of the Hummingbird Robes glittering iridescent cope.
One of the Norms snaked their body to the side, bringing their claws within reach of the Flood Protection Doors control button. The demon pressed it.
Pels grip on the steering wheel tensed as the doors receded back into the ground. The contact made the raw spots on her fingers sting.
Verune hobbled forward and his Norms slithered along with him, maintaining their formation.
One of the Last Churchs human followers stood in the middle of the garage. He started waving the vans by, one by one, as they pulled out of their parking spots and left the garage.
By the time her turn came around, Pel felt like she was going stir-crazy. The vehicles were advancing at a crawl, and any relief she might have felt from getting to move was crushed by the unnatural strain she felt at having to drive the Pirouette-13 forward at a snails pace. She could feel the wheels creak in their slow, inexorable turns.
Slowly, she drove up the ramp, and out onto street level.
Jules gasped. Pel would have gasped, too, but she felt too broken to care anymore.
The section of Petta Drive outside the building was in shambles, littered with pieces of corpses. The hunks of flesh were so ruined and mutilated that Pel couldnt tell where theyd come from: human, animal, monster. Like the cars on Seacrest Avenue, the gore seeded the fungus everywhere it touched. The pavement had cracked where the chunks of flesh had sent out their rhizomes and haustoria and taken root. The growths weaved together in a veiny network that covered the streeta forest floor, without the forest.
Slender, rodlike structures prodded out from the rain gutters.
Pel could have sworn it was still the middle of the night, but the Sun was up. It was mid-morning. Noon was near. The realization only made Pel feel that much more disoriented.
Rayph and Jules couldnt resist peeking through the cars windows, hoping to get a better view.
Rising columns of smoke and ash darkly tint the mid-morning sky.
Up ahead, from where he stood in the middle of the street, among the skyward-dreaming fungus, Verune turned around and spoke. His voice was loud, almost choral voice.
We march on the Melted Palace!
Then he turned forward again and led the way, and the convoy followed.
The trip was agonizingly slow. It wasnt a journey, it was a parade, and it advanced at walking speed.
To think, a parade, in the middle of a dead city.
Every once in a while, Verune would call out in a rousing, joyous voice, beckoning the people to join him.
The first two blocks they passed were deathly still. The streets were littered with corpses, trash, and abandoned vehicles. Verunes words echoed over them, down festering alleys and deserted boulevards.
On the third block, two Normsearly on in their changes, by the look of itcrept out of an alley, drawn by Verunes call. The whole convoy came to a standstill as the Lassedite lovingly welcomed them into the fold.
Mom, Jules hissed, this is it. Lets make a break for it.
No, Pel replied. Were in clear view of the others. Theyd see us.
The Norms and the attending vans were packed together somewhat closely. Though the Pirouettes petite build would make it relatively easy to peel away from the convoy and hide in a shadowed alleyway, the problem was that the car was near the center of the group, and it would be difficult, if not impossible, to move toward the edge without attracting attention, especially at these slow speeds.
By now, the convoy had gotten far enough away from Petta Drive that the influence of its neighborhoods had waned. Petta Drives silent chrome skyscrapers had given way to older, shorter models. Though not as imposing as their modern descendants, the shorter skyscrapers still cast shadows over the shrubby two- or three-story tall buildings that grew beside them. They were like crosses between jukeboxes and stout office buildings. Their colorful fa?adesbright red, green, or yellowformed fanciful frames, the gaps filled in by panels of windows.
From where they were, the convoy would just need to turn onto Imperial Promenade, and then it would be a straight line to the Melted Palace, but, at the rate they were going, theyd be lucky to get there by noon. About halfway through the journey, the convoy came to an unexpected stop.
More converts? Jules asked.
Raising her head to look, Pel saw the street up ahead was blocked by an abandoned bus.
No, Pel said, look.
Jules did, and then groaned. What now? she asked.
Two of Verunes Norms had moved to either side of the back of the abandoned bus, and were using the monstrous strength of their monstrous bodies to turn the bus and push it out of the way.
Pel noticed that Verune had raised one of his hands.
Theyre moving it Jules muttered. She turned to her mother. Why are they moving it?
It took a second for the gears in Pels mind to turn. Given that the world had ended, it shouldnt have.
And yet
I think he wants to be there for Convocation, she muttered. He doesnt want to backtrack. She gasped. Thats why hes going slowly. Hes gathering followers.
But for what? Rayph asked.
Maybe theres something happening, Jules said, something we dont know about.
Pel wished she had the audacity to pray.
Rayphs eyes widened. Holy crap!"
99.2 - Pictures at an Exhibition
"Look, he said, theyre making the bus float!
Shit, Jules hissed.
Her brother was right.
Looking carefully, Pel could see the bus was now levitating a couple inches above the street, and Pels eyes widened like Rayphs had when those couple of inches suddenly grew to a couple feet.
Its the Lassedite, Rayph said. Hes doing it.
Pel had to keep her arms from trembling.
The Norms easily pushed the massive hunk of metal out of the way while it was being suspended by Verunes magic. When Verune released his powers griplowering his handthe bus fell to the sidewalk, crushing a bench, two parked cars, and a rotting tree beneath its weight.
Pel flinched as black ooze burst out from one of the cars.
Shit! Jules gasped. There were people in there!
The Norms suddenly shouted, though their distorted voices made it hard to understand what they were saying.
Jules yelled Whats h
Mom! Rayph shouted. Look out!
Pels blood ran cold.
Feral figures were running out of the buss doors, at the middle and at either end. Others wriggled out through open windows, like maggots. They screamed and snarled, twitching as they moved.
Verune spoke up in a loud, clear voice. Simon! Steyphan!
The two Norms flicked their arms at the oncoming zombies, as if theyd tossed frisbees. An invisible wall of force pushed the horde away, sweeping their frenzied bodies across the boulevard. The zombies shrieked. A second wall joined the second, closing in on the zombies from the other side. The two walls moved closer and closer together, gathering the zombies in a rising pile of gnashing teeth and flailing limbs. The closer the walls got, the higher the pile rose higher.
Wait a moment, Verune said, raising his clawed hand.
The walls froze in place, leaving the zombies piled in the middle of the street like a block of mimes.
Steyphan and Simon turned to face the Lassedite, who turned to address the entire convoy.
Mark this moment, my children, he said. Behold the Divine Beasts gifts! We alone have the power to prevail over this evil.
Holy shit, Jules said.
They werent kidding, Rayph added.
As much as Pel wanted to deny it, she couldnt. However horrifying the Norms were, what shed just seen was a bonafide miracle. The zombies didnt stand a chance against them.
Maybe they really can keep us safe, she said, wondering aloud, while Jules looked on with worry.
Your Holiness? Simon asked. The mustard-yellow norm expectantly cocked his head toward the Lassedite.
Looking over his shoulder, Verune nodded. Proceed.
The zombies splattered into dark slurry as the gap between invisible walls closed. For an instant, a vertical plane of ooze stood over the street, held in place by the forcefields. Then the two Norms dismissed their power, and the corpses rained down onto the street and the nearby Norms in a thick, gloppy paste, advancing the transformations of those it touched. Some of the newcomers rushed to feed on the pure, but Verune told them to contain themselves.
Leave it here, for other Changelings, he said. They need the sustenance. Let it stand as a display of our power.
And then, the convoy continued. Trails of pured zombie gunked up wheels as the first wave of the vans crossed the gruesome morass.
As Pel drove the Pirouette across the ooze, Rayph pointed out one last detail.
Something was happening to the street itself.
It was steaming.
The piles of ooze were eating away at it.
Moments later, car horns starting honking up ahead.
All through the drive, Pel had wanted nothing more than to peel away from it, but now, it seemed that being in the middle of the group had saved their skins. The wave of vehicles that had driven over the ooze had lost their tires, and then some. The black gunk reacted with the air, congealing and drying into the caustic green spores that corroded their way through everything they touched. Pel had lucked out: the Norms cleared the stuff off the street, sweeping it to either side with their powers.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.
Unfortunately, the corroded vehicles were simply unsalvageable. The demons and demon-worshippers inside them had had to rush out to avoid the glop when the vehicles dropped, wheelless, to the ground. The acid didnt hesitate to eat through the underside of the vans chassis. By the time it stopped, the vans were so degraded that they looked like they were half-trapped in the road.
The cult quickly distributed the disabled vehicles passengers among the other transports, though some of them simply chose to walk alongside the Norms. All in all, it took about ten nerve-wracking minutes before the convoy was finally ready to proceed.
This is going to complicate things, Pel said.
What is? Jules asked.
Pel shook her head. I was hoping wed be able to run over the zombies. But it looks like that wont be an option, not if their fluids will melt through the car.
Why would we need to run them over? Rayph asked.
Because wed be driving on our own. Wed have to if we were trying to find someplace safe on our own.
Shit, Jules cursed.
Pel didnt bother chastising her for the language.
As the they neared the point where the street intersected the Imperial Promenade, however a fence came into view. Spanning the street from end to end, the fence was made from a dark, slender metalbarely more than a wireframe construction. It had a gate in the middle, as well as crude watchtower structures on the sides, on which there stood several soldiers, armed to the teeth. Another, identical barrier stood a short distance beyond the first, turning the area in between into a makeshift checkpoint. Several military vehicles sat inside, creating a blockade with their presence, and backing it up with the barrels of guns.
There was a crowd of civilians beyond the checkpoint, all of them deathly ill. Yet they were dead-set on breaking through. They swelled against their confinement.
You cant keep us here!
Let freedom ring!
Atheist scum!
It was a sea of death and rage, and it was boiling. Despondent faces and reaching limbs were scattered among itpeople begging for help, or even just the chance to flee. But they ebbed in and out of the wrathful tide. One moment, a tear-stricken face pressed up against the fence; the next, a bristled, greasy mustache, over the dark depths of a mouth wide and bellowing, spouting fear and hate.
Both groupsthe protestors, and the militarywere so focused on one another that it took several seconds before any of them noticed Verune and his convoy. The instant they did, nearly all of them feel silent, and those that hadnt now sang a very different tune.
Holy shit!
Monsters! Monsters!
Pel turned to the kids. Get down! she hissed. Now!
She had just bent down when the soldiers opened fire on the convoy. Pel braced herself, expecting blasting bullets and shattered glass and screams and blood, but they never came.
Mom
It was Jules who had broken the silence, with her shaking voice.
Pel raised her head to see her daughter daring to peek over the dashboard. She and Rayph joined Jules a moment later.
Whoa Rayph muttered.
Hundreds of metal particles floated over the street in a loosely knit sheet that glinted in the sunlight.
Those are the bullets Pel whispered.
The bullets quivered in place, as if they were about to explode with motion.
Though most of the soldiers had stopped firing, a couple continued to shoot before they. Their bullets shared the same fate as their predecessors: stuck, in the Verunes barrier, as if the air was molasses.
And all Verune had done was simply raise his hand.
Some of the protestors turned tail and ran.
Fuck Jules muttered.
Pel turned to her daughter, to see her gaze lifted skyward. Looking up, she saw it: an aerostat rising off the roof of one the nearby buildings. It was military-grade, with artillery visible on its underbelly.
It approached the convoy from behind.
Verune raised his other hand. Instantly, the aerostat trembled in place. Its engines groaned, struggling to break free. With a shudder, the aircraft drifted toward the wall of bullets, shaking more and more intensely as its pilot fought against Verunes invisible grip.
Then Verune turned one of his hands around and let his arms fall to his sides. His hold on the aerostat and the bullets immediately vanished. The bullets rocketed backward, toward their astonished shooters; the aerostat hurtled forward and downward, its pent-up speed let loose all at once.
The bullets hit the soldiers and the fencing and the fleeing, screaming crowd beyond it. The fencing tore like lace as the aerostat plowed through it. The aircraft smacked into the street and the sidewalk, and then slammed into cars parked by an abandoned storefront. Steel and chrome clashed and screeched; glass shattered, people screamed. Car horns brayed. Alarms cried.
The aerostat exploded a second later, blasting through the shop open and sending the nearby cars rolling onto their sides. The leaping flames spread to everything that would burn. Unearthly shrieks filled the air as the fungal growths within the building and along its caught fire and burst, spreading the inferno at impossible speed.
Then came the torrent.
Zombies rushed out of the burning building. They stumbled out from the entrance on the ground floor and leapt from windows or balconies. They streamed over and in between the vehicles, their deformed bodies twitching like mad, snarling and terrible.
What soldiers survived turned their semi-automatic rifles at the horde. More windows shattered as waves of zombies fell, but the turn of the tide was short-lived. As the zombies dispersed across the street, the fungus took control of the soldiers and of the fleeing civilians. Their bodies stumbled and twitched as they lost control of themselves and joined the army of darknessand unlike Trentons soldiers, this army had no fear of death. It attacked soldiers and civilians indiscriminately.
But Verune was not deterred. We strike as one! he yelled.
And his Norms responded. With sweeps of their arms, they swung invisible mallets the remains of the blockade of vehicles. The blasts sent the vehicles tumbling down the boulevard, destroying everything in their path: the watchtowers and the rest of the fencing, the infected trees, and abandoned vehicles. Metal chassis groaned and shrieked as the cars bounced off buildings and into other vehicles. One troop transport smashed into a ground floor caf. A bus hurtled down the street as if it was a stick that had been thrown. Bodies launched skyward, as if by a great wind. They landed far, far in the distance, splattering on the floor or the sides of buildings, breaking through the branches of the corrupted coral trees.
The way ahead was clear.
Onward! Verune called.
To Pel, it might as well have been an act of God. A miracle. Her grip on the steering wheel was stiff enough to crush her fingers to dust.
As the convoy resumed its path, a young Norm stepped out from one of the alleyways. Save for his clawed fingers and tail, he still looked mostly human.
He fell to his knees. Holy shit
The other Norms moved to engage him, but Verune stepped forward and reached out to him.
The Last Church welcomes you, brother, he said. We march for the melted palace. I would be honored if you joined us.
100.1 - Dunkel ist das Leben, ist der Tod
It was long past time to pull the plug.
Marlon Bishop, 288th Lassedite of the Church Angelical stepped out onto the Lassedites Balcony. He stood with the Melted Palace at his back, and the Grand Basilica spreading out down in front of himthe great arena at the Holy Lands beating heart. Tiled pavement quilted the Basilicas grounds, in between walls of colonnaded galleries. The friezes up on the walls there depicted the Churchs glorious history.
The Lassedite wished he could enjoy it. Unfortunately, the time for joy had long passed.
Bishop was ill, terribly ill. The sickness was as much an ailment of the soul as it was one of the flesh. Every breath was agony. Every heartbeat was a struggle. He shivered within the Hummingbird Robes holy iridescence, feeling hot and cold at the same time. Even pushing open the sculpted metal doors that led out onto the Lassedites Balcony had been an ordealbut he accepted that ordeal wholeheartedly.
For too long, the Church had been silent where it should have been loud. There was so much damage. It boggled the mind. Bishop was painfully aware that there was no way the Church could pay back the debts it had incurred, but that was no reason not to try. Hed rather be damned than keep silentand he was probably going to be damned, all the same.
But at least the silence would be broken. At least the world would hear the words it had been so long denied.
Holy Angel, he prayed, give me the strength to do this. For once, help me act in good faith.
Opening his eyes, Bishop breathed in, shuddering from the effort. His Frail fingers trembled against the balconys cold, stone balustrade.
The view was glorious and terrible. The Melted Palace and its Grand Basilica was a meadow in a grove of glass, steel, and stone. The Imperial Promenade ran beyond them like a temple roofed with the high noon sky. The Promenade was the nave; the palatial high-rises lining it formed the walls.
Bishop could hardly see the Angelic College, the High Mausoleum, or the waters of the Bay. Smoke billowed up from fires that burned in the skyscrapers chrome, reeking of an acrid sweetness instead of the heady, pungent smell of sacred sage and rosemary. The stink made the Bishops tired eyes water and sting. But, even if it hadnt, he would have wept.
On a good day, the streets broad median stripas wide as a housewould have rivaled Cascaton Park in color and greenery. Its coral trees blossoms would have seemed like petals of fire and sunlight.
But today was not a good day, nor would there be any good days ever again.
The trees werent just dead, they were infected. Shriveled petals covered the bleached grass in ochres and reds. Fungal roots threaded the soil.
The Imperial Promenade was a graveyard.
Skyscrapers and luxury hotels kept watch over the unmarked tombs. Abandoned cars had been pushed to the sides of the street, likely by passing military vehicles.
Bishop had never seen it so lifeless. The military had erected a pair of fences in front of the entrance to the Grand Basilica, where the Promenade forked off to the various points of Elpecks Civic centerthe Imperial Palace, the Melted Palace, the Central Library, and so many others. The fences formed a checkpoint to hold the plague and its monsters at bay.
And for once, there was something worth protecting. Unlike its surroundings, the Basilica was thick with people. Ordinarily, the whole world came to a standstill when a reigning Lassedite spoke. Everyone wished to hear. On those momentous occasions, the Grand Basilica would be a sea of people. Theyd be waving their flags and banners, and their home-made posters, hanging on the Lassedites every word. A sense of God would come to dwell within that assemblage, beckoned by its unity.
But the people down below were not there to listen, least of all to Lassedite Bishop. None of them were there to hear Bishop speak. No one was. The Lassedite hadnt announced his speech beforehand. It was going to be an impromptu, unscheduled and unadvertisedand Bishop wouldnt have had it any other way.
Theyd try to stop me, he thought.
Part of him wanted to see them try.
People had been flocking to the Basilica for days. They werent coming there to listen; they were coming to speak. They came for hours at a time; some, even days.
Theyd come to pray. They were pilgrims, brought here by their fear of the Green Death, and their hope in the Angel and the Bond of Light. They wanted to dwell in the Melted Palaces shadow as they made their demands of their silent god.
It was a mass of wretched humanity.
Lassedite Bishop wept for them. He wept for them all.
Bishop winced as the balustrades cold stone touched one of the that had cracked open on his palm. Moving his hand, he saw the patches of black, fetid blood hed smeared on the centuries-old balustrade.
He wondered if anyone had even noticed hed stepped out onto the Balcony.
With a ragged sigh, Bishop swept his trembling hand over the console built into the frame mounted onto the balustrades inner edge. It was a miracle he even remembered how to activate the broadcasting equipment. He couldnt remember his childhood anymore, nor his parents faces, nor the smile of his first love. As is, he barely remembered how to activate the broadcasting equipment; he was mostly riding on muscle memory.
He gave the console screen a series of taps, and then the device let out a soft humming sound as it and the cameras lit up and came to life.
Slender robotic arms reached up from the front of the balusters, and out from the walls on either side of the double door behind him. When not in use, the arms would be folded against the wall, pleating their modern machinery against the old stone. The arms had cameras and spotlights and microphones and more, like the tails of peacocks of plastic, glass, and light. The display on the balustrade console changed as the recording went live.
All that remained were the indicator lights, and Bishop cleared his throat while he waited for them to change. There was one red bulb for every major network, both in Trenton and Mu, as well as the International Lassedile Channel and several othersthe Polovian Broadcasting Network, Maiko 12, Arraka International Media, to name a few.
Why he remembered them instead of his mothers maiden name, he didnt know.
A gust of wind blew across the Balcony, making the microphones shriek with feedback. The noise echoed through the Basilica and made the praying crowds fall silent. Haggard voices called out as wretched hands pointed at the Lassedites Balcony.
All eyes rose.
Marlon Bishop had never wanted to be Lassedite. Even now, after over a decade on the throne, it still didnt feel real. No one had been more surprised to discover that the College of Archluminers had elected him Lassedite than Bishop himself. He figured it was probably a political decision by one of the Curias power players, or maybe dark money at workperhaps Margaret Revenel had had a hand in it, or maybe Vincent Zoster, or one of the members of DAISHUs Board of Directors.
Power and wealth were far stronger gods than God could ever be. Their devotees were the truest of true believers, and it sickened Bishop to death, and it sickened him even more that he was powerless to stop it. Umberridge had told him, point-blank, that if he ever tried to go public, he would die of a heart attack before he was halfway to the microphone, just like Umberridge had made it clear that nothing was to be done about the Engoliss scandal, no matter how many good people it destroyed.
Though Bishop had always struggled with his faith, he never would have guessed that becoming Lassedite would have been the final blow, from which he would never recover.
Red turned to green as the indicator lights came on one by one. The crowds below looked up at him, waiting for him to speak.
With an agonizing snort, Bishop pulled his personal console out from Hummingbird Robes pocket. Hed once gotten into an argument with Reed that it was an act of desecration to put a PortaCon in that pocket.
Its sacrilege! Reed had huffed.
He loved how Halder got when he was frustrated.
Theyre both marvels, Halder, hed told him. Its only proper that they be together.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
Grasping his PortaCon in his trembling hands, Bishop woke the technological marvel with a tap of his finger. The fungus might have robbed him of what hed wanted to say, but it couldnt touch the records his past self had left. Bishops PortaCon was filled to bursting with secret words hed typed into it year after year in the wee hours of the Night when everyone was asleep or having sex. Bit by bit, the little machine had become a phylactery for his tormented soul.
But hed never dreamed hed get to share it with the world
The world is cruel, filled with darkness and wonder.
Murmurs struck through the crowd. Coughs shot off like gunfire.
To the people of the world, he said, however many there are left please, forgive me. Forgive us, for we have failed you. I have failed you. In recent days, our eyes have become unclouded. This has happened before. The story of the world is a tale of successive uncloudings. I only hope this unclouding will not be my last.
Bishop fought back tears.
The world is silent. From silence we come, and to silence we go. There was silence before life first took breath, and there will be silence long after the last soul dissolves into the abyss. The silence is our constant companion and our dearest torturer, and though we beg and weep, it does not desist. Who is responsible? we cry. What are we to do? When will we know? Where do we belong? How can this be?
Bishop looked up toward the Sun.
Why have you forsaken us?
We ask these questions of the silence, and it responds with itself, trickling into all the darkness of the world. Fear. Hate. Hunger. Pain. Misfortune. Betrayal. Doubt. Indifference. Horror. Calamity. Isolation. Iniquity. Emptiness. Confusion. Disability. Disorder. Sorrow. Callous cruelty.
Death
The word hung in the air, among the distant sirens and the rising smoke.
What does such a silence say, other than: you are unwanted; you do not belong?
Bishop wiped away tears.
Was there a god? Bishop did not know. He doubted anyone could ever know.
But, of one thing, he was certain: mankind had suffered too much for that question.
Emotions flashed in him as he continued to read. He wished he remembered where the feelings had come from, but his memories had fallen silent.
We are the worlds unhappy children, he said. Our loves betray us, our parents misunderstand us, our peers surpass us, strangers reject us, the bullies abuse us, authorities condemn us, our friends forget us, our children leave us, purpose escapes us, belonging evades us, doubts plague us, hopes tempt us. We even fail ourselves, and that failure is the most reliable of all. Yet, still, we aspire.
Bishop trembled.
We dare to believe
His body sang a feeling like joy, only softer, somewhere between being and enlightenment.
Long, long ago, he said, in hushed tones, a radiance arose, born from a moment of miracle. It came with a promise. I remember the promise. I shall not forget it; I cannot. I will not.
It promised us belonging. It promised us forgiveness. It promised us compassion, purpose, comfort, stewardship, salvation. It even promised us eternity, in all its golden splendor.
It told us to uphold the Law which the ancients spurred. It showed us our immortal souls were tainted, and that our sins needed cleansing. It taught us obedience, humility, and submission. We bowed at the feet of our Holy Redeemer. All nations would, and when they did the lamb would lie down beside the wolf; swords would be beaten into plowshares.
I think I finally know what faith is, he said. It is the dream of a sunrise that may never come.
Bishop had seen the footage of what people were calling the Norm. Unlike Umberridge and many of the other Archluminers, the footage had not rekindled his faith.
He looked over the crowd, adding new words to his old ones. Tell me, friends, is this that sunrise? He voice nearly broke.
Closing his eyes, Bishop shook his head, trying not to swoon from fever. He turned his burning eyes back to his consoles screen.
We were supposed to have bound pride, and banished it from our house. That was what the promise was for. Instead, we took it as our mistress. For the sake of the One, we devoured billions.
All the world over, religions agreed: the greatest sin was Pride. Wherever Man thought himself above ethics and law, disaster would surely follow. And they were right.
To the Church, the great truth of the world was the powerlessness of human beings.
We cannot save ourselves, Bishop thought. That is the truth.
But it wasnt the greatest truth.
When Mu took hold of this land, centuries ago, they saw our fields of struggling grainso much like the rice they knewyet so very different. In their obstinance, they flooded the fields, to make them grow like proper rice paddies should. To no ones surprise but theirs, the crops rotted. Vermin bubbled up from the mud. The air grew thick enough with flies to blot out the Sun.
Why? he asked.
Bishop flicked his finger across the screen. His scrivenings were in pieces, just like his life.
Maybe thats how it was meant to be, he wondered.
He looked up, above the burning buildings and the motes of spores that glistened in the sun, toward the all-embracing sky.
No matter the horizon, beyond the clouds, the sky is forever blue. We live on one world, we plant our feet on the same earth. Everywhere, the waters intermingle; they know no clime or creed. What difference does it make by the pains we take to seek the Truth? Such secrets are too greattoo wondrousto be found at the end of only one road.
Bishops expression contorted in anger. Half-remembered stories filled across his thoughts, tales of suffering and loss and unbridled arrogance.
But, in our arrogance, we persist. We think ourselves fit to seek the final word, yet we are so foolish that we presume to speak for those we do not know. We presume we are relevant. We look up at the firmament, and say it hears our words and cares.
He looked over the crowd. So many of the faces looking up at him were at deaths door, yet not even that was enough to stem their shock and horror.
Let them be shocked, Bishop thought. They are too complacent. We all are.
He raised his voice a little. I cannot bear it any longer. I do not want to be part of a lie. So let me speak truth.
Even though Bishop had long since passed the point of no return, he felt himself pass it again as the next four words left his mouth.
I am a homosexual. I have lain with men as if they were women, even after I became Lassedite.
The crowd rippled with myriad sounds: gasps of horrors, whistles of praise.
Bishop kept going.
I would wish I was not, but, his voice cracked, who am I to question God? We say the holiest gift of all is to have a child to nurture and love. All my life, I dreamed of being a father, but I cannot wed a woman. That would be a lie, and I do not want to be part of that. I am already party to so many falsehoods.
Kind fools speak of churches like bodies, as if cruelty and corruption are tumors. We tell ourselves, a little medicine, a little surgery, and we can fix it. We can save it. Yet, we also say that a tree ought to be judged by its fruits. Which is it? Every day, we dishonor the promise of our faith by denying the evidence before our very eyes. We say the gates of Hell will not prevail over the Church, yet they already have, and we choose not to see.
He trembled.
Only a madman would make himself blind.
Some people in the crowd turned and left. Others applauded, or fell to their knees and wept.
Try and stop me now, Umberridge, Bishop thought.
He scrolled down to some of the real zingers.
I am the head of a Church I no longer believe in. I wonder if I ever did, and, if I had, how much of it was even mine. Faith cannot be taught. It must be discovered. But I never had my discovery. I only had what I was told, and it was not enough. So, I say: enough! Let the legend stay a legend. It makes for poor truth. It has not set me free.
From where he stood, high above the crowd, Bishop could hear a cry rise up from the masses below.
You lie!
He says I lie, Bishop said, his words magnified across the air. Hes right. The Church knows far more than it shares. We keep secret annals where none may look.
The Lassedite set his console down on the balustrade.
Some truths were too dangerous for print.
The Sword did not disappear after Athelmarchs sin, Bishop said. We hid it! When Lassedite Verune disappeared, the Sword disappeared with him.
The crowd fell dead silent.
The purpose of the Church is not to bring the people salvation, it is to keep the Godhead from striking us down! It was meant to justify us. Instead we let our fear of damnation become the damnation we feared!
Bishop felt fire in his veins as he spread his arms over the balconys edge.
These streets are paved in blood! I have seen our truth in all its fullness, and it is intolerance and despair. It is children torn from their mothers arms and slit at the throat. It is bodies thrown to the beasts of the field. The Heartshorne Riots brought us the Prelatory, and we blamed it on the victims we locked away and burned alive. We have cut out eyes and tongues and severed hands to force our will on those who dissented, and we called it good. We have built monuments to madmen and murderers; our hymns resound with the names of destroyers. We make Lucents out of pagan kings who massacred their disbelieving people. If that isnt pride, I dont know what is.
Riding his own wave, Bishop picked up and scrolled through his notes, looking for a passage he could no longer remember.
He wept when he found it. He spoke with his trembling gaze raised to the sky. The great truth of this world is that we are irrelevant. Irrelevant, arrogant, and alone. We call God the greatest thing that can be conceived, yet presume that we can know that greatness, and discern its will. This is hypocrisy, and I can bear it no longer.
Bishop wept openly. His legs trembled beneath the sacred robe.
We may never meet our maker. He might not be there at all. We can only wait, and in waiting, we suffer. That is what unites us. Bishops voice breaking. Suffering has no hierarchy. Sorrow is not a sport. There is no monopoly on moral wisdom. There are no noble lies. There are no holy lies. There are only lies. Coward though I am, I will live not by lies any longer. I
Another wind blew, making Bishop look over the Basilica. He gasped at what he saw.
Gunfire broke out at the militarys checkpoint, only to fall silent as the metal fencing was ripped apart.
Bishop thought he saw bodies getting flung through the air.
Screams shot out from the back of the crowd. People turned in waves. Some ran, some staggered back, others fell to their knees and prayed. The crowd split apart in a jagged zigzag as a monstrous posse stepped through.
Shouts of Demons! and Monsters! echoed off the basilicas stone.
The interlopers moved in a V-shaped formation, led by a line of the transforming and the transformed. And at the formations head, hovering off the ground, was a figure clad in a Hummingbird robe, iridescent, despite its tattered misery.
Ripples traced through the air as the figure magnified his voice to megaphone intensity. Rejoice, ye faithful, he boomed, for Lassedite Verune has returned!
The people scattered as the figure landed on the ground. His frail legs were tipped in bright red shoes beneath his billowing robe.
The same as Lassedite Bishops.
In his shock, Bishop lost his grip on his console. It clattered to the floor, cracking open on the balconys thick stone.
The world is dark and full of wonder he muttered.
Lunging forward, Bishop tapped the screen of the console mounted upon the balustrade and flicked his fingers across the screen. A couple of the robotic camera arms flexed, turning their lenses to face the crowd, away from one Lassedite and toward another.
Mordwell Verunethe Lassedite Returnedstrode forward, ready to greet the world.
100.2 - Dunkel ist das Leben, ist der Tod
Though Letty Kathaldri wanted to watch the world burn, she never would have guessed it would have burned like this, pouring gasoline on its own flames, and on national TV, to boot.
Lettys eyes were glued to the screen of the console mounted on the metal arm shed swung over her bed. The other freaks were freaking outthey didnt call them freaks for no reason, did they?but Letty didnt give a shit. She was having the time of her life. Most of them seemed to be watching the fiasco on their own consoles, and Letty couldnt blame them.
It was fucking magnetic.
To enhance the drama, Letty had activated the consoles split-screen feature. The right half of the screen showed the footage from VOLs cameras; the left half gave the feed from the cameras built around the Melted Palaces grand balconythe Lassedites Balcony.
In one corner, stood Marlon Bishop, 288th Lassedite, old, crotchety, and halfway rotted, andapparentlyalso a faggot.
If her parents had still been alive, the revelation would have probably given them aneurysms.
In the other corner: a scaly monster the color of fermented piss had just landed on the ground after floating into the Grand Basilica, with a tail writhing behind him, and with the Hummingbird Robe draped over the inhuman, serpentine axis at the center of his form.
The best part? The fucker had just called himself Lassedite Verune.
Though Letty hated the sound of her bodys voice, she couldnt help squeal with delight at the ludicrous turn of events.
And she was loving every second of it.
The Melted Palaces basilica was filled with peopleor, whatever version of being filled with people it could get in the middle of a world-ending plague. Bystanders scattered back as the interloper waddled forward. And the freak wasnt alone. He stood at the head of a parade of demonsNorm after Norm. It was a cavalcade of horrors: limping bodies with rotting legs and bulging tails; freakish creatures that were half-man half-snake; golden eyes glowing in faces that breathed out churning, whorls of gossamer green snow. They walked and slither, unholy and proud, cresting tall above the crowd.
All the Norms followed Verune. Letty knew from personal experience that they must have had real hankerings for a meal, and she could see the evidence dribbling onto the pavement. Several of the partial wyrms salivated as they stared at the crowd. Plumes of smoke wafted up from the ground as their drool ate away at the pavement.
Having secured everyones attention in the coolest way imaginable, Verune spoke. Good day everyone, he said, in a calm, refined demeanor that was still loud enough to be heard across the Basilica.
Neat trick, Letty thought.
Do not be shocked, Verune continued. I spoke truly. I am Mordwell Verune, the former 250th Lassedite of the One, True, Resurrected Angelical Lasseditic Church.
Raising his lacertine head, Verune looked up at Lassedite on the balcony, and then bowed.
Greetings, Brother Marlon, my troubled successor.
Letty clapped her hands together in delight. She didnt know if this guy was who he said he was, nor did she carethough it would be pretty crazy (in a good way) if he was the lost Lassedite. To Letty, what mattered most was that he had style, and wasnt afraid to flaunt it.
What are you? Lassedite Bishop said. There was horror in his eyes.
I am who I am, the monster replied, no more, no less. If you doubt me, and if my robes are not proof enough He rummaged through his garment. look upon what once was lost.
The monster pulled an object out of his robe and lifted it up above his head. If Letty squinted, she could just barely make out its general shape. It was a piece of metal, big and bulky. Had it been any smaller, she probably wouldnt have been able to see it.
Thats impossible! someone shouted.
My child, Verune said, bowing slightly as he turned toward the sound, with God, nothing is impossible.
He speaks the truth, Bishop said.
Gasps rippled across the crowd once more, this time in aweand also in Room 268, too. Most of the people who werent running away stopped screaming, and save for the wyrms polyphonic rumbles, the Basilica was dead silent.
Letty cackled with glee.
Up on the Balcony, Lassedite Bishop stood firm. The world is dark and full of wonders, he said, looking solemn and misty-eyed. He is one of them.
It was so quiet, you could hear a fucking pin drop.
Bishop closed his eyes. Yesterday morning, my secretary informed me a miracle had occurred: the Lost Lassedite had returned to us. I do not doubt him. Opening his eyes, the Lassedite pointed at Verune. That object in his hand is the Key of the Faith, a secret treasure of the Church, lost since Verunes disappearance. It unlocked the secret chamber where the Sword was stored, first in the Melted Palace, and later in the Imperial Palace. It was passed down from Lassedite to Lassedite. Athelmarchs successor was the first to hold it. Verune was the last. Bishop started to cry. All my life, I asked for a sign, and when I finally get one, it comes after Id lost all hope. He shook his head. Disbelieve me if you want, but whatever credibility I still have as the head of the Church, I stake it on these next words. Wiping his tears, he pointed at Verune. The creature standing before us now is Mordwell Verune, come unstuck in time.
Holy fucking shit Letty muttered.
It was the greatest piece of television Letty had ever seethe greatest showdown in the history of foreverand it was making her positively drool with excitement. She flexed her fingers in anticipation. Her right hand had turned into a set of three-fingered, purple-scaled claws. Skin-wrapped husks of human digits broke free from her hands and fell onto her bedsheets. She picked them up like jacks and tossed them into her mouth.
Crunchy, she thought.
He speaks the truth, one of the wyrms said. He is the 250th Lassedite, sent forward in time by the Angels will.
Why are you here, Lassedite Verune? Bishop asked. The voice of the 288th Lassedite was like a reed about to snap.
It looked like the next gust of wind would blow him away.
I am the Angels Chosen, Verune said, raising his monstrous arms to the midday sky. The Last Days have come. The Godhead brought me to this era to guide the faithful to Paradise. Slowly, he turned around, facing the stupefied onlookers. Brothers sisters he said, I bring you the Angels final gospel: the Last Church. It is the fulfillment of all that has come before.
He gestured at his serpentine followers with his claws. The Green Death is a winnowing. It separates the wheat from the chaff. Some, like myself, have been infused with the Hallowed Beasts divine power: we have been blessed with the Change. Know this, friends: the Changed have come to pass judgment. We are mirrors for your souls.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Once again, he stretched his arms to the sky.
At the dawn of creation, the Moonlight Queen laid down Law of Truth and Nature, inscribing them upon the Tablets of Destiny. She set the Good aside from the Evil, and the Evil from the Good. Good will be Good, by any name, as surely as Evil will be Evil. You who stand before us now, know that what you see in us is but your own soul, reflected. The righteous will see our glory, and know us for what we truly are, but the damned see only monsters.
Murmurs and cries shot through the crowd.
You have nothing to fear, Verune said, looking up at Bishop. The Angel will know His own.
What do you intend to do, O Lassedite of the Last Church? Bishop asked, softly. His words cracked on his microphones edges.
The end of the beginning, Verune replied, and the start of Eternity. Verune flicked his tail as he slowly spun around. To all my fellow Changelings: relinquish your fears. The time for fear has passed. You are beautiful.
Lettys good humor suddenly thickened and grew heavy, and she felt something she thought shed never feel again: awe. This world was a cesspit, and its people were scum. All good things faded or decayed verything was broken and ruinedherself most of all.
But Verune?
People who had been drawn in by his words scattered back as Verune rose up off the ground and flew up into the air until he hovered high above the Basilica with his eyes level with Bishops.
Rejoice, brothers and sisters! he yelled, full of sacred joy. The Godhead has gifted you with the greatest honor. You are being transformed to serve a new and holy purpose. You are Divine Beasts, he said. It is your duty to smite the wicked and save the righteous. Come, join me. Join us. Embrace the majesty you have been given.
His words struck Letty at her core.
He continued: The Last Church will guide you. We will lead you to glory. This world is dead, and is being swept away. But, worry not, Paradise is nigh, and we shall lead the way.
Letty stared at her hands. Her fucking skeleton hands. Scale-patched skin drooped from her limbs like rotten leather.
And she wept.
I am beautiful she muttered.
For the first time since waking up a prisoner of her own bodyugly, unloved, hateful, and hatedLetty felt seen.
Floating near to the balcony, Verune bowed midair. I thank you for your service, brother, he said. It is my honored pleasure to tell you that your work is complete. Lassedicy is fulfilled. Our work is, at last, accomplished. Judgment will be delayed no longer. The old Church fades away, for something wonderful is about to be born.
As Letty looked around the room, it was as if she was seeing the place for the first time.
Seeing its inhabitants for the first time.
Before, she hadnt cared whether they were monsters or demons, shed thought it was the same bullshit either way. Life was just pointlessness and misery. That was why shed been so angry.
For as long as she could remember, Letty Kathaldri had known, from the deepest corners of her guts, that her life was fated to be a glorious one. Prestige and fame were her birthrights. Thats why her coma had made no sense to her. Why would someone destined for greatness get ripped out of it just as they were coming into their prime?
Angel, Ive been such an idiot, she thought.
The answer was obvious: they wouldnt.
All her anger? All her suffering and torment? It was all to prepare her for this.
Im a fucking Divine Beast, she thought. The Angel Himself chose me!
Ever since awakening from her dreamless hell, Letty wanted nothing more than to see the world burn. But now, she knew, that wasnt just a wild fancy. It was her purpose.
Everyone who ever doubted her? Everyone who ever scoffed at her or gave her a look, or put her down or hurt the people she held dear?
They were scum. Like, at the cosmic level.
Why didnt I realize it before? she muttered.
Shed been wasting the first week of her second life watching the news, learning about how fucked up the world had gotten while shed been away.
It was selfish of her.
Well, fuck that, she thought.
Then and therea legless corpse tucked underneath her covers of an antique hospital bedLetty resolved to go to the Melted Palace and join Verune and the Last Church.
All my life, I wanted to smie all the unworthy little shits, she said, muttering under her breath.
Shed just been too good of a person not toeven if doing it was the right thing to do.
What kind of asshole wouldnt smite people who were due for a good smiting?
Not Letty fucking Kathaldri, she thought. Not anymore.
Letty smiled as she realized she was about to get her cake and eat it, too. Shed get to burn the world down herself, all while paving the way for Paradise to rise from its ashes.
Letty turned her attention from Verune on the right half of the screen back to Lassedite Bishop on the left half. She was somewhat surprised by the look on his face. For all his whining about not being able to believe in God, shed expected hed prostrate himself before Verune, overcome with awe.
But he wasnt doing that. Instead, there was a wistful calmness to his face. Tears dripped down his pasty, wrinkled cheeks, following the paths of black lightning that sprawled beneath his eyes.
With a shaky nod, Lassedite Bishop wiped his tears on the sleeves of his Hummingbird Robe.
Im glad that youre here, Mordwell, he said. For so long I I have been afraid. I was lost. He shuddered, weeping afresh. But, now I know. Now I know. Smiling faintly, he looked toward the horizon. Now I know I never knew at all, he said, barely above a whisper.
Lassedite Bishop softly clapped his hands together. He held them that way, pressed together, palm against palm.
I agree with you, Verune, he said, with renewed resolve. Lassedicy has ended. He lowered his head. As we acknowledge its passing, let us pray.
Verune did the same, as did many in the crowd.
But not all. Not all.
Let us pray for a faith worthy of prayer, Bishop said. We pray for a light in the darkness, and for a song to fill the silence. We pray for a new day, filled with smiles even if it never comes. And we pray for kindness. Above all else, we pray for kindness. Give us the courage to die as fools, before we become the agents of others cruelties.
He raised his head toward the sky.
The dear earth everywhere blossoms in spring, growing green and anew. Forever blue is the horizon, everywhere, forever. Shaking his head, he gazed off into the distance. I only wish Id found it sooner, he added. Perhaps then my hope would have been stronger.
Swallowing, the 288th Lassedie lowered his head in solemnity.
Dark is life, he whispered. Dark is death.
Then Lassedite Marlon Bishop threw himself over the balustrade. Voices rose as the Lassedite fell, and then splattered on the pavement below.
Goodbye, brother, Verune said, softly. May God have mercy on your soul.
Letty turned to her head to face the other transformees.
Hey, she said.
They respond by staring at her in shock.
Letty pointed with a claw. Hey, you, she said, Demptist Jr.
Lop turned his head.
Did you hear that? she said. The Godhead has a mission for us. We shouldnt be fuckin locked up in here. Weve got sinners to smite.
Yes, Lop nodded, we do.
Across the room, Kurt spoke up. What the Hell are you talking about? he said, lashing out with his tail. Cant you tell that guy is nuts? I dont care if he is the Lost Lassedite; Lassedite Bishop just killed himself, and Verune just stands there!
Technically, Lop said, he was floating,
Kurt shook his head. No, you dont get it! Angel, what if kids were watching that? Theyd be terrified!
There are a lot of reasons to be terrified right now, Bethany said.
Clenching his three-fingered fist, Kurt lowered his head in dismay. I wish
Wishes wont get you anywhere, buddy, Letty said, interrupting him.
You dont have kids, Ms. Kathaldri, Kurt replied, briefly meeting eyes with Maryon. You dont know what its like to have them, and want to be there for them, but not be.
Keep dreaming, buddy, Letty said. Theyre not gonna let you talk to your family. That was part of the deal, remember? Lock and key, hush hush. She scoffed. The doctors have no fucking clue about how to help us. I mean, look what happened to old lady Elbock. Letty shook her head. Im tired of waiting. Im tired of rotting. I spent my whole life waiting. I was a rotting corpse in a room with a view. Id like to do something more productive with my time.
We cant leave, Valentine said. Remember what Dr. Howle told us?
Fuck that bow-tie wearing faggot, Letty said, with a dismissive wave of her claw. Hes the one keeping us locked in here. She pointed at the others. You, lady? she said, gesturing at Maryon, You think your sons still alive? Not a chance. Hes fuckin dead, and the doctors didnt let you see him before he died, so you lost your chance. Demptist Jr.? Letty glanced at Lop. Youre not gonna see your sister again. Her and your family are long gone. Were all stuck here, and times running out. She nodded. You all heard the man: these are the Last Days.
Kurt stared, despondent.
Serves you right, Letty thought, you fuckin goody-two-shoes.
If you let others walk all over you, she said, youre dooming yourself to a small, sad little life. Are you gonna let the scum do that to you? Youre turning into a divine beast, Kurt. Start acting like one.
Well, what would you suggest we do, Maam? Lop asked.
Glancing at the console screen over her bed, Letty saw that Verune had flown to the ground, where he was eating Bishops corpse for lunch.
Turning back to face the others, she grinned. I got a couple of ideas
101.1 - Last Week Tonight
While all of that was happening, I was still in my mindmy Main Menu, to be precisehaving just escaped Lantor by the skin of my teeth.
The place was rapidly becoming a death trap, and it needed to be contained.
Can you just make me a soul crystal already, or whatever? Kreston said.
Just hold on a minute! I said, raising my voice. One thing at a time!
The peanut galleryKreston and Andalonstood behind me. My attention, however, was entirely on the lattice of world-cubes floating in front of me. It was currently zoomed in on the twinkling, orange cloud representing Lantor and its content. Focusing, I surrounded the cloud with a translucent red spherical energy shella half metaphorical, half literal, all-metaphysical barrier meant to keep the Incursion locked away in Lantor. At first, I made the barrier only a little bit bigger than the cloud it enclosed, but then thought better of it and willed it to grow a little more.
Looking over my shoulder, I asked Andalon for her opinion on my work. Is that good enough? I said. Are we safe yet?
She looked at it for a moment, and then faced me and said, A little more!
Nodding, I stuck out my arms once more and charged the energy shell with a bit more oomph. The red energy shot out of my hands and flowed onto the sphere, which glowed brighter, visibly thickening as it grew stronger and more resilient.
Okay, thats good, she said.
I stepped back, letting my arms drop to my sides. A couple of deep breaths later, and my heart finally stopped racing. (Yes, Id been so stressed out that Id subconsciously willed myself to have a heartbeat, just so that it could race.)
Waving my hands inward, I zoomed out from Lantors world-cube. The other world-cubes came into view beside it, and if you looked at Lantors cube, you could see the red energy sphere pulsing within it.
I pointed at Lantors cube. Andalon what was that? I asked.
Very a lot and very scary, she said.
Have you ever seen any of that before?
She paused for a moment. Maybe?
Do you remember any of it? I asked.
She stared at the ever-shifting lattice of translucent orange cubes, and then, after stuttering for a moment, muttered, Scary-Shinies.
Which ones were the Scary-Shinies? Kreston asked.
The big, lumpy ones, Andalon answered. The ones that fell.
You mean these? I said, conjuring an image of one of the silver things wed seen littered in the valley right before the bridge.
Andalon answered by skittering behind Kreston in sheer fright.
I dismissed the image with a wave of my hand.
What are they? And why are you afraid of them?
Kreston looked over his shoulder as Andalon emerged from behind him. Her face twitched with emotion. Theyre so mean! They hurt wyrmehs! They hurt me. They hurt Amplersandalon. They chase and chase and chase. Her voice cracked. Theyre bad guys. Really, really bad guys.
That sent a chill down my spine. For good measure, I made the Bond-Sign.
Why were they there, I asked, adding, wherever there was?
Andalon shook her head. I dunno.
Does it have anything to do with the Angels? I asked.
I dunno.
Wait, Kreston said, his eyes going wide, did you just say Angels? As in more than one?Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
While all of that exciting stuff was going on, ISecond Mewas on a harrowing journey of my own. Because I was decoupled from First Me at the time, I wasnt aware of the Lantor Incursion, or the fact that it had put a whole new mystery into my lap. At the moment, all I knew was that Andalons attackers had somehow reached Lantor, and that First Me had decoupled from me to go and investigate. I wasnt envious of him, though, for I had another, beefy mystery on my plate: the secret behind Vernons dangerous zombie experiments in General Labs. The ghosts Andalon had picked up in the garage still hadnt finished downloading, so Id taken the liberty of heading on over to GL, in the hopes that being closer to the scene of the crime would speed up the spirits uploads.
While I could have gone back to the garageI had the rank and privilege to cross the military checkpoints, I was worried about attracting undue attention to myself. Garden Court was still kind of a mess from this mornings near-riot, so I thought it prudent that I try my best to stay out of the way. Fortunately, WeElMeds basement was eager to co?perate.
While my main consciousness had been busy with Lantor, I led our body down to the first basement level, to help administer the second batch of mycophage to the patients wed been housing down there, on account of overflow. And, if I happened to wander in General Labs general direction while doing so, well that would be very convenientand it was. I definitely got a boost in my spirit upload speed, though it wasnt as much as I would have liked, because, at a certain point, the soldiers standing guard wouldnt let me pass, even when I showed them my credentials as a member of Ward Es CMT.
Because my hands were now three fingered, I found myself getting quite a lot of psychokinesis practice out of using my powers to fill in the empty finger-slots in my hazmat suits gloves, as well as lend a helping hand when I had trouble grasping or manipulating objects with my transformed fingers.
Your clearance is high, yeah, one of the soldiers had said, but not that high.
Since that only made me more worried about what the military was doing in GL, I doubled down on trying to find a way around the soldiers, but no luck. The particular labs the military was using were part of a quasi-independent complex-within-a-complex that had only two entrances: the one the soldiers were guarding, and the one in the garageand that one was being guarded, too.
Had I been more aware of my surroundings, I might have given more weight to the nervous conversation that broke out among the soldiers as I walked awaysomething about the Melted Palace.
Back in my mind, after Id explained that, yes, there was apparently more than one Holy Angel, Kreston had been a little shell-shocked. Staring at the lattice of orange world-cubes, he turned contemplative for a moment, and then asked a question. Why didnt you destroy all that stuff? The Incursion?
Andalon stepped forward to stand beside him. Yeah, Mr. Genneth, why didnt you make the weird stuff and the Scary-Shinies go away?
It was an excellent question. Fortunately, I had an equally excellent answer.
Gently, I pressed my hands together, palm against palm. So do we all agree that we dont understand what happened back there, in Lantor?
Andalon nodded.
Something was there that should definitely not have been there, Kreston said.
Yes, but we dont know what it is, I countered. I let my hands relax. Second, do we all agree that, whatever this Incursion is, it is probably important.
Kreston nodded. Definitely.
Andalon bobbed up and down. Its super, duper porptant!
Great! So, when you have something important that you dont understand, but really want to, destroying it outright is very shortsighted. Expecting the obvious question, I turned to Andalon and said, A thing being shortsighted means that its not a good idea to do it.
Or, Kreston said, you could stop the big bad thing from becoming any bigger and badder by getting rid of it right now.
And if it comes back, stronger than before? I said.
Oh Krestons expression dropped. Yeah, I can see that happening.
Exactly. And, you saw the way the landscape and lifeforms the Incursion brought with it were flickering in and out of existence, right?
Yeah he said, unsure of where I was going with my point.
Well, like with our connection to the greater &alon, I think whatever is afoot in Lantor hasnt fully ripened yet, I said. Id like to take some time to figure out how to examine and explore this thing on my own terms, rather than itsand, hopefully, without having to be restricted to game rules. Still, I scratched my head, just to be safe, I think Im going to have some doppelgenneths start level grinding my half-pangol cleric character for more power, just in case.
Still Kreston said, theres one thing I dont understand.
Yes? I asked.
If Lantor is a world you made, youre basically its God, right?
Yes, I said, nodding.
But then why couldnt you use your god-modding powers when we were inside the Incursion? he asked.
Thats a really good question, I said, and I wish I knew the answer.
Suddenly, a wave of lightheadedness lowered me to one knee.
Mr. Genneth, whats wrong? Andalon asked, rushing close.
I shook my head. The doppelgenneth manning my body hes trying to recouple with me.
As a progeny consciousness, he could request a recoupling, but it was up to me, the progenitor consciousness, to make that happen.
And, boy, did Second Me want to recouple.
I granted his request. All at once, a storm of information poured into my brain. I could taste the panic on my bodys lips.
My heart sank as my neck-hairs stood on end.
Closing my eyes, I reentered myself, willing my consciousness back into my bodys driver seat. I found myself standing in a hallway, staring at a console mounted on the wall, watching a fantasy play out on live TV.
101.2 - Last Week Tonight
My PortaCon was getting inundated by text messages. The console buzzed in my hazmat suits stomach pocket like an angry hummingbird.
I pulled it out and tapped it awake. Multiple chat threads were colliding on the screen.
Ani: Genneth, are you seeing this!?
Heggy: What the hell is going on?
Suisei: People appear to be panicking. We ought to convene a meeting.
Jonan: Where? The usual?
Heggy: People, get your asses over to the conference room, on the double!
Well, that answered at least one question: what was I going to do?
I walked off as fast as my failing legs could carry me. My doppelgenneth had returned my body to me right in front of the elevator on the first basement. During the short ride up the elevator back to the ground floor, I activated the news app on my PortaCon to watch the footage from the beginning, and kept watching it when the elevator doors opened up onto Ward E and I rushed out into the hallway. I glanced at the footage every couple of seconds, my view darting back and forth between it and my surroundings.
Practically every console screen I passed was tuned in to the madness. Shock and disbelief was everywhere, even on the faces of nurses and physicians who had become fully desensitized to the Green Deaths horrors. The reactions were profound. The plague and its victims were forgotten as people clustered around the nearest console screens, doctors and nurses gawking alongside their patients.
Id gotten accustomed to the despair and all the broken hopes, but this? This was terror. It was the mornings chaos all over again, only worseif that was even possible.
As I ran, I was forced to conjure psychokinetic anklets around my feet to anchor myself to the ground with downward force. Without them, Id have been knocked over by all the people who were running down the hallways. The plague victims lingering on the sidelines watched in confusion, having already forgotten what all the commotion was about.
I watched more of the footage on my console. After a minute or so, I felt an urge Id never felt before: I wanted to destroy a television. I wanted to rip the consoles off the walls and smash them against the floor, and then shred the remains to smithereens with claws of psychokinetic fury.
It was hard to keep myself from trembling. Terror drove me to ragged breathing, filling my hazmat suits confines with the sweet, tangy, acrid stink of my breaths.
Within my suit, I clenched my three-fingered hands.
This cant be happening, I thought. This cant be happening.
A new time-traveler had arrived in Elpeck, and unlike Yuta Uramaru and his retinue, everyone knew who this newcomer was.
Mordwell Verune, 250th Lassedite.
And, as if that wasnt enough, it seemed he now had Lassedicy itself in the palm of his hand. Or, should I say, claws?
Andalon appeared beside me, flying low to the ground. Whats going on? she asked.
To say, people were freaking out would have been the understatement of the century. Screams and even a couple of shots of (non-lethal) gunfire broke out in Ward Es reception area, and pretty much every wards reception area as Vernon Marteneiss troops tackled the moiled publics panic.
I looked Andalon in the eyes. Remember how scared the Lantor Incursion made you feel? I said. My voice was barely above a whisper.
She nodded.
Well thats how I feel about this. I pointed at the console on the wall. Thats how everyone here feels.
Suddenly, my console furiously buzzed in my grip. I had to coat it with a bubble of psychokinetic force to keep the thing from dropping out of my hands as I fumbled to keep my grip on it.
Heggy: ROOM 268 268 NOW
Angels Breath I muttered.
Now I was in full-blown panic.
Was something wrong with me?
The legendary lost Lassedite had been foundapparently, hed time traveled into the future, and was on his way to becoming a wyrm, tooyet, that didnt get half the rise out of me as Heggys text message had.
Pel would have called it a bad omen.
I ran as quickly as I could, apologizing brusquely as I pushed off strangers to thrust myself forward and headed to the nearest elevator. Though I could have probably used my powers to leapfrog up the stairwell to the second floor, I didnt want to risk getting caught. Thankfully, using my powers to press the up arrow on the elevator button from four or five yards away was much more subtle, and I got away with it with ease. Lucky me, the elevator doors opened almost as soon as Id reached them.
During the several seconds-long elevator ride, I sped up my thoughts to come up with a plan for dealing with Lantor and the associated loose ends. I settled on giving a doppelgenneth the job of figuring out how to make a safe zone inside Lantor, and then, with any luck, get to work on making that safe zone. The idea was to have kind of beachhead within Lantor that would fall solidly under my control while also keeping the rest of the Incursion at bay. My hope was to use such a safe zone to mount future expeditions into the Incursion.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.
But I could worry about that later.
As I arrived at Room 268, I really wish I could have said that I had anticipated what I found, but I hadntnot quite. The general idea of what was happening? Yeah, Id considered it. But, as they say, the Norm is in the details, and hindsight is 20/20.
In life, people often talked about worst case scenarios. That was understandable. We wanted to guard ourselves against any unfortunate possibilities that might come our way. While you could plan for as many contingencies as wished, you would never be able to account for every possibilityand, if, by some miracle, you had, you would never enjoy the peace of mind that ought to come with it.
We dont know what we dont know.
Really, worst-case scenarios were just the tip of the iceberg. They were the horrible problems we could anticipate.
The ones we couldnt, though? You better watch out.
Letty I said, hissing through my teeth as I came to a stop.
Hello, Dr. Howle, she said, wiggling her fingers at me. The movements caused what remained of her pinky finger to drop off, leaving that hand with three wyrm claws.
The transformees had broken out of Room 268literally. The solid metal quarantine doors that should have been obstructing the entrance to the antique rooms foyer had been blasted off its frame. It currently lay against the wall on the opposite side of the hallway. Back at the rooms entrance, stumps of metal extruded like broken teeth from the slits in the floor from where the doors had risen up.
Letty Kathaldri stood at the head of the pack. Though I say, stood, she was actually floating a foot or so off the ground, with her hospital gown billowing beneath her. A short tail hung down, in between her legs. Its tip twitched pendulously over the vinyl floor.
Letty had definitely been eating well. She was taller than when Id last seen her. Her purple scales had spread up her limbs and neck and the sides of her face. Two fleshy horns crowned her head in a wicked V, beneath which her wispy gray hair hung in clumps. A row of black spines had broken through the back of her gown, and continued down to her tail, getting smaller as they approached the tip.
I immediately thickened my wyrmsight, knowing I would need it. I breathed in sharply as the blue and gold filaments of her levitation weave came into view. They swirled around her in a sphere.
She really did look like a witch, now. She could give Mami Losiro a run for her money.
With a name roughly meaning Mother Elkhorn, Mami Losiro was a horned witch from Polovian legend who lived in the woodlands in a house with ravens wings. She was ambivalent and fickle. In some stories, she gave magic boons to woebegone princesses. In others, she stole away misbehaving children when the clock struck noon.
And she wasnt alone. The other transformees of Room 268 stood behind her, and at her side. They, too, had developed since Id last seen them. Bethany was at least eight feet tall, with much of it coming from her elongated, lizard-like torso. Yellow-green scales dotted her arms and neck. She stood behind Letty, as did Kurt.
Flanking Letty were Nathan and Maryon. The shapes their transformations had given their upper bodies belonged on gorillas, not people. Their arms were massive, and columnarNathans scaled in black; Maryons, in pale blue. Their fully developed claws splayed out on the floor, glinting slightly in the light of the ceilings cord-hung fixtures. They used their arms like legs, leaning forward with their actual legs dangling beneath them, suspended several feet above the ground, alongside their growing tails.
On its own, these opponents would have already made for a nightmare scenario. Butjust my likeit got worse. The hallway filled with dangerous transformees was also dangerously thick with people. The ones furthest from 268 were mostly bystandershealthcare workers, one and all.
I bet theyd been drawn by the shoutingand, boy, was there shouting. It came from all sides: from the troublemakers, and the peacekeepers, and the people on the sidelines.
In between us and them stood two and a half rows of Vernons finestquite literally. Rather than the familiar black-armored troops, the soldiers in the hallway were those white-uniformed of the variety Id seen standing guard in front of the garage entrance to GL; the elite guard. Their guns were long, slender, and streamlined, with barrels too thin to fire bulletsat least, any kind of bullets Id ever seen. At the moment, they were holding position in a demented munine standoff, their rifles pointed at Letty and her crew.
Recentlyrecalling one of Heggys explanationsthe army had been training elite troopers to use the new heat ray weapons technology.
Could that be it? Were these those troops? Were those heat rays in the white soldiers arms?
I really, really did not want to find out.
Behind it all, I heard mournful crying.
Checking my wyrmsight, I saw a lengthy form of violet and ultramarine energy lurking behind Room 268s walls. Every couple of seconds, it shook.
That had to be Werumed-san.
I suppose it was a silver lining that the mascot from Hell hadnt been roped into Lettys scheme. Then again, from the looks of things, he seemed to be the source of the weepingit looked like he was sobbing his guts outand I strongly doubted anything good would come from that.
Genneth! Heggy yelled.
Turning, I saw Dr. Marteneiss step away from the crowd, toward me. She nodded at me, and then looked off to the side as more footsteps arrived on scene.
Turning around, I saw Dr. Derric come out from around the corner.
Whats going on? I hissed.
Thats what I would like to know, Jonan said, panting for breath. He coughed and wheezed.
Heggy glared at us. Whats it look like? she said. Theyre mountin a break-out!
Jonan stepped forward, and his eyes nearly burst out of his head when he saw the quarantine door leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the hall, all battered and bent, presumably when Lettys psychokinesis had ripped it out and sent it flying.
Jonan pointed at the soldiers. Why arent they shooting them?
Havent you been watching the news, Dr. Derric, Heggy said, the transformees have powers. Dangerous, psychokinetic powers. She shook her head. Trust me, the last thing anyone wants is for there to be a firefight.
Groaning in fear, Andalon floated close and tugged me by the arm. Her touch sent cold rippling through my limb. Mr. Genneth, you gotta do something! I dont want the wyrmehs fighting! She kept glancing at the transformees with a worried look in her eyes.
Sighing, I stepped forward.
Wait, Jonan said, reaching out to grab the back of my hazmat suit. What are you doing?
I looked over my shoulder at him. Ideally, I said, Im about to bring this standoff to a peaceful resolution.
Shaking him off, I elbowed my way toward Letty and the others as far as I could. It helped that the small crowd of horrified onlookers parted in front of me.
Unfortunately, the same could not be said of our men in uniform.
One of the soldiers turned to face me. He pressed something on the side of his helmet, and the darkened, data-filled visor on his otherwise flawlessly white helmet suddenly became see-through. He glared at me.
He was probably scowling at me, too, but I couldnt see his mouth beneath the rebreather unit he was wearing.
The soldier in the middle of the row in front of him spoke up, addressing the transformees. Im only gonna say this once more, he said, get back into your rooms, now! Generals orders! One word from me, and we fire.
I figured that guy was the leader.
The soldier who glared at me touched his helmet, darkening it once more as he turned to face forward, following his commanders orders.
But then, my hopes were dashed to pieces when Lettys expression lit up in a grin. No, no, its fine. We can start now.
Will you tell us what weve been waiting for? Nathan asked. We could have been out of here by now!
I shivered as Letty pointed a skeletal arm right at me.
I was just waiting for the guest of honor, she said.
101.3 - Last Week Tonight
Even the soldiers looked back to get a look at me.
What do you want with me? I asked.
She nodded her horned head. Nothing too big, she answered. Making you miserable like you deserve would be a nice start. I was right, you know, she added. I am important, too important to be just another tragedy. She smiled. It took a man out of time to get me to see the light. Though, to be fair, she added, with a cackle, Ive always been a stubborn girl.
So, Jonan snarked, ugly, crazy, and stubborn?
Letty chuckled at that. Oh, I am going to have so much fun tormenting you, she said. Just you wait.
Turning back to face me, Letty gestured at herself and her companions. Were checking out, Dr. Howle, she said.
This isnt a hotel, I said. The word youre looking for is discharged.
I dont fucking care, Letty said, with a shake of her head. The Godhead has a greater purpose for me. For all of us. She gestured at all the assembled transformees.
Me included.
You mean that Divine Beast bullshit Lassedite Verune was preaching? Heggy said.
Letty scoffed. Leave it to a Marteneiss to fail to see the truth even when its staring them right in the face. She turned back to me. Its like Mr. Henrichy said: you think youre better than us. You want to hold us back and keep us scattered and afraid. Well, Ive got news for you, Dr. Howle: were not gonna take it anymore.
Behind me, I heard Ani curse: By the Angel!
Glancing back, I saw her and Suisei coming up from the rear. She was out of her hazmat suit.
If only I could do the same.
Ani, Jonan said, get back. He motioned with his hand. Its not safe.
I could say the same to you, Ani replied.
Letty scowled. Shut up! she yelled. This is our time. The days of human bullshit are over!
It seemed someone didnt like not being the center of attention.
I locked eyes with Kurt. He tried to avert his gaze.
Why are you doing this? I asked. What youre doing could get us all killed.
A long, thick, dark turquoise tail pulled away from Kurt as Valentine slithered out from behind him. Below the waist, the young man was almost entirely wyrm. His vestigial legs dangled from his flanks far behind him, darkened and rotting. Valentines black hair had fallen off, except for at the back of his head, where it thickened into a mane that trailed down his neck, back, and tail.
We just want to leave, Dr. Howle, he said. Thats all. He looked warily at the guns. We dont want anyone to get hurt.
I spied Lops golden eye staring from behind Valentine. It looked like the boy-convert was crouching behind the girth of Valentines tail. Hed stuck his mouthless, red-scaled snout through Valentines mane where the turquoise transformees body snaked along the floor. Pale, almost phallic horns curled at the sides of the little Demptists head.
I couldnt believe they were siding with LettyKurt, least of all.
Im touched, the lead soldier said, really, I am, but its not about what you want. He pointed at the wall. Hells melting out there. Lassedite Bishop just committed suicide, and Lassedite Verune has returned from the dead. The Last Days are here, and were not gonna let a bunch of Demon Norms go out and have their way.
Then why not just kill us now and be done with it? Bethany asked.
Girl, Heggy said, Im tryin to convince my brother that we can trust you transformees to use those powers of yours to keep us safe if push comes to shoveand, Angel-knows, its a shovin. People are scared. And this? What youre doin right here? Heggy shook her head. Its not helpin.
The lead soldier looked back at her. Youd work with demons, Heggy Marteneiss?
Heggy snorted. If it meant not gettin ripped to pieces by zombies? Abso-fuckin-lutely.
The soldier turned back to the transformees.
You think you can beat us? Letty asked. Id like to see you try.
Clicks rang through the hall as laser rifles were cocked.
I forced myself forward. There had to be a way to stop this!
What about you, Kurt? I asked.
Kurt was even longer and more sinuous than Bethany. He was almost like Valentine, only his dark blue tail wasnt as long. A ridge ran down his back, like mushrooms jutting from a tree trunk. His face was a snout, and his nostrils were two holes at its tip, above his lips, and other holes were just starting to open up nearby.
I got a call, he said, his voice alien and resounding. It was Marjorie, my wife. She Tears trickled down his snout. She and the kids are sick. Theyre here, at the hospital. Theyre His thrashing tail tousled the back of his hospital gown. Theyre not doing good, Dr. Howle.
Kurt moved his hands to wipe away his tears, only for his fingers to brush up against his neck. He still wasnt quite used to having to reach to touch his face.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
I stammered. His half-finished answer caught me off guard.
Kurt was living in my nightmare future.
They all were.
You want to see them I said.
He nodded.
Ive been reading about how the world is ending, he said. If I want to talk to them, I gotta do it now, before, well, you know He chuckled bitterly. The Green Death makes you forget. You forget everything. Even the people who mean more to you than your life itself.
He breathed in deep. For a moment, the stench of acrid sweetness that pervaded the hospital got a little stronger.
Im going to see my family, Kurt said. Theyre here, theyre sick, and Ill be damned if Im not there by their side.
Sword, pierce me, I thought.
Where are they? I asked.
Console says Ward S, he answered.
Jonan sputtered. Thats on the other side of the hospital!
You think I dont know that? Kurt said, with a growl.
I turned to my colleagues. Cant someone bring them here?
A nurse answered: Theyre in critical condition, Dr. Howle.
Doc, Jonan said, glaring at me, even if we ignore the fact that this would be in violation of the deal you made with Hobwell and DAISHU about transformee sequestration, if you let these freaks wander all over the hospital, you do realize that were going to have a riot on our hands, dont you? Third times the charm.
Theyre not freaks, Jonan, Ani said, softly.
In general, yes, he replied, but, in this case, I beg to differ.
I turned to the other transformees. Bethany! Maryon! Nathan! Dont tell me youre in league with her?
All of them averted their eyes, except for Lop who, like Letty, continued to watch me with the utmost interest.
Please, Dr. Howle, Bethany said, just get out of the way. Her tall, slender body swayed in the hall. She looked at Valentine. Valentine said what all of us feel. We dont want anyone to be hurt. She turned to Letty. Right, Letty?
Letty tilted her head to the side. Actually, she said, with a flick of a claw, about that
The horned witch grinned.
I lied.
Through the patch of thickened wyrmsight in the middle of my field of vision, I watched a fresh set of plexuses swirl around Letty. They split into two currents. One stretched out to form a glistening sheet of blue and gold filaments that spanned the hallway side to side. The other surrounded her in what I instantly recognized as a levitation sphere.
But then, I noticed she wasnt just leaving the barrier in place. She was changing it, twisting it. It looked like
Fudge, I muttered.
It was just like what Id tried in my courtyard levitation practice session a couple days ago: she was setting it up to redirect momentum.
Suisei must have seen it, too, because the next thing I knew, he yelled. Move out of the way!
Of course, the bystanders saw nothing until the moment the energy flowed and Letty hovered upwards.
Gasps and screams shot out from the crowd at the same time as Suiseis warning.
I looked back and saw Jonan and Heggy dart up against the wall.
The lead soldier gave his orders: Fire!
The soldiers pulled their triggers. The hallway filled with flashes and blasts as narrow, piercing, blisteringly hot rays of red light shot from the barrels of the elite troopers guns. Bystanders ducked down and covered their ears.
You could feel the heat wafting off the laser beams.
I had just enough time to whip up a plexus on my back with which I shoved myself downward, out of the way of the gunfire. I slammed onto the vinyl face-first, my hazmat suits headpiece slightly bouncing off the floor from the recoil.
The lasers didnt even get to hit their targets. The plexus Letty had set up across the hallway jerked forward and pressed onto the line of soldiers, bunching up around their weapons and ripping the laser rifles out of their hands. A few of the soldiers held on to their weapons, only to get pulled forward and flung to the ground as their weapons floated toward Letty and spun around midair, turning to face them.
It happened so quickly, parts of the walls and floor were scarred with laser burns sent off by the guns as theyd spun around midair.
All the weapons triggers squeezed on their own, blasting a laser fusillade at the elite troopers.
And there was nowhere to run.
The lasers tore through the front row of the gathered soldiers, knocking them backward, toppling corpses onto corpses, filling the room with the stench of burning meat. The back rows flailed about as they tried to pull themselves free from under their dead comrades bodies. Multiple healthcare workers fell around me, landing on their knees or on all fours.
Honestly, it smelled delicious. I had to bite my lip to keep my drool from spilling over my lips, which made it hard for me to smile when I heard Kurt roar and looked up to see him bend his neck down and bash into Lettys shoulder, slamming her against a wall, and pinning her there.
And then everything went to hell.
Letty shrieked.
Several of the laser rifles had fallen to the ground, but a few floated near Letty, who fired them remotely. She struck Kurt with her claws at the same time as the laser beams burnt across his robe, spewing invective and force in equal measure. She flung Kurt off her with a concentrated blast of psychokinesis that sent him skidding backward along the vinyl.
You bitch! Bethany screamed.
Lop scuttled out of the way as Bethany clawed the witch from the side. Plexus threads glistened around Bethanys claw-fists, strengthening her blows, only to explode outward, scattering the few still-floating laser rifles in every direction. Bethanys psychokinetically strengthened blows also kept Letty from just shrugging off the attacks with a forcefield of her own.
Not that she didnt try.
No, wyrmehs! Andalon yelled. Stop! No fighting!
She wept, but they wouldnt listennot that they could hear her, anyway.
Nathan and Maryon lunged forward, Nathan toward Bethany and Maryon toward Kurt. The two transformees reared up on their puny, crooked legs as they smacked their targets with their monstrous arms. Claws sliced through hospital gowns like butter, cutting through to the human flesh underneath, yet no blood fell.
I skittered across the ground and pushed up against the wall, glancing at a soldier who was prying off a dead comrades body. Reaching out, he managed to grab a laser rifle that had landed on the ground nearby, and, rising into a crouch, fired it at the fighting transformees. He struck Letty on the flank, making her recoil and shriek as the laser burned away some of her sail-human flesh. But then Letty flicked a plexus at him, ripping his arm out of his socket in a twisting, pulling motion that tore his laser rifle to shreds. Dark, infected blood poured out from the wound as the soldier fell.
Surging forward, Valentine flicked his tail-body toward Letty and Nathan. Letty floated up, evading the turquoise transformees attack, but Nathan, with his frail legs, wasnt mobile enough to dodge, and Valentine forced Nathan to the ground as he wrapped the end of his tail around one of the black-scaled transformees colossal arms.
Maryon and Kurt wrestled one another.
You wont stop me! she shrieked. Im going to see Kreston!
They crashed into a wall, shattering a hole into the drywall.
More laser blasts followed as another soldier recovered his weapon. Others pulled out handguns and started firing bullets. Several of them tore through Lettys gown, grazing her sides. The bullets sent out sparks as they bounced off her tail.
With a snarl, Letty spread her arms, summoning her psychokinesis. Her plexus weaves spilled onto the soldiers like water from a bursting dam. Like serpents, they flowed, serpents of light that wrapped around the soldiers necks and gripped them there and hoisted them high. Lasers and bullets flew in every direction as the soldiers struggled and kicked, desperate to pry off the crushing force.
They didnt stand a chance.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a nurse in magenta scrubs emerge from around a corner and join Heggy in charging at Letty, but the hag didnt seem to notice. Lettys attention was directed upward, at the soldiers writhing in the grip of her magic.
As the soldiers squirmed, Letty drifted down to the floor to get a better view, and then laughed as sent power sparking through her plexuses.
All the soldiers necks snapped. The sickening sound echoed down the hallway.
101.4 - Last Week Tonight
Kurt had gotten the upper hand on Maryon. Hed pinned her to the floor. With a thrash of her tail, Krestons mother dragged herself across the floor as Kurt clawed at her back. Maryon looked up to see Heggy and the nurse leap on Letty with syringes in their hands.
Letty! she yelled. Watch out!
The witch was busy smashing the remaining laser rifles with blue and gold boulders when Heggy plunged a syringe full of sedative into her flank. Snarling again,
Before the nurse could inject a second dose, however, Lop scampered up from behind her and
Mr. Genneth! Andalon shrieked, flying up above the battlefield. Hes
The next thing I knew, Lop breathed out a thick, wisp-flicked stream of lime green spore plumes. Heggy managed to pull away in time, but the nurse in the magenta scrubs wasnt so lucky, and bore the brunt of Lops breath weapon.
The result w the stuff of nightmares.
The corrosive cloud ate through the side of the womans body. Her scrubs burned away as the spore spray ate into her skin. Her infected fluids spilled out from the massive, gaping wound. The nurse fell, bleeding profusely. Her body twitched uncontrollably.
The spastic screams caught Kurts attention. His eyes widened as he looked up from his foe and saw the dead soldiers and the dying nurse.
Mr. Genneth! Andalon screamed. Do something!
I
Id never done anything like this before. This wasnt one of my mind-worlds. It wasnt a ghost or a demon.
This was real life.
You! Kurt spat, pointing a trembling claw at Lop and Letty. Youre just like Wognivitch, Kurt said. Maybe worse.
The vinyl hissed where Kurts spit fell.
Kurts gaze fell on me almost by accident. Our eyes briefly locked. You were right, he said, I should have
A wave of psychokinetic force blasted out from the entrance to Room 268.
From Werumed-san.
Whatever demons or giants lived inside Mr. Twists mind had finally found their way into the real world.
A storm surged.
The giant of the mascots madness was a thickness that writhed the air. It turned the hallway into a wind tunnel, battering bodies and bashing in the drywall as everything shook beneath its rage.
Anyone who wasnt already on the floor got knocked there by the mascots power. Several people bounced off the wall of the hallway. At least one skull cracked, blood pooling on the floor.
As for me, I got thrown onto my stomach.
In between the waves of pain, I saw Kurt stretch out, stiffen, and groan.
Letty cursed as she shook her dazed head.
I pushed myself up onto all fours, and I swear I could hear one of my knees crack as I did so. With the help of a psychokinetic burst, I rose to my feet, just in time to see Werumed-san slither out from Room 268s antechamber. Pieces of the doorsill ripped free as he squirmed through the doorways.
The onlookers who saw him gasped and screamed. Even Andalon skittered back in horror.
Black scales had encroached on the mascots pancake face, and a gold wyrm eye had ripped its way through one of the faces felt eyes. The tufts of blond hair atop the mascots head twist and elongatprobably stretching into horns. His lipless mouth was a pit nearly as wide as his head, torn into the fabric of the mascots face.
I staggered forward and glimpsed of Werumed-sans body threaded through the two pairs of double doors.
Lashing out with his clawssinking them into the vinylthe mascot pulled his forepart into the hallway, carving furrows into the floor. More chunks of the doorway ripped free as Werumed-san sprang loose. He flopped onto the hallway floor with a dull smack, green, dark-streaked sludge dribbling out from his mouth. His whole body spasmed, but unevenly, and he screamed and sobbed.
He could barely move
Then again, neither could we.
He howled and moaned.
There wasnt a single onlookerwell, other than Lettywho wasnt moved to pity by the sight. It was like watching an animal being tortured, only this animal used to be human.
It took a moment for me to notice the trails of tears that had soaked into the mascots felt face.
And then, the least probable thing happened: Werumed-san spoke, and with a Northeastern accent, no less.
You bitch! he shrieked, flicking his claws at Letty. You preening, whinging bag of overbooked entitlement! She-devil! Muck-whore! Look what youve done! He lashed his claws across the ground. Look! At! What! Youve! Done!
Before, when Werumed-san had spoken, it had been maddened, mindless, screams that struck terror in all who heard them. But this voice this was a human voice. A nebbish, slightly nasal voice, stuck halfway between a whine and cry as it bel out its speakers righteous indignation.
Everyone stared.
What the fuck? Heggy whispered.
Everyone, I said, weakly, I I think this might be Charles Jonathan Twist. The man behind the mascot.
The transformees glowered at one another. Nathan flexed his legs and then pounced, launching himself through the air by pushing off from Valentines serpentine body. But then Werumed-sanor should I say, Charles?raised a hand, and Nathan suddenly froze-mid air, hovering in place. Through my wyrmsight, I watched as psychokinetic threads streamed onto Nathans body from every direction. Wind whipped through clothes and corpses, accompanied by a sound of suction.Stolen novel; please report.
Andalon reached for him in concern.
Nathans body collapsed on itself, his limbs breaking with crunch after sickening crunch.
It was an implosion.
Mr. Twists attack crushed Nathans torso like an aluminum soda can. The spell ended as suddenly as it began, dropping Nathan to the floor. The maimed transformee howled in pain as he writhing on the ground.
I imagined he wished he was dead, even though he most certainly wasnt.
No! Charles barked. No more violence! No more slaughter! I cant take it anymore! He ran his claws over his mascot face. Ive already done so much that I can never undo. So so much. He trembled. Do any you have even the slightest idea of the kind of misery, the kind of abject, all-consuming horror a person has to live through when theyre turning into a wyrm while their mascot persona is calling the shots?
Letty grimaced. Mascot persona?
Charles thrashed his tail and slammed his hands on the floor, sending cracks through the vinyl. I have a disorder! he screamed. The last thing I remember, Veronica walked out on me, and now now he wept, Oh fuck, the things Ive done. The things he did. He shook his arms. Its unclean! Im unclean! Im a dirty boy! Dirty, dirty boy!
What the hell is going on? Jonan muttered.
Why?! Charles demanded, pointing at Lettys entourage.
What? Maryon said.
Why are you listening to her? Charles said, slamming his palm down on the floor for a second time. Shes awful! Terrible! Horrible! BAD! He shrieked. Have none of you been listening? Are you not paying attention?! He clasped his claws at either side of his head. EVERYONE IS GOING TO DIE! Theres no hope! No god! No nothing! And here you are, MAKING IT WORSE! Shame on you! He pointed at the transformees. Shame! Shame!
I couldnt believe I was thinking this, but: I agreed man whod apparently thought he was a mascot.
I looked over at the cowering and the dead.
Please, everyone, I said, just go back into the room. We we can get past this. We dont have to fight.
Now, Heggy was looking at me like I was the crazy one.
Its too late for that, Dr. Howle, Charles said. Our hands are stained with the blood of the innocent!
Its not My voice cracked. Its never too late. It cant be. I stared them in the eyes. that moment, it didnt matter to me whether those eyes were human.
You dont need human eyes to have a soul.
I beg you, I said, please, please go back into the sequestration room. I pointed at the shattered doorway. If we let everything fall to chaos, then what is it that were even trying to save anymore? My voice cracked. I know it hurts, I know. I havent seen my family, either, and god, I miss them. But Im doing this for them. Im doing this for you! We all are. Please, help us. Help each other!
Gasps shot out around the hallway as the transformees stepped away from Letty, all except Nathan, who continued writhing in agony.
Please? Letty said, softly quaking with rage. You please!
Power swirled around her as she levitated up off the floor. She glared at the others.
Look, she said, look at the power we have. Were giants, now; theyre ants. The witch turned her gaze back to me and my colleagues. Dont you want to use those powers? Dont you want to revel in it?
Before I could react, Letty sent a wave of force slicing through the air. The limping transformees toppled to their knees.
Im not going back in there! Letty yelled. No one is! Im strong! Im free! Im beautiful! And I can do what I want!
Bethany and Maryon leapt at Letty. Bethany struck with a psychokinetic broadside, while Maryon raked her talons through the air. Kurt lunged at the hag, too.
Cutting off her levitation, Letty dropped to the floor, dodging Maryons attack. With a sweep of her arm, the witch grabbed a fistful of dead soldiers flesh and stuffed it down her throat. Her arms thickened with growth. Dark violet scales rippled down their swelling dimensions, sheathing them all the way up to the base of her claws.
Pushing off the vinyl with her tail, Letty wrapped the levitation plexus around herself like a coat, using this to overwhelm Bethanys attack, only to then send the energy out in a shockwave of blue and gold.
You wont stop me! she screamed.
Letty sent her attackers flying down the hallway. Heggy and a load of corpses skidded along the floor in the opposite direction. Charles got blown back into 268.
This time, however, I was prepared. Id anchored myself in place with plexuses Id whipped around my legs and waist. Lettys force-wave rattled me like a great wind, but it didnt knock me back.
For a precious few seconds, while everyone else was knocked down or stunned, it was just Letty and I, staring at each other eye to eye.
I noticed one of her eyes had turned gold.
After staring at me for what felt like forever, she glanced at herself, and the others, and then at me.
Mr. Genneth, Andalon said, I think she knows!
Letty pointed a crooked, clawed finger at me.
You! She spat out the word. All this time, you were?
She floated in place, utterly motionless, unable to get the words out of her mouth. But then I realized: no, she wasnt motionless: she was vibrating; quivering in the air.
Quivering with rage.
The power building around her was like Charles outburst all over againmaybe even worse. I could see the air dance and flicker around her, as if she was cloaking herself in a mirage.
I had to do something.
Shed tear Jonan and Angel knows who or what else to pieces with whatever she was mustering.
Letty, I yelled, no!
She sneered at me, and then, with a roar like a war cry, she lowered to the ground and floated backward toward the end of the hall, like a bull getting ready to charge.
The lights flickered, and the floor trembled, shaking the railings on the walkway girding the atrium.
I swear, for a moment, time seemed to slow down. Raw power swirled around my arms. I could feel it surge and hum. It slithered across my skin through the spaces between the fingers and palms of my clenched fists, and in a moment of the madness that you might call courage, I decided that keeping my changes secret didnt matter when I was the only one who could stop this twisted, hateful ruin of a human being from tearing my patients, my colleagues, and my workplace to shreds.
I stepped toward her, ready to fire.
Behind me, Dr. Horosha shouted: Gennethdont!
But I still let my magic fly.
So did Letty.
We both flung our arms forward, but mine got jerked back at the last moment when someone pulled at the back of my hazmat suit.
More than one voice screamed behind me.
My attack crashed into Lettys, but I fell backwardmy legs sliding forward along the flooras Dr. Horosha pulled me back.
The air sparked where our waves of power met, and then sparked again as a third pataphysical wave collided into the two.
I looked up.
Charles had bolted out of Room 268, surrounded by a swarm of blue and gold arcs. Thrusting his arms forward, he launched the arcs at the horned witch. Like birds, they flewlike eagles and ospreys; like fortunes albatross, winged and widecutting through the air.
They swept through Letty; through, and around. The wind was razors, blue and gold, piranhas tearing.
She didnt even have time to scream.
The witch fell to the floor in slices, one after the other, piling up in a wet, sloppy, stack of minced Kathaldri julienne. Her fleshy horns clattering on the vinyl like a fallen crown.
H-Holy shit
Slowly, people dared to raise their heads. Shaking bodies looked up and stood up. Dr. Horosha got up off me, looked me in the eyes, and then flick his head toward Heggy, Jonan, and Ani who were all further down the hall. They were busy helping each other back to their feet.
What were you thinking? Suisei hissed, under his breath.
I
But, before I could respond, someone else needed me.
Dr. Howle?
I turned to see Charles coiled in the middle of the hallway. He took care not to touch any of the corpses.
I looked up at him.
Thank you, I said. My eyes bounced between him and the Letty-mush piled on the floor.
You are a good doctor, Charles said. His voice was kind and gentle. I am a bad patient, and I apologize for that. He looked the others. I apologize to you all.
I tried to speak, but he interrupted me.
I do not want to live like this, Dr. Howle. He smiled with his pancake face. Just remember, he said, it isnt your fault.
Through my wyrmsight, I saw a weave of power blossom inside Charles serpentine body. It threaded through him, like an axis mundi. The next thing I knew, he exploded, splitting down that long axis. His two halves fell to the floor, silent and dead.
Wyrmeh! Noooo!
Andalon fell to her knees and wept.
102.1 - Candlelight
So, yeah that happened. It was a lot to process. My transformation into a wyrm was giving whole new levels of meaning to the concept of multitasking.
Our dysfunctional, shell-shocked little familyHeggy, Jonani, and myselfhad gathered in a conference room on the second floor to discuss what had happened. By this point, it felt absurd that we were using conference rooms like this to discuss the apocalypses latest developments, as if a magic wyrm fight in the hallway was no different from any of the other problems that fell under the hospitals purviewopen heart surgery, wart removal, enemas, and so on.
As for me, in addition to being not okay, I had not one, nor two, but three dnouements on my plate, and none of them were pretty.
First, there was the matter of the 250th Lassedite. After more than two centuries, years, the mystery of Mordwell Verunes disappearance had been solved. I wondered if anyone had he got flung 217 years into the future on their What happened to Lassedite Verune? bingo card.
Obviously, that was going to complicate things.
Then, there was the matter of the catastrophic violence Letty had caused. I think I was still in shock about it. As I sat in my chair in the conference room, I kept tugging at my bow-tie, as if it might wake me up from this dream.
Nearly a dozen people had died.
Well, what were the positives? I asked myself.
Because, at this point, why not?
For one thing, at least the massacres survivors were too traumatized to go around screaming that there were demons in the hospital who were using their magical powers to maim and murder. Well, most of them were. Vernons men had quickly taken away anyone who wasnt able to keep themselves calm.
Suisei chose to skip out on the meeting altogether, volunteering to assist Vernons men with securing the transformees in Room 268. Ani, meanwhile, was terrified by it all, and that upset Jonan, which was bad, because he was already furious at usmeaning Heggy, Suisei, and myselfat having, well Ill let him speak for himself.
(Also, Im aware I didnt mention the third dnouement. Dont worry, Ill be getting to it in a moment.)
Jonan slapped his gloved hand on the tabletop. I know Im just a lowly surgical resident, he said, at least half-facetiously, so, please, forgive my tone, but I dont know which is harder to believe: what just happened, he pointed toward the conference door, or the fact that you knew about it, and hid it from the rest of us.
Jonan glowered in my and Dr. Marteneiss general directionswhich was easy, since she and I were seated only two seats apart.
Like I said before, he continued, Ill give you all a pass for your misrepresentations about the whole it-turns-people-into-monsters thing. You were fulfilling legal requirements as best as you could while minimizing the potential for any unrest or liabilities. But this?
Standing up, Jonan raised a hand toward the ceiling. He held his fingers upward, slightly splayed out, like the petals of a half-opened flower.
Dangerous magic powers!?
Why were we in here, rather than our usual place in the glass-walled conference room down on Ward Es ground level? Convenience, mostly. If wed held our meeting downstairs, wed have had to trudge up and down the stairs (or wait for the elevator) every time something new came up with the transformees. Mercifully, with Letty dead, the Room 268s patients were much more cooperative with Vernons soldiers. Along with the dead soldiers, Lettys and Charles corpses were taken down to the morgue, so that the scientists (both ours and the militarys) could give them a thorough examination.
The conference room was a cozy affair. Modern tech had been cleverly integrated into the rooms old furnishings. In terms of current team dynamics went, Heggy and I were playing the roles of mother and father; Jonan, the problem child; Ani, the overachieving, goody-two-shoes of a younger sister, and Suisei, the perspicacious neighbor watching quietly from the house next door.
Jonan stood at the head of the table, propping himself up with armshis palms pressed onto the tabletop. His arms were like a bridge trestlewith his head hung slack between his shoulders peaks, as if the bridge had toppled and slid into the sea.
Magic is for fairy-tales, Dr. Derric, Heggy replied, stoic and stout-browed. As for the decisions, like before, they were made above my level. When youre in the middle of a crisis, few things can cause divisions as deep or wide as what happens when the wrong kind of talk gets set loose in peoples mouths.
She glanced at me.
Pursuant to official policy, Dr. Howle, Dr. Horosha, and I made the decision to
I suppose the real question is, Jonan interjected, what else arent you telling us?
Neither Heggy, Suisei nor myself said anything in response. I was doing it only because I didnt know what to say, only what not to say.
I thought of my tail, coiled in the back of my hazmat suit. I didnt need to look to know it had only gotten longer.
Ill take that as a yes, Jonan huffed.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Furrowing her brow, Dr. Marteneiss clenched her fist over the tabletop. Im cutting you some slack here, Dr. Derric. I really dont know what we can do to contain and control these magic powers, other than to just keep trying our darndest and hoping things dont come up rotten.
Jonan laughed. He coughed as he laughed, but he didnt let that stop him. If zombies in the streets i things coming up rotten, I dont want to know what is, he said.
Heggy coughed, clearing her throat. That bein said, she said, at the risk of bein petty, youre in no position to complain about lies, Dr. Derric. She glanced at Ani and I. Dr. Howle and Dr. Lokanok have informed me that you confessed to stealing medication from our reserves.
I dont steal, Jonan replied, I appropriate creatively.
I dont care what you call it, Heggy said, slapping her palm on the table, youre doin it, andnot only thatbut youe at the worst possible time. She narrowed her eyes at him. It makes me wonder whether the hair gel you smear over those blond locks of yours is just to caulk up the holes where the stink of your maggoty, honor-less soul might leak through and poison the air.
Heggy got rather florid when she was mad.
During all this, I was only half-listening, but not in a bad way. Half of my consciousness was hard at work inside my head, dealing with the third dnouement: Andalon.
See? I deliver on my promises now. Ive gotten better with that.
She was devastated.
The blue spirit sat with me in a recreation of the observation deck at the end of the hall where our current conference room was located. It was one of the newer observation decks: an open, turquoise-carpeted area filled with oddly placed red sofas that looked like something youd find extruding from mold. Despite that, they were comfortable enougheven if they had the texture of nylon. Andalon and I sat on one of them, side by side, staring out through a big bay window. In the real world, the view would have been one of desolation and horror. Thered have been gunfire flashing in the evening streets, dying rioters pillaging storefronts, troops and military vehicles desperate to maintain order, crowds of zombies moving through the streets like drunken army ants, and, of course, all the things in the air. Some of them would have been aerostats. But, others?
I shuddered at the thought.
Thankfully, the scene through the bay window was different. It was a glorious summer afternoon. Traffic sped through the streets, peppy and filled with business. Monorails sped along their red, elevated tracks. Distant Expressways swept across the Bays glittering waters.
Andalon was still crying. She sat to my right, in between me and Mr. Humby. Not even her beloved big hummingbird plushie was enough to ease her grief. Earlier, shed been bawling, but shed since quieted down a little.
Every once in a while, her little hand squeezed around my fingers.
Why was her reaction so severe, you ask? Well, as familiar as she was with death, it turned out Andalon had no concept of suicideor, if she had, &alon hadnt uploaded it into her yet. This revelation took me by surprise, though, in hindsight, I probably should have expected it.
Shed been so utterly despondent in the seconds immediately after Charles suicidescreaming, flailing, pounding the floorthat Id had to decouple my consciousness and take her in here, just to keep her under control. It was awful. For a while, she didnt respond to me at all, and rambled on and on about good wyrmehs and bad wyrmehs, but when I finally managed to calm her down, she plunged into silence, staring blankly at the window.
Her sorrow was heartbreaking to witness. It reminded me of the way Id broken down when Id first learned of Rales death.
All of sudden, Andalon turned to face me, her face pale as snow.
What was that Mr. Genneth? she asked. Mr. Char-Char he
I sighed.
The word youre looking for is suicide. Sometimes, people feel so lost, so trapped, so hurt that, as sad as it sounds, they would rather never feel anything ever again than to continue being as they are. So, I closed my eyes, they kill themselves.
Andalon sniffled, wiping her tears on her forearm. Was Mr. Char-Char hurting? she asked.
Yes, he was.
Why was he hurting? she asked. Who hurt him?
Mr. Twist had mentioned that a Veronica had walked out on him. Hazarding a guess, I assumed that shed been his wife, or had been slated to be.
Though I dont know for sure, I said, I think what happened was that a person he cared for very, very deeply left him, and it made him go crazy, and while he was crazy, he started turning into a wyrm.
So? Andalon croaked.
When he was crazy, he wasnt himself. He did very bad things, and hurt many people, and when he stopped being crazywhen he understood what he had done, it was too much for him. He couldnt deal with it. He saw that hed become something he didnt want to be, something that hurt people.
But wyrmehs save people, Andalon said, utterly emphatic.
For him, it wasnt enough. Werumed-san killed people; he ate them. And Charles couldnt bear that.
But why would he make himself go away? Andalon cried. Why?
Back in the Thick World, Jonan sank back into his seat, his arms crossed. He stared at Heggy for a moment before he spoke.
Dr. Marteneiss, he said, you accuse me of being a thief without knowing the details.
Then enlighten me, Heggy replied.
Shaking his head, Jonan turned to the window.
Engines thrummed outside as aerostats flew by. Searchlights and sirens roved over Elpecks corpse. He turned back to face us a moment later.
I will, but, first, I want to know something, he asked. Heggy, why does it fucking matter to you? The system has failed us, he shrugged, not that it ever worked that well to begin with, but theres no point in judging it now, not when were all about to die. Really: even if we werent living on borrowed time, what would be the point? Its not like you actually care. Most people dont. They live their lives just going through the motions, while the people with power, skill, and influence zoom past them, flying overhead. The world is their oyster, and were not invited.
Jonan, Ani said, you liked to tell me youre not afraid of anything. Was that a lie?
Jonans brow furrowed.
How many times do I have to tell you, Ani? he said. I dont lie.
Yeah, well, stealing medication, and then sulking around isnt much better.
Jonan shook his head. They dont understand, Anind, to be frank, he said, sometimes I worry you dont either. Youre all in denial. rolled his head in my direction. Doctor Happy-Go-Lucky Hazmat Suit, here, most of all.
I take offense at that, you know, I said, flatly.
Really? Jonan snorted. I wouldnt have guessed.
Enough! Heggy snapped. Tensing her thigh, she slammed the sole of her boot onto the floor. The whole table shook. Ive had enough of your insubordination, Dr. Derric. I demand to know what youve been up to, and why! What reason could you have thats so importantor pettythat youd take action that sabotage and undermine the efforts of your colleagues?
Ani said nothing. Instead, she locked eyes with Jonan, and she kept staring at him until he acknowledged her gaze with his own. Ani nodded, and then, after a deep sigh, so did Jonan.
Jonan let out a deep sigh.
You wanna know why? he asked, You really do? Fine. Its because Ive been living on borrowed time my whole Angel-touched life.
102.2 - Candlelight
Widening his eyes, Jonan shook his hands in the air like a drunken cleric, trying to invoke the Moonlight Queen at Convocation.
My father has HC, he said.
HC? I said. Hereditary Chorea?
Jonan nodded. The one and only. Ive probably got it too, even if it hasnt had the decency to show itself yet. He shrugged. Or maybe I dont. He waggled his eyebrows. The suspense is to die for.
Angel, Queen, and Hallow Beast, I muttered.
Suddenly, Jonan Derric made a whole lot more sense than I could have ever imagined. Are you sure its HC? I said. Theres a wide range of conditions, chronic or acutethat can cause jerking movements. Cerebrovascular disease, copper poisoning or deficiencies in the bodys chemical filtration and excretory mechanisms; it can also happen as a side effect of a chiral dopamine prescription, or hyperthyroidism, or a bacterial infection
Spare me the differential diagnoses, Doc. Jonan shook his head. My grandfather had it, as did his father before him, and his mother, and on and on, all the way back through the whole fucking family tree. Were blue-bloods, dontcha know?
I could picture him smirking from beneath his rebreather unit.
Hereditary Chorea, also known as HC orcrudelythe Shakeswas an untreatable genetic neurodegenerative disease. The autosomal dominant gene responsible for the condition caused a certain protein to get produced in a malformed version. Inexorably, this protein would accumulate in your neurons, causing them to malfunction and die. The condition was terminal. Its name came from the uncontrollable spastic movements it caused in its later stages.
In my country, the disease had a fourth name: the Gentlemans Twitch. Many of the old Trenton bloodlines bore the mutant gene that caused HC. It was just another one of the seemingly innumerable ways our forerunners self-serving attitudesin this case, inbreeding among the old Imperial aristocracyhad shaped the present for the worse. People who preferred the Second Empire to the Republic that followed it like to say that HC was a sign of the Moonlight Queens judgment against the parts of the aristocracy that sided with Lassedite Agan against Lassedite Verune, and, of course, people who favored the Republic said the exact opposite.
Fun fact: the Lassedile Encyclopedia had an entry on Hereditary Chorea, dedicated to explaining how the diseases existence did not contradict the all-knowing, all-powerful, omnibenevolent nature of God.
Civil wars were stupid like that.
Things had gotten better after the Prelatory had ended. Religious motivations pushed the Prelates to implement bans on important things like genetic testing or layperson celibacy. Thankfully, with DAISHUs help and the vigorous Clean Gene public health campaign by the Second Republics government, HC rates in Trenton had dropped significantly. Every child adopted by an HC carrier meant one less blighted gene line to plague future generations. Still, there were some holdouts, especially among those aristocratic families who were so conceited that they believed they were entitled to want to perpetuate their particular bloodline.
I guess Jonans family was one of them.
Back in my mind, Andalon and I were rapt in a moment of silence. She scooched over to me and leaned against my side, and unlike when she touched me out in Thick Word, she wasnt the least bit cold. She didnt say anything, she just held me.
Why, Mr. Genneth? she asked. Why would he want to go away?
Ugh.
How to explain suicide to a child?
I would have referred to my own memories for guidance, but it had just never come up with Jules, Rale, or Rayph.
Andalon, I said, youve been hurt and scared and lonely, and for a long time, right?
She nodded.
Do you like that? I asked.
No! she said, with a great deal of force.
Did you ask for it?
No! she said, brimming with despair.
Would you give up anything to make it go away?
Andalon thought about that for a moment, and then nodded.
Well thats the logic behind suicide. Nothing bad can happen to you if you arent alive anymoreunless you believe in an afterlife, but I shook my hands, actually never mind. I sighed. The point is: sometimes, people feel overwhelmed. They think that their problems will never end. But there is one thing they can do to make their pain stop, and thats to make themselves go away, for ever. Thats what suicide is. Its a bad answer to the problem, but it is an answer, and for some people, theyd rather have a bad answer than to keep waiting for a better one.
Andalon looked at Mr. Humby.
Can I ask you a question, Andalon? I said.
She turned to face me and nodded.
Youve seen my patients die, more than I can count. Whats different about Mr. Twist?
For a moment, Andalon lowered her gaze. I couldnt save him, she answered, quietly.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
What do you mean?
I couldnt bring him to you, like I did for the ghosts. She shook her head. Thats why he cant go away. Andalon doesnt want anybody to get lost.
I swallowed hard.
By now, Id accepted my fated wyrmhood, but
I wonder I thought.
Andalon what happens if a wyrm doesnt want to be a wyrm? I asked.
Whatchya mean? she asked.
What if, no matter what happensno matter what you tell themwhat if they just dont want to be a wyrm?
They cant go away, she said, barely above a whisper. Theyre too mporptant. She looked me in the eyes. I need them. Amplersandalon needs them, too. You cant go away, Mr. Genneth. You cant give up. Its not right.
Have you gotten yourself tested? Heggy asked.
I cleared my throat. Ive worked with enough HC patients to know that its generally considered impolite to ask that question of them. Its a very personal matter for most.
No, Ani said, he hasnt, and he wont. She sighed. Believe me, Ive tried. She glared at him. But the medication stealing, that thats new to me. Her expression softened. Why didnt you tell me about this?
Jonan titled his head from side to side. I did in my own way, he said.
Ani furrowed her brow. All you said is that you dont want to know.
Exactly, Jonan replied.
Suddenly, I had an epiphany.
Ah, I said, so thats what you were using the barbicane for, huh? I said.
Oh? Jonan asked. Do tell.
Youre trying to suppress the symptoms before they even appear, assuming they ever do, I said.
He nodded. Bingo.
Though barbicane was principally a painkiller, it had other applications, one less known one of which was that it helped suppress the kinds of uncontrollable jerky movements caused by HC. It was often prescribed to help lessen particularly severe cases of tardive dyskinesia.
Involuntary movements, particularly of the face and jaw.
The one downside? To get the anti-dyskinetic effects, you needed to take barbicane at a significantly higher dose than what was needed for its analgesic effects. One of the reasons barbicane had become popular as a painkiller was because the decline in HC cases had left Prescott sitting on surpluses that it couldnt profit from.
Why? I asked.
Ill tell you why, he said. I said I would. He cleared his throat. When people think of people with HC, you know what they feel? Pity. They imagine the awful fear of death, the halo of doom circling an inch overhead. Diaries filled with wishes that would go unfilled. Every second counts, they say. But me? Im not afraid of the disease; Im afraid of being kept from living.
Oh I thought.
Everything was coming together.
Jonan continued: If I do have HC, do you have any idea how much its gonna cost to get all the supportive and palliative care Id need to stay functional once I start to decline? Its through the roof. The cold, hard, truth of it is that the more successful I am, the longer Ill be able to keep doing the things that matter to me with the people that matter to me. He glanced at Ani. Excuse me for not putting any stock in politesse or second chances. I dont have time for them, and, even if they did, what difference would they make? Im here to make money and save lives. A smoldering flame either burns brighter or gets snuffed out. Theres no middle way, no matter how much you want it to be. So, I gotta burn.
By this point, Heggys gloved hands were pressed firmly against her PPEs plastic visor, as if she was about to scoop her eyeballs out of her face.
Just get fucking tested already, she muttered. If youre positive, you can get a priority prescription. And if youre negative, well you can throw yourself a party when this is all over.
Jonan shook his head. No thanks. Id rather not know.
Why? Heggy and I asked, in unison.
Its the best of both worlds, he said. A positive test result would take away my last bit of hope, while a negative test would take away my motivationand motivation is really all Ive ever had.
We all just stared at him.
He turned to Heggy. So, there, now you know. Ive been creatively appropriating drugs from the pharmaceutical dispensary. Now, what I want to know is: what are you going to do about it, Dr. Marteneiss? You gonna dock my pay? Both of us will probably be dead before my next payday. You wanna try and fire me? I can just sign up for the military. Im sure your brother would love to get my help. Jonan leaned back in his chair. Its like I said: the system has failed us. Everythings falling apart, and if you dont believe me, just look out the window.
He pointed.
There was silence, and Heggy said nothing. She just glared at him.
I forgive you for being offended by me, Jonan added. In another life, I would be, too.
If the system is broken, Heggy said, gritting her teeth, then why are we still fighting? And no, she shook her finger at him and coughed, dont you give me another one of your snarky replies. I dont care if you have a point. A systeman institution its only gonna be as good as its people. The Church, the government, the military even this damn hospital. Thats just the way the world is. She nodded. Youre right. Everything is falling apart. There are freakin zombies out there! Heggy glowered at him. Thats why I need to know that I can trust you, Dr. Derric. She glowered at all of us. The same goes for all of you. We can deal with the bullshit once the danger has passed. Trust is what matters most right now.
Ill say this, Jonan replied, you can trust that Ill do whatever it takes to get the job done, even if that means going behind your back or giving your precious law and order the finger.
What are we going to do about the transformees? Ani asked, breaking her silence. We do what we can, Heggy said, and try to not to make things worse.
After what just happened out there with the sequestered transformees, Ani said, even though its terrifying I feel more strongly than ever that our crackdown on communication is just plain wrong. Its one thing to keep them sequestered, away from the people they love. Its quite another to slap muzzles along with that. I understand the argumentsnot wanting to cause panic, not wanting to endanger our lives or the patients, but its doing more harm than good, and its only going to get worse. She looked Heggy in the eyes. Tell that to your brother.
You should tell that to the people who are strangling the economy right now with all the lockdowns, Jonan said.
Ani closed her eyes and groaned. Not funny, Jonan.
We can either laugh or sob, he replied. I prefer the latter.
People shouldnt be reducible to cents on the groat, Ani said. This stupid rule about keeping stuff about the transformees hush-hushforgive me for saying that, but thats what it isits stupid she sighed, but her eyes stayed wide open, Its hurting people, and its hurting them where it matters. Theres a future knocking at our doorsteps, and I dont want it to be one where I have to keep telling people that were doing everything we can to get them back to the people they love, and who love them back when were not and we all know it.
Pursing her lips, she closed her eyes and rubbed them. Her fingertips wove around the frame of her glasses.
Jonan she said, steadying herself with a shaky breath, has hacked my phone more times than I care to admit and angels know what else hes done that I dont know aboutand I think hes an ass for doing it but
Jonan raised an eyebrow. Where are you going with this?
Ani put her elbows on the table and clasped her hands together. I think we should try hacking into the hospitals console server, just to let patients videophone each other, despite the crackdown. And, you never know, maybe well be able to sneak a peek at what Vernon is doing in General Labs.
Heggy glared at her.
Dont give me that look, Ani replied. I know everyone here has been itching to learn what hes been up to.
She turned to Dr. Derric. And if youre not willing to do it, Jonan, I
Not willing? he asked. Ani, what you just suggested is the best idea Ive heard all day!
103.1 - Someone in a tree
While my colleagues and I were busy planning an unlawful (but creative) appropriation of WeElMeds servers, Yuta had gone on the journey of a lifetime. It had started before Lettys slaughter, and kept going for a while after.
Yuta took a moment to rub the sheets fabric as he sat up in his strange, elevated metal bed, to remind himself that this was real.
Not even the one-eyed hag that lived down by the mill could spin threads as fine as these.
The doctors of this era had given him, Hoshi, and Ichigo a new treatment for the Green Death. A Dr. Rokanoku had administered it. The same doctor had also explained that, for her own safety, Hoshi had to be taken to a separate room. Hoshi appeared to be uninfected, and the doctors were desperate to keep her that way.
Be brave, Hoshi, hed told her. Well see each other soon.
Now, Yuta worried if hed have the strength to make good on his word. Compared to the Green Death, as they called it, the akumani was a gentle kiss.
The treatment had certainly given him some of his strength back. And yet, Yuta couldnt shake his suspicion that the relief he felt was only temporary. Death had never been a stranger to him. Hed known the shadows of its wings since childhood. He could feel those wings embracing him, here in this place of marvels he did not deserve.
He knew by the throb that pulsed in his aching bones, and the trickle of sweat down his brow. He knew it through the fire that crackled in his chest with his every breath and made him spit up black and green. He knew it in the corrupted ink that calligraphed decay beneath his skin. He wanted to believe that these people were as wise as their technology suggested. Theyd brought peace to Mu and Trenton. Surely, with their miraculous knowledge, they would be able to conquer the Green Death as well.
And yet he could still feel the plague festering within him.
It was an ominous tiding, to be sure.
Yutas focus was broken by the sound of the sink turning on once more. He turned toward the noise. Leave it alone, Ichigo, he said.
I think it might be able to make sake, Ichigo replied.
Yuta sighed. There is only one problem in the world that alcohol solves, and that is sobriety.
If I am going to die, Ichigo said, Id rather not do it while sober.
And I would rather not die in ignorance, Yuta said.
Carefully, Yuta rose to his feet, grasping tight to the tall, wheeled metal cane beside his bed. He glanced once more at the soft-glass serpent whose impossibly thin coils ran down through the cane and stung him in the arm. The bag at its head was half-emptied of fluid. Horosha insisted it cultivated health, and was not to be removed.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
Ichigos bloodshot eyes widened. No! Lord Uramaru, what are you doing?! He rushed to Yutas bedside. You need to rest!
No, Yuta replied. He briefly closed his eyes and shook his head. Soon, I will have more rest than I could ever ask for. He turned his gaze to the door. Ichigo I do not know if I will survive. If I am to die here, I would rather die having seen some of this dying world. I want to know if they built something worthy on top of all our suffering.
Ichigo pointed to the luminous consuru hanging from the wall by the door. Why not use the glowing win he rolled his eyes and snorted, The consuru? Ichigo paused as he was wracked by another horrid coughing fit. Or call Horosha, he added, smacking his lips together.
Darkened spittle gathered in the corners of his lips, which he wiped off with his sleeve.
I never liked being patient, Yuta said, and he gasped, panting for breath, I am tired of struggling to be understood. He shook his head. I wanted to spend my twilight years strolling the gardens, contemplating the stars.
Yuta coughed. His breaths and throat were caulked in so much purulence and slime, it made him wonder if he had any flesh left in his lungs at all.
Stepping forward, Ichigo knelt on the strange, cold floor. Lord Uramaru, please you must rest.
He looked Yuta in the eyes.
Yuta watched him cough into his sleeve. His retainers black hair had lost its sheen. The way his lengthy bangs draped over his head on the top and the sides hid the advancing tips of the fungus tendrils.
I am tired, Yuta said. Tired of being chained to what cannot be changed. Groaning, he lifted his metal stand and clacked its foot on the floor. There is no hope of freedom in motionlessness He sighed. I know I have been forgettingjust as Horosha said we would. Im worried the same is true of you.
No, Ichigo said, keeping his head low, dont say th
Yuta cleared his throat. Look at me, Ichigo. He stared his retainer in the eyes. The younger man was doing a poor job of hiding his tearsand there was nothing wrong with that.
The world would be a kinder place if more men felt safe to cry.
I dont want to lose who I who I was, Ichigo said. The legacy that made me who I was. He shook his head. Without that I have nothing only anger and despair.
And that, Yuta said, is why we should go out and see this world while we still can. Kneeling opposite his retainer, Yuta gently placed his hand on the young mans back. He could feel Ichigo trembling beneath the hospitals stringy gowns.
Before you became my retainer, Yuta said, long before I was he struggled to remember, respected before that I was a man from nowhere. Yuta smiled through his tears. Ironic. I can remember never belonging, now I can hardly remember my efforts to belong. He coughed, and inhaled. And now my daughter is cured of incurable disease, only to be struck by another one. He shook his head. What a world.
Ichigo nodded.
Yuta briefly closed his eyes. Do you remember what I told you when you first came to me, he said. He dared to smile.
Ichigo nodded. I will never forget it.
A man should strive to be more than other peoples identities, Yuta said.
I think Ichigo said, his lips quivering, I think my family would like to know what became of the world after they left it. He dared to smile, as did Yuta Uramaru.
The two men really had no reason to stand, but they stood up anyway. They leaned into one another as they helped one another to their feet.
Careful Ichigo muttered. Careful
Yuta glared at him playfully. Im not an old man yet.
Neither am I, Ichigo said, but, as you taught me, thats never a reason to turn down help.
Then, reaching together, they opened the strange door, turning the knob the way Horosha and others had done, and they stepped out of their erstwhile tomb, to see the world and what wonders still lived in it.
103.2 - Someone in a tree
The first few minutes were slow-going. There was so much they did not understand. It was always a trying task to speak of things unknown to you, even in the best of circumstanceswhich this was most certainly not. They often gawked and stared at what they passed, and they just as often received stares in return. A few of the hospitals personnelwearing their strange, modern dresscame up to reprimand them in words they did not understand. Ichigo earned his keep by growling and making faces at them, sending them skittering away in terror, shaking their heads within the unfathomable see-through head-dresses they stuck on their faces.
Bi Bi E, Horosha had called it.
Ichigo was convinced the transparent bits were made from thickened air.
But for everything that words could not convey, there would be something for which they were not needed.
I have stood after battles, watching the crows feast, Yuta said. There is not half as much dread there as there are in these halls.
Dread and drudgery lurked everywhere Yuta looked. He saw it huddled in desperation on the floor, spilling out from sculpted chairs, or sealed away in skin-toned bags. The atmosphere was painfully familiar. Bits and pieces of his memories were gone, but feelings remained.
It made him think of curdled blood and crinkling fires. Hed wandered such battlefields before, killing people he did not know in the name of a cause that meant
What did it mean?
He couldnt remember. Perhaps Ichigo did, but it didnt matter. He knew it wasnt worth fighting for, and thats all he needed to know. Glorys promises were reapers, and nothing proved their hollowness quite as powerfully as the horrors at battles end.
The voices of the dying.
The agonies of the dead.
It was the kind of experience that turned a persons cares into lead.
And the same was happening here.
But then, as they turned down a hall, something changed.
It happened in an instant.
It started with a single Tsurentu-jin running into the room with all the composure of a panicked dog. He rushed up to a consuru on the wall and touched the screen, causing the display to change. Then, stepping away he shouted to everyone in earshot, pointing at the consuru behind him as he ran to make the same changes to every other consuru in view.
Though, obviously, Yuta couldnt understand what the man had said, he did recognize one word: Rasedaitu.
Whats happening? Ichigo asked.
Yuta shook his head. Something with their religion, I believe.
A look of concern flashed on Ichigos face. The young man approached one of the consuru, only to get knocked back as many Tsurento-jin flocked toward it.
In seconds, the hallway lost its deathly languor as a far more visceral terror took its place. The screams started all over, and spread like wildfire. Every Yuta looked, the people showed the same reactions. First, they would pause, stunned, as if theyd just seen their child beheaded. After the shock came panic. Wide-eyed, flailing panic. Then fierce, cough-studded conversations erupted as they talked amongst themselves, and their reactions finally began to diverge. Some fell to their knees and made Rasudito prayers. Others stepped around in catatonic stupor.
Then the crowds began to form, and the physicians and their assistants were powerless to stop it. People shouted in anger and terror. Men in black armor tried to calm the panic, but they seemed as shaken by the consurus messages as the people they were trying to shepherd. Some of the physicians stood up to the growing mob, yelling at them, trying to make them submit. Others walked away, glancing back furtively, reluctant to abandon their posts.
Yuta and Ichigo looked around in confusion. In the middle of the commotion, behind one of the physicians see-through masks, Yuta saw the face of a woman that could have been a younger version of his honored wife, though her beauty was marred by exhaustion and plague. Dark lightning crawled up beneath her cheeks. Bits of black daubed the edge of her nose.
Yuta reached out and grabbed the woman by the shoulder. Her garments solid blue fabric was firm and pleasantly smooth beneath his grip.
She froze at his touch, and then bolted around to face him with fearful eyes. She said something in Tsurentu, and then began moving in a way that told Yuta she was about to push him back. Ichigo must have noticed it, too, because, in the corner of his eye, Yuta saw his retainer reach for his sword. Yuta stopped him with a wave of his hand as he asked the woman a question.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Whats going on? He spoke as quickly as he could. Yuta knew the woman understood him, because she stopped to stare at him.
She said something in Trenton to which Yuta shook his head. Noh-u Tsurentu, he said.
After having risen to the rank of samurai, Yuta, like all other colonial nobility, had been expected to study the Tsurentu language. Unfortunately, languages had never been easy for him, and his Tsurentu left much to be desired. But, however meager his knowledge might have been, it was not too little for the Green Death, which had stolen it away, like so much else. It was the strangest feeling: knowing that he once knew, but knowing no longer.
The woman stared back.
What is going on? he repeated.
Then, in a fretful voice, she answered:
The missing Rasudito has returned, she said, and he is a monster. She wept. It is the end of the world.
Yuta wanted to ask more, but she slipped away before he could get a word in. He turned to Ichigo. I think we should keep to the quieter hallways.
Ichigo nodded, only to scowl and growl as a passerby bashed into Yutas side.
In an instant, Yutas hand was on his retainers sword, stopping Ichigo from using his weapon.
No! Yuta snapped.
Why not? Ichigo demanded. Look at them, running around like headless chickens! They were fools in our era, and are fools in this one. They have no respect. Ichigo pointed at the hallway the woman had run off to. They cast you aside, like you are a fishwife offering goods. I wont let them treat you like this!
I forgive their trespasses, Ichigo, Yuta said, as should you. They are not their ancestors. We have no quarrel with them. He gazed off at the gathering crowd. Come.
They walked onward.
Yuta sighed and then coughed horridly, once again feeling the fire in his chest. Here, on the far side of time, there is no hope of justice or revenge. There was little hope of it in our time, either, and I do not wish to dwell on it. I would rather see wonders than more misery.
I coughing, Ichigo bowed in deep apology. I understand, he said. Forgive my impertinence.
Yuta smiled at that. Youre getting better, he said.
Of all the lessons Yuta had tried to teach Ichigo, few were as valuable or difficult as learning to control his fiery temper. The Munine peoples sense of honor was at once their greatest strength and their greatest weakness. Though it gave them the solidarity to act as one, it left them vulnerable to vanity and reflexive action. Honor without reason was hardly honorable at all.
It made Yuta proud to see how much progress Ichigo had made since hed first come to him. He just wished the young man would have had the chance to use it.
Ichigo looked down in embarrassment, bowing again. Please, he said, lead the way.
How far he might have gone, he wondered.
Taking the lead once more, Yuta took the path of least resistance. The quicker they could get away from the main pockets of commotion, the better. And it was quite the journey. They passed halls and concourses of indescribable make, filled with sculpted boxes and magicked windows. The artifacts flashed like jeweled beetles, or like marsh fireflies beneath a starry night.
It was Ichigo who noticed the doorssolid, but entirely glass. Working together, they pushed their way through, as theyd seen other wanderers do at other doors, and stepped out onto a long balcony, and then walked up to its edge, and stood, and looked. The porous stone walls sculpted at the balconys edge felt like ice beneath Yutas hands.
They watched for a long while. Yutas neck began to ache from all the time hed spent looking up, but what was one little pain among millions?
The streets were ordered walls of gleaming spires that stretched up into forever whose tops melted away where the glint of their metal skins merged with the glare of the nourishing sun. Flying machines roared past, fluttering Yutas and Ichigos gowns, shining cones of light onto the streets. The things were thickened, visored rafts, with cylindrical plinths that belted out sound and wind.
Down below, vehicles passed through the streets. There were scarcely any of them left, maybe two or three. One was not unlike the ones Horosha had shown himthough of a larger, stouter buildbut the others were something different altogether: large, ugly, angular things that trundled down the street, men popping in and out from them like mice from their holes.
How do you think they move? Ichigo asked.
I wish I knew, Yuta said.
It gave them much to discuss, as did the scattered columns of smoke Yuta saw rising up in the distance.
So, Ichigo said, this is it, then? This is the city of tomorrow?
I think it was, once, Yuta said. He shook his head. To think, we were too late to see the city of tomorrow. Perhaps, if wed come several days earlier, maybe then He smiled sadly.
The city of tomorrow was barely even the city of yesterday, and, soon enough, it wouldnt be a city at all. Fires burned in the distance. Nightmarish creatures stalked the shadows. Here and there, battle drummed and burst. Fire and light filled the skies.
Yuta filled with melancholy as he contemplated these sights. There was wonder here, but it was on its way out.
I wish I could have known this place, he said. I feel like I would have found something beautiful within it.
They stayed like that for a while, watching in silence, untilafter far too little timeone of the head-dress wearers stumbled upon them and interrupted their peace. The man waved his consuru over their right hands again and again, clearly expecting something to happen, only for his complaints to get louder and more frustrated each time the result he expectedwhatever it wasfailed to materialize. Eventually, he relented, though not enough to leave the two time-travelers in peace. Instead, he beckoned them to follow him with a wave of his hand.
Where do you think he intends to take us? Ichigo asked.
Somewhere new, I think, Yuta replied. Let him have his moment, he added, interrupted by a coughing fit. He probably deserves it.
So they followed him, letting the man lead them down the halls, turn after turn, until Ichigo spotted something so outlandish, he simply had to go see it for himself. Yuta followed suit, darkly curious, as did the head-dress wearer. The man was not pleased with this turn of events, and yelled at them, even over his own coughs.
Ichigo responded to him with a smile and a wave. Bye-bye.
The man replied by indignantly repeating the word goodbye, but mispronouncing it: sayonar-ruh, rather than sayonara. But then, after another coughing fit, he finally gave up, throwing his arms up before storming off down the hall.
103.3 - Someone in a tree
They dont seem to carry any weapons, Ichigo said.
How strange Yuta said.
Not as strange as this Ichigo said, opening a glass door.
The sight that had caught the young mans fancy was a rectangular prism of a room that jutted out from the corner of one of the hospitals many concourses. Its glass walls gave a perfect view of its brightly lit interior. It seemed Ichigo couldnt resist the childish compulsion to step through its glass doors and touch and see what lay withinand Yuta didnt blame him in the slightest.
At a glance, the place reminded Yuta of a shrine to a kami or a barashai. Both were filled with rows upon rows of shelves laden with colorful objects, but there, the similarities ended. In a shrine, the shelves would be made from stone, and the objects on them were packaged prayers or votive offerings, pleading for the gods favor, or for the support and intervention of the enlightened barashai that wandered across the firmament.
Do you think it might be a shrine? Ichigo asked.
Even in death, great minds thought alike.
Yuta shook his head. No, not likely. I have been to a Rasudai temple, and can still remember what I saw. They were built from stone, and far less illuminated than this. He stared at the shelves. And they had nothing like this.
The shelves in this not-quite-a-shrine were also filled with goods, but, beyond that
What do you think theyre for? Ichigo said, as he stepped up to one of the shelves.
Some of the objects were stacked on the shelves; or slid in, like codices in a library. Others dangled hooked racks. Most notably, however, everythingabsolutely everythingwas encased in sheets or boxes of the material Ichigo called thickened airwhat Horosha had called by some nonsense wordpurasuchikku. Most parts were covered or filled with colorful inserts sprinkled with images and Tsurentu text.
Entire rows of shelves and hooks were dedicated to accessories. Yuta saw bags of gaudy-colored (serpent?) skin hanging from the hooks by lengthy straps. He saw showy, decorated plates, and he could tell that they were plates, thanks to images on the inserts, which showed them covered with food. He saw short-sleeved shirts brazenly covered in images of sights like the ones Yuta had seen from the balconybuildings, vehicles, street scenes, and more.
What could it mean? Ichigo said.
I Yuta cleared his throat, I think this is a shop of some kind.
Ichigo looked at him like he was mad. A shop? In a place of healing? What do shirts and bags and thickened air have to do with healing?
Who says a shop in a hospital has to sell medical goods? Yuta said.
He regarded the boxes on the nearest shelf. Each was filled with a single figurineextraordinarily lifelike. The figurines came in many different varieties, each of which had a style of box all its own. The same figures could be seen in different poses, suggesting that the figures could be posed and arranged, like wooden puppets. Some of the figurinesvery very few, thoughwere physicians, dressed like Horosha. Others were ronin, with fine haori and gleaming blades drawn at the ready. Yuta also saw Tsurentu knights with weapons in hand, and imperious figures in sumptuous white robes, encrusted in recreations of pearl and gold; he dimly recognized them as Rasedaitu holy men. Still others seemed utterly fantastical: muscled men with golden hair that grew from their heads like carrot tops; strange hybrid beingsdressed like Tsurentu knights, but with blue hair or a ninjas bandana to go along with their flowing capes. Many werent even human. He saw grinning devils and colorful, fanciful creatures of charming design.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
To his surprise, however, Yuta saw Munine text on the backs of the objects:
A-mi-bo figurine. Game sold separately.
He hadnt the slightest clue what an A-mi-bo was, though he didnt dwell on it for long, for there was an even greater puzzle in the set of shelves next to the ones with the figurines.
The shop was selling rectangles: dark, tiny rectanglesno larger than a thumb-nailcovered in a smidgeon of text or imagery, embedded in purasuchikku sheets large enough to be pages in a codex. Some had inserts showing what could only be the buildings he and Ichigo were currently in. Others depicted things completely divorced from reality: drawings of tiger cubs gazing winsomely from within a cloth-bottomed basket; images of warriors with swords and shields of a design that Yuta half-recognized, and made him shiver. He saw ones covered with real images of people dressed like Horosha had beenpresumably, other physicians; all were smiling. Some of them depicted some of the more fantastical figures available nearby. But, no matter the content depicted on the insert, there was always a small drawing of the consuru device in the inserts upper right-hand corner.
What it meant, howeveror what the small objects within were forthat was anyones guess. On a hunch, remembering the figurines, Yuta checked the backs of these seemingly packageless packages, and was rewarded with another snippet found Munine text:
Made in Mu.
I believe these are for children, Ichigo said.
Stepping away from the figurines and the purasuchikku sheets, Yuta walked over to where Ichigo stood, beside a row of shelves pressed up against the shops one non-glass wall. The shelves were filled with what could only be childrens dolls. Most were in the shapes of animalshummingbirds, especiallyor, if not animals, then something halfway between animal and human. He saw dragons and bears and birds of all sorts, from blue owls, to red birds with yellow beaks half a forearm in length. The quality of their materials and make was simply astonishing, and as Yuta ran his fingers across their plush surfaces, tears came to his eyes as he pictured how his children would have reacted to a gift like this.
Children whose names he no longer remembered.
To the left of the dolls section were scores of brightly colored boxes, covered with bits of text or stylized images. Picking one up, Yuta noticed the boxes had a slight weight to them, and that their contents made noise, rustling about, when he shook them.
Putting the box back on the shelves, he continued down the aisle until he reached a point where the many varieties of dolls reduced to only a fantastical, winged beastlike a dragon and a liona woman in robes of blue and white, and
the Angel.
That was what they called it.
The word came to him, but only for a moment.
Beyond the dolls of the Rasedaitu gods, the goods gave way to objects Yuta actually recognized: religious paraphernalia. He saw statuettes, trinkets, candles, miniatures of Tsurentu temples, and decorated editions of illuminated manuscriptshis first encounter with paper in this strange new world. Several baskets sat on the shelves. One was filled to the brim with translucent purasuchikku tubes, and held a clear fluidpossibly water. The other baskets had probably held the same things, but had since been emptied of their goods.
Further down the aisle lay the corner of the shop, where the glass wall met the wall of the larger chamber. There, Yuta saw an area enclosed by a polished counter. One of the consuru was built into the countertop, next to which lay an arm, perfectly still.
Ichigo Yuta said, getting his retainers attention.
Behind the counter sat a corpse. She leaned over the countertop, resting her head between her crossed arms.
She must have died in her sleep.
The sickness within her had started to bloom. Prominences split her flesh open where they grew out onto the countertop. Dark filaments spread out from the base of the prominence, looking like roots beneath her skin. Several of the prominences had burst open, spraying spores everywhere, with the result being that the entire back of the store was splotched in corrosion. The shelves in the back row were dissolved and burnt. Holes and depressions were etched into the countertop around the womans body, as if she was sinking into the earth.
Even now, as he turned his head down the aisle, he could hear the sound of soft, bubbling sizzles, and see a faint cloud of green wisps hovering over the floor.
Yuta did not know this woman, but she had died at her place of work, and for that, she earned his respect. He lowered his head, while Ichigo intoned a quiet prayer.
103.4 - Someone in a tree
Yuta and Ichigo felt both enlightened and perplexed as they left the shop in the glass room to wander the halls once more. Like before, they received stares from passersby, but now, they no longer made Yuta feel amiss. He felt recognized; he felt seen. Considering his circumstances, that might have been the most he could have asked for at this moment in time: to be seen, andhe hopednot be forgotten.
Yuta and Ichigo barely spoke to one another anymore; it hurt to speak, and Yuta doubted he had enough breath in his chest to form words. But they didnt quite need them; they could speak in other ways, by exchanging nods and glances, or through weakened gestures of their oft-trembling hands.
Yuta spent a moment in one of the hallways, gently touching the arched, wormlike purasuchikku tunnels that stretched out from nearly every rooms doorway. Their surface was smooth to the touch, and slick like a polished stone. Yet it was also flimsy, yielding like cloth beneath the push of his fingertips. Even more surprising was what Yuta saw through the tunnels, and through the windows in the doors beyond them.
He saw people, but places of healing would have people in them in any era. No, what surprised him was that the people werent what hed imagined theyd be.
In his era, faces and skin were enough to earn enmity. For all their differences, the peoples of Mu and Tsurentu were united in their hatred of people who looked different from them. Hed never have expected a Tsurentu hospital to serve foreigners like him and his family, yet they had. Even so, Yuta hadnt truly grasped the implications of that fact. Only now, as he watched the dying become the dead did he begin to understand.
Men and women, people of all ages, races, and creedsthey were all here, each and every one of them wearing that same set of robesthat unbecoming affair of blue on darker blue, held together by ties at their backs. Yuta saw fathers and daughters, and mothers and sons, laid low by the dark lightning that festered beneath their skin. He saw the hapless looks, and the agonies the plague brought them. But they were people. People, just as they always had been, even if they did live in a world whose ways Yuta could hardly fathomand, even then, only from a distance. People, brought low by a sickness from hell," as Ichigo called it.
At first, seeing what Mu had become, Yuta imagined that the Emperors great quest to conquer the New World had merely backfired, and that the conquerors had become the conquered. But now, he realized it wasnt quite simple.
If the Tsurentu-jin of his era had become the worlds hegemon, they wouldnt have tolerated Munine goods in their shops. They wouldnt have tolerated alien races in their places of healing, either as patients or as caregivers.
And yet, here they were.
Yuta began to wonder if maybejust maybesomething good might have come from his eras death and destruction, after all.
They pressed on, with the going getting more and more difficult the further they went, as if they were approaching an ending. Turning down the corner at the end of the corridor brought Yuta and Ichigo to another large chamber. Chairs filled it to bursting, and people pooled inside it like a high tide in a marsh, huddling, coughing, shivering, and weeping as they awaited treatment, death, or sleepwhichever came first. A few of the people gathered noticed Yuta and Ichigo. One, in particulara portly man in a round helmet and dark armorstared at Ichigo with wide eyes. It seemed hed noticed Ichigos scabbarded blade. That would make him one of the few that had.
The physicians here couldnt have failed to notice the weapon. They simply must not have cared. Yuta empathized with that; he understood that feeling. Standing at the brink of death brought a kind of cleansing clarity. There was serenity in knowing there was truly nothing left to lose. It was the embrace of oblivion; the death of love; the rejection of pointless despair.
And it was evil.
The great truth of the world was that suffering turned men toward evil, not away from it. Those who survived evil and stayed or grew good did it in spite of it. The rest were crushed underfoot until their souls broke, and they accepted their suffering, first in acquiescence, then in pride.
The healers were breaking, slowly, but surely.
He wondered how long theyd last.
Look Ichigo said.
Though there was noise in the backgroundconversation, coughing; the consuru, making their magicIchigos words hit Yuta like lightning.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
The thunder came when he looked.
Several larger forms of consuru were mounted on the walls. There were two behind the counter by the wall. One was perched up in a corner of the ceiling, and two others were in the middle of the walls, on opposite sides of the room. But of these, only one caught Yutas imagination and made him stare and gawk. Only one had colorful images moving gracefully in its window. Only one had children gathered in front of it, sitting on the floor in a half-circle. The images moving on the consuru looked like drawings, rather than the sights of true life that Horosha had shown him. But somehow, that only made them more impactful.
Ichigo coughed. Is that? he rasped.
Little Sina, Yuta whispered, nodding in agreement. The betrothed of the Prince of the Winds.
The children sitting on the floor didnt react as Yuta and Ichigo approached them. Perhaps they hadnt even noticed. But, whatever the reason, neither the children nor anyone else raised so much as a finger as the two menone grown, one nearly sosat down behind them and joined them in watching. The characters spoke in the Tsurentu tongue, and yet the images spoke in a language that transcended speech.
A fading memory graced Yutas thoughts: the face of a woman with a heart as wide as the sea, one that had meant everything to him, long, long ago. Unlike most of the faces Yuta still remembered, hers was darker in color than his own. Shed told him stories of Little Sina, the fisher-girl whod won the heart of the Prince of Winds.
The moving images on the consuru were in a style that was strange to Yutas eyes, though not unpleasant. Even so, there was no mistaking the Princes gray coat, with its two white sashes, or the wicker sandals with which he walked on land and sea. Yuta remembered tales told with light and shadow. He remembered the tale of the Wisdom Fish, with three black stripes across his glittering red scales.
And now, he watched that story play out once more, brought to life like never before. The Prince braved the Wisdom Fishs guts to rescue Sina from the depths of his belly.
Yuta wept softly as he watched. The little Princes face reminded him of someonesomeone dear to him. Sina did, too, as he was, all besotted with concern.
A voice spoke from within, telling him it wasnt fair.
The children gathered before the moving pictures were sick and dying, and, just like before, there was nothing Yuta could do to help them, no matter how much he wanted to.
It wasnt fair.
All that death and destruction had finally made something good, something that not just Mu and Tsurentu could be proud of, but which the whole world could enjoy.
Like with the city of tomorrow, it was a shame he wouldnt be able to savor it.
And then something odd happened; something odd and impossible, yet also impossibly familiar. It pushed Yutas sorrow aside, filling him with terror and surprise. The familiarity tugged at his chin, making him turn his head and look back.
Suddenly, without the slightest sound or warning, a group of strangers appeared on the far side of the room.
People screamed. Panic erupted everywhere, but Yuta didnt let it distract him.
The strangers were soldiers, and of a kind Yuta recognized. They belonged in this time and place as much as he or Ichigo did, which is to say, not at all.
The soldiers were decked out in arms and armor, still freshly speckled with rust, dirt, and blood. They wore metal plate armor, or corselets atop chain mail. Moisture gathered at the edges of the armors lames, and at the brims of their morion helmets, not too far from their paranoid stares. They even had a packhorse. The beast of burden was fully decked in a red and yellow caparison. Bags of rations, munitions, and other valuables hung from either side of its saddle. Another rifleman stood by the horses side, nearly as terrified as the animal beside him.
The stink of fresh musket shot split through the sickly sweet air.
One of the soldiers was a rifleman. He held his artfully decorated weapon in his hands. He was reaching for his bandolier even as Yuta stared.
Yuta saw a halberdier, a man with a two-handed axe, a pikeman, and several others.
Then came the screamsand not just the bystanders cries.
Most of the soldiers had appeared next to a cluster of invalids in chairs, but one soldier appeared right in the middle of one. Instantly, a pair of bodies fell to the floorone, the soldiers, the other, the dying man who had been seated in the chair. Theyd somehow fused together, their bodies superimposed one another, and on the chair itself, where it intersected the soldiers tasset-covered thighs. The crisscrossed mass of flesh, armor, and clothes hit the floor with a thud, its two heads and eight limbs frozen in instant death. As the body fell, it overturned an entire row of chairs, all of which had been linked to another. People were thrown onto the floor.
The rifleman by the horses screamed in terror while his companions readied their weapons. The horse clopped its hooves upon the floor, but the frightened riflemen grabbed its reins and calmed it, leaning into it with closed eyes.
Yuta tried to rise to his feet by pushing off against a nearby chair, but he felt something push down on him and hold him back. Looking up, he saw Ichigo pushing off him with one hand, while reaching for his katana with the other.
More bystanders screamed as Ichigo stepped forward.
Hey, you Tsurentu fuck-wads, he said, shaking his head.
What are you doing? Yuta said, panting for breath.
Protecting you, Ichigo replied.
I have no more need for protection.
Coughing, Ichigo glanced back over his shoulder. But I still need a teacher, he said. And a friend.
Before Yuta could do anything, the soldiers charged. Smokey spitfire from one of the rifles sent a jolt down Yutas spine. Fiery pain stung at his side, and then rocked through his entire body when he convulsed in a cough that drowned his gullet filled with ooze.
He fell to the ground, beside beside the the man with the sword. The one who fought, even though he should have run. The one whose blade licked off a strangers head with a crunch of bone and a splatter of bubbling red.
Yuta fell to his knees.
104.1 - Gunsmoke
One moment, Geoffrey was in the heat of battle, surrounded by blood and gunsmoke in the dead of Night. The next, he was in a strange place, brightly lit, with a raven-haired Mee brave charging right at his group.
Hearing Karl scream, Geoffrey looked over his shoulder at the young man, only to see Karl fire his musket, hitting the other, older Mewnee square in the chest. The man reached for the gunshot wound as he. Smoke from the muskets barrel swept over the strange chairs as the rooms sickly crowd scattered and screamed.
The ends of young Mewnees odd gown billowed as he bellowed in fury. His katana glint in the light as it swung, lopping off Williams head. Blood spilled as the soldiers decapitated corpse fell the ground.
Will! Duncan screamed.
Williams body toppled over as his severed head fell to the floor.
Geoffrey brandished his halberd without hesitation. Bever! he yelled.
The burly axeman raised his weapon. I follow! he said.
The two Trenton knights rushed the Mewnee brave.
Bever shoved Karl down to the floor, pushing off him to boost himself forward. Karl lost his grip on his powder flask and spilled gunpowder all over the floor. Behind him, Duncan rushed to load his own rifle.
The Mewnee warrior stepped forward, spinning to build momentum as he brought his katana down in a falcon strike. Bever caught the oncoming blade with the head of his axe. Sparks flew. Before the Mewnee could pull away, Bever rebuffed him with his arm, shoving him with his shoulder. The katanas edge grazed down the axemans layered iron armor, causing the Mewnee to stagger.
There was opening!
Geoffrey struck, cleaving his halberd in a wide sweep that knocked aside a cluster of strange-looking chairs. But just as its blade was about to bite into the young warriors stomach there was a scream from the older Mewnee down on his knees. The man threw himself in the way of Geoffreys attack, gurgling up blood as the halberd tore into his chest.
The raven-haired warrior rolled out of the way.
By the Angel! Karl shrieked, cowering at the horses flank.
Geoffrey stepped back in horror.
This was no man. His blood was not mans blood. It was black and green.
Demons blood? Geoffrey thought.
He pulled his halberd out of the body without a second to spare. The stench of the place finally hit him, coming at him in waves of rot and earth, sweetness and death.
Up, Duncan! Bever yelled. Up! He pulled the rifleman off the floor.
Fink! Karl yelled. Easy boy! Easy!
Geoffrey heard horse hooves clacked on the floor behind him. He looked back to see Fink rearing up, flicking his hooves in the air. The horses whinnies strut among the crowded screams.
The people scattered like ratssick, twisted and strange. They cowered behind uncanny furniture, among heaps of weird debris.
Geoffrey was no stranger to battle. The New Trenton Empire was being forged through battlea battle he fought in, longing for the day when his homeland would be free and the violence could end, the Mewnee finally driven out of the Holy Land. But, for the Second Count of Seasweep, no battle was ever so strange as this.
Still, his duty came first.
Lifting his weapon, Geoffrey swung his halberd down on like a headsmans axe. The mans eyes widened in his last moment, but then the halberd struck. His head rocked side to side on the ground as more of the black blood spilled from his neck. Trails of red, human blood mixed among it. The black was almost fibrous.
The sight made Geoffreys stomach churn.
The raven-haired warrior shrieked a war cry. Black spittle flicked off his lips.
Geoffrey didnt need to know the Mewnee language to know what the young man had yelled. There was a click as Duncan fired, spitting musket shot directly in the young Mewnees chest and face. The warriors katana clattered to the floor as he staggered back and fell.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
The crowds screamedand they screamed in Trenton. And not just men, but women and children, too.
By the Angel!
No! No!
Run! Run!
Is that a fucking horse?!
Bever rushed forward, to finish the Mewnee brave while he was down, but then Geoffrey yelled, To me! To me! and the axeman stepped back.
Men were streaming into the room from the nearby hallways. They wore black armor with stout, round, visored helmets that swept back from their heads like raindrops in the wind.
One of the newcomers raised his forearm to the side of his helmet.
Sir, the targets are armed.
All, Geoffrey shouted, to me!
Beside him, the horse whinnied and fussed about, shaking its head in fear.
Damn the horse, Karl! Bever yelled. Damn us all! He raised his axe. Quick, boy, quick!
The knights huddled together, back to back, holding their weapons at the ready.
Death could come when they least expected it.
Geoffrey surveyed the scene.
Himself, Duncan, the riflemanlanky and long-faced; Karl, their packhorses handlera young man, stout and curly-haired; Bever, their strong-manbroad-chested, with a grizzled face and eyes; master of weights and ale. Eylon, the bastard with a bastard-swordwith hair like fire and temper to match. Will lay dead on the floor, beside his sword, handsome even when beheaded. Morgan huddled in between Geoffrey and Bever, his eyes darting about much like the head of his pike, as paranoid as ever.
But where was Geren?
What is this place? Geoffrey asked, under his breath.
He wracked his thoughts as he looked around.
It was like nothing hed ever seen. The more he looked, the more alien it became. It was a place of contradictions, filled with naked surfaces and stark, ugly angles. The furnishings were little more than sketches and delusions. The lights up on the ceiling and the walls were brighter than any tallow candle, as if theyd bottled up the Sun itself. Though Geoffrey couldnt make heads or tails of the armored men, everyone elsecivilians, he imaginedlooked monstrous and sickly. Maybe, once, theyd been human, but now they were creatures of rot and black lightning, more pestilence than flesh. Yet, they wore sumptuous clothes. The colors seemed ripped from the rainbow.
Seemingly everywhere he looked, where there was a surface, there was a window in it, filled with glowing panes bearing text and images.
Wings and thunder! Bever screamed. Look, there! By the Angel! Geren!
Geoffrey followed Eylons hand. What he saw made him shudder. He tightened his grip on his halberds haft.
That was the greatest horror of all.
Geoffrey gasped. What happened to him? He could hardly believe his eyes.
Geren wasnt Geren anymore. He was an abominationa pagan idol. His body had fused with another man and part of a chair, superimposed upon it in a mound of flesh and limbs that sat wet and dead, staring into nothingness.
Its no use, man, Eylon said. Hes dead! And were soon to follow.
Figures stepped forward, trickling out from behind the men in black armor. Their dress was absurd: transparent shields, frightening masks, full-body aprons, cauliflower-things on top of their heads, and goggles as thick as bricks.
No one move! one of them said. Everyone, please, stay calm!
The people cowering behind chairs and long-seats screamed for help, even as they coughed and wretched.
They have weapons! a woman shrieked. They killed people! She sobbed.
Holy Angel, Geoffrey prayed, please, guide me. I do not understand.
This is Hell, Karl whispered, staring at the walls in terror. It must be
Morgan spat on the ground. Tis a den of sorcerers and devils! he said. What next, the Norms themselves?
Id fight a Norm, Bever said. Id like to see it try to best me.
One of the masked figures stepped forward, their hands held up.
Please, whoever you are, just the man said, staring down the barrel of Duncans rifle. He glanced at Geoffreys halberd. Please, he said, set the weapons down.
Get out of here, doctor! one of the armored men said. Its not safe.
I dont know what the fuck is going on, the doctor replied, but I know the answer isnt bullets!
Geoffrey looked as he felt Morgan stir. His pike shook in his hands. No, no! You shant take me. I am faithful! Evil will not triumph!
Casting his pike to the ground. Morgan unsheathed a dagger from his belt and darted over to a nearby wall, reaching for one of the sobbing, cowering figures.
She tried to crawl away.
Doctor! the armored men shouted.
No! the doctor yelled. Dont shoot! Dont shoot!
The woman screamed as Morgan hoisted her off the floor. She lashed back at him.
Morgan! Geoffrey bellowed What you doing?!
Morgan dragged the woman toward the rest of their group. Gagging, she wretched, spewing green-speckled black ooze over Morgans face and chest. The ick dripped down his breastplate.
He pointed his dagger at her throat. The sickly woman trembled and begged.
Eylon stared at Morgan, dumbfounded. Do you want to die?
Stay back! Morgan screamed, his gaze darting about.
Hed gone mad!
Back, he yelled. All of you, back! Demons! Witches! Whore-sons! Stay away from me! Send us back! he yelled. Undo what was done! The power of the Angel compels you!
Some of the armored men stepped forward, reaching to pull the doctor off to the side while others raised some strange-looking guns. A ruckus broke out behind one group of the armored men as several more doctors pushed their way through the line of soldiers, waving their arms.
Dont shoot! they yelled. Dont shoot!
Morgan! Geoffrey yelled, brandishing his halberd.
The woman screamed. Morgans dagger trembled in his grip
The pikeman wept.Dont you see? he said, with manic zeal. These are the Last Days. These are the Last Days, and we have been judged, Geoffrey; we have been judged! Do what you want, he added. I, for one, will not be found lacking!
One of the armored men raised his forearm to his head.
Sir, weve got a hostage situation, and the doctors arent co?perating.
And then, rearing up, hooves flailing, Fink charged forward.
104.2 - Gunsmoke
My console pinged as I stepped out of the conference room. Id barely taken two steps away from the door when it burst open behind me. Heggy flew out of the doorway like the Lass at Southmarch. Her hair was spilling down beneath her hair net like power lines downed in a storm.
Panic was written all over her face.
Genneth, she yelled, Ward E, lobby, now! She started running and didnt let up. She didnt even stop to look back at me.
The door hadnt even swung closed when Jonan threw it open and ran out of the room, alongside Ani.
I managed to grab Ani by the arm. Whats happening?! I said.
She locked eyes with me long enough to yell, Check your console! before shaking off my grip with a fling of her arm and running down the hallway.
My consciousnesses recoupled as I was pulling out my console. The mind-world Id been sharing with Andalon collapsed, with Andalon phasing into my view out from the ceiling overhead, descending toward me like the Angel Himself.
She was screaming.
Combined with the disorientation that came with recoupling, the shock of Andalon screaming at me sent me staggering. Because I was tail-heavy, I tipped backward. I managed to catch my fall with a blossoming plexus that I wove behind me in the shape of a hammock, which I then raised, bringing myself back to an upright position.
Andalon hovered above the floor in the fetal position, with her feet pointed downward and her head in her arms. Her pale nightgown trembled with her terror.
Whats wrong!? I yelled, not caring if anyone heard me.
At this point, it was basically a miracle Id managed to keep my condition in the closet for as long as I had.
Its here! she screamed. Its here!
Whats
Its the darkness! she yelled. Its here! Its touched the hospipple! I Gasping, she uncurled and floated toward me. I think it knows Im here! she said. She looked me in the eyes. Mr. Genneth, we need to run away! Now!
She was absolutely petrifiedmeanwhile, I still needed to check my console.
I pulled it out and tapped it on.
A torrent of messages spilled onto the screen. The topmost one was from Nurse Kaylin, which was odd. Shed collapsed in an eye-bulging coughing fit a little less than a day ago. She shouldnt have been communicating with me on the official hospital channelshed been taken off duty once shed taken sick.
Get your ass over to Lobby E, you bastards! Its a fucking madhouse down here!
Beneath, there was a video attached, footage from the security cameras in our Wards lobby.
I turned it on, only to drop my console in sheer shock when I saw a bunch of armored knights suddenly appear in the middle of the lobbys reception area.
Had they not appeared out of nowhere, I would have thought they were actors for the new season of Guardians of Time.
Speeding up my thoughts, I slowed time enough to scoop up my console with a plexus before it hit the ground. I undid the slow-motion moment as I pulled my console into my hands.
Andalon floated away from the console, pointing at it in terror.
Its there! she screamed. Its there!
A shiver ran down my spine, all the way to the tip of my tail.
According to tradition, gates to Hell were supposed to open up in the earth in the Last Days, once the war with Hell got serious.
Had something like Cranter Pit just opened up in WeElMed?
Fudge I muttered.
It made sense. All the pieces were in place. Nina, Suisei, and Angel-knows how many other Blessd were waiting in the wings, ready to engage the armies of darkness.
Technically, if you counted the militarys face-offs with the zombies, the engagement was already underway.
Oh God.
Is Hell mounting a counterassault? I asked. Does this
But I stopped myself, and instead of finishing my question, I did what I should have done in the first place: followed my colleagues!
I groaned as I set off in a run, wrapping plexuses around my legs to power myself forward.
I wouldnt go so far as to call this technique Magic Boots, but they werent not magic boots, if you catch my drift.
Andalon flew alongside me.
What are you doing, Mr. Genneth! We need to go the other way. The other way!
I cant just run away! I thought-said. I need more information!
Wha? I Andalon shook her head in dismay. Why?
I dashed into the stairwell. Yes, my legs were shot, but I didnt have time to wait for an elevator. Fortunately, my powers had developed enough to pick up the slack.
I didnt step down the stairs, I drifted down them, hop-gliding down the flights, hovering inches above the steps. I slid my grip along the railing to keep myself on course.
First Yuta and his family, I thought-said, then Verune, and now, knights of the Third Crusade? Something awful is happening, and the time-travel might just be only the tip of the iceberg.
What? she asked.
As I made my way down the antique stairwells turns, I wove blue and gold energy-cushions on the landing halfway down the stairs. They caught me like a cushion, bringing me to a gentle stop.
Id be lying if I said the ride wasnt exhilarating.
I faced Andalon as I leapt down the final flight of steps.
Are the infected going feral? I dont know how quickly Ill be able to pacify their souls, but its better than just sitting here and letting zombies turn every Type One case in the hospital!
Maybe this is because Id walled off Lantor, I added. Its like whack-a-mole, except with portals or whatever.
Its Andalon clutched her head. I dont know what it is.
Well then, I muttered, lets find out.
I threw the door open. I could hear gunfire coming from further down the hall.
Beasts teeth! I swore.
Mr. Genneth!
Flying ahead of me, Andalon turned around and spread her arms, as if to block my path.
Stop! she yelled. Her limbs trembled.
There was such fear in her eyes.
I put my hands on her shoulders and then sped up my thoughts, slowing time.
She was as frigid as ever, and gasped at my touch.
Andalon, I thought-said, you wanted me to help you save people and fight the darkness, and thats what Im doing. Im here now, and Im ready to help. Im not going to abandon you, and Im not going to abandon my post, patients, or colleagues, eithernot as long as I can do something about it.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
But
Through the slowed time, my lips curled in a kind smile.
I believe in you, Andalon, I thought-said. It shouldnt go one way, though. I believe in you, and you should believe in me. You have to be brave, Andalonand, dont worry, it might be scary, but I know you can do it, because you already have. Like you said, you never had help before. Youve got so far, all on your ownand that took bravery. But bravery doesnt end just because youre no longer alone. Youve got to be brave for usfor me, for Greg, for all the wyrms!
Andalon stammered. For the w-wyrmehs?
Yeah, I thought-said, for the wyrmehs.
But she choked up, what if you get hurt?
Then we can run, and Ill trust you and the others to help me get better. Now, cmon, stop this!
Mr. Genneth! Andalon broke out in tears and flung herself at my chest, sobbing into me.
I sped up time just long enough to wrap my arms around her, and then slowed it down again. I stayed there like that for a moment, doing my best to comfort her.
Go to the Main Menu, Andalon, I thought-said, youll be safe there.
Lightheadedness momentarily washed over me as I ported Andalon into my Main Menu and conjured up Mr. Humby, some chocolate chip cookies, some slushies, and a picture book about nature and wildlife with endlessly many pages inside it.
Shed really taken a liking to that. She seemed to love learning about the world.
Inside the Main Menu, Andalon looked up at me, her face all wet with snot and tears. But
I called up a doppelgenneth to keep her company and then poofed back into my body.
Well be fine, I told First-Me.
Everything was coming to a head.
I might have already lost my flesh-and-blood family. I wasnt about to let myself lose my work family, too. Not if there was anything I could do to stop it.
Slowing my thoughts, I let time flow once more.
I saw the world through two sets of eyes as I ran like crazy.
Everything was in chaos. People ran and screamed. Panic was as thick as the sickly sweet spore stench. Soldiers ordered doctors and civilians to keep their distance. Nearly every console I saw was playing footage of Verune addressing the crowd at the Melted Palace, his servant wyrms flanking him at all sides.
I ran down the hall and toward Ward Es main reception area as quickly as I could. I knew where I was going; it was the thing so many others were running away frompatients and healthcare workers alike fleeing in terror. Boot-steps and military shouts stormed in the distance. Ailing, ashen-skinned nurses rolled beds and empty supply dollies out of the way, to make room for the passing crowds.
I didnt bother to ask what was going on. Id find out soon enough.
The double doors in the short hallway that linked Ward Es reception area to the lobby and main waiting room were wide open. Soldiers had gathered in and immediately in front of the doorway, along with a crowd of hospital staff and many frightened patients and refugeesnot that there was much difference. There was shoving and pushing. Nurses yelled at soldiers; soldiers pushed doctors or civilians aside.
Nurse Kaylin was absolutely right: it was a madhouse. The sight made me stop in my tracks. I had to brace myself with a curtain-plexus in front of my body to keep myself from falling onto my face or crashing into any of the handful of heavily armed soldiers.
Beasts teeth!, I thought.
It really was Yuta all over again. Only this time
Please, a doctor yelled, Im begging you, dont shoot!
A bunch of knights stood in the lobby. There was no mistaking the bands they wore around their arms, The insignia on those armbands would go on to become the Second Empires flag: the golden triangle of the faith on a red background with white stripes along the top and bottom.
Soldiers of the Third Crusade took to wearing that armband as a way to signal to fellow freedom-fighters that they supported the cause. Trentons loyal to Mu wouldnt dare wear them. As far as colonial governors like Sakuragi were concerned, the armband marked its wearers for death.
Had this happened a couple days ago, Id have spent a great deal of effort trying to justify the impossible, but I was enlightened now, and could just skip ahead to the inevitable conclusion.
These guys had come unstuck in time, just like Yuta and his family.
Was this what Andalon had meant when she said the darkness had touched the hospital?
Through the doppelgenneth in my mind, I asked her.
I dont know, she said.
Fair enough.
I thought about whipping out my console to wave my privilege to the soldiers, but decided against it when I realized that healthcare workers were pushing their way through the troops, much to the soldiers dismay. I used a bit of psychokinetic oomph to get myself through.
And then I stepped into the room, and saw just what had transpired.
Break the Tablets I muttered.
It was amazing seeing the knights up close; their polished armor, their weapons a-glistening. Amazing and horrifying, just like everything else. They belonged in a museum, or at a Rebel Times festival-restaurant, not in a hospital. They were fully decked in archaic arms and armor: plate mail, halberds, bastard swords, arquebuses, and more. They even had a packhorsea living, breathing horsecovered from head to tail in a caparison patterned in red and yellow. It fared no better than anyone else; the horse lay sprawled on the floor, bleeding from the bullet-wounds in its flank. Several healthcare workers in PPE lay on the floor, clutching bleeding limbs. Over by the other hallways, the crowds were writhing in anger. Bullets had torn through the place. Upholstery came up from bullet-grazed chairs and sofas like white plumes.
The time-traveling knights stood near the middle of the room, clustered together in a tight formation in between two islands of chairsboth of which were empty, and one of which had capsized. The one that hadnt been capsized had a horrific, four-limbed corpse impaled upon one of its chairs like a broken beanbag, made from two bodies that had presumably fused together when the knights had appeared in our era.
Two riflemen knelt on the ground, each on one knee, holding their rifle in their hands. The young one with the curly hair, faint mustache and sideburns was visibly trembling, struggling to fight back tears. He kept yelling Fink! Fink!
The otherthe tall, slender onethough, was as stern as steel. Some of his companions were bleeding from their extremities, likely where theyd been grazed by bullets. As I looked, I noticed wavy, churning patterns in the metala sign of their ancient make.
The halberdier raised his weapon. His dark, scraggly beard reflected on the blades surface.
One of the knights had had a nervous breakdown. He stood off to the side, with his arm wrapped around a woman, holding a dagger to her neck. Infection ooze spilled down her neck and clothes in a foul bib. Splotches of black ooze on the knights armor had begun to bubble and fizz. As for the onlookers, scores of ordinary people cowered in terror behind sofas and rows of chairs. Others huddled up in the corners, their backs matted against the person behind them or the wall itself, too afraid to move.
It looked like the horse had gone wild, only to get put down by a spate of gunfire. Blood streaked across the vinyl where the animal had crashed, dragging furniture along with it as it had fallen.
It was a miracle there hadnt been a widespread shoot-out, but I supposed that had more to do with the doctors and nurses who were standing in between Vernons soldiers and the bewildered time-travelers.
Fink! the young rifleman yelled. You monsters! You killed him!
Get out of the way! one of the soldiers yelled.
There were screams as the soldiers stepped out and started dragging kicking, screaming, coughing healthcare workers out of the way.
Then I saw the bodies on the floorthree of them, two of which were beheaded, one of whom was one of the knights own.
But the other?
My heart fell into my stomach as I realized the other headless corpse belonged to Yuta Uramaru. I didnt recognize him at first, what with his head nowhere to be seen, but then I pushed through the shock when I saw Ichigo lying on the ground nearby, trembling in pain.
Hed been shot, and was unconsciouspossibly dead. A nurse was leaning over him, trying to shield his body. There was a wound epoxy gun on the floor beside the nurse. Ichigos katana was next to that.
The young mans arm had reached toward the blade.
I found the two corpses heads a moment later, on the floor, off to the side on the floor, underneath bullet-riddled chairs that had probably been upturned when the horse had gone out of control.
I wanted to ask someone for details, but it wasnt really the time or place for that.
One of our soldiers spoke up. There must have been a microphone in his helmet, because his voice was magnified to a boom. This is your final warning! Doctors, scatter. Guys in armor, let the civilians go. We will shoot if you dont. We have orders.
Cant you just use a stun grenade or something!? someone yelled.
We used them all up on the ride over here! a soldier replied.
One of his comrades muttered: Lets just shoot them already and get this madness over with.
Where are the Mewnees? the red-headed swordsman said. Did the scoundrels scatter? Are Trentons at long last free?
Mewnees. Thats what we called people like Yuta Uramaruthe Munine colonizers who sought to make Trenton lands their own.
Two sets of time-travelersand from the same era, no less! Id bet my first edition of Sina and the Wind that the two events were related.
The question was: how?
Politics be damned, Eylon!he hostage- yelled We are damned! We are dead to the world! We have no recourse He turned to the soldiers. Send us back! Free us from this Hell!
So, they think theyre in Hell?, I thought.
Well they werent exactly wrong.
Morgan! the halberdier yelled. Stop this madness!
Morgan laughed like the madman he was. Were in Hell, my Lord! Its what we deserve! The children, he said, all the childrenits caught up with us! I told you it would, and now, now we are damned!
Morgan, the halberdier yelled.
But then the crowd began to scream, sending out cries of Stop! and No! as a woman in a yellow, ooze-stained coat crawled out from behind a row of chairs. Creeping forward on her knees, she raised her handspalms outand shakily rose to her feet. Her hair was matted with sweat, and her complexion was as pale as death itself. The fungal hyphae growing underneath the skin of her face looked like dead trees in fog. Black ooze trickled down from her nostrils, and from an ulcer on her cheek. She coughed between seemingly every breath.
Please, she begged, stop this. She wept, twisting her head as she pled. Its too much!
Back, demon! Morganthe hostage-taker said. Get back! You wont take my soul!
But she stepped closer.
My eyes went wide as I noticed her foot was twitching.
It wasnt a natural movement.
Oh no, I muttered. No, no no
The woman in yellow teetered forward.
Morgan pulled his arm away and pushed his hostage out of the way as he turned to the woman in hello and attacked with his dagger, stabbing her in the stomach.
Suddenly, with a wrenching crack, her body spasmed. One of her arms bent at an odd angle as it reached out to grab Morgan by the arm and quite literally toss him aside. Flesh bulged in the womans arm where the hyphae within had tensed up like muscles, mustering a supernatural strength which flung Morgan several yards away, skidding him across the vinyl floor.
The womans body twitched uncontrollably. It hurts! she shrieked. She shook her head, sobbing hysterically. Please stop. II Her body spasmed. I want to go home. I want my mom-mm-mm-aaaaaaaa
Morgans hostage screamed and stumbled back, only for her body to take on a mind of its own.
Zombie! Zombie! a soldier yelled. Fire! Fire!
And then everything really went to Hell.
104.3 - Gunsmoke
Though there were no walls within my Main Menu, the sky-clad chamber rumbled and shook. Andalon leapt onto Mr. Humby, her tears hardly dried. She squeezed the plushie in a death-lock hug. I moved forward to comfort her, but then she gasped and looked up, confused and afraid.
Whats wrong? I asked.
She looked up at me, shivering in terror. Somethings happening, Mr. Genneth. She spoke in a breathless, almost whispering voice. Somethings coming. Somethings fighting. Im Im tryingIm
What do you
Back in reality, the red-headed swordsman charged at the zombie, bearing his blade in an upward strike. The soldiers opened fire at the same time. The bullets tore through the swordsman and Morgans hostage and the woman whod been approaching them. The burly axeman tried to pull his comrade out of the way, but the bullets battered his gauntlets and breastplate, some bouncing off, others breaking through. The time-travelers riflemen shot fresh rounds of musket fire, spewing smoke through the air.
One of the soldiers grabbed me by the back of my hazmat suit and pulled me down and back.
Too many people had gotten caught in the crossfire, healthcare workers and civilians alike.
Back in my Main Menu, suddenly, Andalon shook. Then she clutched her arms around herself and screamed.
No, no!!
She scratched her fingernails down her face.
Make it stop, Mr. Genneth! she shrieked. Please!
Andalon! I yelled.
I cant make it stop! she screamed. Andalon cant make it stop!
Right before my eyes, the feral state spread through the crowd. I could see the process rippled out from the woman whod first turned, spreading from one person to the next. It swept through the people in a wave.
Screams coalesced into messages of horror.
I cant stop! Help! Help!
Johnny! Johnny!
The soldiers cursed and screamed.
Darkness had struck.
The fungus was attacking.
Men, women and children moved like misbegotten machines, stumbling, tumbling, herky-jerky, spastic and wild, clawing, biting, shrieking. People formed living chains, grabbing each other by the arm, trying to hold one another back, but to no avail. The chains came apart as the crowd became a mob and the mob became a horde.
I ducked down.
The soldiers gunfire met the oncoming zombies. Glancing up, I saw the knights mounting attacks of their own from the other sides of the horde. The halberdier swung, swept, and cleaved, slicing through multiple bodies at once. The victims fungus-weakened tissue fell apart at the seams. The armored axeman hacked through several zombies, lopping off heads and limbs.
More screams erupted around me as several of the soldiers around me spasmed and palsied. They lost their grips on their rifles, cutting the gunfire short. Their weapons clattered to the floor as they lost control of their bodies.
In a moment, barely any bullets were being fired anymore.
I ran up against a wall, pushing zombies out of my way with restrained psychokinetic pulses.
I had to do something!
I yelled into my thoughts. Andalon, I need younow!
A moment later, I reabsorbed my second self, my double-headed awareness collapsing down to one. Andalon materialized in front of me, the same as she had been inside my mind, only without Mr. Humby to comfort her. Her hands were clasped onto either side of her head as she shook her head in dismay, tossing her sky-blue hair left and right.
Andalon! I thought-yelled. Look at me! Listen to me!
Twisting and turning her limbs, she floated up off the floor, her nightgown billowing around her.
She stared at me, filled with sorrow and anger. I told you! she said. I told you, I told you, I told you, Mr. Genneth, but you didnt listen! She wept openly.
Unwilling zombies roared. The demon fungus was conscripting body after body to serve its unholy cause.
Its not gonna stop, she said. We cant do it
Stop it, Andalon! I yelled. Dont be like I was. I already made enough mistakes. I have faith in you. You can do it! Youre stronger than some moldy old fungus!
Hwah! someone yelled. Demons, the lot of you!
I turned to look.
The halberdier lunged into an oncoming zombie. Fight to the last! he yelled.
Black ooze splattered as the halberd cut through the zombies body.
Eylon! the axeman yelled, trying to make his way toward the red-headed swordsman. Eylon!
The swordsman was on the ground, bleeding from numerous bullet wounds. The zombies descended upon him before the axeman could reach.
The violence was rapidly ballooning. People ran down the hallways, trying to flee, only to slip and tumble as the fungus claimed them.
If we didnt stop this now, thered be nothing leftno one left to save.
Reaching out, I grabbed Andalons spectral hand with one of my own while thrusting a row of topple chairs forward with my powers, knocking back a bunch of zombies, striking them square in the stomach.
I didnt have time to worry if someone had seen that.
I sped up my thoughts, slowing the mle around me to a crawl. In between splatters of blood and ooze frozen mid-air, I saw the knights locked in combat with the demons.
The axeman had stuck his armored forearm into a zombies mouth, holding it at bay as he lifted his weapon, ready to strike. Three zombies were pressed up against one another where the halberdier had thrusted his weapon forward. Morgan scrambled for his pike.
More zombies were closing in on them, though. In seconds, theyd be overrun.
In the stretched time, I turned my attention back to Andalon. My vision slowly shifted toward her as my eyeballs turned in their sockets.
I had an idea.
Andalon, I thought-said, meeting her eye-to-eye, you gave me my powers, right? Well maybe I can give them back to you, if only for a little bit.
W-What? she stammered, tears pooling beneath her sea-blue eyes.
If you hadnt chosen me to become a wyrm, I would have ended up as just another corpse among billions. You gave me a second chance, Andalon, and you got me to pick it up and try to do good with it.
For a moment, I let my thoughts wander back to my ever-unfinished Clarinet Sonata, by way of my conversation with Mr. Himichi. Id wanted my music to be the mark Id left on the world, so that others would know I had lived, and so that I could tell myself that my suffering hadnt been for nothing.
I guess you could say the fungus had thrown a wrench into that plan, huh?
I let my mind fill with the sound of my music.
Mr. Genneth, Andalon whispered, her eyes wide, if you give me back my power you die. Wyrmehs cant live without Andalon.
Then Ill give as much as I can without it having to come to that, I thought-said. If WeElMed goes up in smoke I I dont know what Ill do. Im not ready to leave it, yet. I know you want me to run, Andalon, but I cant. I wont.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
But it wont do anything! she yelled.
And if it doesnt, then Ill try something else.
Her voice broke, You cant fight the darkness She shivered. Its too strong.
Ive gotten pretty strong, too, I thought-said.
But then your friends will get angry-sad with you, she said.
Andalon, I thought-said, I dont care if the fungus is Hell itself, Im still going to try. You got me to stop giving up, Andalon. If you can do that, trust me, theres nothing you cant do!
To be clear, I didnt know if I could even do what I was proposing, but Id rather have an idea that didnt work than nothing at all. At least with the idea, I could say Id made an honest effort. And, if it failed, I had plenty of corpses around me to eat and gain power from. Id be a one-wyrm army, if it came to that.
Steadying myself, I focused. I brushed away the sounds of the music Id written as I reached for the music within methe weave of &alons power.
Suddenly, through the hazmats suits gloves, where my hands touched Andalon, I felt warmth. Normally, Andalons ethereal presence had a deathly chill to it, but that chill was in full retreat.
She coursed with warmth, and she began to glow.
Light poured from her eyes and mouth as her hair rose up behind her, fluttering like a torch flame, flaring light.
I felt that light.
Suddenly, spectral blue flames flickered into existence all around usall over the room, radiating with a heat that was not heat. In a mighty whirlwind, they swirled, converging on Andalon and I.
And I felt it.
&alon was stirring.
Andalons hair flailed about, as if being blown in a ferocious wind. She looked around in disbelief.
I I dont understand! How!? She looked at me. Whats happenin Mr. Genneth?
Something forced my thoughts to slow down. Time sped up around us. All the chaos sprang back to life.
I think I got Ampersandalons attention! I said, grabbing Andalons other hand in mine.
Wed tapped into her greater power, or, perhaps, &alon had tapped into ours.
Whatever the explanation, I felt heat course through my body as the flames flowed into the two of us.
Andalon floated up to my chest and yelled. Mr. Genneth! She looked over her shoulder in shock. Somethings happening! she cried. Somethings coming!
And then it came, and I felt it: a ripple through the air. Patches of the room quivered like mirages. The distortions coalesced into a sphere in the middle of the room, one that I could see with my naked eyes. Things moved more slowly the closer they were to the sphere. The space around it stretched, as if it was wrapped around itand I wasnt the only person who saw it.
Several of the knights screamed.
The warmth of Andalons light flowed up her arms, into me.
On instinct, I thickened my wyrmsight. The brightness of what I saw sent afterimages flashing across my field of view.
Beneath my wyrmsight, the sphere was swathed in surging color. Light crackled like lightning at its surface. Intricate, fractal patterns cracked into the air around it, like spiderwebs or frosted glass. The air-cracks unfolded and straightened, aligning themselves perpendicular to its surface. Some of the blue flames still hovering around us were pulled away, drawn toward the sphere. Waves of aura rippled out from the sphere, pulsing across the air in a wide sweep that sent power hurtling across my wyrmsight. And though that power wasnt visible to the naked eye, its effects certainly were. Zombies standing where the waves of aura passed through fell prone, twitching uncontrollably, as if all the neurons in their bodies were discharging at the same time.
The sheer amount of power streaming off the spatial distortion was beyond anything I could imagine.
It still is.
If that wasnt a direct link to &alon, I didnt know what was. With my wyrmsight up, I couldnt stare at it for more than a second or two, it simply overwhelmed my senses.
Turning away from it, however, my wyrmsight passed over the auras of the zombies.
Their auras I thought.
I couldnt believe I hadnt thought of checking their auras until now. The Green Deaths malignant will flared all over the zombies bodies, its colors as riotous as ever. I could even see what I was pretty darn sure was the will of the human soul trapped within the zombie body. It was an inner power, as much wind as light, blowing back at the writhing network of the funguss commands, helpless to fight against it.
I sped up my thoughts, slowing time once more, though not to the point that I couldnt move.
Mr. Genneth, Andalon said, floating away from my chest and looking me in the eyes, I I think you did it. She put her hand on my chest. Amplersandalon listened. She gave you power. Please, help me
Say no more, I thought.
She asked for my help, and I gave it. It was instinctive. I learned how to do it as I did it for the first time. It was like untying a knot. If anything, it reminded me of what I had to do when I wanted to shape my psychokinetic filaments to make something happen that was more than just me exerting a pushing or pulling force, only far more complex, almost impossibly so.
It was like what Id tried to do with poor Mr. Draunborn. Id tried to banish the fungus aura from his body, only for his head to explode right in front of me. But this time things went differently.
His soul had come to me the night before last. Hed been even worse than Frank Isafobe, little more than a swirling cloud of broken glass, crackling with the lightning of a vengeful spirit. Andalon and I had had to seal away the demon his soul had become.
I didnt try to destroy the fungus aura. Instead, I peeled the wild, spiny surface of energy off the zombies bodies, one after another, after another, as if it was fat to be skimmed off milk. I pared it down, weakening it, damping it, until it had been reduced to a web of magenta scribbles that pulsed inside their bodiesthe core of the infections presence.
It took barely a second to do. It was as simple and natural as scratching an itch or wiping away a tear, but the result was like magic.
The zombies closest to me staggered for a moment, yelping in shock.
Their bodies were theirs to control once more.
Mr. Genneth, Andalon cried, you have to do more! Theyre not safe yet!
More?, I thought.
Andalon was right. Through the slowed time, I could see the knights caught mid-attack, their blades closing the gaps between themselves as their targets. Things were happening too quickly for the knights to process it. They hadnt realized their targets were no longer a threat.
They couldnt. Their nervous systems simply didnt function quickly enough.
What little hair I had left on the back of my neck stood up on end.
Somehow, I just knew what Andalon meant. With the light blazing from her air, our thoughts were on the same wavelength.
I knew what to do, as did she. Both of us had roles to play here.
While I focused my thoughts, Andalon stuck out an arm toward where I was focusing. She moved in tandem with my thoughts.
More.
I let my awareness grow. My mind was a flowera lotus on a pond, opening and opening. All around us, the zombies auras quivered as they fell into my thoughts grasp. Even the people Id freed from the fungus control fell under my spell. In a moment, I had my metaphorical fingers inside the aura of every infected person from here to the ends of the hallways.
Andalon, I thought-said, are you thinking what Im thinking?
She nodded. Andalon is thinking what Mr. Genneth is thinking, yes.
I think we just hacked into the fungus, I thought-said.
All this time, Id been afraid of the fungus taking me over, to use my powers and the souls within me as part of its army of darkness.
But now, for once, the tables had turned.
With a single thought, I could have returned all of the zombies to their senses, except for those who were already dead. But I didnt. There was no way I could tell all of them I was about to give them back control of their bodies, and there was no telling what was going to happen in between the moment I freed them and the moment when they took control of themselves once more.
For all I knew, the fungus might even try to take control of them all over again.
If youre controlling them, Mr. Genneth, Andalon said, the fungus cant. Thered be too many thinks in them.
The news was music to my ears.
Returning my perception of time to normal, I reachEd out with my mind. Instead of peeling off the outer layers of the fungus body-snatching aura, I pinched it, like surgical clamps cutting off blood flow.
One by onezombie or notthe infected froze stiff. Their motionlessness spread out in a wave, centered at me.
I knew what I was going to do next.
Can you do that? I thought-asked.
Andalon nodded. I can do it, she said.
I guess I was going to have another stint at playing conductor.
Then, all at once, the zombies stepped back, away from swinging blades and threatening guns. They moved because I willed them to move, and because Andalon had channeled &alons power to make them obey. Incredibly, I could feel the fungus will writhing beneath my grip, flailing about like an animal grabbed at the neck.
Mr. Genneth! Andalon said.
Dont worry, I whispered, Im not going to let it through.
I dared to smile.
In that one moment, we had the fungus on the ropes. For once, the fungus was the one flailing in desperation.
For once, I wasnt the powerless one.
Gasps shot out across the lobby as I commanded the infected to lower themselves to the floor. I, of course, did the same, all on my own. Things would end very, very badly if someone decided that now was the time to shoot me for being a demon.
What whats happening? the young rifleman asked, slack-jawed and dumbfounded.
Hold, Bever! the halberdier shouted. Hold!
I waited for a second, until I was absolutely certain that I had everyones attention, and then I gave the infected control of their heads and chests.
Whats happening? One of the zombies asked, zombie no longer. Im not attacking anybody any more!
It was a cry of joy.
Why cant I move? someone said.
That was my cue.
At the same time as I let go of my hold on the fungus aura, I peeled it off all of the zombies, just as I had the first few. The zombies glowing silhouettes dimmed as their bodies became their own once more. I could feel the fungus anger writhing beneath the fading energies, but only for a moment, for it soon drowned, disappearing from my awareness.
I wish I could say it was gone for good, but it wasnt. But, still, the fungus was in retreat. For once, the fungus was in retreat.
I looked up at Andalon. We did it I whispered.
Slowly, the former zombies started rising to their feet. I shed tears of joy.
At first, there was only stunned silence. Seconds later, people broke out in whoops and cheers.
Slowly, with the help of my powers, I rose to my feet. Andalon floated beside me, the radiance in her hair slowly flickering out. I could feel her connection to her greater self beginning to thin. And though her face was still wet with tears, she smiled.
I swooned as I stood, struck by dizziness. The feeling of warmth that had been coursing through me faded, and I found myself suddenly aware of how very, very heavy my body Felt and how weak my legs were and how hunger was writhing around inside my stomach like the worlds worst cramp.
Then the last bit of light in Andalon went out. Her eyes fluttered for a moment, and then dropped out of the air with a moan. She slowed as she fell, landing gently on the floor, and, despite my expectations, she didnt disappear on me.
Had she outgrown that part, or was it because of the massive dose of pure, unadulterated &alon that both of us had just gotten?
Eh, probably both.
Then the rest of the exhaustion hit me, and I fell to my knees, scraping against the wall behind me as I landed in a sprawl atop a nearby overturned chair.
I heard a big commotion break out in one of the hallways, but I was too tired to care, let alone do anything about it. People gasped as footsteps clomped down the hallways, and then someone yelled somethinga single wordand I heardand, looking up, sawa small, metal object clatter onto the floor. It bounced off the vinyl, and then rolled and bounced some more, and then ricocheted off Yuta Uramarus severed head, sending the head rolling like a billiard ball, before finally settling to a stop in the pool of blood up against the dead horses body, whereupon the object exploded in a stunning dazzle of incapacitating light.
Ah, I thought. The word was, Grenade.
Well, better late than never.
105.1 - Necromancy
For the record, this was the first time Id ever been grenaded. Im not gonna lie, it was a very unpleasant experience, and it only further lowered my regard for first-person shooters. 0 out of 10, would not get bombed again.
Even Andalon agreed with me. Shed been clutching her hands to her eyes, yelling, Too much sees! over and over again.
She was absolutely right about that.
I blinked.
Even now, maybe ten minutes later, my vision was still flashing and blurry. My ears were still ringing, and it felt like someone had left a strobe light on inside my skull.
Where was I, again?
Well, I was sitting on a bench; I knew that much. Id been carried to it, likely by nurses, though I didnt know any of the specifics beyond that. My senses werent exactly operational at the moment.
A shadowy blob loomed over me. Andalon hovered beside it, rubbing her eyes. Unlike everything else, Andalons form was perfectly clear to me. Also, there was the matter of my wyrmsight. At this point, my wyrmsight was more reliable than my normal vision. For whatever reason, the flash of the stun grenade hadnt knocked my wyrmsight out of commission, though it had knocked Andalon out of unconsciousnessand much to her dismay, too; for the first couple of minutes, she was very much an unhappy camper. Then again, both of us were. I was tired and hungry, and Andalon was tired and hungry, too. Yes, Id conjured up some imaginary cookies for her to eat, and though that had helped her somewhat, it left me even more drained.
Words oozed through my ears, as blurry as my vision.
Can yuuu eeee-uh me?
The blob turned to the side, toward another blob, who then spoke. Ake off the sue. Es at isk of eat sroke.
Then, there was a sharp, metallic whine, one that made even Andalon cringe. Sounds returned to normal a moment later.
If only the same could be said for my vision.
I felt hands pressing down on my shoulders.
Were going to take off your suit now, Dr. Howle.
Actually, scratch that. Sounds still felt a little on the raw sidethough that hardly mattered now, what with the panic surging through my veins at the thought of getting my suit taken off.
For all I knew, my second and third pairs of eyes might now be visible, growing in on the sides of my head.
No, I said. No no no no no no!
I stuck out my arms and crossed them in front of me.
The shorter of the two blobs stuck out a blobby hand, only to waver as it coughed. Badly.
It panted for breath.
Dammit, the other blob said, you need to get off duty, now. Youre as sick as a dog, Kaylin.
Kaylin? I thought. Nurse Kaylin?
Id rather die on my feet, the first blob replied.
I recognized the voice as Nurse Kaylins.
She stuck out her hand. How many fingers am I holding up?
Unfortunately for me, her hand was basically a distorted mitten to my messed-up eyes.
I had to resist my own urge to rip my helmet off. I really, really wanted to rub my eyes.
Wait a minute, I thought.
Closing my eyes, I doodled a hand-sized plexus inside my helmet, right on top of my face. After a moments thought, I figured the best way to get the effect I wanted would be to make sure that the directions of the weaves force vectors were all jumbled up. As I executed my plan, the resulting manhandling sensations were a lot like putting my fingers on my face and twisting them slightly, whichthough better than nothingwasnt anywhere near what I needed. Fortunately, by turning the little face-mask of a spell on and off repeatedly, it made those invisible fingers rub back and forth.
Softly, I moaned in pleasure, my eyes watering. After a couple seconds, I disassembled the weave and blinked.
I could see again!
Three fingers! I said, answering Nurse Kaylins question. I see three fingers.
Yes, my eyes felt like theyd been scrubbed down by sandpaper, but, at least I could see.
Stepping back, she let out a horrible cough.
I had to suppress my shock. Jess really did look awful. Fungal hyphae were clearly visible as they climbed up her neck beneath her PPE. Lumps of gauze stuck out from beneath her PPE, likely held in place by medical tape. No doubt, those were covering up ulcers where the fungus was eating away at her flesh. She seemed perpetually short of breath, and, through my wyrmsight, I saw the fungus multicolored infection-aura twitch brightly within her.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
If I didnt know any better, Id have said she was on her last legs.
Everythings fucking falling apart, Jess said, including me. She nodded weakly. Glad to see youre still in one piece.
I was about to ask her why she was still on duty when she was so clearly sick, when I thought better of it. I didnt want to be a hypocrite if I could avoid it.
Lowering my arms, I pushed myself up off the bench, but the nurses had me pinned in place, what with their hands pressing down on my shoulders.
Hold your horses! Jess companion said. Just wait a couple more minutes. He looked back over his shoulder. Things are still crazy right now.
Could you at least step out of the way? I asked. Youre in my view.
Though, yes, I genuinely wanted to assess my surroundings, I was also worried that the more time they spent up close and personal with me, the more likely it became that theyd discover I was a transformee.
Thankfully, the two nurses stepped off to the sides.
Angels Breath I muttered, though I stopped short of sighing in relief.
I didnt want to fill my hazmat suit up with any more spores than it already had floating about inside it.
There arent cusses big enough for shit like this, Jess said, with a raspy chuckle.
She was very much right.
Ward Es main waiting room was a disaster zone, pure and simple. Spilled bullets littered the vinyl, coated in the blood and black ooze that had been smeared across the floor. I spotted upward of a dozen bodies on the floor covered up by beige tarp. Stained, bullet-ridden chairs and sofas lay overturned here and there, with chunks of their upholstery spritzed across the floor. Healthcare workers were everywhere. They tended to the injured, handing out blankets and applying wound resinboth likely freshly printed from recycled materials. Soldiers stood vigilantly at the edges of the room.
And there wasnt a zombie in sightthough there was a very dead horse lying in a pool of its own blood, next to some overturned chairs.
Another thing I didnt see? The knightsor, for that matter, their weapons. I sat up straight. Where are
The Third Crusaders? Jess asked, with a cough. She looked off to the side. The militarys taken them. The one that got shot had been attacked by the fucking zombies, and well he was not in good shape. His condition started deteriorating immediately. The soldiers had him taken away.
And the others? I asked.
They were sedated and given a room, the other nurse said. The Generals men should be examining them any minute now.
Beside him, Nurse Kaylin had pulled up a chair to sit in, unable to keep standing on her own.
I looked at Andalon. Shed stopped rubbing her eyes. Her face looked a little raw, but her expression was still fearful.
Obviously, we needed to talk.
Mr. Genneth she muttered.
Somethin the matter, Dr. Howle? Nurse Kaylin asked.
I dont suppose you know why General Marteneiss is interested in them? I asked.
I did not need to be reminded that I was still no closer to knowing what sort of messed-up stuff Vernon and his men were doing in General Labs.
I can sure as Hell guess, Nurse Kaylin answered. Either its because those knights had something to do with why people stopped turning into zombies, or its because the knights are fucking time travelers.
Jess put her hand on top of her hairnet, as if to keep her head from rolling off her neck. She swallowed hard and then smiled sadly.
The woman of steel had tears in her eyes.
The other nurse shook his head. You really think that?
Behind her translucent F-99 mask, Jess bit her lip. She coughed. For the past few days, I thought I was losing my mind. But She shook her head. Nope, its the world thats gone crazy.
I nodded slowly. You mean?
She returned the gesture.
A couple days ago, at the beginning of the end of the world, Jess had given us all a scare, saying shed thought shed gone to another world or something to that effect.
Ive, uh, been spending my meal time doing research, she said. I remember the words they said. Goost. Complying. I dont remember my fucking childhood anymore, but at least I remember those words.
What did you find? I asked.
Assuming I somehow time-traveled, she said, I was probably in the old Templar Hospital, in its mess hall, nearly a thousand years ago.
Templar Hospital? the other nurse asked.
The land WeElMed sits on has been in use for millennia, I said. Back during the First Empire, a thousand years ago, it was the site of the headquarters of the Templar order.
Nurse Kaylin nodded. It was real. It really happened. And now its happening again.
How in the world can this be happening? the other nurse asked. Why? How? What does it mean?
For one, Jess quipped, coughing, it means were boned. And thats hardly the only problem.
Theres more? I asked.
Have you seen the footage? she asked.
In my experience, nothing good ever came after the words have you seen the footage.
Which footage? I asked. Things have been kind of hectic lately, if you havent noticed.
Jess frowned, and then pulled out her console and brought up a recording.
The soldiers have been passing it around, she said.
There was no sound, and, coupled with the aerial view it gave and the fact that it came from the military, it could only be footage from one of the Trenton militarys aerostats. The footage had a birds-eye view of the citys civic center. Even as a deteriorating, zombie-infested heck-hole, Elpecks historic core was truly beautiful to behold: Cascaton Park, the Melted Place, the Imperial Palace, and the grand Promenade, clustered together like an oasis among the surrounding skyscrapers.
Andalon leaned against my shoulder as she looked down at the console screen.
What the heck? I muttered.
Even without the benefit of my wyrmly memory, the spectacle of the Lost Lassedite Mordwell Verune revealing himself to the world would have been burned into my mind. It was like a second Angelfall; it was the kind of event that drew a clear line between what came before it and what would come after, knowing that the world was forever changed.
The aerial view of the Melted Palace showed the basilica, the old city square, and the Promenade flooded with people. There had to be thousands of them. Tents and blankets speckled the ground with little flakes of color, filled and covered with people.
Jess coughed terribly. People really are nuts.
I guess you could call them true believers, I said.
All things considered, I should have expected this. People can go their whole lives waiting for a sign from God. For many Elpeckians, at any rate, I guess Verune counted as that sign.
This isnt going to end well, I added.
My words made Andalon frown in distress.
Fuckin time-travel bullshit, Jess swore. First Verune, now the Crusaders. Whats next?
Theyre not our only time-travelers, I said.
Yeah, Jess said, thats right. She stared off into the distance. The Munine in period dress.
I saw one of them die in the mle, I said. What about the other one?
Taken into surgery, the other nurse said. He was severely wounded.
Do you think hell make it? I asked.
To the operating room? Jess said, coughing as she laughed. Sure! But if he even makes it out of there alive, I swear, Ill eat a fucking hat. She turned to the other nurse. Enough chatter, Huey. Lets get moving. She glanced back at me as the two of them walked off. Stay safe, Dr. Howle.
I nodded.
105.2 - Necromancy
Knowing I had my work cut out for me, I doppelgennethed myself. My perceptions of reality doubled. With my body-self, I pushed off the bench and looked around to see where I could be of useand, more importantly, go on a quest for food. However, I put the bulk of my attention into a single mind-self, retreating to a more pleasant location.
The next thing I knew, I was standing back in the atrium of the haunted house Id used for training the self-help groups transformees in ghost therapy and afterlife managementonly now, it was as far from haunted as could be.
Andalon and I stood in the atrium of the old mansion, as it looked on days of the year that werent Celdmas. Gone were the fake cobwebs and the spooky lighting, both inside and out. The branches behind the big, arched window at the back of the landing in the middle of the grand staircase were fully leafed, blooming with purple flowers. The Sun was shining through that window. It was the height of midday. With the light streaming in, and with the stately wall sconces and the tall, square pillars that flanked the entryway, it felt like we were inside a cathedral.
Andalon rushed up and hugged my waist the instant I materialized. She trembled as she leaned into me.
Andalon is so scared, Mr. Genneth!
Putting my hands on her shoulders, I gently pushed her back until I had enough room to lower myself to one knee without kneeing her in the chest. I ran my fingers through her hair while summoning a bunch of pillows and bean-bags with a wave of my other hand.
Cmon, I said, landing on a green bean-bag. Lets sit and talk. I patted the dark blue bean-bag beside me.
The color matched Andalons eyes.
After a moments hesitation, she plopped down on the blue bean-bag. It took about a minute or so of her fussing and fidgeting before she got herself situated. Once she had, I leaned forward and looked her in the eyes.
Tell me, Andalon, I asked, are you still afraid?
She nodded shakily.
Do you mind if I ask why? I asked.
Huh? She looked at me, quite confused.
I mean back there, yes, it was scary, but we sent the fungus packing! With &alons help, we made the darkness squirm. Shouldnt that make you happy? I know it makes me happy! I nodded. Its our biggest victory yet!
Lowering her gaze, she twiddled her thumbs. I uh
I guess Id have to prompt her.
I decided to start with the most obvious possibility. Was it the zombies? I asked. If wed been doing our job right, there shouldnt have been any zombies here, right? I added. Or is the darkness just that powerful that it can overcome our efforts? Hmm I said, muttering to myself, maybe we need more transformees on ghost-management duty.
I maybe? Andalon said. She tilted her head side to side, shaking it fretfully. I, its Tears welled up in her eyes.
I held out my hands in a calming gesture. Breathe, Andalon, I said. Never forget to breathe.
She did.
I clasped my hands together. Think carefully. Whats causing you to feel this way?
Causin? she asked.
I nodded. Often, our fears come from what we imagine might happen to us. So, back thereespecially before we got to the lobby, when you were trying to stop me from goingwhat were you imagining would happen if Id gone?
Its She pursed her lips. Its the darkness. The darkness is there, she said. Its here!
Yes, I nodded, but youve mentioned that before. I looked her in the eyes.
The darkness is in a lot of places! she said, emphatically. Maybe even all of the places!
That may be so, I saidthough, honestly, I really, really hoped it wasnt, but, this time, when you got scared, it felt different to me. Youve gotten upset before, but not quite like this. This time, it felt much more intense.
Yeah, she nodded.
What was different this time? I asked.
Suddenly, Andalons eyes widened. She looked up at me, utterly spooked.
Its them, she said, quietly. The uh She struggled to find the word. The kniggits.
The what?Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.
The guys with the shines on them, she said, patting her stomach, arms, legs, and forehead.
Oh, I realized. The knights. But then I blinked. Wait. What!?
The gushy bean-bag churned underneath me as Jostled about in surprise.
Shouldnt Andalon be afraid of the zombiesotherwise known as the armies of Hell? Why was she afraid of time travelers?
Unless
Andalon nodded. Its the darkness. It makes time all uh She pursed her lips. Can Andalon show you? she asked, meekly.
Wait, I said, you can show me?
She nodded.
Sure, I said. Go ahead.
This turned out to be a very bad idea, because, the next thing I knew, I was in pure agony. I sat helplessly as my arms began to liquify, like a fudge pop that had been left out in the Sun. My clothes melted along with my body, turning into a fluid that dribbled down the green bean-bags water-repellent sides. My hair ran down my face in rivulets, my vision breaking apart into myriad threads as my eyes liquified. Yet I continued to see, even as my eyes dripped down, intermixing with my dissolving form like spilt paint. The world was a jumble of slices of light coming at me from all directions.
I screamed.
A second later, it all stopped, and I was back to normal, quivering in terror atop the comfort of my green bean-bag.
That, Andalon said, resolutely. She nodded. It does that.
I took some deep breaths.
Andalon?
You know what? I thought. No, Im not going to try and make a new rule because of this.
I just needed to be more careful in the future.
The word you were looking for is melt, I said, after a momentous pause. The fungus makes time melt.
I barely understood what that even meant, but I didnt need to for my mind to go wild with thoughts about the kinds of horrors time-melting would cause. Also, I now had a much more visceral appreciation of just how frightening Andalons past must have been.
I shook my head. This just keeps getting bigger and bigger, I muttered.
Just when Id thought Id figured out my role in all this, I got thrown for a loop all over again. Yuta was dead, the military had the time traveling knights, innocent people had gotten turned into zombiesnot to mention shot dead by their own military (and despite my and other transformees efforts to keep souls from getting snatched up by Hell)and, now, on top of all that, apparently, time itself was melting.
Whatever it meant, it couldnt be good.
I sighed. Im getting stressed out again, I said, softly.
But then, Andalon did something that surprised me. For once, she tried to cheer me up.
She crept toward me on her knees. Andalon knows its scary, she said, raising herself straight, but we got helped! Its just like you said, Mr. Genenth! We got help from Amplersandalon!
Yeah, I sighed, we did.
She stuck her arms in the air. And Mr. Genneth gots a new thing! We made the zombies not zombie!
I smiled weakly. I I guess we did.
Andalon turned perplexed. She flopped back onto the blue bean-bag behind her. Shouldnt you be happy? You saved peoples! She nodded. You saved them!
I fidgeted with my bowtie.
That was you, hacking into the fungus, right? I asked.
Hack-ing?
Taking control of it, I mean.
Andalon nodded. Yeah, yeah, with Amplersandalons help! And you can do it again! You got the power now.
Wait, I said, again?
She nodded.
That that changed things.
So, by channeling &alons power, I said, we can de-zombify the zombies. And not just this one time?
Andalon nodded. Uh-huh.
This was big. Not only was our work keeping zombies from forming by keeping souls safe from Hells clutches, if Andalon was to be believed, I now had the power to undo zombification, at least as long as the zombies soul was still in its body. Not to mention, I also seemed to be able to manipulate the zombies as if I was their puppeteer.
Great, just great I said, slapping my thigh in frustration.
Leave it to me to feel worse after hearing great news.
Huh? Andalon tilted her head in confusionand, for once, it was perfectly understandable. Why are you saying it is great, but you dont feel it is great? she asked. And why not?
I sighed. Now every minute Im spending with a patient is a minute I could be spending freeing an innocent person from the fungus enslavement. I just feel even more pressure now, I explained.
For certain personality typessuch as minegetting new skills and becoming more capable was a double-edged sword. While it felt great to progress, that progression came with the weighty conviction that you were now obligated to do more, so as to not waste your abilities.
Also, I sighed again, while having magic powers is definitely cool, Im not exactly thrilled that Im apparently becoming a necromancer, in addition to a wyrm.
Necrowhatsy? Andalon asked.
Id anticipated this.
Its a type of magic-user who specializes in the powers of death and decay. Their trademark trick is bringing the dead back to life and using them as their servantsusually as slaves. Theyre the poster children for evil wizard.
I looked up at the ceiling of the atrium. The middle of the ceiling was painted with frescoes depicting hummingbirds foraging nectar from flowers against a backdrop of pure sky.
Never let anyone tell you that being genre-savvy isnt without its downsides. Once you knew what necromancy was, it was impossible not to call it out when you saw it. I mean, I was already communing with ghosts. Now, I was controlling people whod turned into zombies. Admittedly, it was for the noble purpose of de-zombifying them, but, no matter how you looked at it, bending zombies to your will was 100% necromancy.
Whats next, I mumbled, off-handedly, turning people into zombies?
Andalon shrugged. Maybe?
Closing my eyes, I groaned, fidgeting with my lucky bow-tie. Focus on the positives, I told myself, muttering under my breath, focus on the positives.
My eyes shot open. I sat up stiff, pushing up against the gushy green bean-bag. The rift! I said.
The wha? Andalon asked.
The window in the air, I said.
Yeah?
That was a connection to &alon, right? I asked. But then why were the flames going into it? Until now, theyve only ever come toward us.
So far, our working theory was that the spectral blue flames that appeared after I ate represented bits of my connection with &alon, and that connection grew with every flame that flowed into us, causing Andalon to remember more about herself, and my powers to grow stronger.
Maybe they went in the holey so we can connex to &alon? she suggested.
That makes sense, I said, slowly nodding.
Turning my focus to my physical self, I noticed my body had finished helping in the lobby. I was returning to my rounds.
Whatcha gonna do now, Mr. Genneth? Andalon asked.
Fortunately, I knew exactly what I was going to do.
Before my transformation, one of my biggest complaints about being human (and life, in general) was that a person can only be in one place at one time. It was a terribly restrictive policy, and Id always wanted to ask the Angel why Hed picked it. Fortunately, the multifariousness of my wyrmly mind freed me from that limitation. I could be in as many places as I wanted, provided I could manage all that multitasking.
Smiling, I rubbed my palms together. Its time to assemble the Council
Id always wanted to say that.
105.3 - Necromancy
Surely, one of the great joys of epic fantasy was when the Council was finally convened. Sometimes, its the villain bringing their victims together to see their reactions as he (or she) rubs their victory in their faces. Other times, its the long awaited gathering of the powers that be and the guardians of old, as the next generation of heroes convinces them to band together and take a great burden onto its shoulders. Sometimes, the Council was just a ploythe villain emerged, and betrayed everyone there, or perhaps the heroes hopes were dashed by recalcitrant opposition (that usually ended up having a complicated backstory of its own right). Whatever the reasons, when the Council was being called, you knew something big was about to go down.
In this case, that something was me, myself, and I. Me and a couple of my selves sat at a round table in a sumptuous room in a palace of epic proportions, dressed in shining armor or rune-inscribed robes. Andalon watched the proceedings in a mix of awe and confusionboth appropriate reactions, I think.
After some pointless, but grandiose exchanges, we agreed on what we were going to do. Each of us was going to investigate a problem of our own. I would use my body to try and get in touch with the knights. There was no telling what kinds of vital information I could get out of them. At the same time, I would also be preparing for the potential arrival of Yuta or Ichigos ghosts. Id been close enough to Yutas corpse during the craziness in the lobby that I figured there was a good chance hed end up in meand, if not, there was still the matter of the ghosts from GL. The trip Id taken to GL a little while ago seemed to have done the trick: the ghosts Andalon had gathered were nearly finished uploading. If Yuta didnt appear to me, they certainly would. To that end, I would also be preparing to deal with them and whatever revelations they might bring. Finally, I would also be checking up on Lantor. Part of me wanted to let it ripen a little longer before I took another peek inside, but I managed to convince myself that the fungus attempts at breaking through had gotten so severe that it would be foolish to lower my guard on any front, physical or mental.
Because Id been the me whod been pushing for checking up on Lantor, it only made sense that I would also be the me who went and did itwhich was exactly what happened. This was the reason why I now stood back in my Main Menu staring up at the ever-shifting, size-changing grid of translucent orange cubes floating over the sphere of soul-crystals. The view was currently zoomed in on the cube corresponding to Lantor, though not to the point that I couldnt see the rest of my Main Menu.
I was gonna need a lot more room for what I had planned.
Picturing what I wanted in my head, I raised my arms. The dome of sky overhead expanded, lifting upward as it grew. The space within my Main Menu stretched into an endless expanse. The water-slicked stone floor continued in every direction, polished to a mirror sheen. The sky overhead thickened, stirring with storms and cirrus clouds until it settled into a perfect afternoon.
Time in the Thin World could pass differently from the way it did out in the Thick World. This had been an important part of my reasoning for what Id done with Lantor after having escaped from it with Kreston and Andalon. Because I was indecisive and impatient, Id subcontracted a good deal of Lantors world-building to the procedural generation tool that Greg had made for Wyrmsoft 2.0. The portion of Lantor the Incursion had claimed belonged to the procedurally generated part of the world. Assuming there was some kind of intelligence (singular, or plural) behind the Incursionwhether it was the fungus, or something elseI figured it could have changed the rules in its portion of Lantor however it wantedexcept, it hadnt. It seemed to be perfectly content with letting the RPG mechanics have free reign. But that still didnt tell me why it was content to keep things the way they were. Was it capable of changing things, but uninterested in doing so? Or was it incapable of doing so? Maybe it was so alien and otherworldly that the very concept eluded it.
Hopefully, Id soon find out.
Whatcha gonna do, Mr. Genneth? Andalon asked.
When I walled off Lantor, remember, I was thinking that, since the Incursion is occupying a procedurally generated part of my world, maybe if I let it have some time to itself, it would use the wyrmware to make Lantor more like itself.
So are you gonna go inside again? she asked.
I glanced down at her. Not this time, I said.
Why not?
While Id been dealing with Letty and the others, Id had some doppelgenneths look into what had happened on our trip to Lantor. Those investigations had come to an end, of course, when Id linked up with the greater &alon and been infused with her power. Due to Thick World-Thin World time differentials, from my doppelgenneths perspectives, that had happened several days ago, and things had been all jumbled up ever since. Fortunately, theyd still been able to reach several conclusions, the most important of which was that, surprise surprise, Gregs wyrmware was at least partially to blame.
Greg had engineered the systems mechanics to distinguish between things that were done by god-modding (or a consequence thereof) and things done by playing the game as it was intended. The programming treated god-modding the way games treated mods back in the real world, and, apparently, because the Incursions parts of Lantor had been procedurally generated, they ran on the vanilla version of the system.
This had been a major point of contention for the Council. Wed discovered that dealing with Lantor wasnt going to be a simple matter of granting myself god-tier stats, items, and abilities and going to town on the Incursion. Instead, any levels, experience, items, spells, or what-have-you that I gave to my character via god-modding would be removed whenever I stepped into the Incursions territory, washed away by the vanilla version of Gregs wyrmware.
Obviously, there was no chance in heck of me successfully explaining all of this to Andalon, so, instead, I answered her question like this: Well, I learned that going inside Lantor the way we did before probably isnt the best approach. So, instead, Im going to take a peek at it from outside the file. Basically, I added, my idea is that, if you ignore all the supernatural craziness, the Incursion is pretty much just a computer virus. Its infected Lantors file, infusing it with malevolent code.
Andalon furrowed her brow. This sounds complycated, she said.
Ordinarily, shed be right, but, for once, I actually knew what I was talking about. Was I good with computers? No. But, I was very, very good at recalling verbatim everything contained in the staff training videos that WeElMed required we occasionally watchspecifically, the one about cybersecuritycomputer viruses, Distributed Denial of Service attacks, and all that.
As the training video liked to remind us, the number one rule for dealing with computer viruses was to avoid opening any files or selecting any links that had even the slightest chance of containing a virus. Even the worlds deadliest computer viruses were powerless to harm your devices, so long as you didnt give them access.
In this case, opening the file meant entering the Incursions Lantorian territory. So I wouldnt do that. Instead, Id handle it from the outside, using Wyrmsoft 2.0s features to probe this virus secrets from the outside.
Instead of going inside, I explained, were gonna make a little cage for the Incursion virus to run amok in. That way, it wont be able to hurt us, and well be in control the whole time.
Is that a good thing? Andalon asked.
I nodded. Yes, Andalon, thats a very good thing.
Best of all, because Id read Gregs manual for his wyrmware, I knew that Wyrmsoft 2.0 had exactly the feature I needed, a world-building analogue of that useful feature where you could preview a document on your console before you opened it.
, I said, issuing the command.
The soul crystals and the world cubes dissolved into vortices of particles that spun and spun, rising higher, filling the sky like smoke off a bonfire.
Andalon went Wow as she slowly stepped away from the expanding image. Her footsteps pitter-pattered on my Main Menus water-slicked floor.
Instead of me appearing in Lantor, or in the concept-network that I used to navigate, Lantor appeared in front of me, as it would have appeared from high, high above. The particles of light had coalesced into a grand globe. But it didnt stop there.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
The globe kept growing. Tumorous masses swelled from its surface, until its shape had become amorphous and distorted. The worlds terrain stretched across its bulging, nodule-studded surface like a latex skin. The distortions were mottled in a crazy mix of different colors and textures, and with seemingly no rhyme or reason. Some sections seemed impossibly bright. Others were as deep with darkness as the Night itself. I could see pockets of normality here and theresections of land where Lantor was still my Lantorbut, for the most part, they were in the minority.
Its a good thing you got the other yous to listen, Andalon said, from where she stood, at my side.
Not wanting to burst her bubble, I didnt let her know that most of the arguing on the Council had been for show. Still, she was absolutely right: it was a good thing Id brought up Lantor.
The incursion didnt need any more time to ripen. Even from within the awareness of the progeny consciousness piloting my physical body, I could feel the incursions presence building and intensifying. It was like an itch or ache, and I knew it didnt belong, even though it came from a world inside my head.
Do you know whats happening here, Andalon? I asked.
I She shook her head nervously. I dunno.
I sighed. Fair enough.
As I looked over the misshapen globe, I stepped around it to see the other side, and then immediately stopped in my tracks.
A section of Lantors surface was swathed in a hazy, orange sky, exactly like the one that had nearly killed the three of us not too long ago.
Look, I said, pointing at it.
Andalons eyes widened in concern. Is that?
I nodded. I know where were going first, I said. I gave that part of the world a gentle tap.
Suddenly, the misshapen globe swelled in size, growing impossibly large with incredible speed. In a moment, even the massive nodules in its surface seemed to flatten out and turn smooth as we zoomed in. The orange patch grew and grew as we descended, and in a moment, Andalon and I found ourselves in an eerily familiar scene.
A granular landscape. Rivers and oceans that were bluer than blue. Tangles of gray brambles and cables that crisscrossed the land like undergrowth on a rainforest floor, rising up in places in forms like trees, or hanging like ivy from dusty canyon walls. And all of it was pristine.
Most amazingly of all, unlike my previous encounter with whatever this was, this time, it wasnt trying to kill me. I felt perfectly comfortable, even though I could recall with perfect accuracy the unbearable ammonia stench and the frigid, frigid cold that had made me want to curl up and fall asleep and never wake up again.
What do we do now? Andalon asked.
I guess we take a look around, I said.
I dont know how long we spent wandering in there. It was an indescribable experience. Without the sensory overload of the poison air constantly trying to kill me, I was able to pause and take in the alien surroundings.
It felt more like a dream than anything else, only more detailed than any dream had any right to be. This landscape didnt belong on Lantor. Sure, Gregs procedural generator was darn good at what it did, but this was something else, entirely. I couldnt believe it was something it had dreamed up.
Appearance-wise, the creatures hereif that was even the right term for themwere like hybrids of insects and flowers, only made from substances that looked more like metal than anything else. Flower-like structures grew on nearly everything that moved, slowly moving left and right, like antennae seeking a signal. Creatures like sea rays flew in the air, sifting through the clouds and streams of dustred, brown, and black.
I didnt have the faintest idea of what it meant.
Things grew quieter as we passed deeper into a forest. The plants seemed to be sickly. They shriveled and drooped, having lost their sheen. It wasnt long before we saw why.
The Green Death was here. It sent its fruiting bodies up through the strange creatures flower-antennae, and sank its mycelium into the earth. The dark, fungal forms looked like burnt coral. Puddles of black ooze sizzled and boiled, corroding the wire-roots that spanned beneath short, gleaming blades of grass.
As we stepped out into a clearing, Andalon let out a shriek. She stumbled backward as she called my name, kicking up dust from the grainy, wire-corded earth as she fell to the ground.
Its there! she screamed, scrambling back like a crab. Its there! She pushed up against the trunk of a tree, pointing in terror at what lay up ahead.
It shone with the brightness of reflected Sunlight. At first, I thought I was looking at some new kind of creature, but then I was able to distinguish the objects from their shadows, and I realized what I was looking at.
The Scary-Shinies, I muttered, using the name Andalon had given them.
They were here, again, much like what wed seen last time. They seemed to be arranged end to end, like a chain of geometric lumps, only they lay stiff and straight on the landscape. Like before, I saw long furrows carved in the ground behind them. Smokehere orange, there see-through, elsewhere, impossibly bluewafted up from the sides of the objects, and from the furrows behind them. The smoke rose up over the tree line, only to fall back to the ground in dark and dusty rain and snow.
Turning aroundI was in no rushI walked up to Andalon, by the base of the tree. I got down on my knees and reached toward her, and she threw herself at me, wrapping her arms around me in a tight hug.
I ran my hands through her blue, blue hair. Its alright, Andalon, its alright. This is just a picture, I explained.
She looked up at me, confused. What?
Were not inside Lantor. Were just seeing what it looks like on the inside. Nothing here can hurt you. Look, I said, I cant even touch it.
To demonstrate, I ran my hands through a nearby fungus-riddled patch of brambles that hung from the trunk of a tree like an evil orchid, only to gasp in shock.
Andalon screamed in terror, but I motioned at her to calm down.
Its alright, I said, Im fine. Its just I stepped back. Well, take a look for yourself.
There, beneath the shriveled, infected brambles was what I could only call a corpse. I recognized it as one of the praying mantises Id seen fighting the hummingbird people on my last visit to Lantor. The reason I compared it to a praying mantis was mostly because of its body plan: an abdomen with a headed torso rising up from it. Its abdomen was slender, and bore an uncanny resemblance to a cluster of nerves in a ganglion. Its body seemed to be made of the cords of wire Id seen on the ground and everywhere else, and on close inspection, I could see tiny amounts of fluid suspended within them, like the bubble of a level.
The creature seemed to have eight limbs, four on its abdomen, and four on the torso that rose above it.
Four legs. Four arms.
The head was exquisite: flower-like, like trumpet lily, with rods in the middle of it, like stamens and pistils.
Tragically, the creatures body had been ravaged by the Green Death. I couldnt tell what color it should have been, only that whatever life it had had, the fungus had sucked it out of it. Many of the bundles of cables and threads that made up its body were tainted , inky and black, melting open from within in the strangest kinds of ulcers Id ever seen. The fungus in it was spreading across the ground, and had already begun rising up the trunk of a nearby tree.
Andalon looked at it with fearful eyes. She tensed up as I lowered to touch it, her eyes bulging as my fingers made contact with the corpse, only to slowly begin to relax as my hand phased through it.
Hesitantly at first, Andalon crawled up to the insectoid thing and waved her hand through it, staring in shock as it phased through, just like mine had.
Do you know what this is, Andalon? I asked. I glanced over at the Scary-Shinies in the clearing. Or what the Scary-Shinies are?
Part of me was hoping that, in having connected with the greater &alons power, the Andalon I knew had regained more of her memories, as she had on all the other occasions where the flames had come to us en masse.
Andalon stared at the corpse for a while, seeming to see through it. What she saw, I dont know, but, after a minute or so, she looked up to me and said, I remember something
She spoke in a quiet, far-off voice, as if she wasnt entirely here. I remember there was a fight, she said. A big, big fight. Turning to me, she shook her head. Amplersandalon didnt know what it was about.
What was the fight about? I asked.
I dunno, she said, meekly. It was too scary.
What?
Andalon lowered her head. I didnt know what was happenin, so I ran and hid. I I still dont know what happened. So much fighting. So many wyrmehs were so sad.
Was it the darkness? I asked.
Suddenly, Andalon shot up her head and she looked me in the eyes. No no no, it was about somethin else. She trembled. There are lotsa meanies, Mr. Genneth, but the darkness is the worst of them all. She glanced down at her hands. Nobody listened to Andalon.
About what? I asked. Listened about what?
All this information was new to me, so I wanted to get as much of it as I could.
The darkness, she said. I tried to tell them, but nobody listened. She whimpered. They were all so mean
I tried to think about what it all might mean.
Is there anything else you remember? I asked.
I
She looked down again, I dunno.
Well, it was better than nothing.
So: the Scary-Shiniesas wed established beforewere scary to Andalon because, somehow, theyd been part of whatever force or faction(s) had tried to harm her. Why you would want to harm a little girl who was desperately trying to fight back against the forces of Hell, I had no ideaor, maybe, I just didnt want to know. Was there something to be gained from allying with Hell?
That was a terrifying thought.
But now, there was more. Something separate, yet possibly related.
A big big fight. That sounded like a war.
So, there was another war going on, not just the one against Hell?
Great, I muttered, just great.
Is somethin wrong? Andalon asked.
I shook my head. Its not your fault, Andalon. The I sighed, the world is a messed up place. But, I nodded, thank you for telling me this. Its scary to know that there might be another war going on, aside from the one against Hell and the fungus, but if given the choice, Id rather know than be stuck in ignorance. At least then, theres a chance I might be able to do something about it.
I glanced over my shoulder, back at the things in the clearing.
Is there any connection between the Incursion, the Scary-Shinies, the Big Big Fight, and the Angel? I asked. The Shiny Guys, I mean?
I doubted Id ever get used to the idea of there being more than one Angel. I felt like I was reaching for straws, but I thought I might as well ask.
Andalon shook her head. I dunno.
Angel, I muttered, what I wouldnt give for Brands thoughts on all this.
Sighing, I slapped my hand on the ground. The dusty earth rocketed away from us as we rose up over Lantor once more. Dozens of different environments loomed beneath us.
What now? Andalon asked.
Now, we look at the other parts of the Incursion, to see what else we can find.
105.4 - Necromancy
Once again, Karl Prestingham was in the grip of a nightmare.
A merchants son has no business on the battlefield, theyd told him.
Alas, poor Karl had no business anywhere.
It was Night; the Third Crusade had come to Fortton. The Moon hung half-dead over the hilly settlement. The communes streets wound through the hills. Higher up on the hill, where the Mewnee had built their compounds, Karl spied their paper lanterns shining in the Night, seemingly afloat in the fog. It was a strangely peaceful sight, but that peace wouldnt last much longer.
Fink neighed in terror.
Get the damn horse out of here, Karl! Bever hissed.
Calm, Fink! Karl whispered, running his hand across Finks furred flank. Steel yourself.
The horse brayed. Finks hooves clip-clopped on the gently sloping paths pitched stone pavement.
Any moment now, Geoffrey would give the order. The question was who would strike first: their forces, or the Mewnee?
The plan was straightforward: Lord Onda was celebrating his sons engagement to Sakuragis niece. A coterie of colonial governors and their traitorous Trenton vassals had gathered at Ondas estate for the occasion. From what Karl remembered of Geoffreys explanation, Onda was well-known for his paranoia. Even the shoddiest assassination attempt would be enough to make him dismiss his guests, supposedly out of fear for their safety, but more because he wanted to horde his guards for himself.
The disappointed guests will never expect an ambush waiting for them on the ride out of town, Geoffrey had said.
Gah! Morgan cursed, under his breath. They should have given the signal by now. Somethings wrong.
Quiet! Duncan hissed. Man your rifles. I think I see something moving around the bend. It might be the nobles carriages.
Turning to his fellow gunman, Karl nodded shakily, and then grabbed his arquebus and took aim.
Swallowing hard, the fourth son of Markus Prestingham tried to blot out the sound of his racing heart and the images of the plague-struck dead, Geoffrey watching the bonfires. It might have been a miracle that darkpox had struck the Mewnees at this critical time, but, still, it wasnt a fate Karl would have wished on anyonenot even the Mewnees.
Stay focused, Karl told himself. Dont get distracted.
Looking over his shoulder, he saw Geoffrey creeping through the back lines of their battalion, giving last-minute orders.
The sight of his friend and mentor filled Karl with relief.
Geoffreys here, he thought. With him to guide me, I can do anything.
Then the Munine guards came charging down the hill, katanas slicing through the fog. The sight made Karls heart plummet.
Argh! Geoffrey snarled. They saw through the ruse.
Geoffrey, Karl yelled, what do we d
Fire! Geoffrey roared. Fire! Fire! Fire!
The battalions riflemen took aim. Rifle barrels stuck out from the windows of the old stone buildings that overlooked the street, and from the pitched rooftops above them. The street was consumed by smoke and spitfire. Musket pellets sprayed through the Nights fog, pelting the charging Mewnees. The Mewnee warriors strip-layered armor absorbed some of the fire, but not all of it. The spray of red-hot embers dug into the enemies flesh. Several Mewnees screamed as molten lead smote their eyes.
Forward! Bever yelled.
Geoffrey led the polearmsmen up the street with a wave of his arm. By the time the Mewnee warriors could see the pike-heads and halberd blades sticking out of the fog, it was already too late. Boots scraped against the pitched stone as Mewnees tried to stop and backpedal. Some of them toppled to the ground with a rude smack, but the rest were impaled on the approaching Trenton arms. For those that had fallen over, any hope that they would be passed over was speared through the guts as Geoffreys men bent down and finished them off with pointed thrusts.
Following his training, Karl began to clean out his gun.
Dump the slag, pour in new powder, he thought.
He bit his lip as he steadied his trembling hand. The last thing he wanted to do was spill the gunpowder out of his powder-flask.
Karl reloaded his gun at a furious pace. Every second counted, but the Mewnee fusillade fired while he was still loading powder into his arquebus.
He wasnt good enough. He still wasnt good enough.
The sound of the enemy spitfire filled Karl with terror. He spilled half his supply of gunpowder onto the stone pavement underfoot.
No! Dammit! Karl cursed.
Just like the Mewnees hadnt seen the Trenton polearms, the Trentons hadnt seen the enemys artillery.
Karls blood ran cold. He remembered seeing far too many cases on the nobles carriages when theyd been driving up to Ondas manse earlier that day. Those had to have been the artillery he was seeing now, butfool that he washe didnt think to mention it to Geoffrey.
Fall back! Geoffrey yelled.
Karl blamed himself. Once again, it was his fault.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
Everything is my fault, just like Father says.
The polearmsmen turned around and ran; the smart ones darted off to the sides, out of sight.
Another line of Geoffreys advice ran through Karls mind.
Never turn your back to the enemy.
By the time Karl yelled to warn the polearmsmen running down the hill, the second wave of Mewnee rifles had already fired. A line of musket shots sliced through the air, streaming smoke behind it. The gunfire pelted Trenton halberdiers in the backs. Geoffreys soldiers fell forward onto the street like bloody sponges, their bodies slapping on the pitched stone underfoot.
All of a sudden, one of the Mewnee riflemen toppled forward. He hit the pavement face-first.
At first, Karl looked around, thinking more Crusaders had joined the fight, but then a wind swept in from off the Bay and scattered the fog and the gun-smoke trails, giving him a clear, moonlit view of the enemies faces.
By the Angel Karl muttered.
The soldiers were sick with the Pox. Dried blood smeared their cheeks and lips where it had trickled out of their eyes and noses. Two more enemy musketeers collapsed where they stood. An ataxic samurai in full war-armor hobbled down the steps, barking orders at his men.
Nodding, the musketeers began reloading. Half of them couldnt get the powder down the muzzles.
Karl stared in horror.
Karl! Geoffrey yelled. Get back! Get back!
There was fear in the Counts eyes.
Why are they
Karl started to ask a question, but cut himself off.
He knew why the Mewnees would fight, even when sick unto death.
They simply didnt care. The Mewnees would force their sick to fight and die, rather than let go of Trenton lands.
They are a diseased people, Geoffrey had told him. For the sake of an idea, they make themselves slaves. There is nothing they will not sacrifice for the pursuit of their specious honor, not even God Itself.
Praise the Angel! Geren shouted. Its a miracle! He waved his weapon through the air, beckoning his comrades. Quickly! he yelled. Charge! Charge!
Shouts erupted from the battalion as it shifted direction.
Rally! Rally!
The enemy is crippled!
Karl joined them in running forward, putting his equipment into his bandolier and grabbing his arquebus with both hands. He didnt have time to load another round, so death by bayonet it would be. He ran out at the head of the group, as did Geoffrey and Bever and Morgan and Duncan and Geren.
Then a bright light flashed in front of them, streaming out from a tear in the air that trailed out in calligraphic swoops, widening and widening.
The others held back, but Fink couldnt stop so quickly.
Fink neighed in terror. Hooves clopped against the pavement as the horse cantered forward.
Karl chased after Fink, following the horse into the light. And behind him, he heard Geoffrey yell:
No, Karl, dont!
Karls eyes fluttered open, the nightmare ending. He found himself somewhere else, in a room filled with light.
He was lying on what felt like a bed, still in his clothes, coated in blood, sweat, gun smoke, and spilled powder. He blinked, trying to clear the gunk from his eyes.
Everything was blurry.
Nurse, hes coming to, someone said, though the sounds were slightly distorted.
As Karls senses cleared, he almost wished he could go back to his nightmare. At least that was familiar.
Hed never had a dreamor nightmareas vivid as this one. It was his memory of his last battle, beforebefore
Karl let out a groan as he suddenly remembered everything that had happened.
Men turned to demons of madness and rot. The screams. The gunfirefaster and louder and harder than any hed ever known before.
And the flash.
He could still feel his eyes burning.
He blinked again. His vision started to clear. Everything around him was bright and strange, from the metal girders at the sides of his bed, to the strange devices all around with their little windows filled with chirping colors and beeping numbers. Tubular structures embedded in the ceiling overhead shined with an impossibly bright light, yet there wasnt any flame or wick in sight.
Sitting upfeeling a wet, icky pillow press against his back and neckKarl looked over the edge of the bed. The floor was sleek and shiny, almost like marble, only decorated with uncanny patterns. Karls father had purchased Riscolt marble for the house, and though the stone could bear patterns like clouds or ink in water, nature could never make the geometric patterns he saw on the floor.
It had to be man-made.
Turning to face forward, he saw one of the glowing windows staring back at him as it hung from the fantastical crane that jutted out from beside the headboard of his bed.
Two figures stood by Karls bedside one tall, one not, and both clothed in unfathomable armor. The tall figurea manwore in dark, dark green armoralmost black. It had no visible plates, nor laminations, nor any mailing. The helmet was rounded, like a shortened raindrop, with a transparent visor sticking down in the front. Text, numbers, and images flashed across the visor, though backwards, as if seen through a mirror. And, beneath the visor, the stranger wore the oddest mask Karl had ever seen.
The short figure was a stout woman, and she dressed even more bizarrely than the man, with gloves and an apron and a strange mask of her own beneath a larger, fully translucent visor. Unlike the mans, the womans visor didnt have any text or glyphs flashing on its surface. She stood at the foot of Karls bed, holding onto the footboard, as if to steady herself.
Pushing up with his elbows, Karl sat up straight, and then blinked and gasped as he saw Geoffrey lying on a bed behind the two strangers.
Worried and afraid, Karl whipped his head around, trying to figure out where he was. Thick, pleated curtains flanked his bed to either side, dangling from tracks in the ceiling. Had the curtains not been drawn back, he suspected he wouldnt have been able to see anyone at all.
Leaning forward, he saw Bever in a bed ahead of him, to the right. That bed, like Geoffrey and his own, was flanked by more curtains. Karl also spotted Morgans boots sticking out over the foot of the bed behind Bevers.
Hello sleepyhead, the woman said, with a hoarse, ragged voice.
She must have been the nurse the man had mentioned.
How did you get here? the man asked. Did you stop the zombies? What do you remember? Tell me, now, he said, thats an order!
Taking a closer look, Karl noticed the mans armor was studded in Mewnee writingthose incomprehensible kanjee. He hadnt noticed them at first, because they were embossed onto the armors dark material.
Karl inhaled sharply, suddenly fearful.
Unlike the demons, which he didnt understand at all, Karl was keenly aware of what the Mewnees and the Trentons loyal to them would do to captured rebels.
Karl tried to pull away, but all he could do was push his back up against the pillow against the headboard of his bead. Narrowing his eyes, he looked around, trying to find a reassuring sight, but that only made things worse.
Those beasteaten kanjee were everywhere! He saw them at the edges of the glowing windows, and repeated in miniature beneath the Trenton text of the images they displayed. One of the glowing windows had Trenton text arranged in a strange pattern.
E, F, P, T, O, Z,
Why were the letters getting smaller? Was it some kind of Mewnee code?
Hey! the man barked.
At the base of the glowing window on the crane by his bed, Karl saw the words:
Designed in Mu.
What was this place? Were these people traitors? Had they sided with the enemy? Were they here to interrogate him?
Panicking, Karl tried to get off the bed, only to feel something keeping his arms in place. Glancing down, find that restraints around his arms and legs.
W-What is going on? Karl said. Who are you? He craned his head toward Geoffreys unconscious body. What have you done to Geoffrey? What have you what have you done to us!?
The woman held up her hands. They were covered in white gloves made from an uncanny, seamless material. Hold your horses, buddy, she said. Calm the fuck down.
105.5 - Necromancy
Horse? Karl thought.
By the Angel he muttered. You! he yelled. You killed Fink! Oh, FinkII
But the man just barked at him. Who are you, and how did you come here? he demanded, leaning over Karls bed.
Looking past the symbols flashing on the mans visor, he could see the fellow was a Trentoner.
Why why is a T-Trentoner wearing Mewnee script, Karl said, unless hes a traitor? He tightened his chest. What is this place? Who are you?
Mewnee script? the man said.
The woman turned to him. I think he means the kanji on the equipment; your armor, the consoles, etc.
The man furrowed his brow at Karl. That? Its just DAISHU.
W-What? Karl didnt know what a dye-shoe was, but it sounded like a Mewnee word.
Listen, the man said, Im the one asking the questions here. He pressed his thumb to his chest.
For fucks sake, Lt. Colonel, the short, oddly dressed woman said, after letting out a cough and a groan, hes a time traveler! Hes not gonna have a fucking clue about how things work here.
T-Time travel? Karl asked, hesitantly. What?
The woman stepped closer, only to take one step back, as if shed broken a rule. Karl gasped in quiet horror as he made out the details of her face.
Her eyes were bloodshot, only with black instead of red. Her skin was sickly and wan, even worse than what youd see on someone with darkpox. Inky streaks ran beneath the skin of her neck, like lightning made of Night, just like the ones on the demons from before.
Guy, she said, what year is it?
W-What? Karl stammered. What year?
Church calendar, the woman said.
By the Churchs calendars, Karl said, it is uh uh one thousand, six-hundred, twenty-five years since Angelfall, he answered. One thousand, six-hundred and twenty-five years?
He couldnt remember if one was supposed to say the and or not.
The year is two-thousand twenty after Angelfall, she replied. That makes you three-hundred ninety-five years out of date. She coughed, clearly in terrible pain. Even clearing her throat afterwards made her wince. Thats what time travel is, she said. You fucking travel through time.
How is? Karl stammered, unable to find his words. How?
It would definitely explain why his surroundings were so strange.
Swallowing hard, Karl turned to his jailers. What have you he bit his lip. What have you done to my friends? Unable to point with his arms, he gestured his head toward Geoffrey, and then Bever. And wheres Fink?
Fink? the Lt. Colonel asked.
The horse! Karl said, on the verge of tears. H-He was as brave as any of usbraver than me. S-So much braver. Trembling, Karl lowered his head. He deserves a proper burial.
Would they even believe that? he thought.
Karl wished he was a better speaker, if only for Finks sake.
Karl knew that most people thought very little of him, and, most of the time, they were right. His father said he was all the dregs of his mothers womb. His brothers had gotten the lions share of good qualities, leaving him to be the whipping boy eternal. Where his brothers succeeded, Karl failed. Where they earned praise, he earned mockery and scorn, and it was hard for him not to think he deserved it. It made life easiest for him when he was alone, even though he hated being alone. It just reminded him of all the things he wished he could do, but couldnt.
For years, Fink had kept him company, And now, he was gone.
Karl wept. He was my friend!
Your friend? the soldier said, caught off guard.
However unfamiliar the surroundings might have been to him, Karl recognized the expression on the Lt. Colonels face. The confusion. The pity. Hed seen it on so many others.
Why couldnt they listen to his words, and hear them for what they were?
Geoffrey would have been able to persuade them in a trice.
It only made him feel that much more ashamed for crying. He knew his father would have lambasted him for crying over a dead horse.
Men didnt cry over animals.
But it was how Karl felt, and, if nothing else, he wanted to be true to his feelings. Being honest was one of the few things Karl could do, and he refused to let that be taken from him.
Before hed met Geoffrey, if anyone had known Karl, it was as the boy with the horse. Fink was Karls first, best, and dearest friend. He was kind and truelarger than life, even, like a creature from the pages of a chivalric romance. Hed befriended the stallion as a child, when Fink was but a foal among the many newborns in the Prestingham stables. Hed fed him oats and carrots, and had scratched his head and cleaned his pen. Fink was the best foal in the lot, and, within a matter of weeks, hed bite anyone who tried to come near him unless Karl was there.
Like him, Fink had a nervous disposition, but the two friends supported one another. Karl doubted he would have survived basic military training without Finks support.
Having a friend had given Karl a reason to live.
When Karl had told his father he was going off to war, Markus had forced him to take Fink with him.
He probably would have been butchered if he hadnt taken him.
And look what it got him, Karl thought.
I think the Lieutenant had the horse taken to the lab, the Lt. Colonel said, only to shake his head and scowl. Im glad you have questions, boy, but its our ass thats on the line! he said, pointing at himself again. So, he continued, either you tell me something that I can tell my commanding officers to help us understand what the fuck is going on here and what we need to do, or you and your comrades are probably gonna end up on a dissection table or in a microwave or something! He glared at Karl, and then at the nurse. Do either of you have any explanation for what happened back in the lobby? For any of it?This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Karl exhaled sharply. I want to know my friends are safe! I He glared at them. I wont I wont tell you anything until theyre safe!
As far as Karl could tell, these strangers didnt seem to have any intentions of harming himor, if they did, they were very good at hiding it. And yet, despite that, they werent going to let him leave of his own free will. Future or not, for his own safety, and for his comrades, he couldnt take the risk that these were Mewnee agentsspies; torturers, perhaps. Nighttouched Sakuragi liked to put the heads of captured rebels on display in villages and towns, mounted atop nageenata blades. Captured Crusaders were put on display outside Elpecks gates, to strike fear into the capital and its people.
But, as brutal as the Mewnees were to Trentoners, they were even crueler to their own. Any Mewnees who converted to the faith would be tortured until they recanted their conversion, blaspheming against the Angel and the Bond. Any priest brave enough to preach the Godheads word among those beasteaten foreigners was sure to die a slow, painful death.
Geoffrey once said hed lost his younger brother that way.
Your companions have not been harmed, the Lt. Colonel said. Theyve only been drugged. Its in your best interest to co?perate with us.
Karl felt unsure about nearly everythinghimself, his future, his purpose.
His worth.
But that was nothing new.
Sitting up as best as he could, Karl looked the Lt. Colonel in the eyes.
Ill ask you again, the Lt. Colonel said. Do you know anything about time travel or the zombies?
If I did Karl asked, what would you do if if I told you?
Karls father was always worried about what would happen. Insecurity was Markus Prestinghams lot in life. Unlike Geoffrey and the other commanders, whose status came from the nobility of their bloodlines, the Prestinghams of Elpeck had gained their power through commerce, back in Karls grandfathers day. As long as the wealth kept flowing, the Prestinghams could stand shoulder to shoulder with the Peers of the realm. A single wrong move, and all of it would be gone, so there could be no room for error in the Prestingham house.
Karl heard his fathers words echo in his head, as if the man was speaking to him right then and there.
You are a shadow, boy. You dont have the brains for the trade, nor the piety needed for the priesthood, and youre three births too late to inherit my wealth. I would pauperize myself before I paid enough to bribe the clergy or the Peers to give you a sinecure. No one wants an embarrassment in their halls. Hed scoffed. For all their corruption, at least the Luminers have charisma on their side.
Markus Prestingham was an empire unto himself. Karl could never remember having seen his father wearing anything other than sumptuous, richly dyed clotheshis round cap, his doublet, even the frills of his hose. A sword would have made for a better father.
Thats why Karl had turned to the Crusade. It was his last chance to save himself from a life of pity. And, perhaps, find his courage.
The nurse spoke up before the Lt. Colonel could answer. Lt. Colonel Kaplan, sir, she said, would you mind if I led the questioning? Ive been wanting to talk to a time-traveler ever since my experience in the elevator. She turned to face Karl. Tell me your name, son.
Karl Prestingham, he answered, s-son of Markus Prestingham of the Prestingham Wainwrights of Elpeck.
The nurse coughed. Never heard of you. A couple more stains blotted the translucent mask beneath her see-through visor.
I Karl lowered his gaze. Ive never met anyone who hadnt he swallowed hard, who hadnt heard of father. He sighed.
Why was talking to people so hard? Geoffrey had helped him get better, but now
Was it all for nothing? He thought.
How old are you? the nurse asked.
Seven-and-ten, maam, Karl said, though I he gulped, Im closer to eight. Eight and ten, I m-mean. Eight and ten.
Karl frowned, remembering the way Eylon and Bever had laughed at him when hed told them his age. They hadnt been laughing at his years, but at the meek expression hed had on his face when hed told them.
Closer to eights the fair truth, isnt it? Eylon had said. Youre a damned nursery-rat, and pampered one at that!
Karls memory of the words seemed oddly vivid.
Karl knew he wasnt the best soldier. He wasnt strong like Bever, or sleek and swift, like Morgan. His body bespoke his temperament: soft and pudgy. His older brothers called him Porky. As children, theyd pinched his cheeks and poked his flanks, snorting at him as if he was a hog in the sty.
Any man can prove his mettle in war, Geoffrey had told him. It is what he does in times of peace that shows the world his true worth.
Im Nurse Kaylin, the woman said. She nodded.
The words jerked Karl out of his memories.
What were you doing before you ended up here? Kaylin asked.
F-Fighting, Karl said.
For? the nurse asked.
Our homeland, m-maam.
Her eyebrows raised, though not in surprise. Against the Munine?
Karl nodded.
Well, Karl, the nurse said, I have news for you, both good and bad. The good news is, you won the war. Trenton is a free country, and youre in it. Youre in West Elpeck Medical Center, in Elpeck. Of course, you probably know it better as the Templar Hospital.
The war was won? Karl thought. This, he shook his head, this is the Templar Hospital?
Kaylin nodded, and then continued. The bad news is, your fuckin victory is four hundred years in the past, and were fighting a new war now, a real beasteaten banger.
You say Karl felt his eyes widen. He felt like was going to vomit. An acrid taste soured his mouth as he shook his head and scowled. Why? How could you say we won? They He tried to point at their clothing, only to struggle uselessly against his restraints. Look at what your clothes! You youre covered with their strange language! These he sputtered. Mewnee goods, he said. These are Mewnee goods, arent they? Karl wanted to make the Bond-sign, but with his hands bound, he could not. It made him feel unclean. Why are they still here? Theyre beasts!
Karl had always been distant from the conflict. His father didnt care who ran the country, as long as it was stable, and safe for trade. Karl had picked up Geoffreys sentiments, proud to share common feelings with the man he idolized. Even now, his anger came from worrying about what Geoffrey would think if he learned the war was won, yet the Mewnee hadnt left.
Kid, the Lt. Colonel said, DAISHU is everywhere
Nurse Kaylin glared at the man so fiercely, Karl worried some future power would smite him where he stood.
Karl shivered. Have they returned? he asked. Oh, no He shook his head. Please, say it isnt so. Everyone Karl shook his head. Geoffrey was always afraid they would return, even even if we did send them back back, across the sea. Is that? He trembled. Did they put the black lightning in your skin? Is that why those people is that why they turned into demons?
The Lt. Colonel shook his head. If only it were that simple. No, Karl, were up against a plague, and, in all likelihood, the Last Days themselves.
W-What? Karl said, in a soft, stunned voice.
Kid, please, the nurse said, coughing more, tell me what you know. Youre not the only one whos traveled through time. It happened to me, too, several days ago. I think I think somethings happening. Maybe it really is the Last Days, or maybe its something else, I dont fucking know. She groaned. If you tell us what you know, Ill give you a way to answer all of your questions for yourself. It is the fuckin future, after all. We have the technology.
Karl looked over Nurse Kaylins shoulders to Geoffreys unconscious figure on the bed behind her.
You said my friends are drugged, Karl said. Please, wake them. Rub the sleep from their eyes. He looked down at the ground, rife with shame. I dont want to be alone, he added, softly.
At times, Karl wished joining the cause hadnt started to uncover his missing mettle. Through camaraderie with Geoffrey, Fink, and the others, Karl had found pieces of the inner strength hed so desperately lacked, but he was still in the middle of changing for the better. Now, without his companions by his side, he felt hapless all over again, as if all his change for the better had suddenly come undone.
It made him wonder: had it ever even been there at all? Or was it just a delusion?
Lt. Colonel Kaplan nodded. If you tell me what you know about this time-travel business, he glanced at the nurse, Ill gladly have your colleagues taken out of sedation.
They will likely Karl nodded worrisomely, they will be startled. Very startled.
Then Ill leave it to you to calm them.
That, I I can do Karl said, I think, though he feared it was a lie. How would Geoffrey Athelmarch, Second Count of Seasweep react to learning that, even four centuries into the future, the Mewnees still held their homeland in their grip?
Only the Moonlight Queen would know.
106.1 - Elsewhen
Exploring the Lantor Incursion ended up leaving me with more questions than answers. The parts of Lantor the Incursion had struck were covered in patches of wildly different terrain. Adjacent to the ammonia world, for example, was a verdant jungle world, filled with blossoms the sizes of houses growing on towering plants with herbaceous trunks thicker than even the giant redwood trees up Trentons western coast. There was also a world of pitch-black plant-forms casting shadows on a blindingly lit plain of dirt. There were entries to what seemed to be underground burrows looming on the surface like giant mouths. Andalon and I wandered among floating islands in a yellow sky, and mountains and through forests of humming crystals in a land of churning fog. We saw things that defied the imagination. And yet, for all the inconceivable variety, every piece of the Incursions patchwork landscape shared two common threads: Andalons Scary-Shinies were there, crashed somewhere, as was the fungus. It ate through the forests crystals. It knitted its threads through corpses of bloated beasts, floating among the yellow clouds.
I had no explanation for it. Catamander Brave said there were worlds beyond the Night. Could these have been them? Or something else, altogether?
Obviously, there was a lot left to explore, but, unfortunately, for the time being, it would have to take a back seat. You see, while Id been chronicling all those fantastical sights, something had happened to the doppelgenneth manning my body.
It happened while Andalon and I were in the middle of a little village carved into giant red-and-white spotted mushrooms in the middle of a sunlit glade. Id half-expected to find elves or fairies living inside them. Instead, what I found were the bodies of tall, lithe, four-armed humanoids with deep-blue skin. At least, I thought their skin was deep blue. It was hard to tell, what with most of their flesh having been melted away by the fungus growing from their corpses.
The trees outside had been stripped of all their leaves. The fungus had begun reshaping their branches, thickening them, and making them grow protuberances that reminded of pipes on a pipe organ. Clouds of spores billowed up from the protuberances. They were smoke-stacks, pumping their pollution into the sky.
The spore-clouds glistened in the Sunlight as we stood in glade, staring in shock at the sheer desolation. The things Id been seeing in Lantor were so incredible, Id had to decouple myself from my progeny consciousnesses. The sights were simply too much of a distraction for the rest of me.
Do you think the Scary-Shinies are here, too? Andalon asked.
I nodded. They were in all the other places, I said.
Suddenly, I was assaulted by a wave of lightheadedness.
I fell to one knee.
Mr. Genneth, whats wrong? Andalon asked.
I shook my head. One of my doppelgenneths hes recoupling with me.
And not just any doppelgenneth, but the one Id left in charge of my body.
All at once, a storm of information poured into my brain. I could taste my doppelgenneths excitement.
Closing my eyes, I re-unified myself. When I next opened them, I was standing in a hallway lined with patients in cots and beds. And, standing in front of me was none other than the ghost of Lord Yuta Uramaru.
He looked like a new person. He was as sharp as an origami crane, and as stolid as steel, wearing a full formal montsuki-haori-hakamathe trifecta of traditional Munine mens wear. His mustache and stubble had been cleaned up and trimmed, giving a clear view of his swarthy skinwell, swarthy by Munine standards, anyhow. His night-black hair was held back in a tight bun, free from sweat and ooze, with just the faintest speckles of gray here and there. The colors complemented his haoris dark blue stripes, as did his stormy gray hakama trousers. The thick, white socks he wore along with his sandals looked like fresh snow.
Its you, he said.
He spoke in perfect Trenton, without the slightest trace of an accent. Youd have thought hed lived his whole life in Elpeck.
It seemed language barriers werent a problem in the afterlife.
At the moment, my job was to take Yuta to the mind-world Id been preparing for him, so that the part of my consciousness inside my body could focus on his duties. The doppelgenneth whod recoupled with me was on his way to talk to the knights when Yuta had suddenly appeared to him. Fortunately, I had Daydream Alley ready and waiting for him. I briefly closed my eyes and focused, imagining my soul projecting out of my body and coming to stand right beside it, doppelgennething myself into a copy of the hallway Id just built in my mind. I recentered my consciousness into the copy of me inside Daydream Alley and handed control of my body back to the doppelgenneth Id put in charge of it.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
Just in case, I kept myself coupled to my other selves. Though I was experiencing all of their experiences simultaneously, I still kept a bit of distance between them and my root consciousness; it made it easier to focus on one thing at a time, while also leaving me in the perfect position to recenter and take control in case anything crazy happened.
My body changed from my physical body to a mental copy that had suddenly appeared beside it. I gave myself a wink before pushing my double vision into my subconsciousness and focusing squarely on Daydream Alley.
My physical self vanished from view as I created a mind-world just for Yuta and I. It was a perfect duplicate of the hallway wed been standing in, only without any interference from the real world (or vice-versa).
I was in full control.
It was really nice to feel my legs again, all the way down to the tips of my toes. More importantly, my neck and hands were back to normal, and my tail was nowhere to be felt. I immediately willed away the heat sink that was my hazmat suit and replaced it with my usual work clotheswhite coat, bow-tie, and all.
Much better, I muttered, under my breath.
Lord Uramarus thick, bushy eyebrows leapt up.
I dont understand this, he said. Whats going on?
Im sorry things have come to this, I said, bowing apologetically, with my arms at my side. I wish I could have done more for you.
I noticed Yuta leaning forward to look at my lips as I spoke. I can understand your every word, he said. How can this be?
Suddenly, his attention leapt from my mouth to his hands. He stared at them for a moment, and then spent another surveying himself.
Out of nowhere, Andalon crept out from behind me and stepped forward, giving a little bow, herself.
I was sad that you were sad, and Mr. Genneth was sad with you too, Mr. Yuta, she said. Then, cheering up, she looked him in the eye. Everythings going to be alright now, she turned to me, right, Mr. Genneth? Were gonna figure stuffs out? Then, almost like an afterthought, she added, Oh. Im Andalon, and then bowed again, and disappeared.
Blinking, Yuta lowered himself into a squat and crossed his arms. None of this makes any sense.
I noticed his sheathed katana hanging from his hip.
I know exactly how you feel, Mr. Uramaru, I said. Welcome to my crazy little world.
I offered him my hand to help him up. Inside, however, I was worrying that this was not the best way I could have broken the ice.
Wait, I thought. Ice.
That gave me an idea.
Lord Yuta Uramaru, I said, stretching out an arm, I would like to introduce you to a buddy of mine, I said. The Ice Cream Sandwich Buddy. I dared to smile. I think it will help things go more smoothly.
He stared at me, first perplexed, and then shocked as the vending machine filled with frozen desserts materialized beside me.
I never want to see another plate of honeyed bean curd for as long as I live, Yuta said.
He took another bite of his ice cream sandwich. He chewed it slowly, closing his eyes, savoring every bite.
Much to Yutas shock and my delight, my second-ever attempt to create an ice-cream sandwich with my mind-powers had been a smashing success. I conjured into existence a whole Ice Cream Sandwich Buddy machine, filled to the brim with frozen treats. Thered been a slight hiccup when I noticed the machine wasnt responding to mein fact, it wasnt even on at allbut that was remedied when I realized Id forgotten to conjure up a wall socket to plug the vending machines power cord into, and the device hummed to life as soon as I did.
While Id been explaining the machine to him, Id made another copy of myself inside a separate mind world so that that me could figure out which ice cream sandwich to give him. Fortunately, hewell, mewas able to settle on a choice relatively quickly.
It couldnt be too luxuriouschocolate shells, marshmallows, raspberry pure, etc., it would just overwhelm himbut it couldnt be too plain, either. I didnt want to be shooting blanks here.
So, Id settled on a classic: the Rocky Snow.
The Rocky Snow ice cream sandwich bar was a glorious rectangle of vanilla ice cream sandwichedwhat else?between two soft, delicate Night-black chocolate wafers. The sandwichs name came from the ice cream that was used: the vanilla had chocolate chips scattered within it, along with thin trails of fudge and caramel.
It turned out to be just the right choice.
As for me, Id gotten myself a satisfying Chocolate Taco-late, the working mans favorite taco-based frozen dairy treat.
Yuta held the wrapper in his hands, having licked it clean. He turned to the Ice Cream Sandwich Buddy. If this wondrous device had existed in my lifetime, he said, it would have ended wars, and likely started just as many new ones.
He moved his arm, ready to wipe his face on the sleeve of his haori when I just willed the mess off of him, sending it to non-existence.
Slowly, Yuta shook his head. Let me repeat myself: death is not at all what I imagined it to be. He stared at his hands.
Wed been talking. Well, it had mostly been me, particularly after Yuta had gotten his first bite of the Rocky Snow.
That old proverb, the road to the heart begins in the belly, had never been more true. Yes, Yuta had frequently had the you must be crazy look on his face while I told him the gist of what was happening to meall that wyrm stuffand how it related to what had happened to himthe mind-ghostliness, but then he would take another bite of a frozen treat, and his paranoia went away. Mostly.
I figured it would be too risky to try doing a direct mental transfer of all the information to him, like I had with Krestons ghost, so I settled for the old fashioned approach.
106.2 - Elsewhen
Much to my frustration, Yuta couldnt recall any details about how he came to the future. It seemed Id have to plumb deeper into his memories to learn what had happened. I planned to ask him in short shrift, once we finished breaking the ice.
At the moment, we sat on the floor, right beside the Sandwich Buddy. Our backs were up against the wall of my mental facsimile of the hallway where Yutas ghost had appeared to me. I sat with my legs folded against me; Yuta sat to my left, cross-legged. To my right, sat Andalon, who was busy greedily stuffing her face with the finest chocolate chip cookies my memories could make.
After I disappeared the Rocky Snows wrapper, Yuta sighed and let his head hang down. Even though I couldnt quite see it, somehow, I knew that he was trying to hide his tears.
Though I doubt its much consolation to either of us, he began, I wish to give my deepest, heartfelt thanks to you, Dr. Howle, for letting me see my daughter smile before I died.
He looked at me after wiping the tears from his eyes.
I understand the terror this plague has brought you, and the intolerable impotence you feel it has trapped you in, he said, but, he exhaled, you should not condemn yourself. I cannot emphasize this enough.
Crossing his arms, he looked at our surroundings. Even here, in this mere hallway, the future shone through. It shone through in the consoles glowing on the walls beside the doors of rooms. It shone through the plastic quarantine tunnels, and the fluorescent lights overhead, and the emergency wound epoxy dispensers mounted on the walls in the middle, and the shape of the benches and the pastel paintings and weird paper sculptures on the walls.
Not even in my wildest dreams would I have imagined this future Yuta said, let alone its accomplishments. He looked up at the ceiling. Id suffered darkpox before. I was afflicted by it during the Seasweep campaign, in combat against the rebels. I was one of the few members of my platoon to survive. Only one trueblood Munine among us survived, the rest were half-breeds like myself, or trueblood Costranaks. He looked down. People would say not even the Daikenja, or the greatest of the barashai could conquer darkpox. And yet you, you ordinary men, have conquered it with, he glanced at me, what did you call it, again?
An inoculation, I said.
Might I ask how it functions?
At first, I thought the answer would be an explanation of why I couldnt tell himbecause he wouldnt understandbut, after a moments thought, I realized no, he could understand it.
Memorized factoids from my med school days rose to the surface of my thoughts. I could almost feel myself fingering through them, searching for the right ones.
There.
The first darkpox vaccine had been an inactivated vaccine. It had been just over two-hundred years since its discovery. And though you might not think it at first glance, Yutas day and age had all the technology and skill they would have needed to produce it. All they lacked were the insights and know-how that would have told them how to put it all together. Sure, they wouldnt be able to mass produce it at first, but, then again, we hadnt, either.
Have you ever stared at water in a puddle formed by rain? I asked.
I believe so, Yuta said. The confusion on his face spoke volumes.
Perhaps, if you looked closely, I continued, you might have seen tiny, tiny things swirling about in the water. Those are animals, very, very tiny animals. If you polished a glass lens and positioned it properly, you could magnify them, making them appear larger than they actually are, and, if you did, youd discover that
But I stopped, noticing the look on Yutas face. It wasnt one of confusion or disbelief, but shock. It was the kind of look Id have on my face if Id gone to work, only to discover Id forgotten my console at home.
Why didnt I think of that? he said, leaning his head back against the wall.
What do you mean? I asked. Out of politeness sake, Id avoided immersing myself in his memories, so all this was new to me.
I am quite familiar with lenses and magnification, he explained. I have much experience with using them to view objects at a great distance. With a few modifications, I could have done as you suggested and magnified the contents of the puddle. It simply never occurred to me to do so. He cleared his throat and shook his head. Forgive me, I interrupted. He bowed his head. Please, continue.
As I was saying, the world is populated by countless minute organisms, creatures far too small to be seen by the unaided eye. They are everywhere, from the dust in the air to the rock deep below. They live on our skin and crawl inside our bodies. Yeast, for example, for fermenting alcohol. It might look like an inanimate substance, but it isnt. Yeast is composed of millions and billions of tiny organismsrelatives of mushrooms, in fact.
Yuta stared at me. Incredible
Andalon watched all this with the utmost interest.
Humanitys discovery of microbes like these, as we call them, led to many significant changes and advancements, though none as profound as the revolutionary new approaches it brought to medical science. I looked him in the eyes. Tell me, what do you think causes darkpox?
His answer surprised me.
I do not know, he said. I have heard many explanations, but none of them have ever satisfied me. The least discreditable one, I suppose, would be the claim that it was due to miasmasvapors of decay coming off of putrefying matter.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
This got me curious. Why is that the least discreditable explanation? I asked.
The common folk claim the plague is the work of devils or evil spirits. I have yet to see anything supposedly worked by malevolent spirits that did not have a purely rational explanation. For physicians that dispute the miasma theory, they say the disease is brought on by an imbalance of bodily fluids or vital energy, but neither of those explanations make any sense. How could an imbalance spread? Everywhere we look, nature pulls the world toward balance. Fires clear overcrowded forests. Storms come and go. The moon ever follows its appointed paths and cycles.
But why miasma? I asked.
Because miasma can spread. The plague reaches a population, it infects them, and then their bodies spread the disease wherever they go. Quarantines would not work, otherwise.
I nodded. Youre surprisingly close to the truth, I said.
What is the truth?
Contagious disease is a kind of invasion, no more, no less. Many microbes perform vital functions. They help break down rotting matter; they help cattle digest grass; they even make alcohol for us, as well as other substances and drugs. But, I sighed, not all microbes are so friendly. Some are dangerous. Some are predators.
And darkpox it is one of these microbes?
Yes. I nodded, glancing at Andalon.
This is true of the fungus, too, you know, I thought-said.
To some microbes, I continued, our bodies are warm, safe places, filled with nourishment. So, they have learned to enter our bodies, where they then thrive, but at our expense. Over countless generations, microbes have honed their ability to spread from one person to another, by breath, by blood, by spit, by wasteeven by sex. Its like rats fouling up a fresh grain harvest. The damage they cause results in the symptoms of disease, as do the battles that our bodies fight against them. We recover from a contagious illness if and when our bodies defenses rout the minuscule invaders. Otherwise, our bodies are overrun, and we die.
You are talking about disease as if it was war, Yuta said.
It is war! I said.
Andalon nodded vigorously, clenching her fists with determination.
Our bodies make soldiers that fight to protect us. They come from the marrow of our leg bones, and from the thymus, an organ in our necks.
Yuta glanced down at his chest.
One of our biggest advancements came from when we observed that some microbes make poisons they use to kill microbes that might compete with them for food and shelter. Some of these poisons turn out to harm certain kinds of microbes, but not us, so we use the helpful microbes to produce their antibiotics, which we use on the harmful microbes when they attack us. These kill the invaders, or stop the invaders from being able to feed, or reproduce, which allows the body to deal with them on its own.
Is that what you did for us? he asked.
I shook my head. No, not all microbes are susceptible to chemicals in this way. For some, like the ones that cause darkpox, you do not defeat them by poisoning them, but by using a substance that trains the body to fight against the invaders before they arrive, greatly reducing the damage caused when the patient is infected. Sometimes, wont even get sick in the first place!
Yuta narrowed his eyes. Does this have something to do with the fact that anyone who survives darkpox cannot contract the illness again?
I nodded. That, and chickens.
I flexed my eyebrows mischievously.
Yuta furrowed his lips at me. Meanwhile, I tapped into a memory of a documentary Id seen that had demonstrated the process step by step.
Chickens fall victim to darkpox, I said, but they cannot spread it through their breath. To infect a chicken, take the blood of a man or animal who has darkpox, or who recently died of it and feed it to the bird, or expose it to a cut on the birds body. Once the chicken dies, its skin will be covered in sores. Cut out the birds spleen, grind it into a paste, thinly smear that paste across a clean piece of paper, and then leave it out to dry for ten days. Rub a needle on the paste, and then poke it into a persons shoulder, deep enough to draw blood. Make sure to wipe the injection site with alcohol first; it needs to be clean.
Then what? he asked.
Wait three days, I said. Then, the person will be completely immune to darkpox.
Yuta stared at me in shock. It cant be that simple he whispered.
And yet, it is. I smiled.
It was nice to talk about a disease we could actually treat, for once.
The spleen is, in many ways, like the bodys cesspit. This is true of all animals with bones. The organismthe viruswhich causes darkpox accumulates in the chickens spleen in high concentration. When you leave the paste out to dry in the sun, the virus is weakened and killed. Sunlight bleaches everything. It weakens microbes in just the same way that it strips dyes from fabric. In this deactivated state, the virus is incapable of causing life-threatening illness, so, by using the metal needle to introduce the dead viruses to a patients body, you give the body an opportunity to familiarize itself with the enemy, and to train itself to recognize and destroy the virus the next time it sees it. Part of the reason why darkpox is so deadly is because, when it infects us, our bodies are duped by its disguises and trickery. But, once weve been infected, our bodies learn all of the virus tricks, and
Thats why those who recover are immune Yuta whispered, his face blanching. Once the body knows the enemy, it can root it out and defeat it with ease. Chuckling, he shook his head in astonishment. It is a strategy worthy of General Yashimoto himself.
He looked me in the eyes. I must know how what did you call it again?
A vaccine, I said.
He nodded. I must know how the vaccine was discovered.
Again, that piqued my curiosity.
Do you mind if I ask why? I asked.
Do you mind if I say yes? he said.
He smirked at me!
Flustered, I scratched my head. Its just I sighed. Youre not at all how I expected you to be.
What were you expecting? he asked. The question seemed to amuse him.
Well, I said, the Munine of your era that were here in Trenton werent exactly well-known for their open-mindedness. Or their restraint.
That they were not, Yuta said, with a nod, and, for that matter, neither am Iat least when it comes to restraint.
Well, you certainly seem very restrained to me, I said.
Yuta shook his head. Dr. Howle, you come from a boisterous, noisy world. To you, a pond would seem calm, even if it was abuzz with mosquitos and koi. If I seem calm to you, its probably only because Im dead. His face twitched. I he sighed, Im past all concerns now, just like the blighted era from which I came.
For the record, on a hunch, Id refrained from telling Yuta about the knights, and that last remark of his only confirmed that that was probably for the best.
The man had been through a lot, andlike most of the ghosts Id encounteredhe didnt seem to recall events immediately before his death. That was a small mercy for the spirits, I suppose. I usually didnt broach the subject of their death until after Id broken the ice with them. Ones death wasnt the sort of thing to be discussed lightly.
That being said
Again, I said, one of the things I specialize in is in providing counsel to people like yourself who are dealing with grief and trauma. If you ever need someone to talk to, Id be more than happy to oblige.
Id rather hear about the discovery of that vaccine. That sounds like quite the tale.
106.3 - Elsewhen
Chuckling softly, I pressed my fingers together and looked down at my hands. I imagine youre asking because you want to know the tale of how the great plague was finally vanquished. Considering the era you are from, its natural youd be so concerned with it, just as its natural for a person to seek closure. I sighed. Ill tell you, but, let me warn you, Im almost certain its not going to be what you expect.
Id rather see it for myself, Yuta said.
I glanced at Andalon, who nodded encouragingly, before I told Yuta what he wanted to know.
Im sorry to disappoint you, but there is no grand tale to tell. The vaccine was discovered by accident, thanks to a young mans carelessness. A physicianLennard Ulsterwas conducting experiments, infecting chickens with darkpox, using extracts from the infected chickens spleens to keep the experiments going. Dr. Ulsters young assistant accidentally left one of the pured spleen samples out to dry, and when they used it on a chicken, the chicken barely suffered any illness. It wasnt long before theyd discovered it was immune to darkpox altogether. But for that accident, who knows how long it would have been before the secret was discovered, and how many millions more would have died in the interim.
Yutas face turned expressionless after that.
He did not speak for a while, to the point that even Andalon began looking at him with concern.
Is everything alright? I asked.
As he replied to me, Lord Uramaru stared off into the distance, lost in contemplation. It is not fair, he said, softly.
I sighed. I know, I said.
No, he answered, you do not. When every day is a struggle to survive, when food, shelter, and peace are alien to most men, there is no time or place for happy accidents. There is no room to explore and contemplate. He shook his head. I should know, Ive certainly tried. But its difficult. Its very, very difficult. He looked me in the eyes. Dr. Howle, I made my livelihood on the field of battle. War is a friend I wished I never knew. Battlefields are mankinds most worthless creations. How can anything ever change for the better when we waste so many days and lives slaughtering each other. And now, you tell me these things, these horrible, beautiful things. It is a cruel poem: those who suffer the most will never be able to save themselves, because their eyes are blinded by pain and blood. He sighed. Id ask what your era has learned of the stars in heaven, he added, but Horosha told me they arent a part of your night sky.
Now it was my turn to stare at him in shock.
He knew about stars.
I stared at Yuta with an intensity that shocked all three of us. You know about stars? I asked.
Yes, he said, I
Can I see them? I asked.
How would you Yuta furrowed his brow. how would that work?
Id step into your memories. We could see it together.
Excitement curled in the corner of Yutas lip. I can see the observatory again? he asked.
I dont know what that is, I said, but yes.
He nodded resolutely. Do whatever you have to do.
So I did.
Leaning toward him, I placed my hands on Yutas shoulders and then, with a gentle tug, pulled him apart, splitting his body down the middle. Dazzling, multicolored sensory curtains filled the widening gap and swelled out, engulfing us all. A moment later, we promptly found ourselves elsewhere.
No, not just elsewhere. Elsewhen.
Andalon and I stood on a wooden veranda, in the old Munine style, facing a wooden building with a steep, pitched rooftop. Beneath the overhanging eaves stood lightly built walls of wood and translucent white paper, illuminated by paper lanterns hanging from underneath the roof. The building had a wood-paneled tower jutting out from its side. The tower was capped in a dome-shaped roof.
Id never seen anything like it before.
What is it, Mr. Genneth? Andalon asked. Are you lookin for something?
Slowly, I stepped around the corner and peered over the veranda. This this is incredible, I said.
It was hard not to gasp as I took in the view.
We had just time-traveled, after alleven if only by proxy.
We were in a small multi-building compound, built atop a tall hill. A fortifying wall of interlocked stones girdled around the hill, several yards down. Beyond that, down the long, shallow slope, I could see bonfires shining in a distant settlement. About halfway up the hillside, in between the town in the foothills and the observatoryas Yuta had called itwas another multi-building complex, again of Munine make. It was like an island of light. It was larger than the observatory, and far more heavily fortified, with two tiers of walls.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
It even had a watchtower.
Daikenja be praised! Yuta said. Id never thought Id see this place again.
Turning, I saw Yuta standing not far from us. For the first time since Id met him, he seemed genuinely at ease, as if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders.
You wanted to know what stars are? he said. Look up, Dr. Howle. See them for yourself!
So I did.
There are points in a persons life past which there is no returning. This was one of them.
I dont know how to describe my reaction other than to call it a religious experience. I think it might be more accurate to call it an experience which others might have called religious. After all, all matters of faith are ultimately in the eye of the beholder.
And, by the Angel, did I behold.
I didnt move. I didnt gasp. I didnt cower or gape. I just stared.
Minute lights twinkled in the sky, forming a dome that lit up the darkness from horizon to horizon. It was like a fistful of sand had been thrown onto the face of Night, and gotten stuck there, glistening as they burned. I saw silver and gold in points and swirls. I saw glittering travelers locked in a broad band that spanned the sky like ink-plumes in water. And it stayed like that.
Andalon cooed in delight as she joined me in looking up. Hi stars! she said, reaching up to the sky. Andalon is here!
For the first time, I think I actually envied her.
Suisei was right, I muttered, tightly clenching my fist. They really are beautiful.
I closed my eyes, and for a minute, held them shut, and when I opened them back up, the stars were still there.
Are they always like this? I asked, in a quiet voice.
Yeah Andalon replied. Her excitement had softened to quiet wonder.
I turned to Yuta. Every night? I asked.
He nodded. Every night. But then he shook his head. Well unless there are clouds, or other inclement weather.
I swallowed hard.
The Words of Witness said that the Angel had no face, and yet had many eyes. As I looked up, tears trickling down my cheeks, for the first time in my life, I felt as if I could see those eyes.
I must have been twelve or thirteen before I could sleep on moonless nights without having the lights on in the hallway, and a nightlight by my bed. On some nights, even with the lights on, Id look out the windows and gaze at the black void in the sky and cry and cry. It was as if some part of me knew there was something wrong with all that emptiness, as if something precious had been lost and forgotten, only no one knew what it was.
Now, I finally knew the answer.
Eventually, my terror of the night got so bad that my sister had to sleep beside me in bed. She made up mantras for me to recite to keep the shadows at bay, and, as a kid, I genuinely believed they had magic power. And why wouldnt I? Dana had made them. And Dana was magic.
Now, I saw a new kind of magic.
All my life, the Night was a sea of black, fit only for the moon to bob in its depths. Standing here, though? That Night was dead to me. It was a falsehood, a lesser creation that paled to what I now beheld.
Like I said, this was like a religious experience for me.
I just wish it hadnt brought so many disquieting questions.
Why had we been denied this? Was it punishment? Or was it something else?
I felt robbed. Wronged. All my life, Id searched for wisdom and understanding, scouring philosophy and scripture, yet always coming up short. But not here. Not here. Here was the wordless completeness that had forever eluded me. It was all around me, numinous and sublime. All I had to do was open my eyes and take it all in.
It was enough of a miracle for me.
I wanted to stare for ages. I didnt care that my memory recorded every detail with perfect fidelity after just a moments gaze. That wasnt enough. Id gone a lifetime without this sky overhead. I couldnt bear to leave it now. It was too soon.
Come, come, Dr. Howle, Yuta said, beckoning me with a wave of his hand. He pointed to the dome-roofed tower. The Observatory awaits!
For once, Yuta seemed to be at peace and in high spirits, and I didnt want to be the wet towel that rained on his parade. So, Andalon and I followed him inside his observatory.
I lost track of my melancholy the instant I stepped inside.
I let out a gasp.
The observatory was a rectangular room about twelve feet by twenty-four, with a nearly thirty-foot-tall tower rising up from the ceiling at the far end of the room. That had to be the dome-roofed tower Id seen from outside. The numbers just came to me, osmosing into my awareness directly from Yutas memories.
He really must have been happy to be back here.
A simple, slender ladder lay against the tower wall, though the ladder was little more than backdrop for the long barreled telescope that stood within it, mounted in a stand some fifteen feet tall. About ten feet of telescope spread out in either direction from the stands pivot point. The telescope itself was jet black with a silky sheen, courtesy of the lacquering that coated it. Gold filigree inlays on the lacquering depicting herons wading among marshy bamboo groves.
Whoa I whispered.
Yutas observatory was a carpenters dream. It was wood, wood, and more wood, and all of it was stunning. The place was sumptuously furnished: wood frame walls, cabinets, shelves, low lying tables. Beneath the light of candles flickering on their candlesticks and paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling, the woods varnish gleamed like polished stone.
What is it? Yuta asked, glancing back at me. Candlelight flickered against his blue haori.
If I hadnt known any better, I said, with a sarcastic chuckle, I would have said Id just stepped into a wizards tower.
Yuta furrowed his eyes at me. There are no such things as wizards.
I know, I replied, but thats not what I meant. I sighed. Its a long story.
To be fair, this observatory wasnt properly equipped to be a wizards tower. For one, it was missing the enchanting table and an alchemy station. I also didnt hear anything that suggested Yuta had a familiar or two lying about. Still, if you added in the missing utilities and maybe a disgruntled, snarky talking hummingbird as a familiar, it would have done great on the wizards real-estate market.
But, the more I looked, the more I realized that, like with the stars, there was a kind of magic here, though not of the usual type. It was the magic of the mind: contemplation, exploration, and elucidation.
Having noticed me looking around, Yuta joined me in gandering at the place.
Its just like I left it, he said, barely above a whisper.
106.4 - Elsewhen
I meandered about, taking in the view. The straw mat flooringtatami matscrinkled softly beneath my slow, aimless footsteps. I felt like I was inside a cabinet of curiosities brought to life, and the heady scents of lacquer and varnish only added to the magical feeling in the air.
As for the tables, the biggest one was simply a mess. It was covered in books and loose leaves of paper. Several ink wells scattered about. Most of the cabinets and drawers had been left half-open, overflowing with writing supplies, as well as kinds of scientific tools Id never seen before. There was a curious, globe-like object made of multiple concentric rings. Each of the rings could be freely rotated, as was carefully demarcated with intervals meant for measurement. I saw wooden semi-circles framed and mounted on moveable stands; the things reminded me of old-fashioned land surveying tools, and pages and pages of detailed diagrams spread everywhere. Several were nailed onto a cork board on the wall, but many just spilled onto the tables or floor, indifferent to their surroundings. Most of the diagrams looked like connect-the-dots drawings, but filled out by a madman. There were also several tall, pillar-like clocks on the wall; they indicated the time by the vertical position of diamond-shaped pointers.
Neither Andalon nor I had any idea what these things were for, but that didnt stop us from being enthralled with them. Fortunately, by the look on Lord Uramarus face, I imagined Yuta would be happy to explain them to us.
I can already tell this observatory means a great deal to you, I said.
Yuta looked up at the telescope. Moonbeams shone through the opening in its domed roof. It is the largest of my children, yes, he said, only to lower his head and sigh, and it was just as ill-fated as its older brothers.
What do you mean? I asked.
Yuta took a seat by the main table, positioned cross-legged on the floor. He interwove his fingers, letting the hems of his haoris sleeves press flush against one another. He motioned to Andalon and I, signaling we join him, so we did, sitting down across from him, on the opposite side of the table.
I was not born a noble, Yuta said, nor was I exactly enamored with the prospect of being elevated to that class.
I could have asked him Why not?, but I didnt want to impose. The question could wait; besides, I had a different follow-up question in mind.
But you are a samurai lord, correct?
He nodded.
Then why accept a position you did not feel passionate about?
Yuta chuckled softly. Oh, I feel quite passionate about it. Sighing, he ran his hand over the desk. I accepted Sakuragis boon out of na?vet. I thought I could make a difference for the better.
But? I asked.
As you said, Dr. Howle, the colonial government of Munine Trenton was set in its ways, and, as fate would have it, I was not in a position to change that. He looked up. So, I made the observatory my instrument of change, instead.
What makes it ill-fated? I asked.
Yuta looked me in the eyes.
For all its wonders, Dr. Howle, this observatory was built with your countrymens blood. The townsfolk were forced to build it, on Sakuragis orders. They wouldnt have been whipped and beaten if I hadnt off-handedly mentioned my interest in astronomy to Sakuragi, nor would he have cared to build it, had I not attracted his interest through my accomplishments. I was lifted to the peerage atop the backs of all the Trenton-men who died at my hand, or under my orders, and on the backs of Munine soldiers who died to see them dead.
He looked up at the telescope.
Sakuragi I muttered. What was he like? I asked.
I couldnt believe Id just asked that question, but Yuta obliged me by answering it anyway.
Cold, calculating, he said, seemingly dispassionate, but unflaggingly cultured and polite, more jade than man.
You saved his life from an assassination attempt, right?
Yuta nodded. Just so. It was merely the capstone of a long sequence of labors Id made on behalf of the regime. You have to understand, in my era, discontent sprang up like a weed, sewing blockade runners and armed rebels. I was just a mercenary when I helped lead the assault on the rebel stronghold in Seasweep, but then, when I managed to broker peace by convincing the local magistrate to employ Trenton-men in the military police, and as tax collectors and other local officials, Sakuragi must have caught wind of me. The mayors and regional governors were too conceited to consider enticing Trenton rulers with a place in the Imperial hierarchy. For these accomplishments and other insights, I was elevated to the rank of samurai, only to be plucked up by Sakuragi, and made into his bodyguard. Then, I saved his life, and he made me a lordestate and all. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
There was skepticism in his voice.
Why do you sound like you have suspicions? I asked.
With Sakuragi, there was never just one reason. Sometimes, I wonder if he might have had a hand in orchestrating the rebel assassins attempt on his life, just to elevate me to the peerage.
I stammered. What?
Yuta chuckled. He was just that kind of man. I think he wanted me, from the beginning, because of my heritage. He saw me as a bone to throw to appease the Costranaks, and, knowing my reputed displeasure with his regime, elevating me to the peerage was his way of placating internal dissent. He once told me, You and I, Uramaru, we are the only genuine men in this sea of superficiality, and, as much as it pains me to admit it, he was right. The colonial governors never saw Trenton as anything more than an opportunity to gorge themselves on wealth and power. They had no interest in reform, while I had all the interest in the world, yet none of the power. Officially, Id become one of Sakuragis retainersbut, in practice, I was the local governor of Heartshorne and the surrounding lands, unless Lord Sakuragi or anyone higher ranked than I chose to intervene, in which case, I was just as powerless as the Trenton peasants.
So how did the observatory get built? I asked.
I was younger, then, Yuta replied. I had yet to fully appreciate the depths of Sakuragis convictions. I thought he was just another noble. It was a mistake I would always regret. He sighed. One day, back when I was still nothing more than a bodyguard, he asked me what my hearts desire was. So I told him. It was an off-hand remark, yet he committed it to memory. It makes me wonder how long his intentions for me had been brewing.
Your hearts desire was an observatory? I asked.
Wind, waves, and sky; these are the birthrights of the Costranak people. To themto my motherthe starry night is a canvas of science, history, and myth. The three are one and the same. As a child, my mother would lull me to sleep with the tales of Kannanaks Gems, the Children of the Tern; of the fisherman Isagani and Putri ng Gagamba, the Goddess of Weaving. Marveling at the stars was my way of remembering her, long after she was gone. After her death, I had the fortune of being adopted by the old court astrologer for the Magistrate of Vaneppo.
Astrologer?
A diviner who uses the positions of the planets and the stars to forecast future events, from a mans love life to the fates of Empires.
That sounds very silly, I said.
It is very silly, he replied.
I fidgeted with my lucky bowtie. Although, we do something similar, but with birds.
Yuta raised an eyebrow. You cant be serious.
I nodded. Afraid so.
The samurai lord let out a long, pained sigh. I take it back, your era is not as enlightened as I thought it was. He glanced at Andalon. It never ceases to amaze me, the strength of mans urge to read fate into randomness. Unfortunately, Gouji-santhe astrologerdid not share my view. It made our relationship tense at times, though I was fortunate to have swordsmanship as an outlet for my adolescent frustrations. Even so, I will be forever grateful to him for seeing my through my youth and teaching me reading, writing, arithmetic, and how to plot a star chart.
Yuta cleared his throat, and, for his sake, I conjured a glass of water on the table for him to drink.
He eyed it warily for a moment before picking up the glass and sipping it.
Now that I have spoken much about myself, Dr. Howle, I feel it is only fair that you do the same, no?
I stuck up my hands. In here, Im an open book.
Is that a good thing? Andalon asked, looking up at me.
Its neither here nor there, I said.
Andalon cocked her head in confusion. But then where is it?
I patted my hand on her adorable little head.
You are clearly an educated man, Dr. Howle, Yuta continued. I assume you were educated in the history of your people. I would like to know what the rebels descendants told of the Munine occupation.
I nodded.
I was taught that it was about wealth and power, and a clash of cultures, I said. Though, to be honest, we always focused more on the rebellion and its key figures: Lassedite Arthomer II, the Duke of Veiledkeep, the Treaty of Bald Hill, Markus Prestingham and the Wagonscuttlers, the formation of the Angelical Church, the rise of the Second Empirethat sort of thing.
Wealth and power, indeed, Yuta said. After darkpox visited Mu, the Soran Empire was nearly in ruins. Sugar cane from the Costranaks, and cod and tobacco in the Trenton colonies kept the Empire on legs it didnt deserve. All that mattered to the colonial governors was controlling commerce. The religious persecution, the naval blockades, the compulsory labordown to the last, everything that happened was ultimately in service to Emperor Jis obsession with holding on to his rotted dynasty. Sakuragis inhumanity only added fuel to the flames. So many lives could have been savedso much suffering avoidedif only those fools in power had chosen co?peration instead of domination. But the aristocrats reveled in their self-regard while the Trenton-men steeped in their rage. Yutas expression crashed. He shook his head and swallowed hard. You cannot give mercy to an enemy who refuses to take it. He tightly gripped the edge of the table, and sighed, staring off into the distance for a moment.
Then, Yuta turned to me, as if only just remembering that I was there. Forgive me, he said, bowing his head. I lost myself.
He stared at Andalon and I.
Whats done is done, he said, now, more than ever.
By this point, Andalon was definitely getting bored. She was having trouble sitting still, and had been fidgetingand more than just a little.
The sight brought a weak smile to Yutas face.
Now, he said, placing his hands on his thighs. I imagine you would like to know more about my observatory.
Andalon immediately perked up at those words. Yeah, yeah, she said, nodding vigorously, clenching her little hands into fists. Whats it do? Whats it do?the it in question being, well everything.
Yutas smile widened. Im glad you asked!
107.1 - Astronomy
Yuta spent over an hour just showing us the telescope. Unfortunately, because there was only one of it (and him) but two of usand because I didnt want to make things any weirder than they already were by trying to duplicate Yuta and or the telescopeAndalon and I took turns looking in his telescope. Id conjured up a chair for myself to sit in when it wasnt my turn, and I would have done the same for Andalon, but she managed well enough on her own, floating preternaturally off to the side, which was good, because she had to float up to even reach the telescopes eyepiece. The thing was located at a point almost twice her height above the floor.
Yuta regaled Andalon with detailed explanations of his star-workI believe astronomy was the word he usedand though much (if not nearly all) of the information went over Andalons head, it was as clear as day that the two were enjoying themselves. Even without the time differential between us, Yuta was older than me. According to his memories, he was in his early fifties when he died. Looking at him effortlessly engaging Andalon without skipping a beat no matter what her (winsome) ditziness threw his way made me feel more than just a little self-conscious about my own abilities as a father. It also hammered home just how tragic his and his familys deaths were.
If only Andalon could have saved them
Somewhat to my embarrassment, I found myself getting jealous of Andalon. I got antsier and antsier every time her turn to look at the telescope came around. It was a display worthy of Rayph.
After what felt like forever, it was finally my turn again.
I pressed my face against the telescopes eyepiece so quickly, I almost bruised my nose.
Now, Yuta said, look here, you should see a
Fudge, what is that? I exclaimed.
That referred to the thing I was currently squinting at: a swirly green marble floating out in the depths of the starry night. If I squinted even more, I could just make out what looked like striated bands of green, yellow-green, and turquoiseand maybe some blue, too. The marble wasnt alone, either. Several small points of light far brighter than any of the background stars were loosely clustered around the marble, though at a distance. Curiously, all of them level with the plane of the marbles equator.
It is one of the planets I mentioned before, Yuta said, emphasizing the wordit was still new to me. Your people called it Jeron, he added. In Munine, it is called Toraseithe Tiger Star.
Torasei? I asked. Like the Beast God?
Yes, exactly, Yuta explained. The six Crown Mountain Gods correspond directly with the six most prominent heavenly bodies: the Sun, the Moon, Tetsusei, Saibaisei, Torasei, and Shijinsei. I would not be surprised to learn that, long ago, these objects were the gods, but then the concepts took a life of their own.
Why does it have its own stars? I asked.
Andalon bundled her hands into fists. Yeah, yeah! Why?
Yutas eyes sparkled like the stars he so loved. Those are not stars, he said. They are moons.
I shook my head and blinked. What?
Those lights are to Torasei what the Moon is to our world. They orbit it.
This was news to me.
But thats impossible, I said. Everything in the Night travels around the earth.
Clicking his tongue, Lord Uramaru pressed his hand against his forehead and chuckled, and then outright laughed. Incredible. You cured Darkpox, have flying carriages, and you can speak to someone on the other side of the world as if they were right next to you, yet you still believe in geocentrism? Tempering this amusement, he cleared his throat and regained his composure. Well, I suppose it makes sense, he said. Your worlds skies know only the Sun and Moon. You would have no reason to suspect that, despite appearances, it is the earth that travels around the Sun. Even in my ear, many people still believe the earth is the center of the universe, but they are wrong, and Toraseis moons prove it. Look! They circle around Torasei, not the earth.
It wasnt every that your literal worldview gets turned upside its head, let alone twice.
I gulped. Please dont tell me the Moon goes around the Sun, too.
Yuta snorted. No, no, the Moon goes around the earth. That much is right. He sighed. Still, I am somewhat surprised that you have so readily accepted the heliocentric theory.
Im turning into a psychokinetic wyrm necromancer who houses the afterlife in his mind, to guard the spirits of the dead against the forces of Hell. Compared to that, learning the Sun doesnt go around the earth is barely a ripple.
Turning around, I looked toward the paper-strewn desk in the middle of the room. So, other than staring through the telescope, I said, what is it that you do here?
Walking over to the table, Yuta sat down on a cushion on the floor beside it, resting in a kneeling position. He ran his fingers over the ink-scrawled sheets.
Most recently? Parallax.
Andalon scampered over to him. Parawhat? she asked. Rising up on her tip-toes, she leaned against Yutas back, brushing an arm across the back of his haori as she craned her head over his shoulder.
Yeah what she said, I said.
Lifting up his hand, Yuta curled his fingers into a fist and a thumbs up. This is how Gouji-san explained it to me, he said. Closing your left eyeand keeping it shutlook at your thumb. Then, open your left eye and shut your right.
I did. Stepping back, Andalon tried to do this, too. Remarkably, she couldnt seem to get it right.
Now, go back and forth. Left, right, left, right.
Again, I did.
ee your thumb appears to jump from place to place?
Yes, I do, I said.
That is parallax, Yuta said. Its a triangle.
triangles, I said, with a grin, nemeses.
Keeping his thumb outand ignoring my snarkYuta pointed a finger of his other hand at his thumb, and then at his eyes. Your eyesthe observersare located at two different points on the triangle, separated by a distance. When you close one eye and open the other, the position from which you observe your thumb changes, while your thumb stays fixed in place. Whenever an observers position changes relative to that of an object fixed in place, the object will appear to move. This is parallax. The strength of the effect increases when the object being observed moves closer to the observer, or if the two points of observation are made more distant from one another.
Im following you so far, I said.
Andalon does not get it, Andalon said, happily.
A look of concern flashed across Yutas face, but I waved my hand dismissively. Its alright. Ill try explaining it to her later.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
If the heliocentric theory is correct, Yuta continued, and, according to the calculations of Lennart Craulson, the orbit of the earth around the sun should be an ellipse, though one very close to a perfect circle.
He pointed at one of the diagrams he had up on the cork board. It had drawings of ellipses split up by lines inside their interiors. Stepping toward it, he traced a finger along the ellipses curve.
The earth completes one orbit along this path over the course of a year. So, over the span of half a year, he said, bringing his finger from one extremity of the ellipse to the other, the earth should move from one side of the orbit to the other. This should cause an observable parallax in the stars. The position of any given star in the summer should be slightly different from its position in wintertime. As of late, I have been trying to observe this difference.
To what end? I asked.
Yuta stepped away from the cork board.
The Lengthless Road speaks of the tension between truth and ideals. We can never have them together. He lowered his head. Since I cannot he passed, well since I could not make my ideals a reality, I strive to contribute truth to the world. While the other nobles waste their time with petty power struggles, or the pleasures of Sakuragis oku, I choose to use the time I have been given. He sighed. I want to set a good example for my family, for Ichigo for everyone. I want to use the privilege I have been given for something worthwhile. He raised his finger at me. Ideas, Dr. Howle, they are the only foes worth slaying.
I see, I said.
Unfortunately, shaking his head, he shrugged, despite my efforts, I have been unable to observe a parallax.
Does this mean the Sun does go around the earth? I asked.
He scoffed. Perhaps, or perhaps it means the distance between the earth and the stars must be far greater than anything anyone has ever imagined.
Fascinating, I said. And I really mean that. This is the kind of information that could change peoples lives. It changes the way we see the world.
Im glad to hear that. Yuta smiled. My wife thinks its a worrisome obsession. Shes concerned that my swordsmanship will suffer as a result, despite my assurances to the contrary.
He glanced over to Andalon. What do you think of all this, Andalon?
Andalon does not get it, but it is still really, really cool. She nodded vigorously. Yep yep yep.
He smiled again. Just like my children. Yuta looked up at the moonlight shining down over the middle of the telescope. I bring them up here when their mother permits it, he said, looking at me askance, and, together, we bask in the wonder of the stars.
Lord Uramarus voice softened, his demeanor turning contemplative.
If I was going to ask him about what happened to our stars, I figured now would be as good of a time as any. He seemed at peace, almost as if hed forgotten that he was no longer alive.
Yuta, given your astronomical knowledge, I said, trying out a new word and liking it very much, do you have any idea what might have happened to our sky?
It was hard to convey how good it felt to finally get that question out in the open. It had been eating away at me since I first laid eyes on them. Now that I could appreciate the depth of the mystery for what it was, I couldnt shake the feeling that, all this time, Id been asking the wrong questions.
Perhaps they faded, Yuta suggested. Id say it was tenuous suggestion, but that wouldnt do his comment justice.
I narrowed my eyes at him. You dont believe that, I said, narrowing my eyes at him. No, I do not, he said. Truthfully, I have no explanation for how or why there could be no stars in your sky. It it frightens me.
Yuta began pacing around the room, scratching at his chin, lost in thought. I was about to let my own mind wander when an epiphany struck me like a lightning bolt to the spine.
Id been so rapt with my discovery of heavenly bodies that I hadnt noticed the most glaring issue of all.
Darn it! How could I have missed that!?
Then again, I was still trying to wrap my head around the idea that time travel was real, so there was a possibility that I was just being too hard on myselfthough I doubted it.
Angels breath! I swore.
What is it? Yuta whipp around to face me.
Closing my eyes, I shook my head. No, no theres, I sighed, its worse than that.
What do you mean? Yuta asked.
Your Night has , as does , b mine doesnt.
So? Andalon said, pointedly.
Andalon, t ifrom the past, I said. Past becomes present, and present becomes future, so, how can we being seeing stars here and now if
Lord Uramarus eyes bugged out inside his skull.
My apologies He nodded. But youre right. He pointed at his telescope. If this sky is your sky, where have all the stars gone?
If my Night ever had stars, it was a long, long time ago. he word star isnt even part of the . , not to mention for it to be
Could we be dealing with two different skies? Yuta asked.
Huh My jaw hung slack. I paced around, scratching my chin. I think it would be three skies, not two,I said,ing Dr.s
Andalon looked around, confused and concerned. Is this bad? she asked. Cuz it sounds bad!
Then another observation struck me. I rose from my cross-legged position into a kneeling one as I leaned over the table.
Earlier, after Yuta had first awoken, Andalon had said she knew what stars were. She, like Yuta, had known that the Sun was just the star closest to the earth.
I looked Andalon dead in the eyes. Andalon, I asked, before, when I asked you, you already knew what stars were. How did you know about them? Is there anything you can remember?
Andalon looked upward, as if she could see through the roof to the starry night beyond. Her eyes lit up with a gentle glow that flickered on the Observatorys wooden furnishings.
Stars theyre everywhere, she said. She started to cry. For so long, so long I was so lonely and afraid. I had no friends. Only twinkle twinkle little star ut always so far away. Then she perked up, smiling slightly. But then I had the wyrmehs. And and But then the smile broke. Andalon looked down in dejection. But then they were so sad and scared and mad. They were mean to me, but I just wanted to save them, and her voice trailed off.
I furrowed my brow. Andalon, I said, very, very cautiously, what you just said when did it happen?
A long time ago, Mr. Genneth. A really, really long time ago.
Oh fudge I muttered, as a chill ran down my spine.
What is it? Yuta asked.
I looked at Andalon. This has happened before, hasnt it
What has? she asked.
I pointed at her. and the fungus, over souls
She nodded.
I tugged at my luck bow-tie.
Yuta looked genuinely agitated now. What is it? he repeated. Whats the matter?
I shook my head Ive been so preoccupied with ghosts and the zombiesI didnt notice what was front of m th whole time.
? Yuta asked.
at th, risingeverything, of it hasbefore, and thats impossible! The world can only end once; the Green Death can come only once, because nothing survivesfor thereason we survive is because Andalon keeps fromingus over, first! So, clearly, this is the first time the Green Death has visited our world, despite the fact that Andalon said otherwise.
But I have been here before! she said, perfectly illustrating my point.
See? I said, gesturing at her with a hand.
I mean, Andalon looked at us and her surroundings, everythings so family-er.
I looked at her in surprise. Wait, really?
Andalon nodded again.
I groaned.
I would have kicked a chair in anger, but there werent any nearby, andeven if there wereit would have made a mess of Yutas observatory, so I settled for throwing one of my hands up in the air. And there you have it. Its the battle before creation playing out all over again. The Angelsorry, Angelsknew about it, about the fungus, about the wyrms, about Hell. Its all happened before. Everything happens here, in which case, the fungus should have already killed us all long ago, but it didnt. Or maybe it did, and maybe weve just been dead this whole time, or maybe the Angels found a way to fix it, or Letting my arms droop, I went down on my knees, pressing my legs onto one of Yutas floor cushions. I dont know anymore. This I shook my head. this is getting ridiculous.
Yuta a paradox ifferent night skies vents happening before their causes. He shook his head.
Suddenly, Andalons features tightened. The brightness in her eyes grew a little bit brighter, and for a moment, she comported herself with a maturity that defied her appearance.
There are many worlds, Mr. Genneth, she said, in a quiet voice that made my skin crawl. placed a hand on one of the varnished cabinets. This place is the memory of a different one.
I stared at her, slack-jawed.
Wait, I said, many worlds?
Well, that was a big reveal, wasnt it?
The light faded from her eyes a little. Its like Catamander Brave, she said.
Fricassee me! I cursed, trembling my forearms.
If this was the me from last week, Id probably be in a full blown panic attack by now, but, after having learned about time-travel and multiple Angels, learning there were multiple worldswhatever that even meantfelt like par for the course, so I settled for anxiously pacing back and forth.
This is bad, I said. This is really bad.
107.2 - Astronomy
I turned to Andalon. So, in those other worlds, did you
Wait, Yuta said, outstretching his hand, youre going to accept her words at face value?
No, I answered, Ill probably freak out about it sooner or later, I said, just not right now. Ive got other things to worry about. I took a deep breath.
Alright. I turned back to Andalon. So there are multiple worlds, and youve faced the fungus before, right?
She nodded. Right.
No, Yuta said, its not right. He shook his head. I dont understand this. The plague cannot have struck before, because if it had, we would no longer exist, but the plague also has struck before, because Lassedile legends and scripture describe it. How is this possible? Events cant happen before their causes.
I figured I had to explain it to him.
Spreading my hands in the air, I conjured up a row of globes, each a depiction of our world. The globes rotated in place slowly, showing off land and sea beneath their swirling clouds.
I gestured at the globes. These are multiverses, I said. Its the same world, more or less, but in different copies, like twins or triplets, but without any limit on the total number. Now, I pointed at one of the globes, suppose the fungus strikes one world. The globe shriveled like a time-lapsed orange, showing the Green Death conquering it frame by frame. Well, that world is toast, but the fungus is just getting started. Still hungry for more, it moves on to the next world. I pointed at another globe, and the same fungal fate befell it. And then the one after that, and the one after that.
I pointed, they fungused. I pointed; they fungused. Point, fungus, point, fungusand billions upon billions dead in the process.
Yuta sank back to the floor with a face ripe with loud, stunned understanding.
I turned to Andalon.
Here comes the moment of truth, I thought.
Andalon, out of all the times youve faced off against the fungus of darkness, have you ever managed to win? I asked. Even a little bit?
Granted, only several days before, Andalon had been regaling me with her unique brand of vividly vague detail about how powerless she felt against the fungus, which suggested the answer to my question was going to be a despondent No. Still, I couldnt help but hope that, maybe, now that shed remembered a bit more about herself, she might also remember that there was more to her story than abject defeat.
Times like these made me wonder whether I was an optimistic bow-tie wearing a man, rather than the other way around.
Andalon shook her head grimly. No, Mr. Genneth. Never.
I ran my hands through my hair in frustration.
No wonder the wyrms had gotten angry with her!
Well, Yuta said, in a huff, at least we now know why your sky has no stars. You and I are from different worlds, one with stars, the other without.
But, I said, that still doesnt explain why your world has stars, but mine
Rising to her feet, Andalon stared at us so quickly, youd have thought shed seen a ghost.
Or a demon.
What did you say? she asked, eyes wide.
She was positively petrified.
It was as if a glacier had slid over the spirit-girls head, scraping fear into her face. Her luminous blue eyes were trembling saucers. Her brow arched up like the crescent Moon.
Even in this world of Yutas memories, the hair on the back of my neck stood up on end.
What do you mean, what did we say? I asked.
About the stars she said.
That I looked at Yuta, and then at Andalon, that there arent any stars in my worlds night sky, and I want to know why. I spoke slowly, overcome with trepidation. Each one of my words felt like a cotton ball on my tongue.
Andalon started to tremble, only for me to realize she was actually shaking her head. Again, she looked off into the distance, staring at some unknown abyss.
Is something wrong? Yuta asked.
This time, the abyss stared back.
I dont know what shed seen or thought, but, whatever it was, it scared the living daylights out of her.
No Andalon grabbed her head, shaking shaking shaking. No no no no no no. No. Bad. Bad. Please. Please no
Her words broke apart, drowning in burbles as she began to weep.
Andalon wrapped her arms around herself, pressing her nightgown tight against her torso. She ran her fingers through her hair, clutching to her skull so tightly, youd have thought she was trying to crack it beneath her fingertips. She sank into a crouching position on the tatami mat floor, as if she was being crushed beneath a great weight.
I rushed to embrace her, barreling around the low-lying table to where she stood.
I couldnt bear the sight of a frightened child.
Andalon, whats wrong?
Its here! Its here! Mr. Genneth! I was wrong! I was wrong! Its already here! Its always been here! Andalon flung herself at me. She sobbed into my chest, utterly hysterical. Im scared! she shrieked, trembling in my arms. Im scared! I dont wanna die! I dont wanna die! I wanna be safe! I wanna be safe! Mr. Genneth, help! Help!
Her distress cut me like a knife. I barely noticed the Observatory melting away around us as I dissolved out of my mental link with Yutas memories. I only noticed the change when, glancing at the floor, the tatami mats beige reeds had been replaced by the familiar patterned vinyl flooring of one of West Elpeck Medicals corridors.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.
Back to Daydream Alley, I guess.
I tried to calm her. Shh. Shh. Its alright. Youre safe here. Theres no fungus here. Theres no darkness. Its just a memory. I held her close, tightening my embrace. Breathe, Andalon. Breathe.
Andalon shivered in my arms, sobbing into me wordlessly. I rubbed my hand in circles across the small of her back as gently as I could.
It seemed to help.
Andalon wiped her face against my coat as she calmed and quieted. Sobs subsided into sniffles.
I leaned back to get a good look at her. She was still absolutely devastated. Wet, puffy patches stood out on her face beneath her eyes and nose. Against her pallor, it almost looked like bloodstains.
Has she been injured? Yuta asked, staring at Andalon.
No and yes, I said. This isnt the first time shes freaked out like this. It happened yesterday, when the military was arriving, and again, today, just a little while ago, when I was trying to get to the Lobby where the knights had appearedthe other time travelers. She pleaded with me not to go.
The other time travelers? Yuta asked, looking confused.
You dont remember? I asked.
Andalon clenched her little hands into fists. Im telling you, Mr. Genneth, something horrible is there. Its bad. Bad bad bad bad bad!
By the barashai Yuta said, suddenly, in a hushed voice.
He reached for his sword, his eyes widening.
What? I asked. Startled, I scrambled to my feet. What is it?
Andalon watched, lost and numb.
Yutas face went taut. He rubbed his palm against his forehead.
How could I have forgotten?! he said. Those strangersTrenton soldiersthey appeared out of nowhere! And they and they
He furrowed his brow and shook his head.
What is it? I asked.
There are torn edges, he said. A few final slivers of memory where I remember myself knowing nearly nothing at all.
Remember what I said: the fungus makes its victims forget, I explained. Andalon is fighting against it, trying to save people by preserving their soulswell, minds, I added. I suppose the memory loss is the fungus trying to snatch up your memories before Andalon can save them.
I glanced at Andalon. Does that sound about right to you? I asked her.
I She trailed off, lowering her gaze in thought. Maybe?
Enough! Yuta said. Weyou need to do something, Dr. Howle. The soldiersIchigo!
My lips trembled as I rubbed the mental simulacrum of my bow-tie between my thumb and forefinger. Then, gently, I grabbed Lord Uramaru by the elbow.
Ichigo was severely injured, I said. It probably happened while he was trying to protect you.
Ichigo Yutas arms went limp.
I lowered my head. All I know is that he was taken into surgery, I said. Given how advanced your infections had become, I dont know if theres much of a chance of him surviving. Steeling myself, I looked Yuta in the eyes. But we can still hope, right?
I tried to smile convincingly, but failed miserably.
Is there any possibility you might be able to pull his soul into your mind, as you did mine?
Its all a matter of proximity, I said. Ill need to get close to his body. I can certainly try, though, but, I sighed, it might already be too late.
Yuta looked at me for a long while before slouching.
Ill do whatever I can, I promise, I said.
He let his posture go slack with desolation.
Please, dont
No, forgive me, Dr. Howle, he said, sighing. It was my mistake for trying to reach for that hope. These are dismal times for all of us. I cant begin to imagine the kind of pressure you must be under.
Mr. Genneth! Andalon screamed. Mr. Genneth!
This was surprising, because the Andalon next to me wasnt screaming. The screaming Andalon was from an entirely separate Andalon, one that came running down the hallway, bare feet slapping on the vinyl. She stared at Yuta and the Andalon beside me, and then dissolved into mist, passing her freak-out to the one next to me.
Yuta looked around in panic.
Andalon shook her arms in terror. Big ghost, Mr. Genneth! Big, scary ghost! Scary mad! Scary sad! Scary scary
Its alright, Andalon, I said, Ill take care of it.
The Andalon that had just appeared had come from one of my doppelgangers, who had recoupled with me.
The ghosts from General Labs had finished uploading, and I was about to meet one.
My spirit-body sensed vibrations rumble through the floor.
Fortunately, we were already in Daydream Alley.
I turned to the samurai lord. Forgive me, I said. If you dont mind, I need to take care of this.
Closing my eyes, I focused. Not knowing what to expect, Id decided I might make myself look more intimidating. Much to Yutas surprise, as I opened my eyes, I was now wearing a gleaming set of templar armorgolden triangle insignia and all.
A shadow loomed. Something big lumbered around the corner and turned onto the hallway.
I felt like a bullfighter, staring down his target, except instead of a Dalusian sheik in war robes, I was a neuropsychiatrist in plate armor.
The raging soul thundered down the corridor.
Angel
Hell had tainted this soul. No longer human, it had been deformed into a monstrous troll, like the ogre Joe-Bob had become, near the end, only even more horrid and piteous. It was a lumpen tuber of a being, asymmetrical and hunchbacked, wobblingshaking the wallsas he trundled down the hall. One of his eyes swelled to nearly a third of the size of his head, while the other was a shrunken point, sunken into folds of flesh. He had to stoop over to fit into the hallway, bumping his misshapen head against the ceiling.
And he screamed.
Widening my stance, I thrusted my arm forward and squeezed my fist. In an instant, an ivory staff appeared in my grip.
Two of the trolls limbsan arm and a legwere outsized. His clothes were discontinuous patches scattered across his body, alternating with bruise-like blotches of bilious blue. Fungal lightning ran between the patches. Ulcerated ravines dug into his flesh.
Andalon screamed in terror, only for her voice to cut out as I ported her and Yuta to the safety of my Main Menu.
At least, I hoped theyd be safe there.
The troll snarled, slavering black ooze onto the floor. Stumbling, he fell onto hands and knees, growing larger as he crawled toward me.
I kept my breathing calm.
If I couldnt handle this, how the heck was I supposed to stop a multiversal fungus?
I drew from what Id learned with my other spirit-patients.
Souls appearances were shaped by their emotions. Negative emotionshate, terror, anger? They twisted souls into vile, violent creatures, giving them monstrous forms susceptible to the fungus corruption. The darkness need only reach into the soul to twist it into a demon that would attack Andalons wyrms and the souls they carried.
Thats why I was a Keeper of Paradise. I kept that from happening. I had the power to stop the fungus from turning the souls of the dead into soldiers of Hell.
The troll let out an agonized roar as it lifted a massive, knobby hand and reached toward me.
Its grasping fingers sent a chill through my heart.
One more, the crisis had proved itself to be far bigger and go far deeper than I ever could have imagined. I know Id progressed from who and what Id once been, but would that be enough?
Before, I hadnt been sure. But now?
The trolls hand cast a long shadow. His fingers were as tall as I was.
I waved my other hand over the head of the staffa carving of a pangolin, coiled around a tree branch. Yeah, it was just for show, but it made me feel more like a hero.
And, now, more than ever, I really needed to be a hero.
The souls were in my mind, after all. Their appearances would only change if I let them.
Light flared from the staff, blinding the troll. The monster roared as my light stripped away its walls of pain. The staff and my armor vanished as the light receded, and I found myself looking down at a man on his knees. He was in a hospital gown and utterly petrified.
I stared and frowned.
By the Angel I muttered.
I knelt down.
Its not every day you find out someone you knew had diedlet alone Alon Lokanok.
Alon was a strong man. Ill admit, I never much liked him, butunlike a lot of unlikeable peopleAlon Lokanok wasnt just pretending to be a tough guy. He was the genuine article, and his burly build showed just how strongly Ani took after her mother.
And yet, here he was, looking absolutely broken.
Alons first reaction was to skitter back, pointing at me. He screamed, teeth bared. His ears lengthened, turning into a wolfs earsbut hairlesspressing back against his face. He snarled at me as his teeth grew into fangs. His legs twitched beneath his gown. He got down onto all fours, ready to pounce.
Alon! I yelled Alon! Its me! Its Dr. Howle! I pressed my hand on my chest.
Dr. Howle?
Mr. Lokanoks inhuman features receded.
Just calm down, Alon, I said, raising my hands in a calming gesture. Youre safe now, I promise.
With trembling arms, Alon looked down at his hands. Shock graced his face, only for confusion to shove it out of the way before the tension finally left his body.
He sat down with a thud, crossing his legs on the vinyl.
I dont understand, he said, looking me in the eyes. How is this possible?
I sighed. Its a long story, I said.
108.1 - Camera Obscura
It was Jonans first time wearing a hazmat suit, and hated it. It was uncomfortable, and Jonan was deeply uncomfortable with being uncomfortable. He nearly started praying to godany god at all, even the discount onesto beg them to keep him from ever having to do it again, but he didnt, because gods didnt exist, and he really didnt want to demean himself by pretending otherwise. Most importantly, Ani was there with him in Room 268, and if she caught him even thinking about praying, shed never let him hear the end of it.
There was no rule that said that loving someone else meant having to hate yourself.
So, instead, Jonan settled for something only slightly less unreliable than prayer: making dreams come trueand not just any dreams, but monsters dreams, and even scoundrels dreams, too. There was no rule that said that awful people couldnt have dreams.
And I should know, Jonan thought, seeing as Im one of them.
Jonan had half a mind to rip his epidermis off, all the way down to the papillary stratum underneath, in the hopes itd make the sweaty, stifling awfulness of his hazmat stuffs confines even an iota more bearable. But he didnt, because that would be unsafe. Also, it wouldnt deal with the real troublemakers: the pesky nerve endings at the top of the dermis which were responsible for his current discomfort.
On the plus side, at least the transformees werent causing trouble; they were still grappling with the shell-shock leftover from the hallway fight. Then again, at this point, theyd probably surpassed their collective lifetime quota of troublemaking several times over.
The transformees had dragged Mr. Twistthe shit-your-pants terrifying mascot-wyrm abominationback into the room, one slice at a time, and then covered his remains with several partially-eaten sheets. They lingered over the body like morticians at a mortuary. Why that was, Jonan couldnt tell. Maybe they were ashamed of what had happenedas they should be, Jonan thoughtor maybe the transformees resented mascot-guy for having helped the humans put an end to the little uprising.
Whatever the reason, Jonan didnt give a shit. The creatures were keeping their distancewell, all but one of themand that was what mattered. He just really wished the transformees would stop stealing peckish glances at the corpse of a soldier who, after helping secure the transformees in 268, had dropped to the floor, stone cold dead. Back when that first happened, Aniin her wisdomhad sent a text to Dr. Howle to ask for his recommendation about what to do, only for the neurotic neuropsychiatrist to give the rather unhelpful advice to just let the transformees eat the dead guy. Considering the dead soldiers brothers-in-arms had been in the room at the time, to help keep the transformees in good behavior, Dr. Howles words only made things that much more awkward. All of the soldiers had walked out in disgust.
We can guard outside, one had said.
It left Ani and Jonan with only one other healthcare professional at their disposal. To her credit, though, she was totally unfazed by the macabre turn of events.
That nurse must have seen some really scary shit.
Hows it coming? the transformee askedKurt, was that his name?
For, like, the third (fourth?) time, Kurt craned his neck over to Jonan.
Fine, Jonan said.
He was at Kurts bedside because it turned out the transformee was in need of Dr. Derrics particular set of skills.
It was just another burden of being talented.
At the moment, all of Jonans allocatable real-time memory was buried in the screen of the console at Kurts bedside. The device was in terminal modea blissful abyss of white text on the black background. Terminal mode was quite useful for when you were trying to hack into a local access network, as Jonan presently was. Had the world not been ending, hacking into the hospitals IT network like this would have gotten Jonan in a considerable amount of trouble. But, the world was ending, and everyone who would have cared was dead, or a zombie, or worse, so, yeah he was gonna get off scot-free.
Youre sure this is going to work? Kurt asked.
Jonan groaned quietly. His fingers play on the consoles keyboard ground to a halt.
The technical side? Jonan said. Absolutely. But, whether or not you get what you want, he added, thats an entirely different story.
Responding to the Kurt guys mouth-noises meant having to look up from the lines of white code scrawled across the console screens black expanse. The transformee currently sat in a comfy-looking coil in the middle of the half-broken wreckage of what had once been his metal bed frame. Kurts face was bulging out into a noticeable snouta plus, as far as Jonan was concerned, if only because it lessened the creepy, skeletal look of the transformees noseless face. Still, the way Kurts human flesh was sloughing off his body was pretty fucking awful to look at.
For a moment, Jonan paused. Scraping off his own skin was starting to feel enticing again.
And safety? he thought. That ship has already sailed!
Jonan ripping off his skin to stop the sweat and the heat wouldnt have been that much more dangerous than being in the deathly monsters den that Room 268 had become. Unfortunately, because Ani was there, Jonans desire to please her was butting heads with his inclination to protect her (and himself) by getting them the hell out of there.
Was Dad right? Jonan mumbled. Should I have gone to law school, instead?
My brother is a lawyer, Kurt said, in that friendly demeanor of his.
Stop talking, Jonan said.
Dr. Derric let his thoughts drift back into the lines upon lines of code he was fiddling with. Sometimes, he wished he had one of those fun learning disabilities that gave a person to hyperfocus on a task for hours and hours on end, but the downsidesunreliability, social incompetencejust werent worth it.
Still, at this place and time, staring at the console screen was a much less awkward state of being than living in the moment like Ani was doing, interacting with the transformees, helping them with their bullshit, and putting up with their ever-curious, mystified stares.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.
Ani was doing the important work of talking to the creatures. Her good bedside manner made her highly qualified for this task.
And, wouldnt you know it, Kurt was staring again.
Could you please stop staring? Jonan asked, without turning his head away from the screen. Its distracting.
Jonan could hear Kurts breaths, each one of which was dusted and perfumed with millions upon millions of deadly, wall-eating, nurse-melting spores, actively spreading them through the room with passing second.
Jonan tried to ignore all that, but it was hard.
A couple minutes later, Jonan made the triumphant final keystroke: a tap of a single finger.
And done, he said.
Pushing off the floor with his feet, Jonan rolled his wheeled chair away from Kurts broken bedside. He swung the metal arm bearing the console toward the bed, bringing within reach of Kurts claws.
But the transformee just stared at the console apprehensively.
After all that pestering, really? Jonan thought.
Couldnt you have just given me permission to use the videophone system? Kurt asked.
No, Jonan said. Its not that simple. And that was the truth: it really wasnt. Yes, it could have been, but ALICE was mounting a vicious security crackdown on any and all communications coming out of transformee sequestration areas set up by the late Harold Hobwell. Worse, the AI had patched over the exploit that, for years, Jonan had used to create and maintain fake administration accounts in order to give himself unfettered access to all the goodies hooked up to WeElMeds network, such as security cameras, and ALICE had been making it really difficult to get the upper hand on her. Difficult, yesbut not impossible, as Jonan had just proven. And not only had he succeeded, hed also ensured that if, for some crazy reason, someone noticed and cared about what hed done, had they had the wherewithal to track the account to its source, the honeypot trail would lead them right into Room 268, with all its hungry transformees just waiting for an excuse to chow down on fresh meat.
Uh Kurt held his clawed hands over the screen, hesitant to touch it. What do I do?
Just tap the phone icon and type your loved ones name into the search box, Jonan said. If theyre here, youll be given a phone number. Call that number. But then, Jonan sighed. Just be careful. You might not like what you find.
Kurt carefully did as Jonan instructed him. A moment later, the screen turned black.
A videophone call dialed up. A couple seconds later, the call went through.
Angela? Kurt said, his neck craning back in shock. His voice was a musical whisper.
As hard as it was for Jonan to look at the screen, not looking was simply unthinkable.
Fuck, Jonan thought.
Angela was sick. Really sick. She had thick, nasal cannulas stuck into her nostrils, just to give her enough oxygen to breathe. It made her look like a high-altitude aerostat pilot, only without the helmet, or any of the glory.
K-Kurt? Angela said, in a voice so fragile, youd have thought the slightest touch would have turned it to ash.
Kurt wept. It was an arresting soundeerie, yet beautiful.
Suddenly, Jonan felt gritty vlcanism bubble up between his heart and his throat. Without noise or fuss, Jonan quickly got up from his chair and stepped away. He briefly turned off the microphone in his hazmat suit as he turned to face the wall. He made it just in time, right as the coughing fit struck.
He didnt want Ani to see.
Jonan weathered through the coughing without complaint. Yes, it was small in comparison to the rib-breaking calamities that shot through some of his patients, but Jonan had no doubt that it would soon grow.
Jonan had meant what hed said: he refused to ever lie. Lies, like weakness, had no place in his world. However, omission was quite a different thing from lying, and the last thing Jonan wanted would be for Ani to spend her final days of life trying to fight for him.
Also, it didnt help that Kurts wife was telling her transformee husband about their dead children.
Jonan was not cut out for that.
Pulling out his PortaCon, Jonan logged on to the IT network using the proxy server hed set up for himself using Kurts bedside console. Hed already said his own goodbyes. Well, all but one.
His relationship with his family was cordial? That was a word.
Last he checked, his parents were dead. His sister had told him several days ago, back when theyd first started showing symptoms. Theyd been in the summer house, up north by Lt. Georges Lake. You couldnt have picked a more beautiful place to die. The mountains would be their mourners; theyd cry their snowy lamentations over the land come wintertime.
Jonan really didnt know how to feel about it. He certainly felt somewhat sad about it, though not excessively so. It would have deserved a nice medium-length essay post on Socialife, had there been any point in writing it. They hadnt the worst parents, but that didnt mean they were the best, either. And they werent, not by a long-shot. On the one hand, theyd been upset to learn about his intentions to elope with Ani Lokanok. On the other hand, at least they hadnt been upset about her race; it was Anis poor, low-born background that had triggered their concerns. So, pretty much a wash for all concerned parties.
Jonan thought about the farewell message hed sent his family after Jennys call. Hed pulled out all the stops, going so far as to record it as a videophone call, instead of his usual congenial text message. They hadnt picked up the call or sent in a response; funnily enough, that was actually normal, almost refreshingly so. Jonan had been worried theyd respond, because then hed have to deal with a large bolus of feelings that he really didnt have the time to wade through.
Fortunately, there was plenty of work to keep him busy.
Looking down, Jonan stared at the console screen, waiting for his hack to work its through to the other end of the rainbow.
Jonan didnt feel it would have been right for him to mourn his familys passing. The way things were, it would have been downright selfish of him to waste precious time mourning, and for once, he really wasnt comfortable with doing the selfish thing. The discomfort made the horrors of his hazmat suits internal climate trivial by comparison. There was just too much to grieve for, and he was one person, with an increasingly limited amount of time left to live. How the fuck he do justice to the enormity of what the Green Death had done to the human race? Boo-hoo, my family died, and their lives are somehow more fucking important than anyone elses that you all have to watch my conniption fit and give me your condolences and heartfelt words.
Fuck words, Jonan thought.
Youd need to write a symphony to do this calamity justicea dozen symphonies.
Biting his lip, Jonan looked up and stared out the windows, watching his world go up in smoke and spores. He kept thinking back to Lark, which was odd. There was nothing he could do for Lark right now, other than to wait, and he wouldnt jinx or indignity things by daring to pray. Also, for what it was worth, Jonan was not optimistic about the mycophages chances of success.
Finally, with a satisfying boop, a farrago of arcane and intricate menus filled the screen of Jonans console screen.
Perfect, he muttered.
Everything was going according to plan.
Jonan skimmed over the results of his haul with quick flicks of his fingertips across the screen. He kept searching, sifting through the list for a good minute or so before he finally got to the feed from the cameras in General Labs. Several of the security cameras were apparently out of order; static from the end of time played on loop in place of their feeds.
That wasnt a good sign.
Still, he started to play through the footage that was available. Seconds later, he was muttering curses at what he was seeing. One after another, soldiers kept rolling bedded patients into GL. Old folks, young folks, blacks folk, blue folksotherwise known as white, with terminal cyanosis. Yet only the soldiers ever came out.
It was almost funny.
Dr. Derric?
Turning, Jonan saw that Kurt had waddle-slithered up beside him. Spotty tears dribbled down his cheeks, dripping over his deepening snout-holes.
The transformee reached out and rested a clawed hand on Jonans arm.
Thank you, Kurt said. His euphonious voice broke. Thank you for letting me say goodbye.
108.2 - Camera Obscura
Around itself, time did coil; static kissed the memory-fragments edge.
Perhaps shed been imagining it, but, Ani was pretty sure that Jonan had been strangely unnerved by something. Maybe it was him having a hard time dealing with Kurt saying goodbye to his dying wife? If so, that would count as a point for Jonans emotional growth. Yes, it had happened a bit late in the game, but progress was progress, even when the world was ending.
When Ani had asked Jonan if his security camera hack had brought anything useful to light about General Labs, his response had been very clearly mum, which made it obvious to her that he was being evasive, which, in turn, made her really freaking curious about what hed found. She tried badgering him, hoping to get him to spill the beansit worked with choosing movies for movie night, so, why not here?but he was adamant about gathering the team for a meeting, first. Hed also been insisting that the two of them leave Room 268, ASAP.
Why? shed asked, only to get a particularly ominous reply: I dont want to scare them. As usual, Ani pressed him further, but then hed looked at her said, I think you should go check up on your patientsyour parents, the time-travel girl, and anyone who''s received the mycophage, with a worried look in his eyes that made Anis heart sink into her stomach.
Why? shed asked.
Just do it, hed said, with even deeper worry.
Ani almost felt like snapping at him. Youre breaking the never-brood-alone rule, shed thought, but then, under his breath, Jonan had muttered and keep away from the soldiers, and Anis nerves sparked. They were still sparking, even now, as she rushed down to the ground floor.
Ani passed a couple of sick nurses arguing with one another over something, but she didnt pay attention to them. All her thoughts were on her patientsand her parents.
Hoshis room was on the way to her parents room.
Ani didnt waste a moment. She darted into the quarantine tunnel, and turned the door handle with her clammy, gloved hand. Hoshi, she said, speaking the girls name aloud as she stepped inside. Ani had left the room in disarray last time shed visited; she was expecting that.
She hadnt expected Hoshi to be fighting for her life.
For a couple seconds, Ani stood in the doorway, stunned, her arms limp at her side. Her spine stiffened in her back.
No, Ani whispered. No no no, please
Ani rushed to the girls bedside. The hard metal frame pressed coldly against Anis stomach.
Hoshi lay on her bed, half covered by her flimsy blanket. Her breathing was ragged. The girls pale, innocent skin was already beginning to be darkened by faint trails of fungal filaments. According to the read-outs on the machines and the beds console, Hoshi was running a high fever.
No shit! Ani thought.
Couldnt machines do anything better than just tell you what you already knew!?
Hoshi lay on her bed, half-covered by a blanket, eyes closed and limbs sprawled out.
Hoshi, Ani repeated, louder than before.
The girl didnt move.
Shit, Ani said. She pressed her hands on the mattress. The bead creaked.
Hoshi wasnt sleeping; she was unconscious.
Ani raced out into the hallway. She point at the doorway as she looked around, frantically searching for anyone who could help. When was the last time this patient got the mycophage treatment? Ani said.
For a moment, she clean forgot about the whole cautious rollout of the mycophage.
A nurse at a reception desk blearily lifted her head. The what?
A male nurse stepped out of a nearby patient room. I I gave her a dose about an hour and a half ago, he said. He was exhausted, panting for breath. He had to lean against a wall just to keep himself on his feet.
What was the dosage? Ani asked.
I gave her exactly exactly what you told me to give her, he replied.
Ani pressed her hands down on her head. She wasnt even bothering with a hairnet anymore. Most people werent.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Slowly but surely, the will to fight was dying.
But Ani wouldnt give up so easily. Not giving up so easily was a habit of hers, one she was proud to have, even if it did occasionally get her into trouble.
Or even more than occasionally.
People liked to tell her that the reason she didnt give up was because she was made of sunshine. But that wasnt true, at least not all of the timeand, certainly, not now.
The real reason was much more earthbound: her demons couldnt catch her ifshe kept moving forward.
Ani closed her eyes and mutter under her breath. Think, Ani, think. She pressed her sanitizer-slicked fingers into her scalp.
Opening her eyes, Ani glanced at the male nurse. Wheres the main supply? she asked. Have any more doses of mycophage been brought up from the basement?
Its over there, he said, pointing at a half-open storage closet.
Unfortunately, other people had taken notice. It was a mix of patients and healthcare workers.
Whats this about a treatment?
Suddenly, someone grabbed Ani by the arm and pulled.
A treatment?!
Ani looked to the side to see an ailing man in a brown suit and matching pork-pie hat tugging at her. He coughed in her face, spreading spit and spores and ooze across her PPEs visor.
Do you have a treatment? he said. Do you have a treatment?!
Ani remembered what Dr. Marteneiss had said about the possibility of panic if rumors of a cure were allowed to spread through the hospital.
Ani bit her lip. She knew she had to set things straight.
Pulling away from the man in the pork-pie hat as politely as she could, Ani stepped back from the crowd that was gatheringaround her and stuck out her hands in a placating gesture.
Please, everyone, she pleaded, calm downand back up. Cmon now, she added, lets spread out a little. Social distancing, remember, she said, with a cough. We dont want to get each other sick now, do we?
Tell us whats going on! pork-pie hat demanded.
A lot of the faces were tense with worry, particularly the nurses. Ani almost wanted to scold them. What business did they have being worried? Hadnt the Green Death taught them it was useless to worry? It was wasted precious energy they could have spent doing something. And, shit, it wasnt healthy to give yourself stress like that!
But she held her tongue.
Still, Ani wondered: maybe there was something going on?
Or does this have something to do with what Jonan found? she thought.
Given how Jonan had reacted, that wasnt entirely out of the realm of possibility.
Anis first instinct was to go get Dr. Marteneiss, but, after a moments introspection, Ani realized that idea sounded a lot better than it actually was. People were already starting to give Heggy the stink eye over her connection to the militarys presence, by way of her brother. Calling for Dr. Marteneiss help might be seen by some of the more conspiratorially-minded patients as an appeal to get General Marteneiss to intervene, and Ani didnt want to do anything that would catalyze people into blaming Vernons actions on Dr. Marteneiss. Heggy didnt deserve that, andworseif, for some reason, she ended up getting it, it was just a hop, skip, and a leap from accusing Dr. Marteneiss of being in cahoots with the military to accusing all WeElMed personnel of the same, and there were already enough people whispering that sort of thing.
Ani groaned inwardly.
Fuck, this isnt good, she thought
If people thought Heggys authority wasnt trustworthy, things would fall apart faster than a house of cards. Along with Nurse Kaylin, Dr. Marteneiss was the glue that held Ward E together.
Im sorry, Ani said. She tried to strike a balance between concern and formality. In hindsight, we probably should have made an announcement about it, but there were concerns about the possibility of panic. Ani sighed. Listen, we dont have a treatment. Not yet. Were still doing a trial run.
The crowd erupted in clamor and coughs.
Please, Ani implored, just listen. We dont know if it works yet. We dont know what the right dosage is. Maybe itll stop people from getting sick, or maybe it keeps them from dying, but wont help with the memory loss. Maybe itll
Ani was about to say, Maybe it will kill patients due to unrelated side-effects, but had decided mid-sentence that that would be a really bad idea.
She pointed at Hoshis room. Right now, theres a little girl in there who we gave the mycophage as a prophylactic. Ani fought back tears. But it didnt work. Shes infected.
Shock and dismay rippled through the room. Meanwhile, some of the dying patients sitting in the benches or on the floor looked up in confusion, having already forgotten what all the commotion was about.
Right now, Im going to give her another dose, Ani explained, larger than the first. Im praying it will stabilize her.
But then Ani stopped. She wanted to tell everyone what would happen if the mycophage bore out as a viable treatment, but then realized that doing so would lead them down the path of no return. If it worked, theyd have to ration it and decide who got to use it and who had to wait, anddespite her ebullient idealismshe couldnt help but think of what Jonan might say about a situation like this.
Theyd tear themselves to shreds fighting over it, she thought. Thats the sort of thing Jonan would say.
Before she could figure out what to say next, however, fate intervened. An old woman shoved her way past pork-pie man. Fungal hyphae striped her face. Every few seconds, her arm twitched, as if to reach out and strike. Wheres my son? she demanded.
That lady wasnt the only one with spasms or tremors.
What do you mean? Ani asked.
One of the nurses looked Ani in the eyes. Patients have been going missing.
Another doctor lowered his head in shame. Were losing track of whos who. The staffs having memory problems, because but he didnt finish his sentence, nor did he need to. The terror in his eyes spoke volumes.
I havent forgotten them, the nurse said blistering with defiance. Im telling you, they disappeared!
Suddenly, Ani had a thought. A mad, ridiculous thought. It was so silly, she almost laughed. And yet
Her heart began to race.
Out of the way, she said, treading forward with the kind of determination that only true terror could bring. Get out of my way!
Ani quickly emerged from the crowd, which was smaller than it looked. She ran down the hallway, turning, and turning again. She passed Hoshis room,making a beeline toward her parents room. Entering, Ani found her mother lying unconscious, next to the empty bed where her father should have lain. But he wasnt there.
He wasnt there.
Ani screamed.
109.1 - Pygmy Elephants
Wherever there was good, there would be evil, and stories were no exception. Despite all the good they brought into the world, they also caused no end of trouble. For every story that carried a noble truth, there would be a story that carried an ignoble lie, like the lie that hardship made people better.
In stories, suffering often made characters better people. In having experienced pain and overcome it, a character would gain an understanding of and an appreciation for what they had previously taken for granted, or perhaps even outright condemned.
But that was in stories. Real life had no concern for such principles.
The awful truth was that suffering did not make people better. If anything, it made most people worse. Desperate times make for desperate measures. Every step of the road threatened to turn victims into perpetrators. People told themselves it was because everyone was sinful, but that was just denial, a defense mechanism, to keep us from holding ourselvesand one anotherto account for our misdeeds. Cruelty the victim into the criminal; oppression turned the wronged into the status quos champions.
Ani had explained it to me once, in one of our sessions, back when Id still been actively treating her as a patient, in addition to being her residential mentor. Her father had come from a family of alipinserf-slaves that worked on the grand sugar plantations in the Costranaks. These were families of agrarian workers who were owned by wealthy landowners, on whose land they labored and lived. Their owners decided who they married, where they lived, and if and when they could leaveand they usually couldnt. It was an utterly brutal existence, and it was a miracle that Anis father had been able to escape and make a life for himself in Trenton.
Though I wouldnt go so far as to say that I respected Alon as a person, I certainly respected the strength it took for him to pull himself out of the muck the way he had. I just wish hed been a little bit stronger, as did Ani. Then, maybe that same muck might not have broken him as much as it had. For all his suffering, Alon had little empathy. Wherever he looked, he only saw thorns. The man was to grudges what formaldehyde was to lab specimens.
Fortunately, I had a pretty good idea of how to reach him.
Id once had the unique experience of sharing a meal with the Lokanoks. Alon was not a pleasant host. His conversational skills consisted of silence, bragging, and invective. The man loved to rant about how everything in the Costranaks was just perfect until 500 years ago when the Munine brought (early-)modern economics and proto-industrialization and made the Costranak warlords build enclosures on their lands and thereby begin the alipin system for farming their precious, precious sugar cane. As for what his homeland had become, he thought it was the worst country in the worldother than Muand if anyone said anything bad about it to him, hed tear them a new orifice.
Not surprisingly, the man was doggedly patriotic for his adopted country. The Trentons had ousted the Munine, so, in Mr. Lokanoks eyes, my country and its people could do no wrong.
A bunch of kids got shot by Elpeck PD? They deserved it.
Civilians got caught in the crossfire of our anti-cartel operations in the Costranaks? They shouldnt have been in that shit-hole country.
The Second Trenton Empire picked up oppressing the Costranaks where the Munine had left off? That was different. The Trentons knew better.
Whatever the opposite of a bucket of sunshine was, Alon was that.
Fortunately for me, it made him as predictable as clockwork. Convincing Alon he was dead and that I was on his side was as simple as taking a trip back in time. As soon as Id explained the basics of his new existence to him, Id provided him a demonstration tailor-made to stoke his fancy.
And, boy, had it worked.
The four of usAlon, Yuta, Andalon, and myselfsat on a grassy hillside, overlooking a dream of a Vaneppo that never was. Drawing from my memories of a documentary Id once watched with the kids for school about Costranak Islands in the pre-colonial era, I whipped up a mind-world that showed the shows recreation of what the Costranak capital probably looked like prior to the Munine occupation. Strangely enough, compared to modern Vaneppo, and the city as it had been in Yutas time, it could be argued that the ancient Vaneppo better resembled the modern incarnation. The past fifty years or so had seen a boom in the Costranak economy, and that meant loads of new building constructed in a faux-vernacular style, showing off the influences that north Zidian cultures had had in the Costranaks before the Soran Empire had claimed the islands for itself.
Funny thing: Vaneppo was both Yuta and Alons hometown. That had definitely helped soften Alon to Lord Uramaru. Anis father had been quite hostile to the time-traveler at first, but relented the instant I mentioned that Yuta was half-Costranak. In that deeply, deeply racist mans eyes of Anis father, in order to be a good person, all you had to do was have the fortune to be born either Trenton or Costranak.
Oh, and whatever you do, just dont be Munine.
As should go without saying, Id been incredulous of that fact when Ani first shared it with me, and had peppered her with questions in order to get to the bottom of it. It turned out her father justified his marriage to a child of Munine migrs by saying that any Munine smart enough to abandon that Angelforsaken country was worth giving a fair shake.
At the moment, though, Alon was on cloud nine, utterly enraptured by the sight of his peoples heritage, before the Sorans had come and given Vaneppo its characteristic quasi-Munine features.
The streets were groves of wooden skyscrapers, three stories talltall being the operative word for traditional Costranak architecture. Even their bungalows were at least one-and-a-half stories tall, thanks to the grids of wooden struts that served as the buildings foundations in the wet, tropical ground. Every floor of every building was encircled by a circuit of verandas, balconies, and walkways. Thatch woven from dried palm fibers covered the gently sloping rooftops. These had been smeared over with tar and then topped by curved clay tiles, made by shaping the clay on the masons thighs.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
And speaking of tile: by the Angel, the streets were paved the things. Even now, archaeologists still unearthed colorful pathways deep beneath the mud, often during digs done to construct underground parking garages for brand new multistory construction. The color-gridded paths led off toward the jungle and the beach, giving way to palm trees that swayed in the salty sea-breeze. Further into the distance, the land rose and fell in hills and valleys, swept over by mist and fog, forming clouds that obscured the mountains jungle-dripped heights. The peaks seemed like islands in the sky.
Seeing ancient Vaneppo at this scale was a real treat.
Yuta and Andalon watched in silence, fascinated by the sights.
Ropes and walkways crisscrossed over the tiled avenues. Some buildings were literally grown from trees, using living trunks as struts or support columns. Crowds of people thronged in the streets, darting out of the way of pygmy elephants, their noisy trumpeting signaling an approaching wagon.
As for the latest crazy revelations from Andalonyou didnt think Id forgotten about those, did you?it was a lot to handle, and the Council (yes, that Council) was in an uproar. Wed eventually agreed that, as pressing as it was, for the sake of my sanity, I needed to first deal with the other issues on my plateGeneral Labs, the knights, etc.before I let myself delve into the mysteries of the multiverse. As much as I wanted to dive into that stuff right now, I recognized that I needed to get these other priorities dealt with first, or Id simply flake out and let them fall by the wayside, and that wasnt a risk I was willing to take.
Remember, if Vernons mission didnt go smoothly, the military was going to nuke us, and though I wasnt sure if there was a branch of the multiverse where Andalon and I came out victorious over the fungus, I was certain that, if such a universe existed, it wasnt one where a thermonuclear bomb had gotten dropped over my head. (At least, I hoped not!)
Anyhow as Alon and I had been talking, it was clear to me that Alon hadnt just died; hed been through an incredibly traumatic experience, even worse than dying from the Green Death. Given the mans personality, I had to proceed carefully. Yes, there were other ghosts that I could consultothers that Id picked up in the aftermath of whatever madness was afoot in General Labsbut I already knew Alon, so he was my quickest routetoward unraveling that mystery. Rushing might make him vulnerable to the fungus malign influence, or worse, he might decide to blacklist me.
Yes, in Alons eyes, I was of the chosen race, but that could only get me so far with him.
The elephants, Alon muttered. To see them move and live. Shaking his head, Alon turned to face me, trying his best to hide the tears in his eye. They killed them, you know, he said. The Munine bastards hunted the elephants to extinction, just to make room for their damned horses.
Yuta looked on in solemn silence. My mother would have loved to see this, he said, softly.
Nodding, Alon looked Yuta in the eye. When they killed the last elephants, they killed our peoples soul, he said. They killed the islands soul. The elephants, you know, they were born from s flesh, out from the mud.
Yuta nodded. My mother told me the story as a child.
Alon stared at him for a moment. I cant imagine what you must have endured under your fathers people.
Yuta shook his head. I do not blame them.
For once, Alon and I were on the same page. We both stared, shocked. What? we said, in unison.
Picture the most ethnically homogeneous society you can imagine. Whatever youre imagining, the next level of ethnic homogeneity above that? Thats Mu. Yes, theyd mellowed out somewhat in the modern era, but, every now and then, you heard a story of someone getting arrested or beaten up on account of having hair that wasnt straight and black like the gods intended. Even celebrities or M-pop idols who dyed their hair wacky colors (pink, blond, silver, chartreuse, etc.) always made sure to keep some black visible at the tips. And dont get me started about their laws and regulations about interracial marriage. And that was how things were now; I couldnt have imagined how bad they would have been back in Yutas time.
Yet here he was, not blaming the racists for being racist.
Why not? I asked.
People arnt ideas, nor are ideas people, Yuta said, and we conflate them at our peril. We dont choos the circumstances of our birth, nor do we decide raise teach us. He looked off into the distance. deas are contag. Dr. Howle, as a physician of the mindealized th, no?
Yes, I said, nodding. We call it meme theory, I said. Ideas reproduce, and evolve.
In my e, Yuta said, Mu believed Costranak to be something less than fully human. the Munine people th idea itself, and who use it for their own, selfish ends. People like Sakuragi
So How enlightened of you. Anis father crossed his arms. Well, Im not that fucking gracious.
If you must know,, no, I dont forgive them.
Eh? Alon said.
Yuta placed his katana in his lap. Its their thoughtlessness that I refuse to forgive, not their hate. They never entertained the thought that they might be wrong. He lBut I know I have. I know myself well enough to admit that Im not always certain Im on the right path, but I know I want to be. I try to have faith that, if I search for the might find it someday. It isnt enough to keep my doubts at bay, but it makes their burden easier to bear
Alon turned his gaze over to the city once more.
I could have pried into his thoughts and seen them for myself, but I didnt. I let him have his privacy. I felt it was the right thing to do.
After a moment of silence, he turned to me.
109.2 - Pygmy Elephants
Howle he said, I still dont know if any of this is real, but I know how youve helped my daughter. I expect you to do so again. What DAISHU has done is unforgivable, he said. He clicked his tongue. My Ani is too soft. She wont be able to take it.
What? I asked. What do you mean?
Again, Alon was a strong manfit and lean. Despite everything else, he took care of his health. Other than Larry the Transformee Janitor, Anis father was the only person I knew who I thought might stand a chance against Dr. Marteneiss in an arm-wrestling match. But, here, on this hillside, overlooking a vision of city lost to time, he was utterly broken, like a prisoner of war. He lowered his gaze, throat tightening.
That General Marteneiss, he said, voice cracking, e must be on DAISHUs payroll. The things he did. The things his scientists did Alon spat on the ground, as if the words were unfit to swallow.
I bit my lip.
This was not good. Not good at all.
Andalon and I shared a nervous glance.
Alon I nodded at him.
What is there to believe? Yuta asked.
Yesterday, I explained, a military leaderGeneral Vernon Marteneissstationed his troops at the hospital. He intends to make WeElMed into his headquarters. Earlier today, with my second sight, I saw that the General and his men were guarding something in the laboratorya transformee, like myself, and they werent just guarding him, they were hiding him. Vernon is hiding something. I just dont know what.
Then its a good thing you found me, Alon said, twice thumping his fist against his chest. I saw it all.
Tell me everything, I said.
Alon expression turned grim. He looked me in the eyes, lowering his voice to a whisper.
Howle, he said, they were experimenting on us. They took me, they took others they plucked us out of our beds and put us in that hell. I was losing my memories. I was scared out of my mind. And they they
What?! I roared, bolting to my feet, in full panic-mode.
I desperately wanted this just Alons usual hyperbole, but it wasnt. I sensed his memories opening up to me, filling me in with all the gory details.
By the Angel what was Vernon doing?
I wanted to reassure Alon by telling him that Heggy would never let her brother get away with it, but I couldnt. Vernon was a general; Heggy was just another doctor.
I figured I might as well see it for myself. Running my hand down in a line n the air, I opened up a slit in the mind-world, linking it to Alons memories. As soon as it was connected, I stuck my fingers in the slit and spread it wide. Our surroundings parted at either side, like curtains drawing away from a movie screen, only, instead of the proverbial silver screen, we saw Alons memories, as witnessed through his eyes.
The footage was spotty and erratic. I attributed this to the fact that, at the time, NFP-20 had beenas Dr. Skorbinka would have put itmaking evil borscht of Alons brain.
I wanted Andalon to look away.
Even Yuta gasped.
We saw more than a dozen patients restrained on examination tables which had been steeply against the rooms walls, lined up one after another, all the way around.
We saw the zombies. We saw Sylar, the transformee, rip the zombies to pieces with his psychokinesis.
In between flickering moments, Alons memories showed a girl on a shiny metal table in the middle of the room. She was bound to it, restrained, and lost in a drug-induced stupor. She looked like a human sacrifice laid out on an altar.
I screamed. Nina!
No no no no no
I clawed through Alons memories, instantly slicing them to ribbons. I couldnt be to see any more.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!
This was worse than the worst case scenario I muttered
What were those horrors? Yuta asked.
Its like Alon said, I replied, running my hand through my hair. Apparently, General Marteneiss is kidnapping our patients and performing experiments on themwithout their permission!
At least, I hoped he was having them kidnapped. I dont know what Id do if I found out he was doing it with the assistance of WeElMeds staff.
Yutas eyes bugged out in his skull. Why would your leaders do that to your own people?
I was about to say, I dont know, but stopped myself mid-word.
I knew exactly why he was doing it.
The Generals words flitted through my mind, and since we were currently inside my mind, that meant they blared over the landscape, as if the Hallowed Beast itself was roaring them.
Either we figure out why WeElMed isnt overrun with zombies and use that secret to save whats left of the world, or this city and everyone and everything in it is going to be nuked until even the atoms are blown to smithereens.
What is nuke? Yuta asked. And atoms? I dont know those words.
While I could have started lecturing him, I happened to recall something Id learned in my elementary school studies of world religions. With any luck, Yuta would be familiar with it.
Are you familiar with the sutra of the Acorn and the Mountain? I asked.
Yes, Yuta said, with a nod. He crossed his arms. Two barashai deduce there must be some irreducible, indivisible substance within the depths of matter, else the contents of an acorn sliced sufficiently finely could be rearranged into a structure even larger than Mt. Aoi.
Well, I said, they were right. All matter is made of minute particles. We called them atoms. The atoms are like bricks; everything else is made from them.
At this point, I was basically reciting the explanations given in that docudrama on the Crownsleep Nuclear Power Plant disaster.
A terrific amount of energy is bound up keeping those atoms together. I glanced down and shook my head. We discovered how to split the atom
Yuta furrowed his brow. Then the atom is not indivisible.
Yes and no, I said. Its more like, it can be divided, but nature very much dislikes it when it is divided.
Dislikes?
I nodded. It releases a huuuuuuuge amount of energy. Horrifyingly destructive. A nuclear bomb channels that destruction to devastating effect.
I turned to my reimagining of the ancient Costranak capital.
Like this, I said.
A second sun bloomed on the horizon, impossibly bright. The explosion swept a destroying wind across the land as a deaths-head cloud mushroomed over old Vaneppo. Trees bowed and snapped, stripped of their leaves. Air tore across the horizon, followed by the all-consuming blast. The primeval wooden buildings vaporized. Ash rained as the sky burned.
After a few seconds, when even I couldnt take the devastation anymore, I transported the three of us to my Main Menu. It took a moment or two for my eyes to adjust to its endless dome of serene sky. Afterimages of the nuclear blast still flashed in my vision.
Yuta was the first to speak. There was horror in his face, yet it was not as stark as I thought it would be. His look of shock was mostly free of any surprise, as if hed seen destruction of this magnitude before.
Not even gods deserve such power, he said, nearly speechless.
Andalon does not like big scary boom-boom, Andalon said. Its horrible
Yuta nodded in agreement, clasping his hands together, dark blue sleeve against dark blue sleeve. Nothing good can come from putting them in the hands of men, he said.
I agree with you, I said, only to shake my head. Unfortunately, they are in our hands.
So, Yuta said, this is what shall happen to your hospital if this General Marteneiss fails to find what he seeks.
Yes, I said, nodding grimly.
Yuta clicked his tongue in dismay and disgust. What Marteneiss has done is unconscionable, he said, and yet he shook his head, considering the stakes, one could argue that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.
Thats wrong! I said.
It is, he replied, and yet, it isnt. Though I do not agree with Marteneiss choice, his logic is sound.
Alon huffed. Logic breeds monsters, he said.
I stared at him, quite surprised.
For once, Mr. Lokanok, I said, I think I agree with you.
Logic does breed monsters, Yuta said, concurring, but it can also slay them. He nodded. As it is written in the Lengthiness Road, good power and the will use it. He looked me in the eyes. It is up to us to make our decisions, Dr. Howle, and it falls to us to deal with their consequences.
You can say that again! I yelled, slicing my hand through the air. I could picture all the awful ways in which Vernons choices could snowball, and then those very things happened right in front of us.
People are going to find out about this! I yelled. They have a transformee in there, as well as zombies and who knows what else! Its only a matter of time before they lose control. I shook my head in dismay. WeElMeds gonna witness the mother of all riots, and just in case anything manages to avoid burning to the ground, the nukes will be there to take care of the rest.
My work with Andalon would literally go up in smoke.
And then, somehow, things got even worse.
A window opened in the air, showing my physical self out in Thick World. There was yelling in the background.
It was Ani.
My body-self and I recoupled our consciousnesses.
Ani had been running. Shed run out from around the corner of a hallway like a runaway train. Her shoe soles squeaked on the vinyl as she skidded to a stop.
Behind her PPE, I saw tears streaming down her cheeks.
Genneth! she yelled. Its my father! Hes gone!
Of course she couldnt find him. He was dead, and my mental doppelganger was talking to his ghost.
Fudge!"
Fudge!"
109.3 - Pygmy Elephants
How do you tell your friend/colleague that the military was (and probably still is) secretly performing horrifying experiments on your patients against their will, and that her father was one of the victims?
I didnt know the answer, but I was about to find out.
I recentered my consciousness, anchoring myself in my physical body.
Ani turned this way and that, pressing her hands at the sides of her head as if to claw out her hair, even though it was bound beneath her sanitary hairnet. She was despondent, and I wanted to wrap my arms around her to let her know she wasnt alone, but my fear of infecting her made me keep my distance. On a dark whim, I thickened my wyrmsight over her, just to be sure.
By the Angel
I suppressed a gasp.
Ani was already infected: a Type One case, in early stages. The fungal aura within her was a little bundle in her chest that was making her breaths come out wheezy.
I should have expected this, but still
I was crying before I even wrapped my arms around her, and then even more when I did. I held her tight, and didnt let go until I felt her trying to step away.
It felt so good to have that human touch ,somuch so that I worried it was a sin. What kind of friend w relieved to learn she was infected because it meant I no longer to worry about infecting her? Not a very good one,
And I wasnt alone.
Andalon stood off to the side, lips curling, watching in silencecrying softly.
But not just her.
Ani? Ani!? Alon yelled. The window in my Main Menu was still wide open, giving us a front-row seat to his daughters misery.
Without another word, he ran up to the portal, intent on forcing his way through. But the gateway refused him. It rippled like a pond as Alon battered his fist on its pellucid surface.
Thats my daughter, Howle! he yelled, glaring back at my mental double. Let me talk to her!
I cant, I told him.
Alons eyes bulged in his sockets. He stood up tall, chest puffing out. He bellowed. Why the fuck not!?
The copy of Andalon standing in my Main Menu skittered behind me with a frightened yelp.
One of Alons arms bulged, his hand swelling with mass.
No! I gasped.
Yuta drew his sword and whirled about, as he turned to face Alon and stepped between us. He spread his legs, adopting a defense stance, widening his gray hakama.
Beasts teeth I thought.
Yeah, I had godlike power inside my mind, but godlike power does not mean godlike confidence. I yelped as I shrunk away behind Yuta, intimidated by the sheer rage in Alons eyes.
What can I say, old habits were hard to shake.
Dont just stand there!, I thought at myself.
My body-selfs message shot through my shock like a ray of sunshine. Asserting control over the situation, I did the first thing that came to me. Alon let out a scream of horror as I transformed him into little pangolin with just a pointed glare. A very angry looking pangolin.
Yuta staggered back in shock.
I raised my hands in a calming gesture. Its okay. Its okay. Its only temporary.
Honestly, I preferred Alon this way. It was easier on the eyes, and on my nerves. More importantly, in shunting him into a cute pangolin form, I seemed to have stopped the fungus effort to twist him into a demon.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
Andalon smiled and applauded.
Pangolin-Alon stumbled forward, making an impassioned attempt to claw at me. I dodged it by stepping back. I then asserted dominance, conjuring a heavy metal cage around him. He wrapped his claws across the bars.
Back in my body, I looked Ani in the eyes. Tell me what happened, I said.
Ani crossed her arms, nodding with a pensive bite of her lower lip. Her face was a snot-covered mess. She brought her hand up to wipe it off, only to stop and clench her fist in frustration, remembering her PPE. Fuck, she swore, I cant even cry in this damn thing.
Do you want me to get you a towel? I offered.
No, she replied, with a bitter smile and a shake of her head. Id rather not be alone right now. Closing her eyes, she exhaled sharply, desperate to center herself. Just let me get this out. She sputtered with a gentle coughing fit. Maybe if I get all my regrets out now, she said, I wont come back as an angry ghost.
She sighed. My heart broke for her.
Mom and Dad were sick as dogs, she admitted. Dad was already losing his memories. He didnt even recognize me.
Was this after you gave him the mycophage? I asked.
She shook her head. No, before. Then, in the middle of all this pain, Ani smiledgenuinely smiled.
It was the loveliest sight of my day.
I went back to check on them, you know? she said, with a sniffle. And, wouldnt you believe it, they were actually improving. It was a miracle.
I wanted to be excited for her. Ani, I said, thats
But she lowered her gaze. But, just now, I went back to check up on them. Mom was sedated, and Dad Her breath shuddered. He was gone.
What happened then? I asked.
Ani frowned. I freaked out and ran out, weeping my eyes out, because Im a ditz who cant do anything right.
I hated her talking about herself like that. Id thought her therapy sessions had pried her away from that awful habit.
Apparently, they hadnt.
Why was it that the brightest people in our lives so often had the darkest depths?
It wasnt right.
Back in my mind, Pangolin-Alon snapped at me, flicking his slender, sticky tongue. Let me talk to my daughter, you pale-skinned fuckwad!
Apparently, I hadnt specified the non-talking variety of pangolin.
I I hesitated, knowing that I was about to come across as much more than just a jerk. I dont want them to find out that Im turning into a wyrm! I said, almost whining. I let my arms hang low. You couldnt talk to her directly, Id have to relay your words to her, and even if she believed me, it would still mean I sighed. I mean would she even want to hear what I had to say, once I came out and told her Id been lying to her and the others all this time?
Now, in addition to everything else, I was also suffering from a boatload of guilt, fresh from Codmans Wharf.
Shaking my head, Ilooked down at the caged pangolin. Alon see for yourself, I said, pointing a the portal to Thick World, look how devastated she is, and she doesnt even know youve died yet! I dont want to add to that pain by outing myself as a liar. Right now, I can still comfort her. I dont want to take that away from her.
The pangolin relented, curling his tail behind him.
Alon, I said, I swear to you, Ill make this right. I will get General Marteneiss to stop what hes doing, or, so help me!
All the while, my physical self was staring deep into Anis despondent eyes. I desperately wanted to be the bridge that reconnected her to her father, but, at the same time, I was terrified that revealing my betrayals might very well destroy her.
Faith really was a double-edged sword. With it, you could press onward when all others had given up. But when it left you, it took everything from you. Lost faith made the world fall apart, and, with NFP-20 crawling through her skin, Ani wouldnt have enough time to try and build something new from the ruins.
By now, with Alon a pangolin, Yuta had calmed, having sheathing his sword in its scabbard by his hip. I cannot make your decisions for you, Dr. Howle, he said, but if your transformation continues to progress, unless death soon claims her, Ani will learn the truth soon enough, on her own. I imagine that, too, would seem a betrayal to her. He looked me in the eyes. It falls to you to decide which is worse.
Good grief, I muttered, with a sigh. My shoulders fell. Why does everything have to be so hard?
For a moment, resolve boiled up inside me. Ani, I said, I
But then a stone dropped into my stomach, dashing my resolve to pieces.
I couldnt tell her. How could I? This wasnt about her; no, it was about me and my problems, and mystupid guilt. If I told Ani, I was telling everybody, and I knew myself well enough to know that there was nothing I or any copy or part thereof could do to stop that from happening. I even knew how Id do it: Id inform the CMT by text message. Maybe I could have gotten away with telling Brand and stopping at that, but if I told Ani, I was telling everyone.
And why would I do this, you ask? Simple: I couldnt in good conscience saddle her with the burden of keeping my secret. It was already enough of a struggle for me; I didnt want her to suffer with what to do with my secret.
And that was why I couldnt tell her that I had her fathers ghost. The two were linked. There was no way I could reveal oneher fathers ghost, or my transformationwithout revealing the other.
Now, I wasnt just thinking all of this to myself, no, I was sharing it with Yuta and Alon, too. And while the samurai seemed sympathetic to my woes, the pangolin very much wasnt.
You havent told them!? Alon roared, rattling his cage with fury.
He was surprisingly loud for a pangolin.
Youre not just a pussy, he yelled, youre a lying pussy!
And what could I do but lower my head in shame?
Youre right, I muttered, much to Andalons dismay.
Alon titled his slender pangolin head to the side. Youd give up that easily?
Yes and no, I replied. As much as I wish it wasnt so, I cant win every battle. It pains me to say this, but I sighed, this is not just about Ani.
The hell it isnt! Alon snapped, with an angry flick of his thick, scaly tail.
I nodded. It is. I looked at Andalon and Yuta. My real concern here is my colleague, Dr. Heggy Marteneiss. Shes Vernons older , you know.
Alon and Yuta stared at me.
I dont know if I can stop Vernon and avert the disaster hes hurtling us toward, but if theres any chance of stopping it, I need Heggy on my side.
And she would not lend her aid if she knew about your deceit, Yuta said, nodding in understanding.
I exhaled sharply. Exactly.
Marteneisses stuck together, even when they should have known better.
So, Alon asked, what are you going to do?
I thought about it.
Out in the Thick World, I cried fresh tears. As much as I wanted to tell Ani the whole truth, Id have to settle for only a part of it.
I looked her in the eyes. Ani theres something I have to tell you.
110.1 - How *Not* to Plan a Heist
It got worse before it got better. Ever-resilient, Ani defied her fear and insisted we press on, investigating the situation to the best of our abilities. Shed told me that Jonan had managed to hack into the hospitals security camera network. Given what we found in our twenty-odd minutes of data gathering, I felt it was time to call a meeting of Ward Es CMT.
So I did.
Once more, we flocked to the glass-walled conference room to the side of the Wards main reception desk; by this point, it was our de facto headquarters.
We gathered as many as we could. In attendance were myself, Ani, Jonan, Heggy, and Suisei, with Brand telecommuting from his lab.
As for Dr. Skorbinka, he was in the ICU with a fulminant Type One NFP-20 infection. And, as for Dr. Arbond, our curmudgeonly surgical wiz was stuck completing his transformation into a wyrm in Operating Theater 12.
So, they were no-shows.
Within our conference room, we were scattered around the center table in a chaotic assemblage. We didnt so much sit in our chairs (or, in my case, on my stool) as much as we lurked in them, in anticipation of whatever the next revelations were going to be. All eyes were on me.
I was the one whod called the emergency meeting, after all.
So, Dr. Howle, Heggy said, what do you have to share with us now?
Dr. Marteneiss wavy golden locks were bound up beneath her hairnet, and, with her steely composure, she seemed like force incarnate locked in human form.
I would have preferred to stand as I spoke, but I instead kept to my stool. I was worried my legs couldnt handle it.
I told Heggy this a couple days ago, looking around the room, but things have developed a lot since then, and now theres no reason not to tell all of you.
Go on, Jonan nodded.
Ani, I said, this will be new to you, too.
Her expression tightened.
I resisted the urge to take a deep breath. Instead, I gave my lucky bow-tie a good squeeze.
That certainly caught Heggys attention.
The transformees can see and interact witheven talk withthe spirits of the dead, I said. Their souls, for lack of a better word, are getting uploaded into transformees minds.
Jonan blanched, silently mouthing a curse. He leaned back in his chair, shaking his thigh like a fuel-filled engine.
Suisei, meanwhile, did a very goodand very subtlejob of seeming surprised.
This can happen in two ways, I said. Either transformee consumes the persons bodybefore or after deathor they need to get in sufficiently close proximity to the corpse. Either way, that causes one of these uploads to occur. Its, I pursed my lips. They tell me its like downloading an app, except the app is a human being. Well a human consciousness.
Jonan leaned back in his chair. His thigh was shaking like a rickety old engine.
As you may have heard, I continued, patients have been going missing, I glanced at Ani, among them, Dr. Lokanoks father.
I turned to Ani. My next words were incredibly difficult for me to say. My head felt like a great stone, weighing down on my neck. It was a struggle for me to look Dr. Lokanok in the eyes.
Ani your father is dead. Her reaction was agonizing for me to watch. She froze stiff, like a mouse about to be eaten. For both our sakes, I powered through my words as quickly as I could. But, he didnt die of the Green Death. No: he was murdered.
Ani shook her head. Tears pooled in her eyes. G-Genneth what? Why? She was stunned. I dont understand. Why didnt you tell me? Ani asked.
I sighed. I didnt want to make it more painful than it already was.
Ani broke down at that, weeping inconsolably. She leaned over the table and bawled.
Promptly, without any hesitation, Jonan got up out of his seat, walked up beside Ani and held her in a deeply felt embrace, which she immediately reciprocated. They held each other for a while, saying nothing, doing nothing, forming a long quiet that seemed like a shard of eternity. I didnt disturb them, nor did I begrudge them. I still didnt care for Dr. Derrics attitude, but I couldnt deny his struggles, nor the kindness he showed to the woman he loved. I had to admit, he really did love her. The proof was in the kindness he showed her. It was as simple as that.
Eventually, Ani bid him away with a light push of her hands.
She looked at his face. I would kiss you, you know, she said.
Jonan tapped his PPE visor. Safety first.
Chuckling, Ani nodded. With a sniffle and a coughher cheeks reddened and puffyshe turned forward.
She was fighting against herselfagainst the impulse to give up and give in. I could see it in her eyes.
Ani gave me a steely-eyed glare. Tell me everything, she said, in a quiet voice.
I nodded. One of my patients ghosts told me, I explained. That patient was in communication with Alons spirit. He has a message for us. A message for you, Ani.
Which patient? Ani asked. The steel in her eyes had sparked a flame. Which ghosts?
Gosh darn it
I should have expected that. But I hadnt, so now, to compensate, I had to throw together a sturdy lie lickety-split. Obviously, I couldnt tell her, Because Im the transformee with his ghost, and I didnt want you to learn that I was a transformee, because you and the others would then hate me forever. That that would just make things worse. I sped up my thoughts to give myself plenty of room to ponder what to say. Eventually, the words came to me. They were about as pleasant as a stomachache on the side. I couldnt escape the feeling that I was about to stab my former protge in the gut.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
Andalons expression turned somber and miserable.
Lop Broliguez, I said, naming one of my patients. Unfortunately I shook my head and weptfor myself, and what remained of my decency. My saliva was thick in my mouthand fizzy, and sweet. I averted my gaze. Lop''s changes have robbed him of his ability to speak, I said. He communicated with me via text message with his last remaining human finger. By now, I imagine its probably turned into a claw. The darn things break console screens.
Which one was Lop? Jonan asked. The short one?
Yes, I answered.
Yep, Jonan said, all claws on that one.
Ani leaned back in her seat. He was close, and I was there, but She shook her head. I cant believe it.
I wiggled my tail as I looked Dr. Lokanok in the eyes once more. Ani Im so sorry. Im so, so sorry. And I meant every word. Theres a chance other transformees might have picked up your fathers spirit. I promise, Ill ask around.
Did Ani shook her head. Behind her PPE visor, her big, round glasses glinted in the fluorescent light. What did my father want to tell you? What did he say?
Fudge I really would make an awful god. What kind of god wouldnt tell the truth?
I deserved to be yelled at, and the fact that Jules and Pel werent there to do it broke my heart. If there was any consolation, it was the knowledge that, both in professionalism and in quality of work, Ani was a better, more honest doctor than I had ever been. The student had surpassed the master. Both of us were known for our optimistic exteriors, but Anis was far more authentic. And now, Id one-upped myself by taking my lies to the next level.
At least now I could get to the parts that were actually true.
Alon told me what I told you, I said, looking Ani in the eyes.
Nodding, Dr. Lokanok inhaled sharply.
I nodded, too. Right now, us being here? I said. Its what Alon wants. I looked over my shoulder, back at the wall where the projection had been. He wants us to stop this.
Ani wept, biting her lip as she nodded, deeply, and vehemently.
What do you mean? Heggy asked.
I turned back to Dr. Lokanok. First, Ani, I said, show the others what we found.
Nodding, Dr. Lokanok pulled out her console, tapped it to bring up the data, and then passed it around. Ani had done most of the work in collecting the data, and by most, I mean all. When it came to data management, I was utterly helpless.
I had, after all, promised to help Ani figure out her fathers whereabouts. To that end, wed been looking around for whatever evidence we could find, especially if pointed at wrongdoing or foul play. Despite my promise, Ani hardly needed my assistance at all. She quickly sussed out some valuable findings all on her own. It started with her discovering some unusual inserts in her fathers medical record. According to those inserts, Alon had been discharged from the hospitals late last night. Tellingly, there was no explanation for the discharge, and instead of a physicians seal of approval, there was only the bureaucratic impersonality of a generic security code.
Yet another piece of evidence that the military had a Lawful Evil moral alignment.
But thats just the tip of the iceberg, Ani said. As you can see, this same security code has been reused again and again to discharge NFP-20 patients from WeElMeds care.
Heggy clenched her gloved hands into fists. Why? Uncharacteristically, Dr. Marteneiss paused. Why wasnt I told about this earlier? she asked.
My jaw dropped, though I hid it as quickly as I could.
Heggy could omit the truth like nobodys business. But she was the worst liar Id ever known. She wasnt built to lie, so all her lies came out hesitant and uncertain, as if she was trying to convince herself they were truebecause she was.
From her body language alone, I could tell that Dr. Marteneiss already knew at least part of the information that I was about to share with the group.
The questions were: how much did she know, how did she know it, and for how long had she known?
Unfortunately, as much as I wanted to know the answers to these (and so many other) questions, answers alone werent going to cut it. We needed to do something about it before General Marteneiss ticking time bomb of bad decisions blew up in our faces.
One of the advantages of my evolving mind was that my multitasking skills had gone through the roof. On our walk over to the meeting room, I aliquoted part of my consciousness to a doppelgenneth tasked with coming up with plans for how we could rescue Nina and the others. And while none of my ideas were good, at least they were something.
But I was getting ahead of myself.
Remember the panic this morning, by General Labs? I said, looking around the room. Alon told me what was happening there. I leaned forward on my stool. He told me what happened and what they did to him. I lowered my gaze.
Andalon mirrored the movement.
I continued: Under General Vernon Marteneiss orders, dozens of our patients have been stolen from our care, and made into test subjects against their will. And what theyre doing to them its sick. I shook my head in disgust.
The room was so quiet, you could have heard a pin drop.
To study how people get turned into zombies, and figure out whatevers going on at WeElMed thats stopping it from happening, theyre trying to turn our patients into zombies. I clenched my fists. Theyre making monsters down there.
Do you think this has any connection to what happened in the lobby, with the knights, and then all the zombies suddenly stopping? Jonan asked.
Maybe, I said.
At the risk of stoking controversy, Brand said, finally speaking up, how do you know that these ghosts testimonies are even reliable? As far as we know, they might be hallucinations, or even creations of the fungus, meant to mislead us.
Heggy narrowed her eyes. You think the fungus is trying to mislead us, Dr. Nowston?
Its a distinct possibility, he said. It might not even be aware its doing it. Were in uncharted territory, after all. Weve never encountered a sapient disease before. Brand glanced at me. For all we know, he added, its levels of consciousness and awareness might be unlike anything were familiar with.
I very much second that, I said, with a nod.
Without any warning, Jonans hand went up like a rocket. He sat out straight, flush with determination. I request to be put in control of this situation, he said, adding a dubious, Please, after sending Ani an askance glance.
Why? Suisei asked, tilting his head.
Jonan pulled out his console. I have evidence that corroborates Dr. Howles claimsthe monsters part, not the ghost part.
What? Heggy said. How?
Jonan smirked. I hacked into the security cameras.
Heggys brow flattened as she glared at Dr. Derric, but Jonan continued on, undaunted.
I wasnt able to get any footage from the cameras inside GL; they must have deactivated, maybe even destroyed. But Jonans expression perked up. I did get this. He pointedly tapped a finger against his consoles screen.
A moment later, the projector unit whirred as it emerged from the ceiling and projected Jonans footage on the wall.
The footage showed soldiers carting patients into General Labs back entrance, underground, in the hallways of the first basement level of the GL Building.
Jonan pointed at the footage. Note the conspicuous absence of healthcare workers in this recording.
He fast-forwarded through the video, advancing the time stamp by about two hours. Patient after patient got carted into GL.
None of them came back out, he added.
The video ended.
My conclusion? Jonan said. The military is abducting people.
Jonan Ani whispered. There was terror in her voice.
More than anyone else, it was Heggy who the footage struck the deepest. She stared at it, slack jawed, the corner of her mouth twitching at the edge of outrage and gobsmacked astonishment. It was like Heggy was a pot, about to boil over.
And then she did.
Slamming a clenched fist down on the tabletop, Dr. Marteneiss rocketed up out of her seat, yelling, I told him! I told that fucking sonofabitch not to do this! Turning aroundarm tremblingHeggy lowered her head, her face wet with shame.
Wait, what? I said. You knew?
110.2 - How *Not* to Plan a Heist
Andalon looked on in concern.
The others joined me in angrily glaring at Dr. Marteneiss. Her voice was gravel and salt. Vernon told me he was gonna to do this, she continued. I begged him not to, but my little brothers always been an obdurate son-of-a-bitch.
Jonan leaned forward, eyebrows peaking. Seriously, Dr. Marteneiss, he said, what the fuck?
Sitting down, Heggy averted her eyes and shrugged. What else could I have done?
You could have spoken up, Ani said.
Heggy slammed her hand on the table. I did speak up, dammit! She shook her head and sighed. Im sorry, its just its been eating away at me.
Why didnt you tell us? Ani asked.
I wanted to say the same thing, but the hypocrisy of criticizing Heggy for keeping secrets when I was doing the same would have just been too much for me to bear.
And, please, Dr. Marteneiss, Ani continued, dont say that its because you thought you could keep it under wraps. She shook her head. Secrets always come out in the end.
Heggy bit her lip. My brother came to me in confidence, and shared classified intel with me. Itd be against the law for me to share it.
Ani glowered at the older woman. Youre seriously being a stickler for the law right now? When there are zombies out there!? Ani pointed at the wall.
Heggy stood up and pushed in her chair. What do you want me to do, Dr. Lokanok? Do you want me to just give up, wave goodbye to civilization and embrace the great big free-for-alllike the rioters?
No, Ani said.
Brand muttered in dismay: Hot dog
Jonan shook his head and sighed. Well, were boned he said He furrowed his brow in anger. You do realize that if news of this gets out, there will be a riot, and all of us will die. He circled his finger around the room, passing each of us.
This is a grave situation, Suisei said, and I see no good solution to it. He looked at Heggy. I do not assume the military will react kindly if we confront them about this.
Dr. Marteneiss let out a bitter chuckle. You got that damn right, they wont.
Any attempt to free the captives or inform the public about what has transpired will likely trigger a riot, Suisei continued, as Dr. Derric suggested. Worse, given the events with the, uh knights, he added, it is quite likely that Vernon will take drastic measures. He might be accelerating his timetable. Dr. Horosha shook his head. This does not bode well
We cant just sit back and do nothing! I said.
I wanted to mention that wed have a lot more to worry about than mere rioting if the armies of Hell besieged the hospital, but I held my tongue. I did not want to make the others think Id completely lost my marbles.
Andalon nodded vigorously at that.
If we dont get the captives out of there, I continued, I have no doubt the experiments will continue
And then something else will go wrong, Ani interjected, and there will be zombies everywhere, and if, by some miracle anyone manages to survive, theyll probably riot about the injustice of it all, just because. She threw her arms up.
Beneath the table, Jonan quivered his thigh. For what its worth, he said, by now, the captives infections have likely progressed to the point where they wont remember having been abducted. For that matter, it wont be long before people wont remember they were ever missing in the first place.
So Heggy said, what are you suggesting, Dr. Derric?
Jonan pointed at me. According to our spirit detective over there, there are zombies in General Labs. These need to be neutralized before they make more people into zombies. Likewise, the captives need to be freed, if only to get them away from the zombies that will cause them to turn into more fucking zombies.
That would still reveal the militarys wrongdoing for all to see, Suisei said.
And then everything goes to hell, regardless, Brand muttered.
Maybe they could move the captives somewhere else? Heggy suggested. That would save face.
There is a 99.99% chance that that would go horribly, horribly wrong, Jonan said.
So what do we do? Ani asked.
I decided to volunteer my idea, only to regret it before the offer was even complete. Actually, there was this idea I had, but I sighed and shook my head. It was stupid. Really, really stupid
Jonan clapped his hands together. Just what the doctor ordered. Cmon, let er rip.
Well, I let my shoulders fall, we could ask the time-traveling knights to help, I said. Maybe we can get them to help.
Sensing a disturbance in the Heggy, I turned to see Dr. Marteneiss glowering at me with that what the hell did you just say? look of hers on her face. I then turned back to Jonan, to continue with my horribly, horribly stupid idea. I mean, you have access to the security cameras, right? You could keep an eye out, and let them know when the way is clear.
Ani closed her eyes and shook her head, like there was something she was trying to unsee. Wait you mean like a heist movie?
I thought about that for a second.
Yeah, I said, I guess so.
Heggy got up. Alright, Ive had enough. This is not a serious conversation, and I will have no part in it. Groaning, she put her hand on her PPE visor. You want to know the truth, Ani? she said, glancing back at Dr. Lokanok. The truth is that there was no right answer. Sure, I couldve told you earlier, but what difference would it have made? Whether you learned it then or learned it now, youd still be just as demoralized and powerless. Really, the only difference is that not tellin you would have left you with less of a burden.
Heggy plopped down into her seat and quietly groaned. Also, thats another reason why I didnt tell yall about it. She looked Ani in the eyes, and then me. As soon as you two found out, itd be a safe bet your good intentions would lead you to do somethin stupid, and, if theres one thing Ive learned, its that stupid is the enemy. She nodded resolutely. I dont know if I can stop zombies from overunnin WeElMed, but I certainly can do my part to keep stupidity from doin the same. You can do whatever you want, so long as its by the book, and it doesnt make things worse.
Heggy looked around the room. Any questions?
Let me just say, that was really impressive, Jonan added.
Heggy rolled her eyes. I dont want sycophants, Dr. Derric, I want useful subordinates. She lightly slapped her gloved hand on the tabletop. So, go out there and be useful.
She glared at Ani, Jonan, and me one last time.Stolen novel; please report.
And dont do anythin stupid, yhear?
It should go without saying that Dr. Marteneiss would be very disappointed with what happened next.
The meeting adjourned. I left the room with a lot of thoughts in my head, particularly the angry pangolin.
Pangolin-Alon was still angrily clawing at the bars of his cage on my Main Menus watery floors. While my root consciousness had been piloting my body during the meeting, Id kept the window to the outside world open, letting Alon see the feed coming in from my bodys eyes and ears. I wanted him to see for himself what was going on, and what I was trying to do. My hope was to show him that I was trying to make things right.
I wasnt his enemy.
Unfortunately, this had not gone as planned. Instead of appreciating that I was trying to avenge him and right Vernons wrongs, Alon hunkered down on the fact that I wasnt relaying his words to everyone else, particularly Ani.
Honestly, I should have expected that.
Beasts teeth, he yelled, youre a wimp! He thrashed his tail behind him. I called you a pussy, and you just take it, and you dont do anything about it. You let Dr. Marteneiss walk all over you. Its pathetic! No wonder Ani got soft; she learned it from you!
He crossed his arms and huffed.
Thats thats very hurtful, you know! I said.
Yeah! Andalon said, nodding her head in agreement.
Pussy!
Stomping my foot, I turned around, dismissing Alons consciousness with a wave of my hand. I didnt need to look to know that the cage and the pangolin were dematerializing behind me. They disappeared in seconds.
A wisp of light flew up past my head and entered one of the soul crystals in the disarticulated formation hoveringslowly spinningoverhead. Alon was back in his soul crystal. I figured Id deal with him later.
Regardless of what we did to deal with the rapidly snowballing situation playing out in General Labs, I had my own mission to worry about: I needed to talk to the knights ASAP. The military might spirit them away at any moment.
Genneth, wait
Stopping, I turned around to find Ani and Jonan standing behind me.
Cmon, Jonan said, this way.
Jonan waved Ani and I down a corridor and led us to a niche in front of a pair of restrooms. He seemed atypically paranoid, surveying his surroundings like a deer in the wood.
Whats he doin? Andalon asked.
Maybe hes looking for security cameras? I thought-said.
So, Jonan said, you know that stupid idea of yours? The heist?
I dont like where this is going, I said.
I say lets do it, he said.
I sighed. Even if we could do it, you and Suisei were right. Once people find out whats been going on, theres gonna be a riot.
Jonans not so sure, Ani said, anxiously biting her lip.
Why not?
Think about it, Jonan said. He crossed his arms. Theyve already taken dozens of people, yet nobodys been rioting about that, now, have they?
I only found out when I realized Dad wasnt in his room, Ani said.
So? I asked.
Andalon watched us with interest.
I should have made a bigger stink about this back during the meeting, Jonan continued, but I didnt put two and two together until just now. Is it likely that there will be, perhaps, a modest amount of rioting? He nodded. Probably. But do we really need to worry about that?
Uh yes? I asked.
Think about it, Doc. Whos gonna riot? The healthcare workers? Were fucking exhausted! The patients? Half of them dont even remember the loved one theyve lost! Thats why there hasnt been any mass outrage. Theyre like goldfish now; they remember only the last few minutes, if that.
Actually, Ani said, goldfish can have very good memories.
The point is, Jonan said, the times for riots have already come and gone. Either the victims families arent aware that anythings happened, or they cant remember enough to be upset about it! These people are at deaths door, for crying out loud! They can hardly even walk!
Ani exhaled sharply. Right now, protecting the matter printers and maintaining production of the mycophage are what matter. Im going to administer extra doses to the first batch of test subjects. She looked down, distraught. Some of them have been regressing. She exhaled again, coughing softly. I want to make sure that the test subjects arent deteriorating because of a sub-therapeutic dose. Ani looked me in the eyes. If what my father said was true, our priority should be on stopping these experiments before the hospital gets overrun by zombies. Ani shook her head. Everythings teetering on the edge.
My idea was off-the-cuff, I said. Even if we could get the knights to help, what difference would it make? Theyd be outmatched and outgunned.
Jonan grinned. I knew youd say that, he said. But, dont worry, Ive got a fix for it.
Now this I have to hear, I said.
The transformees magic powers currently include psychokinesis and communion with the dead, Jonan said, right?long with whatever abilities they have that you havent yet told us about.
Yes, I saidnot liking where this was going, but
The transformees dont belong in the hospital, Jonan said. They belong on the front lines.
What? Ani asked. She turned to him, genuinely surprised.
Theyre transforming into dragons, right? Jonan asked me.
Wyrms, I said, correcting him. A kind of dragon, though not a capital-D dragon.
Jonan crossed his arms and clicked his tongue. Let me guess, youre one of those thats not a dragon, thats a wyvern types?
Jonan, Ani said, with a cough, this isnt the time for
Jonan looked his girlfriend in the eyes. , I have a point to make. He pointed at me. The CMTs havent been managing this properly. When fate hands you an army of magical fungus dragons zombie apocalypse, you use the dragons against the zombie.
I stammered, flustered beyond belief. Even if that wasnt nuts, the transformees are our patients!
So are the knights Jonan countered.
Yes, I replied, but they know how to kill peopletheyre prepared to do it. You cant foist that responsibility onto ordinary people! Its a disaster waiting to happen! I was indignant. Do you want the military to declare open season on our patients?!
Scoffing, Jonan rolled his eyes at me. Your loss, then. Good luck making it there on your own with just the knights. Unless one of them is secretly a wizard or something, were boned.
Jonan! Ani hissed.
He sighed. Fine.
What is it? I asked.
With or without transformees to back you up, Jonan can guide you there, Ani said.
What?
Jonan grinned. I have access to all the security cameras in the hallways on the way to GLs back entrance. I can keep you from being detected by guiding you around the worst of it.
But there are soldiers on patrol there, I said. And they have guns!
Granted, the powers I had were arguably even better than guns, but I wasnt exactly keen on outing myself to my colleagues right this second. The plan Jonan was proposing was complicated enough without me arming them with reasons to doubt me.
This is true, Jonan said. But, you know what else those soldiers have? Raging cases of the Green Death!
Ani nodded. If the crusaders really are time-travelers, then theyve only just been infected by coming to this time and place. All of Vernons men are infected, just like everybody else. The difference is, while Trentons soldiers are rapidly deteriorating, those knights still have th minds and bodies in order. Thatll give an advantage.
And thats why its so important we act quickly, Jonan added. The crusaders good health is going to last for much longer!before we lose that advantage.
When you say we, you mean me, dont you? I asked.
Jonan nodded. Id caught him red-handed, he didnt care in the slightest. Ani tells me youre something of a history buff, right?
Yeah, you can say that, I said.
Great! he said, clapping his hands together. And, not only that, you also work with people on a regular basis, so, you should have no trouble buttering up the time travelers and getting them to contribute their healthy bodies and martial know-how to our very much desperate cause.
Before I could protest, Jonan pulled out his console, scanned it over my suit and then began to tap through menu after menu at a furious pace.
He took three steps toward the restroom and then held his console close and spoke into it in a soft voice.
Testing, he said. Testing testing testing.
I could hear his voice through the speakers in my hazmat suit.
Can you hear that? he asked, looking at me from over his shoulders.
Yes.
Jonan turned around and stepped back toward us. Great, he said. This means I can talk to you through the radio in your suit. Ill give you the lay of the land, and youll relay that information to the knights. All you need to do is get into the lab, and let the people go. Best of all, you wont need to worry about the knights going zombie on you; theyre not far long enough for that.
What if there are already some zombies mucking about the hospital?Ani asked.
If thats the case, Jonan said, we better pray for a repeat of the miracle that happened in the lobby. Otherwise, you can kiss the world goodbyethough, you should probably have already done that by now.
You cant really expect this to work, I said.
Push comes to shove, Jonan replied, we can use the knights as patsies; blame them for the violence on them. I mean, considering theyll be fully decked out in Crusader gear, it should be easy to get people to believe they did it because theyre nuts.
Ani and I glared at him.
What will Ani do? I asked.
Create a distraction, she said.
I sighed. I have a bad feeling about this. Possibly even a very bad one.
Nodding, Jonan waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. Yes, because its a horrible idea, but all the alternatives are even worse, so, off we go! Jonan thrust his arm to the side, and looked at me expectantly.
What is it? I asked.
Off we go! he said, flicking his hands. Times a-wastin! March! March!
And so, I marched, with Andalon walking beside me. Whats goin on, Mr. Genneth? she asked look up at me in confusion.
Things are getting messier, I muttered.
And, gee whiz, wasnt that the truth!
110.3 - How *Not* to Plan a Heist
No one questioned Heggy as she crossed Garden Court Drive and took the stairs down to the Undergreen Galleria. She pre?mpted the soldiers standing guard at the top of the stairs, whipping out her ID and politely reminding them of who she was before theyd even opened their mouths. If theyd had any words on their tongues, those words died there and shut back up, and not just because Heggy was on a Ward CMT.
Her name carried weight, as it well should.
Dr. Marteneiss stepped onto the galleria to find its boot-scuffed tiled floors abuzz with activity. Having no patience for playing hide and seek, she asked a passing soldier where General Marteneiss was stationed.
Hes in the Ritz-n-Glitz, came the reply.
Heggy nodded and went her way, pushing her way through the glass doors and into one of the gallerias half-hexagonal corridor. Impressively enough, the fucking AC was on, as were the lights; the portable electric generators Vernons men had brought littered the floor, plying power for everything from the HVAC system to the radio terminals set in the gallerias repurposed boutiques. The radio operator sat hunched over in their chairs, manning their stations, relaying information across the globe in between percussive coughing fits. From what Heggy could hear, it sounded like most of them were doing broad-spectrum searches for any signs of lifesafe zones, or other clusters of survivors.
The Ritz-n-Glitz was near the middle of the hall. The store was just one of main outlets of the chic chain of jewelry stores.
A jewelry store, in a shoppin mall next to the garage of a major urban hospital Heggy thought.
It was the kind of thing that made a person worry about the direction society was headingor it would have, had the Green Death not struck first. Now, though, it was little more than a relict curiosity.
Seeing the place from the outside, Heggy immediately understood why her brother had set up shop here: the stores glass frontdoors includedwas blocked from the inside by thick metal shutters to protect the valuables.
Two guards stood on duty outside the shops double doors.
Halt!
Heggy raised her hands, bearing her palms at either side of her head. Tell Vernon his big sister is here, she said, and that shes got a bone to pick with him.
One of the guards stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Heggy heard some indistinct conversation; a moment later, the guard opened the door and waved her in.
For whatever reason, the jewelry store hadnt gotten the memo that the world had ended. It was in pristine condition, as were the many offerings on proud display in the glass cases scattered throughout the store: necklaces, rings, earrings, broaches, bracelets, lockets, pins, sacred figurineseven some jewel-studded combs. Many of the pieces were works of art in their own right: hummingbird brooches with emeralds, amethysts, and rubies; stained-glass icons depicting the Angel in all His glory.
Vernon stood at the back, near the rows of shelves of fine watches and rings. He wasnt alone. Two soldiers stood at his side, bespectacled and studious-looking, while all three men had consoles in their hands. They were in the middle of a very tense conversation.
Everythings falling apart, sir. Every hour brings news of more desertions. And theyre taking our equipment with them.
Groaning, Vernon lowered his PortaCon to his side. Please dont tell me theyre falling for Verunes bullshit?
That, or they just cant take it anymore, one said. I mean the man sighed, you cant exactly blame them. Things things arent looking good right now.
The third made gave the general an inquisitive stare.
Sir, the man is a bonafide time-traveler, and if that werent enough, hes also turning into a serpent creature. How is that bullshit? I mean, Im not that religious, myself, but I think weve reached the point where its fair to say that they were right and we were wrong.
The cooks were right? Really? Vernon asked, sizing up his subordinate with an intimidating glare. A bunch of beasteaten time travelers just showed up on our doorstep, turning into demons ripped right out of scripture, and then they say, no, youve got it all wrong. But scripture is supposed to be infallible, and the only reason people give that madman any credence is because of ideas that they got from scripture in the first place. Reformed shit is still shit, Vernon said. Absolute truth only exists inside calculators; I should know, if it was out there, our intelligence operatives would have found it long ago, and Angel-knows how many lives we could have saved if we had it. That, lieutenant, is why its bullshit. The zombies just got un-fucking-zombified right before our eyes. Thats real. That happened! That exists!
High command feels the unzombifying incident isnt sufficiently substantiated, the first soldiers said. And likewise for the claims of time travel.
Vernon bashed his first onto one of the glass cases. The reinforced glass didnt so much as tremble. Motherfuckers! Vernon shook his hand in pain. Ill bet theyd believe it if it was written in the fucking Testaments, he hissed. With people like this, it almost makes you think we deserve this beasteaten plague.
Uh, Vernon? Heggy said, waving her hand to get her brothers attention.
The generals eyes bugged out inside his hazmat suits headpiece. Oh, shit. Heggy! He turned to face her. They said you were here.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!
And for more than a couple of minutes, too, she replied, with a wink.
Sorry, Vernon said, shaking his head, theyre running me so ragged, I doubt Id recognize my own face in the mirror.
Heggy nodded. You and me both.
What is it, sis? Vernon asked. Sword strike me, it damn better be worth it.
She nodded again. It is. Heggy looked askance at her brothers two assistants. Boys, if you could give us some privacy, the General and I have somethin of a family matter to discuss.
Bowing respectfully, the two soldiers quickly exited the jewelry shop, leaving Heggy and Vernon alone, standing on opposite sides of an aisle of glass display cases.
Remember what Pop-Pop used to say? Heggy asked.
Pop-Pop said a lot of things, Vernon said.
He said, Dont let them see your mistakes. Unfortunately, Vern you done screwed up, big time. Heggy shook her head.
Vernon furrowed his brow and stepped toward his sister. What are you talkin about?
Heggy clicked her tongue. Dammit, Vernon, I done told you not to do it. But, fuckin hell, you went ahead and did it anyway. And you know what Ive heard? Ive heard youve been turnin people into zombies! Youve been feedin them to monsters! I shouldve gotten on your case after this morninssnafu. Everythins boilin out of your control.
Heggy heard Vernons exhalations through the speakers on his black-armored hazmat suit. The sound was a hiss of white noise streaming down from his face.
I told you it wasnt going to be pretty
Heggys eyebrows rose in ire. Not pretty!? she yelled. A pug wearin lipstick isnt pretty. What youre doing its downright unholy!
Vernon met her eye to eye. Who the fuck told you about that? he said. Vernon didnt need to yell to be intimidating.
From a ghost, Heggy explained, after a fashion.
Vernon grimaced. What?
The transformees, Vernon they can talk with the souls of the dead. One of the victims of your experiments shared their experiences with one of our patients, and my colleague Dr. Howle managed to hear it from them.
The fuck? Vernon said, taken aback.
Dr. Howle is, uh, somethin of a specialist when it comes to dealin with the transformees.
Vernon cut his hand through the air. Heggy, this is nonsense!.
Heggy closed her eyes for a moment, swaying in place. Oh, honey, you have no idea. Yeah, she said, opening her eyes, its absolutely nonsense, but so is everythin else right no, so it all washes out in the end.
Its not that simple! Vernon countered.
Course it isnt, but we dont have time left for complicated. Besides, you know what wont wash out, Vern? All this bullshit of yours. The things youve done
Heggy puckered her lips in disgust, grimacing at her younger brother. Imagine what Pop-Pop would have sa if he could see you now
Scoffing, Vernon shook his head. You have no idea what youre talking about, sis. The things Pop-Pop did, the things we all did
Heggy crossed her arms. No, Vernon, I dont want your morbid platitudes; I wanna know what the hell you were thinking! How could you debase yourself like this? And not just yourself, but the whole fuckin military, too! When you serve your country, you do it with honor. You remember the cartels I fought against, in the Costranaks?
Oh, I do.
The cartels they raped any captives they could get their hands on. They were monsters. No decency. No feelin for anyone elses humanity. You know what the only difference between a soldier and a murderer is? The soldier kills with honor. When innocents fall, the soldier makes amends.
Vernon let out a pained cough and then slowly shook his head. Resignation and hoarse sorrow weighed down the corners of his mouth. Heggy Heggy, Heggy, Heggy. He chuckled and then looked his sister in the eyes. His eyes glinted under the fluorescent ceiling lights. I wish I could be as good as you, sis, he said, lips trembling. You were the strongest of us all, Heggy. You were the only one who made it out of our beasteaten family. I wish I could hang up my rifle for good, but I cant. Im in it too deep, and Im no good at anything else.
What the Hell is going on, Vernon? Heggy said, with quiet urgency. Please, you can tell me.
Vernon tapped the console embedded on his suits forearm. Heggy felt a buzz from her PortaCon in her PPE aprons belly pocket.
I just sent you something, Vernon said, after another cough. I dont know how much time you have left, sis, but you should set some aside to read it. Its enlightening.
Vernon Heggys voice trembled with worry. I dont think you understand. She pointed toward the General Labs building. Youve got a tickin time bomb in there. You need to move the patients out of the lab, now, before they turn into zombies and kill us all, or trigger a riot that does it for them.
Vernon shook his head. Im sorry sis, but I cant.
And why the hell not? Heggy yelled.
Sunk costs, and all that, Vernon replied. If I stop, everyone dies, and all the people that got wronged along the way will have suffered for nothing. Were up against extinction, Heggy.
Angels breath, Vern, Heggy said, slicing her arm through the air, the ends dont justify the means! Thats what the bad guys say, and youre not one of themand dont I fucking know it! She prodded her thumb against her chest. Were supposed to be the good guys!
Vernon shook his head. The ends dont justify the means, except when they do. Its just human nature, and theres no changing that. It falls to people like us to figure out how to be better.
And how would we be better? Heggy asked.
Vernon tilted his head. I wish I knew, Heggy. I wish I knew.
Then how about this? Heggy asked. You know that soldier of yours who brought a package from a downed flight from Stovolsk?
Vernon flattened his brow at her. I recall hearing something to that effect.
Well, he brought us a briefcase full of miracles.
Heggy prayed that hearing about an alternative would be enough to make Vernon reconsider and change his course.
One of our colleaguesa mycologist from Odenskproposed usin somethin called a mycophage as a non-traditional therapeutic for the Green Death.
Heggy could tell her brother was clenching his jaw. Vernon did that a lot when he was nervous.
Sis why do I get the feeling that Im about to be very, very angry with you?
Heggy stuck out her palm and shook her head. Hold your horses, its not that simple.
Vernon crossed his arms.
Heggy sighed. Were gettin the matter printers down in WeElMeds basement to make a shit-ton of it. I wish I could say it was a cure, but its notor, at least, at the moment, it doesnt seem to be one. It makes folks a little better, maybe even slows their decline
But? Vernon asked, eyebrow peaking.
Theyre not gettin any better, and some are even startin to get worse, she said, but were not throwin in the towel just yet, and you shouldnt either. You dont have to go this course! There are other options.
Vernon sighed. And I gather the reason you didnt tell me about this earlier was because you wanted to avoid causing a panic, or something like that?
Heggy nodded. Somethin like that.
Vernon sighed again. Now were going to have to commandeer your set-up, sis. He groaned. Ugh, this is going to be such a mess.
Turning his head, Vernon spoke into the console on his arms. Guards, please escort my sister back to the hospital.
Wait! Heggys eyes widened. Vernon, dont do this!
Soldiers stepped in as the doors opened behind her.
Vernon turned away from his sister. Im sorry, Heggy.
And then the soldiers dragged her out the door.
111.1 - Flying Clouds
What would Geoffrey do?, Karl thought.
It had become Karls favorite question to ask, and it was one that had helped him a great deal, time and again.
He wouldnt have made it through basic training without Geoffreys guidance. The young Count Athelmarch had taken a shine to him. In a way, they were both outcasts. Karl was an outcast because of his lack of strength, smarts, and prowess. Geoffrey was an outsider because of the dark cloud that his ancestors sin cast over his family name.
Karl had joined the army to find his courage, and, like with everything else, hed failed miserably. Jogging around the yard and running formation drills had left him feeling like a dead man walking. Just thinking about training made Karls legs ache. If Geoffrey hadnt been there, he probably would have never found his first hints of courage, or that his spirit had so much room left to grow.
It had been so difficult at first. Even after sixteennow seventeenyears of life at his back, interacting with people was still terribly difficult. Karl paused and stuttered whenever he spoke. His tongue was flabby and useless, and he always dreaded that he wasnt saying the right thing. He couldnt help think of his father boxing him on the ears, or slapping him with one of his accounting ledgers.
But the young Count had been as stubborn as a mule.
Karl, Geoffrey had said, if you wish to be useful, you must be secure in your own person. You have discernments and sentiments. Value them. A man has to have a reason to act if he is to be a man at all. Build up your convictions so that they steer you to action.
But what if Im not brave enough? Karl had replied. What if I if I dont have
No one is brave, except through someone elses eyes, Geoffrey had replied. There is no honor in diffidence. If you want to find your courage, accept your fears. Only then will you be able to grow.
It took time for Geoffreys words to seep into Karls soul. But, gradually, he began to listen.
Youre a deft shot, Karl. You have a steady hand. It seems youre a born rifleman!
Karl, watch your fingers. If a spark crosses your path, stray powder will blast them right off.
Please pay attention to how I load the musket, Karl. The routine is paramount. The more quickly you reload, the less time the Mewnee will have to blow your brains out.
Stop faulting yourself for what you cannot do, and do what you can. You will grow stronger if you practice. Hone your skills, and have faith that your value will be noticed.
Karl had never seen that sort of concern before, not from another human being. One day, he asked Geoffrey forthright: Why me?
What do you mean?
Why all this? Karl had asked. Why devote your time to me? Im just the horse with the boy. I mean
His face had gone flush with embarrassment.
I had a brother, once, Geoffrey had said, but no longer. The Mewnee destroyed him.
Thered been such pain in Geoffreys pale, green eyes.
It would be bad enough that the Mewnee defile our lands, but they do not stop there. They break our spirit. They make us meager and base. They force us to become scoundrels to survive. We are the people of the Holy Land, and they have brought us low. They brought you low, Karl, just as they brought my brother low.
Hed stared at him with those piercing eyes.
A Lassedites eyes.
I failed, then, hed said. I hadnt yet understood. But, Harmons death showed me the Light. We must lift each other up, Karl. Either we rise together, or together we fall. And I will not fall. I cannot. I will lift our voices, Karl. I will leave no Trentoner behind. However deep the darkness goes, we will push through it, to the Sunlight on the other side. I do it for my brother,
We must lift each other up.
Karl had never thought about that. The thought, so warm and full of hope, was like a stranger to his mind. But Geoffrey believed it. And, bit by bit, Karl was learning to make that belief his own.
Ever since then, whenever crisis came his way, Karl asked himself: What would Geoffrey do?
The fight against the Mewnees was a war of good against evil, and, like Geoffrey had told him, inaction or hesitation would be fatal. And with Geoffrey as his guide, Karl would never fail to do what was right.
No Trentoner would.
But that was what made the current situation so frustrating. For the first time in his life, Karl found others looking to him for guidance.
He wasnt used to such responsibilities.
Clearing his throat, Karl sat up straight. They were all gathered in a circle on the smoothy, shiny, patterned floor, as if at camp.
Geoffreys hair folded down on either side of his head like a ravens wings. He sat cross-legged, with his arms in his lap, looking more like a statue than a man.
Bevers dull blue armor seemed to barely contain his muscles. He was larger than life in every way. The man had to be twice as wide as any of them. He wrestled bruins for amusement, and his laugh seemed loud enough to shatter stone.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
Theres no chance of opening the door, Bev? Duncan asked.
The axeman groaned. The Hallowed Beast Itself would strain Itself trying to break through that damn thing.
Duncan stood off to the side. Karl could smell the sulfur on the mans light armor. His berry-blonde hair was as thick as gun cotton.
Theres no point in even attempting a rescue, Morgan said, rubbing his gown on his armor, polishing off the grime. Eylon''s either dead or worse than dead.
Morgans tongue was as sharp as his pike. Impeccably neat and eternally grim, hed daubed the hospital gown with his spittle to clean up his armor.
He hocked another gob of spit onto the gown. And soon, we will join him.
He looked up at Karl.
I will not abandon a brother-in-arms, Geoffrey said. Those traitors took Eylon. This will not stand.
Given the circumstances, it amazed Karl that Geoffrey could keep himself so well-composed.
So, Bever asked, dryly, what are we supposed to do with these things? He lifted up the console hed pulled from his bedside.
Karl felt the weight of his companions eyes bear down on him. It had been his request, after all, that they bring their consoles from their beds.
Duncan looked Karl in the eyes. Do you truly believe it is as they say? That we have time-traveled?
Karl nodded, and then answered Bevers question as best as he could. It helped that it wasnt just a matter of words. He could touch and point as he explained how to operate the marvelous device.
Much to Karls relief, Lt. Colonel Kaplan and Nurse Kaylin were true to their word. Hed told them everything that he could: about the battle at Fortton, about the strange tear in the air, and the sudden light. The Lt. Colonel had been both pleased and disappointed. He was happy to have learned more, but Karl sensed the man had expected for him to know more. Karl still wasnt sure whether or not they were Mewnee agents, but, at the very least, they seemed to be trustworthy.
Before rousing Geoffrey and the others, Nurse Kaylin had taken the time to show Karl how to use the console, as she called itthe glowing windows. Shed shown him how to use it with a tenderness that belied her foul tongue, and hed taken to it like a bird to the sky.
Karl had always been prone to flights of fancy, much to his fathers chagrin. As a child, hed often wondered what the future might have been like. Hed spend hours lost in musings, during the long, cold days of rain that sealed everyone indoors at summers end. Hed dream of flying machines that skirted the clouds, and miracle cures that banished all sickness; massive waterworks, a mile long, and secret cities within the earth, down, deep, where the witches dwelled. Hed share his musings with Fink as he tended to his friends fur and mane.
The horse was such a kind listener.
The future turned out to be wilder than Karl could have ever imagined, as his friends were about to learn.
Kaylin and Kaplan only began to awaken Geoffrey and the others once Kaylin was confident that Karl knew enough about the console and how to use it that he could explain it to the others on his own. The Lt. Colonel, meanwhile, had been kind enough to let Karl out of the restraints, so that he could be by his comrades sides as they woke.
Karl was lucky that the nurse had explained the console to him before awakening his companions with that strange-looking syringe of hers, because halfway through the awakening process, all hell broke loose.
Geoffrey had been sitting up and coming to, with Bever soon to follow, when Karl finally noticed it.
Eylon was missing.
Karl only realized it once hed been freed to get up off his bed and walk around the room.
Will and Geren were deadas was Finkbut Eylon?
Geoffrey noticed it as soon as hed come-to. By the time the drugs had taken effect and the others had woken, the room had devolved into a screaming match as tense as any battle Karl had ever known.
The military of the future had taken Eylon, for use in some kind of studies.
Karl hadnt the foggiest idea of what that meant, nor did Geoffrey or anyone else. And then, Geoffrey noticed the Mewnee script tucked away on the nurse and soldiers strange uniforms, and on the devices all around the room.
The nurse and the Lt. Colonel had left the room, locking them in. Bever had tried to break open either of the doorsthere were two, located at opposite ends of the long, broad roombut to no avail.
And now, Karl thought, they want me to tell them everything.
Having calmed themwell, Bever had done most of itand gathered them in a circle, Karls time had come. He had to find his courage, because it had fallen to him to lead his friends to the truth the way Kaylin had with him.
Tap the image of a the compass, Karl said, stumbling over his words.
Geoffrey looked him in the eyes. Calm yourself, Karl, he said. I know you can do it, and I know th you will. Geoffrey glanced at the others, because we need your help.
Nodding, Karl clenched his fists. Tap the compass, he said, and then he exhaled, tap the white bar that appears at the top.
He repeated Geoffreys advice in his head: Stop faulting yourself for what you cannot do, and do what you can.
Stop faulting yourself for what you cannot do, and do what you can.
Karl calmed, exhalingletting the tension out of his chest.
Oh! Bever said, in surprise. There are all these letters
Do you even remember your orthography? Morgan quipped.
Y-Yes, Karl said, nodding, the letters. Press the letters to spell out the words , and then and then press the thing labeled .
Kaylin had told Karl to type into the white bar the name of anything he was interested inany topic, any even, any person, place, or thingand he had, and the results were horrific.
Lt. Colonel Kaplan was right: these were the Last Days. And Karland, soon, his friendswould see it for themselves.
The most incredible thing about the console was the way it answered your questions: it showed you videosdisplays of moving images, accompanied by sound. A video was like dream made real, plucked right out of its dreamers head. Only, the dreams Karl had seen were nightmares one and all. Theyd show what was happening in the world outside the hospital. It had him making the Bond-sign every other second.
Kaylin had also mentioned something about a Flying Cloud.
If you want to know something, shed said, youll find it on the Flying Cloud. Id look there if you dont want to see stuff about the Green Death.
What now? Geoffrey asked.
Karl told him.
Anything? Duncan asked.
Karl nodded. Yes. You can look up anything at all.
What would you suggest? Bever asked.
Swallowing hard, Karl recited some of the most interesting tidbits hed found while hed been waiting for the others to awaken.
Elpeck, he said. Aerostat. The Second Empire. Train. Washing machine. Factory. Video game.
Karl couldnt bring himself to smile, even as Bevers eyes went wide.
Their buildings are so tall, the axeman whispered, awestruck.
In a moment, Bever forgot himselfas he so often did. He became as excitable as a child. Every minute or so, he prodded Morgan or Geoffrey to share his latest discovery.
Moving images Duncan muttered. Extraordinary
Angels breath Geoffrey said. There were tears in his eyes. He turned to Karl. He smiled softly. It is always safer to step than to leap, he said.
Karl gulped.
Bever turned in confusion. What is it, Gof?
What about those creatures? Geoffrey asked. All those men and women, raging like wild animals.
Simple, Morgan said, they were demons, and this is Hell.
Karl looked Morgan in the eyes. I dont think Hell is half as bad as this awful place.
Is that supposed to be funny? Morgan asked.
Sighing, Karl typed the words into the white bar on the console in his hand. And then he showed them.
There were gasps at first; gasps and shudders. Not even bitter Morgan could remain unmoved.
What could cause such horrors? Duncan asked, barely above a whisper.
The people of this era they dont know, Karl said. A Lt. Colonel in the Trenton militarythe the army of the Second Republic he told me many of them believe the Last Days have come.
They all made the Bond-sign, except for Morgan.
Anything else you have to share, Karl? Geoffrey asked.
I uh Biting his lip, Karl lowered his head. You were right, Geoffrey. The Mewnees are still here.
111.2 - Flying Clouds
There was a great deal of rage at first, then pain, then sorrow. Geoffrey took it the hardest. Hed given everything he had to the Resistanceand why wouldnt he, for he had nothing left to lose.
But it seemed it was all for nothing. All the death. All the guilt.
All for nothing.
They spent a while in silence, each finding their own ways of using their consoles to pass the time. But the silence did not last. Geoffrey tore through the stillness with violent bellow.
Damn it all! he yelled. Damn it all to Hell!
Karl flinched at the outburst. He didnt like seeing Geoffrey upset.
Pushing himself off his bed, Count Athelmarch began to pace. He made tight circles around the room, like a lion awaiting the gallows. He wept quietly, though, now and then, strange, harsh coughs interrupted his grief, leaving him wheezing and short of breath.
Karl looked up from his console. Geoffrey whats wrong?
Geoffrey marched over to his bed and picked up his console. Listen to this, he said, its from the Flying Cloud. He read aloud. In autumn of 1625, Athelmarch was reported missing and presumed dead following the Battle of Fortton. With the stain of his family name ever looming in the background, Athelmarchs early death cemented his place in the Trenton imagination as a ravaging beast of the Third Crusade, and all the controversies pursuant of his infamous battle tactics. As historian Richard Knowles writes, Had Geoffrey Athelmarch survived the war, the life of a statesman of the Second Empire might have enabled him to redeem his infamous lineage through dutiful service to the ship of state. Instead, his early death only further complicated his familys already problematic legacy.
Geoffrey plopped down on the bedside, utterly defeated.
Infamous tactics? Karl asked.
The accusation made no sense to him. There was more honor and decency in one of Geoffreys fingers than in the entire Mewnee army. If Geoffrey was guilty of any indiscretion, it was attacking the Mewnee when they were stricken by darkpox. But that was just the nature of war.
Geoffrey glanced at him. Its complicated, Karl, he replied.
This Flying Cloud might be a fabrication, Gof, Bever suggested.
If only. Count Athelmarch stopped and turned to face the axeman. Do you know what a meme is, Bever?
No, sir.
Well, Eadrics one, Geoffrey replied. The people of this era use images of his depiction in the Lightsbreath Tapestry when they want to convey a sense of total failure. Geoffrey shook his head. My name is cursed. Not even four hundred years has softened the stain on my House.
Im sorry, Geoffrey, Karl said. Its my fault.
The only way Karl could have brought his head closer to the floor is if hed prostrated himself like a cowering Mewnee.
Unfortunately, Geoffrey Athelmarch was not a man to let anything rest.
Dont blame yourself, Karl, Bever said.
Its my fault for asking you to look in the first place, Geoffrey added.
But Karl blamed himself, all the same.
With a shake of his head, Geoffrey cut his arm through the air. Its all ashes, now, he said. Geese and ashes.
My father is dead, Morgan said, flatly. My mother is dead, he added, listing out the names, Martha is dead, Engelbert is dead, Engelberts cow is dead. Our lives are dust in the wind. He chuckled bitterly. Well, at least Sakuragi is dead.
Coughing, Geoffrey sat down at the edge of his bed. I am undone, he said. He turned to the others. We all are.
The silence returned after that.
Karl had always found it difficult to wrap his head around the enormity of the burdens that Geoffrey shouldered. He wondered if being an Athelmarch had had a hand in putting all that steel into his spine. As a direct descendant of the loathsome Lassedite, Geoffrey and his family were reviled by all. For Karl, it was a struggle just to prove his own worth. He couldnt begin to imagine the labors required to redeem an entire lineage.
The sound of coughing grew more frequent with the passage of time. After a while, even Karl began to feel out of sorts.
Is this it? he thought. Is this how the Green Death begins?
Gah! Geoffrey yelled, startling Karl out of his thoughts. I cant bear this anymore! Geoffrey slammed his console onto his bedding. I cant look at it!
Whats wrong? Karl asked.
This DAISHU, he cried, its everywhere! Trenton fell into ruin, and the Mewnees came in like vultures to feast and sow. They rule everything, and are still as faithless as ever, besotted with their Great Sage! Geoffrey ran his hands through his black hair. Schools teach their language to Trenton children. Mewnees and their descendants sit in our houses of government. We are their vassals. He pointed at Bevers console. All those grand structures we saw? Mewnees own them! They even meddle with our soldiers. He shook his head. What was it for, our struggle? What was the point? They ravaged our land. They defiled our women. They killed priests in cold blood, torturing them like animals at the slaughter. We stain ourselves with the blood of millions to win back our freedom, and then we invite them back in? We might as well be kissing Sakuragis feet. Coughing, Geoffrey picked up his console and walked over to Karl. He shoved the screen in his face. These are the men that lead DAISHU, Karl, he said. Look at them. These Mewnees control two-thirds of the world.
Karl saw an imagea photographof Mewnee men seated behind a desk. They wore the same kinds of clothes as the modern Trentoners: black suits, with neckties around their throats. The things looked like nooses. Most of them were middle aged or older. Yet, however alien the image was, Karl recognized the looks on the mens faces. Hed recognize it anywhere. Hed seen the tight-lipped, austere expressions on their faces on the face of Magistrate Nishioka, as he gazed out from his carriage on his ride through town on the way back to his estate up on the hillside. The detachment, the self-assuredness.
Mewnee pride, now and forever.
Then, as now, it made Karl angry, though nowhere near as much as it angered Geoffrey and the others.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
There are whispers, you know, Morgan said, softly. Among the people of this era, there are many who believe the Green Death is DAISHUs doing. Might it be the Mewnees revenge, this plague? I would not put it past them to make a pact with the Norms.
Geoffrey stared at the pikeman. Karl could almost picture the wheels turning in his mind.
You saw the videos, Morgan, he said, their theyre being devastated by this p-pestilence.
Dont you see? Geoffrey said, stiffening, his eyes going wide. Thats it. These Mewnees are in league with the Norms. They might as well be Archlords of Hell in human skin. He lifted up the console. There are places on this Internet of theirs where people have the courage to talk about this openly.
Karl tensed with fear. W-What?
Theyre in league with Hell, Geoffrey said. DAISHU is the first wave of the armies of darkness. It conquered the world to clear the way for the Last Days.
Why would they do that? Karl asked.
Revenge, Ill bet, Bever said, with a nod. The Mewnees dont know how to accept defeat. You know how it is, Karl: on return from a failed mission, their warriors sehpookoo themselves. To atone for their delusion of lost honor, they slit their guts open, like lambs to the slaughter. When confronted by impossible odds, where a Trentoner would surrender, a Mewnee would rather blow himself up with a powder barrel.
They do not understand the value of a life, Geoffrey said.
Sakuragi would accept demonhood if it meant he could keep his status and power, Duncan added.
Maybe maybe the leaders of DAISHU went to Cranter Pit, Karl said. Could they make a deal with the Norms, Karl said, softly.
Geoffrey shook his head bitterly. Face it boys, as long as even one of those slant-eyed heathens dwells on Trenton land, the Third Crusade has not yet ended. These monsters are not just a threat to us and our motherland, theyre a threat to all the nations.
But what can we do? Bever asked.
Geoffrey nodded. We can show our future countrymen that there is still a cause worth fighting for. And if these truly are the Last Days, I will not rest until the Mewnee tyrants receive their place in Hell.
But they took our weapons, Duncan said. They took our comrade, Eylon.
And they killed Fink, Karl added.
Geoffrey nodded. And Fink.
Poor animal, Bever said. A horse in a hospital.
And in the far future, Duncan added. Fink has gone where no horse has gone before.
Green didnt get to live to see it, Morgan said. He died on arrival, his mutilated body merged with anothers.
What are we supposed to do here? Geoffrey asked. Sit and rot while the world rots and burns?
What could we do, Geoffrey? Karl asked. You saw you saw their weapons. What can we do against that?
Bever crossed his arms. There has to be something
I was definitely on-edge. There was a lot on my plate, and I was worried I wasnt cut out to deal with it. Worse, my guilt wouldnt let me wash my hands of all this. I had to do something, even if it got me killed, or worse, exposed. I knew it wasnt healthy to feel like I was responsible for the militarys heinous experiments. But, thanks to the magic of guilt and a childhood spent getting sin, sin, sin, yelled at my face at Sessions School every weekend, I did feel like I was responsible for Alons death and so many others, and that meant I had an obligation to fix it. Only a monster would stand by while people were being tortured.
But what happened if I screwed up, or worse, died? Then the one thing keeping the zombies at bayi.e., mewould be gone.
I couldnt begin to imagine the dwarfing mounds of guilt Id feel then, assuming I still had the capacity to feel said guilt.
Being nervous, uncomfortable, and apprehensive, I fell back on an old standby: putting the problem off to the side. I left a doppelgenneth in charge of my body, choosing to recenter my consciousness within my mind, if only for a change of scenery. Wanting to make myself feel as confident and useful as I could, I decided to get started working on a project I knew I would enjoy: helping Yuta make peace with his lingering regrets.
Ive gotta be honest, it was difficult staying focused on the apocalypse when I had a time traveler in my head, filled to the brim with memories of the world of yesterday.
It was a history nerds wet dream.
Yuta, quick, I said, after materializing in my Main Men and summoning his spirit to me. Imagine a place you want to go.
What? he asked.
Please, I said, just do it.
Alright, he said. Lowering his head slightly, he closed his eyes in thought.
Almost instantly, I sensed the memories as they bubbled to the surface of his mind. I changed our surroundings with a wave of my hand, plunging us into theas of yet, unmadeafterlife set aside for him within his soul crystal. Our surroundings spun about in a blur of blue. The colors shifted as the mind-world rearranged, filling the confines of Yutas little corner of Paradise with pieces of memory. The spinning soon slowed, and as things settled, we found ourselves in Vaneppo once morethough not the Vaneppo Id nuked. Instead, we saw the Vaneppo of the Munine colonial era.
And how it had changed!
The Soran Empire had a habit of rebuilding its conquests in its own image. Though pieces of the old Vaneppo remainedabove all, the world-famous tiled streetsthe city had been remade in the Soran style: neatness, order, and modularity. The tall streets crisscrossed by clotheslines and hand-woven awnings had been replaced by low lying Munine buildings. Their white walls and their curved, blue-tiled rooftops stretched as far as the eye could see. Futons hung on the balconies of their upper floors, left out to dry. Instead of the catwalks and walkways, the only tall structures that remained were pagodasbe they many-tiered temples, dedicated to tutelary gods or barashai, or the palaces and manor-houses of the rich and the powerful. Remnants of the vernacular architecture popped up like weeds in the pagodas shadows. In the alleyways, you might see the colorful splendor of Costranak storyquilts, woven with tales of families histories.
And there wasnt an elephant in sight. It left the streets strangely quiet, bereft of their honks and snorts.
I stepped forward, slack-jawed and awed. Is this?
Yuta stepped up beside me. Yes, he said, nodding. This is Vaneppo as it was in my time; in my youth, before he shook his head, well, before.
I figured I could ask him later.
Andalon looked around, as awestruck as I was.
Mr. Genneth, where are the fellatanties?
Angel, I didnt have the heart to tell her.
They theyve gone away, into the jungle, I said, pointing at the tree line.
Yuta glanced back at us. Thats not entirely wrong, he said. For many years, you could find the elephants hiding away in the jungle. I I found one, once, as a child, but only once. The samurai sighed, only to raise his head, filled with some sudden realization. Wait, he said. If this really is my era, then
Suddenly, Yuta started down the street. His sandals clopped on the tile, and his sheathed katana swished against his gray hakama.
Andalon and I followed him.
Part of my fascination with the sights was because Id seen them in person, though not in this era. Pel and I had gone to Vaneppo on our honeymoon. I found the city was a lot like traditional Costranak cuisine: lots of different pieces and colors, hurled together with rice and spice. It was noisy, and pungent, bursting with flavor and charm. Not even the ponderous, modern high-rises could cast shade on your day when you were scrounging around the street markets down below, munching on fried bread-wraps or having staring contests with all the lobsters. The Vaneppo I knew was the worlds fun weird uncle who wasnt really our uncle, but who we still loved being with, all the same. And for someone like me, who wasnt even six feet tall, walking Vaneppos streets made me feel like a giant compared to its brown-skinned crowds, barely five foot five.
Yet I hardly recognized the Vaneppo I saw as we followed Yuta down the streets. It was like the city was a Daiist garden, eerily orderly. No one ran down the streets. Many of the people we passed were little more than kimonoed flaneurs, strutting about with their parasols, wanting only to be seen. The actual business of city life was playing out quietly, off to the side. The commoners broad, cone-shaped straw hats cast shadows on the streets, as did the fronds of the canopy trees. The people kept their gazes low, and not because they were worried about the brightness of the tropical Sun.
Even though this Vaneppo wasnt as alien to me than the one Id nuked, it was still uncanny to walk its streets. Within a year of Simon Ruskins ascension to the throne as Emperor Simon Ithe first emperor of our Second Empirewe were sending ships over to the Costranaks to free the natives from the state of not being in our clutches. The streets in Yutas memories would be demolished all over again, this time to make way for a Trentonized vision of Costranak life. The natives were only marginally less unhappy with the Trenton occupation than the Munine one, which explains the revolution that happened a couple centuries down the line.
Finally, after turning down the side street of a side street, Yuta stopped. Here, he said.
111.3 - Flying Clouds
Wow I whispered.
Andalon clasped her hands together and held them close to her chest.
Sakuracherry trees.
In my book, sakura and fuji were locked in a dead heat for best tree, and the reason was pretty obvious: when they bloomed, their branches became paintbrushes. Their petals brought so much color to the world, youd think you were catching a glimpse of Paradise.
Just like I had my two favorite trees, so did Munine culture. We both agreed on the cherry blossom, but the Munine elevated the ginkgo over the fuji. Sakura and ginkgo were sacred to the Munine. The ginkgo, with its unique leaves, represented Truth, turning golden in autumnthe time of the barashai and their wisdom. Dreamy sakura, meanwhile, stood for the Ideal. Together, the two trees brought balance to the realms, calming the Great Sea Goddess in the aftermath of the creation of the worldor so their legends said. Wherever the Munine people went, they brought their trees with them, and only ecologists were brave enough to condemn them for it.
Andalon and I both looked up.
Its so pretty! she said.
I dont think Id ever seen a cherry tree quite as big as this one. It had to be one of the oldest in the city. The trees radiant petals were in full bloom, blanketing the rich, loamy earth with the sweetness of their colors. Behind it, I could see dashes of emerald and gold, a mix of the leaves of native flora and imported ginkgo trying to squeeze into the limelight.
We and the tree were surrounded by low-lying houses. Unlike the Munine buildings, these stood on stilts, in the traditional Costranak style. The buildings cowered in terrible poverty. Pel and I had glimpsed a couple of slums on our honeymoon in Vaneppo. Somehow, these were even worse.
The cherry blossoms almost covered up the awful stench.
A massive, white wall rose up opposite the wooden shacksthe edge of some wealthy Munine estate. Maybe a merchant, or a magistrate.
A separate, smaller, low-lying wall surrounded the sakuras trunk. Yuta approached the tree slowly, resting his hand on the wall before sitting down on it.
He hunted over slightly, and sighed. There was a forlorn look in his eye.
Whats wrong? I asked.
With but a thought, I froze the movement around us. People and livestock came to a standstill on the tiled streets.
Looking up, Yuta looked me in the eyes.
You can tell? he asked.
I nodded. Its kind of my specialty. And, even if it wasnt, I can feel it.
Lord Uramaru surveyed his surroundings. When I realized where we were, he said, I He lowered his head, as if in shame. I thought she might be here. And if she was, then, perhaps, so would the rest of my family. He shook his head. But they are not.
What?
He looked me in the eye again. Where is my family, Dr. Howle? Ive been meaning to ask you about that. He shook his head again. If this truly is Paradise, my families should be hereboth of them.
I sat down atop the wall of the planter, cater-corner from the samurai. Andalon, meanwhile, walked up to the tree and gave it a wide-armed hug. Her arms barely made it halfway around its trunk.
I looked Yuta in the eyes. I dont know where your son and wife are, I said. As for your daughter, shes being treated with the mycophage, and has been showing signs of improvement.
Yuta let out a rough sigh. Praise the barashai, he said. And Ichigo? he asked.
My expression fell, as did Yutas.
While Id been dealing with Alons ghost, Id used my body to inquire about Ichigos condition. I quickly got the answer, and, knowing that Yuta would not like it, I decided to keep it to myself until he asked.
Ive been meaning to tell you, I said, though, out of courtesy, I waited until you asked. But, now you have, and, well
I gave my lucky bow-tie the briefest tug.
Im sorry, Yuta, I said. He didnt make it. Yuta was taken into surgery for the wounds hed endured in the fight with the knights, but coupled with how the fungus had ravaged his body it was too much for him.
Where is his spirit?
I shook my head. I dont know, I said. Im so, so sorry. By the time I found out, his body had already been cremated.
Yutas emotions rose, as did his posture. So, he said, what does this mean? Will my retainer be cast out from Paradise?
I shook my head again, clasping my hands together as I hunched forward. I dont know. Maybe another transformee picked up his soul.
There was a painful silence.
From the way youve talked about him, I can tell he meant a great deal to you, I said.
Sukuna is Yuta inhaled, was my second wife. The samurai bit his lip, once again bearing his shame. I love our children with all my heart, though it was not always so with Sukuna. At first, it was a marriage of convenienceconvenient for me, but not so for her. I was freshly ennobled by Sakuragi; it was only proper that I took a Munine wife. He sighed. The first year was the most difficult. I think she resented me. She saw only my race. But, in time, a bond formed. We grew to care a great deal for one another, and yet His voice trailed off.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
I felt him channel the portions of my power that I had leant to him. In front of us, a woman materialized into beingperfectly motionless and motionlessly perfect. She was the fruit of youth at its ripest, with supple pale brown skin as sweet as candy. Her dark, wavy hair spilled from her head like water, overflowing from her simple sarong. She wore rough, beaten sandals and had fingered marred by calluses, yet she stood with poise and convictiona queen in rags.
Andalon smiled. Hi pretty lady! She waved her hand at the beautiful memory.
Who was she? I asked.
Yuta took a deep breath. There are many kinds of love, Dr. Howle. There is lust, sensuous and ripe. There is sandstone love, deep, and abiding, built up across the years, grain by grain. Yutas eyes glistened. His lips quivered. And then, theres that burning love, the one that wakes us from our lonely wanderings. The love of which the poets speak. He looked over the shade of a memory. Mayumi was all three. She was the love of my life. He looked up at the pink blossoms in the branches overhead. We met here, one day, under these very branches. He looked away. She loved to swim. He shook his head. She died from a jellyfish sting. I was barely even a man back then; our son was as fresh as an egg. Tears glinted in his eyes as his airy smile fell into a scowl. I lost Uz to the war between our peoples. He locked eyes with me. He was all I had left of her, and he, too, was taken from me, years before my second marriage.
Yuta dismissed Mayumis simulacrum with a wave of his hand. His haoris dark blue sleeve swung beneath his arm.
I know it isnt becoming, he said, but I couldnt help but see Ichigo as Uz. A second chance, you know? He is like a son to me. His spirit has the same fire that burned in Uzs soulthat thirst for glory. Yuta looked down the street. Not a day goes by where I do not think about Ichigos good fortune to have been appointed as my retainer. Had that not happened, he would be lying dead in an alley or open field, another meaningless loss in a meaningless war.
Im sorry, I said. Thank you for telling me. I nodded. And yes, I know what you mean about second chances. I glanced at Andalon, watching her look around, happy and free. I sighed. I lost my first son, too. His name was Rale. He was born with a congenital condition. It wasnt life-threatening, but it severely impacted the quality of his life. He was always frail and short of breath. He couldnt run and play like other boys his age, no matter how much he wanted to. I wanted him to have a better life, so I pushed him into getting a surgery that could have significantly improved his quality of life, but I shook my head. He died on the operating table. I brought my hand to my mouth. I have another son, now, Rayph. I smiled sadly. And, yeah hes definitely my second chancenot that I deserved it. I cried. And of course, I screwed it all up.
Im sorry for your loss, Yuta said. He was young, your Rale, when he died?
I nodded.
Those are always the hardest, he said.
Tugging at my bow-tie, I ran my fingers through my hair, and then rhythmically patted my hands on my thighs to rouse myself from my sour mood. I sighed again. Its good that we talked, I said, managing a smile. I guess we can count this as your first session.
My first what? he asked.
Yes. I nodded again. As Im pretty sure you already know, buried wounds dont heal. Your regrets. Your guilt. I looked up at the tree.
Gosh, it was pretty.
I sighed.
You dont get peace by covering them up. You have to dig the pain out of the ground and stare it in the face, and let it pass through you. I swallowed hard. It wont go away, but thats not the point. You have to build something good and new atop that pain. I pressed my hand on my chest. Talking helps with that, as does friendship. Well be having frequent sessions where well talk like this at length. You could say its a form of soul-healing.
He nodded. I understand.
Why did you want to come here? he asked. Was it just to start this soul-healing with me?
In both my bodies I could feel the guilt welling up at the back of my throat in both of my bodiesboth the mental, and the physical.
Yes, but, I groaned, not for noble reasons. Really, it was a forlorn attempt to try to distract myself. Im kind of like an onsen, I added, only, instead of hot mineral water, I spew up feelings of guilt and powerlessness. Helping souls like yourself get acclimated to the afterlife helps me deal with that. But, this I shook my head. This time, its bad. Its really, really bad.
Which part? he asked, General Marteneiss scheme, or the fact you are deceiving your colleagues as to the true nature of your condition?
Ugh! Groaning againeven louder, this timeI bent over and ran my fingers through my hair. Both, I said, shaking out my arms. Absolutely, both. I want to come clean to them, but Im terrified of what will happen. Im terrified of what it will do to them; Im terrified of what it will do to me.
You have powers, Yuta said, and, to the extent I understand it, so do all the others who are undergoing this transformation. Perhaps you could work together and use those powers for a better purpose.
I moaned softly. Beasts teeth, I muttered. The first thing that popped into my mind at that suggestion was, of course, Dr. Derric. Specifically, what he would do if I went up to him and said, Hey, Jonan, so, Im a transformee, and maybe we can use my powers and the other transformees powers to mount a revolution or something?
I dont know whats scarier, the thought of Jonan turning into a wyrm, or the thought of him getting excited about using my powers to make things go his way.
What? Yuta asked, confused.
I shook my head. Sorry, I was just thinking out loud.
Have you come to any conclusions? he asked.
I continued thinking out loud: If I try to turn our transformee patients into weapons, either in general, or just to be used against the General, thatll be the point of no return. No one will trust us anymoreno human, anyhownot even if the mycophage ends up working. And well drag all our transformee patients down with us. They shouldnt have to be forced to fight, not with what theyre already dealing withand I should know. I do know.
But what is the alternative? Yuta asked.
Hmm Letting out a soft chuckle, I smiled bitterly. II guess I dont really have anything to say in response to that.
I held out my hands, raising them up to the crack in the canopy where the Sun of other days was streaming through.
In here, I look human. But, outside I lowered my head. I dont think it will be much longer until my changes can no longer be hidden.
Turning to Andalon, I looked into her eyes. She didnt understand why I was doing it, but she didnt need to.
I sighed a very deep sigh.
Well, this is it, I guess, I thought.
Mr. Genneth?
Closing my eyes, I took hold of my body out in Thick World. I was only a couple of steps away from the knights room.
Back in Thin World, I stood up and looked at both of my companions.
Im about to talk to the knightsthe Trenton crusaders, I said. Once I ask them about their time travel experiencesthe time-melting thing, I added, nodding at Andalon, Im going to tell Suiseis transformee group about what Vernon is doing, and Ill ask if any of them want to join me, and, then well, I sighed, what will be will be.
At my mention of the crusaders, Yutas expression souredto put it mildly.
Ah them, he said. He looked me in the eyes. I would like to accompany you. I would see them for myself.
For a moment, I pursed my lips, but then an idea came to me. Actually, I know just the thing.
Sitting down beside him on the low-lying wall, I stuck out my hands and focused. In seconds, a fully functioning flat-screen television rose out of the pitted tiles paving the street beside us. Dust and dirt tumbled off the megaconsoles sides as it settled into place. A remote appeared in my hand.
What is this? Yuta asked.
We can watch it from here, I said.
Closing my eyes once more, I stepped back into my transforming bodytail, blazingly humid hazmat suit, and all. I didnt abandon my mental doppelgenneth, I just moved the root of my consciousness from him back into my body, which, by then, had finally arrived at its destination: the room where the knights had been sent after wed sedated them.
Standing in front of the door to the room, I straightened my bow-tie needlessly and clenched my fists.
Then I opened the door and stepped inside.
Back in the city in my mind, I pressed the power button on the remote.
The screen lit up, showing the live feed coming in from my eyes and earsand in surround sound, no less.
Lets watch.
112.1 - The Man with the Spotted Yellow Bowtie
One of the doors clicked. All the heads in the room turned, just in time to see the door swing open.
A man stepped into the room, wearing a sheeny green suit that covered his entire body, except for his face, which could be seen through a window on his helmet. He was pale, sweaty, nervous, and seemed completely miserable. Despite this, he wore a red-spotted yellow ribbon tied at his neck.
Karl wondered if the man was insane.
There was swelling on the back of the suit, as if a pack had been built into it.
Karl noticed the man was quietly muttering to himself. His gait was unsteady, like a limp, only stranger. He pulled out a stool from under a counter and rolled it across the room toward Karl and the others. He made a fuss about sitting down in it, hesitating for a moment, positioning himself awkwardly before getting settled. He tugged at the edge of his ribbon before looking Karl and his friends in the eyes.
Karl saw Geoffreys expression tighten. The Count of Seasweep stepped up, toward the man from the future.
You Geoffrey brought his hand to his mouth to cover a cough. I remember you, he said. You were there, during the battle.
The man nodded. I told you he said. Youve traveled forward through time. You didnt believe me then. Though, from what Ive heard, Nurse Kaylin had better luck convincing your youngest member. Smiling weakly, the man locked eyes with Karl.
His gaze was overly curious and off-putting. Almost invasive, as if he was trying to piece together every bit of detail he could notice.
Crossing his legs, Bever bobbed his head toward Karl. Yes, he said. Young Prestingham has been showing us, both the glory, and the horror.
Karl averted his eyes, feeling stupidly embarrassed. It was Nurse Kaylin who He gulped.
His whole body felt off.
She showed me how to use these, uh console-machines, Karl continued, raising up his console. The vid-eos took care of the rest.
The man smiled sadly. Theyre incredible, arent they? He shook his head. The technology, I mean, not the fact that the world is ending. He sighed. I wish you could have seen it a week ago. But, he said, after a moment of silence, with a light slap of the tops of his thigh, where are my manners? He placed a gloved hand on his chest. I am Dr. Genneth Howle. Im a neuropsychiatrist here at West Elpeck Medical CenterWeElMed, as we call it; thats capital W, lower-case E, Capital E, lower case L, capital M, lower case E, lower case D, no spaces. Though I he bit his lip, I dont suppose you know what neuropsychiatry is, now, do you?
Does everyone in Hell spell their words aloud? Morgan asked. Or is it just you?
Dr. Howle frowned. Well that was uncalled for.
Karl watched intently, feeling strangely bewildered. Dr. Howle seemed to have things even worse than him, and that was no small feat.
No, Karl said, shaking his head, we dont.
I um Dr. Howle started to speak, only to stop and softly hiss the word Fudge while clenching his fists. A moment later, he looked up at Karl and the others with renewed vigor. No more beating around the bush.
What? Bever said, furrowing his brow.
Karl could have sworn hed just heard Dr. Howle mutter, No, theres no bush.
If you are a doctor, Duncan said, you must be here to heal us. But what is there to be healed? We are unstuck in time, and this world faces the Moonlights judgment.
Why are you here, Dr. Howle? Geoffrey asked.
He pursed his lips. I I He huffed. Alright, so this is going to sound strange
Everything here is strange Morgan quipped.
Howle looked Geoffrey in the eyes. I need your help, he said. We need your help.
What do you want? Geoffrey asked.
It takes guts to ask a favor when you kidnapped one of our brothers-in-arms and house the Mewnee who beheaded another, Bever said.
Howle shook his head. This is a hospital, meant to serve the people of Elpeck. The military is not normally here, but, then again, these are hardly normal times, are they? he sighed. I am not allied with the people who took your colleague. Thats part of why I need your help.
Oh? Morgan asked, eyebrow perking.
Dr. Howles expression turned grave.
Yesterday morning, a contingent of the Trenton armed forces arrived at WeElMed under the command of General Vernon Marteneiss. The fungus has started turning the infected into zombiesuh, those are
I told them about the zombies, sir, Karl said.
Hell is mustering its troops for the Last Days, Morgan muttered.
Dr. Howle nodded. Yes, well all over the world, people are turning into zombies, like what happened when you arrived, and theyre going on rampages, attacking the innocent, spreading the plague.
But they stopped, Duncan said.
Howle chuckled, Im aware. He cleared his throat. And thats why the military is here. WeElMed stands alone, safe from the zombie scourge, and General Marteneiss is here to learn why.
Has he made any progress? Karl asked.
The doctor shook his head. No, and if he doesnt make progress, soon, theyre going to bomb the city. Elpeck will be wiped off the face of the earth.
What? Duncan said, speechless. In his shock, he let go of his console. The device hit the floor with a sharp thud. The lanky, blond rifleman stooped over and picked it up.
Yeah, Dr. Howle said, and, being a good guy, General Marteneiss doesnt want that to happen, so because hes a good guy, hes been kidnapping our patients and taking them to the basement of the General Labs building across the courtyard to experiment on them.
What? Geoffrey said, wide-eyed with shock.
The doctor nodded. Its worse than you can imagine, he said. Hes been turning the captives into zombies in order to figure out how the process works. Its a two-for-one torture-murder deal, and the hospital is doing nothing to stop it. Because thats what good guys do, right?
Kaplan said Eylon Karl exhaled, hes been taken to General Labs. I remember that much.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
The good doctor hung his head down low. Then hes probably being experimented on right this second. What better way to learn about time travelers than to cut them open? Its barbaric.
And your people allow this? Geoffrey asked, standing up stiff.
What else can we do? Dr. Howle said. On one hand, if we try to go in and stop them, our people are going to get killed, and there might be a riot, and, even if there isnt, everything will go to go to Hellperhaps literally, especially if the demons start invading in earnest and zombify people en masse. On the other hand, if we do nothing, all of that will happen anyway once the military inevitably loses control of their experiments. He frowned. I think the latter would be slightly worse, though. At least, if we tried to right this wrong, wed stand a chance of keeping the peoples trust. But if we idly sit by, doing nothing, theyll turn on us. And then what will we do?
Geoffreys gaze moved from one pair of eyes to the next. The look in Count Athelmarchs eyes told Karl everything he needed to know.
Here was something they could do.
And for this, you would seek our aid? Geoffrey asked.
Yes, Howle said, with a nod, but theres more.
More? Duncan asked, placing his console on his bed. How can there be more, when what you have asked is already too much for us? The guns your soldiers wield theyre unlike anything Ive ever seen. Theyre a terror to behold. What threat could we pose against such a defense?
And without the benefit of even our own weapons, Morgan added.
Their armaments had been missing since theyd awakened in this room. Nurse Kaylin had mentioned something about them having been confiscated, for reasons of safety.
Howle gave Karl and his friends a thorough look-over, as if he was searching for something. By the end, his pallid expression had gotten paler still. Youre all infected with the Green Death, he said. Geoffreys case is the most advanced, though the rest of you will catch up with him soon enough.
What? Duncan said, astonished. You cant mean
Trust me, Dr. Howle said, I know what Im talking about.
Karl turned toward the door. Then we are not long for this world
Dr. Howle nodded. Ill be blunt. Right now, everyone is dying. This disease destroys its victims minds. Their memories shatter. Since you are in the early stages, your mental and physical faculties are still in full working order. That gives you an advantage over our soldiers. This will be in close quarters, and one of my colleagues will help me guide you to where you need to go without being detected by the Generals men.
What do you expect us to do? Bever asked.
Free the captives and kill the zombies.
What will stop us from becoming demons? Duncan asked.
Youve only just been infected, Howle replied. It will be a while before the fungus can control you.
Morgan glared at him. Why would we risk but Geoffrey stuck out his arm and cut him off.
How will you and your colleague guide us to this General Labs building? Geoffrey asked.
We have maps on our consoles, for one. Its in, uh Dr. Howle turned to face Karl. You, uh whats your name?
Karl, Karl said. Karl Prestingham. Son of Markus.
Karl, Howle said, you said you know what a video is?
Yes, Karl answered.
Well, Howle explained, to make a video, you need a camera. Cameras have lenses in them, and anything they see, they can make a copy of, to form a video. He pointed up at a small, black hemisphere jutting out from the corner of the ceiling. See that? he said. Thats a camera. It is watching us as we speak. There are others like it all across the hospital. He lowered his arm. My colleague can access all of the hospitals cameras. He will have eyes in every hallway. Well know which ways are safe to take, and which are not.
We cannot help you while we are trapped in here, Geoffrey said, without our weapons.
Your weapons? Dr. Howle asked.
Yes, Duncan said. When we awoke, they were nowhere to be found.
I accept, Geoffrey said. But, first, we will need our weapons. Would you happen to know where our possessions were taken?
Your weapons? Howle said. He pursed his lips in thought. Theyre probably in the security office. Thats where we put weapons and other contraband. But, dont worry, Ill show you where it is, myself.
You? Karl asked.
Yes, Howle replied, Ill make sure you get to General Labs. I want to help you rescue your friend, and youll need my help in return, and my colleagues.
We cant open the doors, Bever said.
Howle nodded. Thats alright, Ive already taken care of that. Ive unlocked the doors. So, he added, what do you say?
Geoffrey, Morgan said, surely, you cant
But, again, Geoffrey cut the bitter pikeman off. I accept. He nodded. These monsters who would torture the people and abduct our companion they must be stopped.
Karl noticed a steely calm had settled over Geoffrey. This was the old Geoffrey, the one that had taught him so much. Gone was the sense of loss and aimlessness in the face of this doomed future.
Geoffrey had a mission, and he would see it through to the end.
As for yourself, Dr. Howle, Geoffrey said, you said you had more to address?
Yes, Howle nodded. Id, uh Id like to ask you about what happened when you time-traveled.
I already told Nurse Kaylin and Lt. Colonel Kaplan everything I know, Karl said.
Well would you mind telling me? the doctor asked.
Are you in league with the Mewnees? Geoffrey asked. I wont stomach any more traitors.
A spat of confusion graced Dr. Howles face. Mewnees? But understanding soon blossomed. Oh, he said, eyes wide and twinkling, you mean youre from the Sparking.
The what? Karl asked.
The Third Crusade, to drive Mu out of Trenton.
That we are, Bever said.
Dr. Howle shook his head. Im sorry, theres theres so much Id like to ask you, but we just dont have the time. He bowed apologetically.
Geoffrey narrowed his eyes at that.
Bowing like the Mewnees did had become a habit among Trentoners since the start of the occupation. Other than Markus, Geoffrey was the only person Karl knew who made a habit of not doing it, or who encouraged others to do the same. Apparently, when the Mewnee fled Trenton, they hadnt taken their habits with them.
Why do you want to know about time-travel? Karl said.
I think its our only chance to figure all this out.
Karl turned to Geoffrey. Should I, sir?
Geoffrey narrowed his eyes at Dr. Howle, perhaps searching for any sign of Mewnee influence on him. After a moment, he nodded.
Dr. Howle has aided us, he said. I see no reason why we should not return the favor.
And so, with a nod, Karl began to nervously recount the events leading up to the moment time had come undone. The memories were strangely vivid, as if he was rehashing them again, as he had in his dream. Dr. Howle listened attentively, not interrupting once. But the biggest surprise were the questions he asked once Karl had finished.
Back in your time, Dr. Howle said, in the days leading up to the moment you time-traveled, did you see any sign of the Green Death?
Only darkpox, doctor, Geoffrey said, gravely. The land barely endured that plague. I shudder to think of what the Green Death would have done in its place.
Dr. Howle turned to Karl. But, youre certain you saw a rift appear in the past? he asked.
Karl nodded. More than certain.
The doctor shook his head. But that makes no sense. What colors did you see around it, if any? Please, think carefully.
There were many colors, Duncan said, if I recall correctly. They were quite faint, and at the rifts edge. It lasted for but a moment. Then we were drowned in light, and you know the rest.
Dr. Howle hunched forward. That just makes things even more complicated He groaned.
What do you know that you are not telling us? Geoffrey asked.
There was a pause.
I think Howle said. I think the fungus might be attacking time itself.
What in the world? Karl thought. He could feel the hairs on his neck stand on end.
What does that mean? Bever asked.
The doctor shook his head. Im not entirely sure. Thats what terrifies me.
Can you stop it? Karl asked.
Again, the doctor shook his head. I dont know.
Suddenly, Dr. Howles console vibrated in his hands like a haunted rattle. He tapped the screen and then, wide-eyed, muttered, Heggy? Darn it! Why now?
What is it now? Morgan asked.
One of my colleagues wants to speak with me. Its urgent. Ugh He got up from the stool. She cant see me here, shed go ballistic if she knew wed gone and done exactly what she told us not to do. Im sorry. He bowed again. Ill be right back. Just wait, Ill be as quick as I can.
Then he got up and left the room, muttering something beneath his breath about blues and golds.
As soon as the door closed, Geoffrey turned to their companions. There was a fire burning in his pale green eyes.
Move, he said, quickly.
Bever and Morgan got up from the floor, with the pikeman dusting himself off as he stood.
Startled, Karl got off his bed. Wh-what? he stammered. What are we doing? What about Dr. Howle?
Theres no time to wait for him, Geoffrey said, and even if there was, I would not do him the courtesy. He pointed at the door. You saw his suit. It was embossed with Mewnee script. And he bowed. Geoffrey shook his head, flicking about his raven-black hair. He seems like a kind man, but I do not trust anyone in this demon-touched world. The Mewnees are still here, in league with Hell itself. We must act, and quickly. We will rescue Eylon, if there is anything left of him to save, and we will smite these demon zombees in their nest, once and for all.
God, Morgan said, we dont know where to go!
Geoffrey beckoned Karl with a wave of his hand. Karl, come here, and bring that console-machine with you.
Karl did as he was told.
Here, Geoffrey said, pointing at one of the iconsan image of a large-faced, blonde-haired man.
Karl pressed it. The screen filled with a new image: a grid riddled with blinking text.
What next, Geoffrey? Karl asked.
I Geoffrey stammered, I dont know the words. Just please, give it here.
Handing his console to Geoffrey, Karl watched as the Count of Seasweep pressed a symbol in the upper right corner consisting of four, short horizontal lines stacked on top of each other. A separate box opened up on the side of the screen. Karls eyes leapt down the words to the one that he knew Geoffrey had had in mind:
Map
Gather round! Geoffrey said. Gather round!
112.2 - The Man with the Spotted Yellow Bowtie
In a matter of moments, the hospital room had become the unlikeliest war-room Karl could have ever imaginednot that he had spent much time in war-rooms. The closest hed ever gotten was standing outside the tents at the armys war camps, listening to Geoffrey present his plans to the heads of the Third Crusade. But now, to be involved in that processand not just involved, but an integral part of it? Karl felt proud of himself. It was a rare feeling, and he savored every drop.
On an ordinary day, rescuing their comrade would have been all the reason they would have needed to mount a strike against the enemy, but here, there was so much more at stake.
Karl loved the way Geoffrey had put it: The wheels of fate are turning; we have been chosen to ride them. We will strike back at the Mewnees. We will reveal DAISHUs intentions to the world, and the Trenton people will rally to our side.
Leave it to an Athelmarch to try and land a blow on Hell itself! Bever said, with a laugh.
Karl sat atop his bed, with the console in his lap. The others gathered around either side. The devices feature was nothing sort of incredible. It showed an overhead view of the hospital, like an architects drawing. A red dot on the screen indicated the consoles current location. It had taken a minute or two for Karl to make sense of how to use it, but the tool was fairly intuitive. Pressing the up- or down-pointing arrowheads at the side of the map allowed him to navigate from one floor of the complex to another. By moving his fingers across the screen in certain ways, he could accomplish all sorts of marvelous things. He could change the portion of the map displayed, he could rotate it, he could even make the image larger or smaller. It was magical. Truly magical.
Will it do what we need? Geoffrey asked.
Karl nodded. Yes, I think it will.
He said they were taken to the basement of General Labs, Bever said.
Give me a moment, Sir Bever, Karl said. He could only enter the letters one at a time. Karl wondered if there might have been a quicker way to enter the letters, but he didnt have time to explore that.
Dont pester him, Bever, Geoffrey said.
Karl pressed .
The section of the map displayed on the screen hurtled from their current location to the first underground floor of another building, it said. A rectangle appeared in the middle of the screen, asking Karl if he wanted to to his .
Karl looked up at Geoffrey. Should I add it to the route?
Athelmarch looked bemused. What does that mean?
Karl thought it through as logically as he could manage. Before asking the map for the location of General Labs, Karl had, on Morgans suggestion, asked for the location of the security office Dr. Howle had mentioned. In doing so, Karl had discovered the device could display a red path on the map, to mark the journey you were supposed to takea red path on the screento show the journey they would have to take.
I think it means it will tell us the way to both locations, in one go, Karl said.
Why ask? Morgan said. Of course you should add it.
Sorry, Karl muttered, as he pressed the green circle beneath the rectangle of text. The green circle meant yes, and you had to push it to convey your choice to the machine. Simply saying yes aloud didnt accomplish anything.
A moment later, the map shrunk, the view pulling out to show a single red line. It marked out a path from their room to the security office, and from there to General Labs.
Karl handed the console to Geoffrey. Take a look, he said.
Geoffrey did. The Count of Seasweep then passed it around.
It even shows the distance, Karl said, and the travel time.
What? Duncan asked. How?
It indicates a thirteen minute travel time, Geoffrey said.
Say what? Duncan asked.
Karls father was as pious as any priest hed ever known, but Karl suspected his father would have stooped to killing a man, if it meant getting his hands on technology like this. The time and labor it would save in planning caravans routes would have beggared belief.
Its a measure of time used in mechanical clocks, Karl said. My father has one.
Mechanical clocks were quite the luxury, only available to nobility or townsfolk, like Markus Prestingham, who were wealthy enough to afford it. Villages had to make do with sundials or hourglasses, while bigger towns and cities had the benefit of clock towers in their churches and cathedrals, to ring out the hours for everyone to hear.
How much of an hour is that? Bev asked.
Bever, Morgan, and Duncan came from humble backgrounds; Bever having been born in a fishing village down the coast, several days journey from Elpeck.
A little less than a quarter, Geoffrey said. most concern the time from the security office to the General Labs.
It may take longer than that, Morgan said, with a scoff. Youre certain you want to risk us using their future weapons?
Geoffrey let out a harsh cough. Clearing his throat, he sipped down water from a cup from the rooms miraculous sink. Dr. Howle told us they keep their weapons in the security office, he said. We would be fools not to make use of them.
Theres no guarantee the information Karl found for us will be enough for us to operate these modern firearms, Duncan said.
Youre one of our best riflemen, Duncan, Geoffrey said. What you do not know, you will learn as you go.
That might be difficult if we cross paths with their soldiers, Duncan replied. Perhaps we should wait for Dr. Howle to
No, Geoffrey said, stern, but calm. If any stand in our way, we will deal with them accordingly. A physician of this era would not understand the necessity.
Times might change, Bever said, but skill is eternal.
Morgan rolled his eyes. I wish I shared your confidence.
There is no danger until we reach the security office, Geoffrey said. We will get what we can and follow the route to General Labs.
Whats left? Duncan asked.
Only the execution, Morgan quippeda bitter pun.
Geoffrey shook his head. We don the robes they put on their patients wear. Coughing, he walked up to one of the cabinets built into the wall. The nurse said they should be Opened the cabinet. Here.
Everyone went up to the cabinet and pulled out a white and blue patterned gown of their own. It took a bit of work to get it free, and still more to put the things on. It seemed they were meant to be worn in reverse, with the fastenings at the back, like a ladys bodice.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
What a flimsy thing this is, Bever muttered, patting down the cloth.
The robes were sleeveless, giving space for their garments to stick out, but, Karl had to admit, it made them seem less out of place.
Lass, Karl thought, I hope its enough.
Hold on to the console, Karl, Geoffrey said, handing over the device. ron, he added. centuries into the future, youre still our trust pack-boy.
Karl felt as if his chest would burst with Sunlight. He stood up a little taller. Its an honor, sir. I get to carry the magic. Its like a sorcerers grimoire from a Romance.
Guard it well, Geoffrey replied. He turned to the others. Lets be off.
And out the door they wentthe back door, the one Id not taken.
Their journey to the security office was uncanny and alien. The hospitals halls were a cenotaph to a world they would never know. he world of tomorrow weltered and drowned as it came undonell around them a swan song, left out to rot.
Geoffreys concerns about them getting noticed proved groundless. This place was mired in a war as fierce as any battlefield Karl had ever known. Seats and long chairs held the slumped-over bodies of the dead and the dying. Some expired where they stood, splayed out on the floor. Karl recognized the physicians by their odd garb. They were indefatigable, transporting their patients to and fro.
The reality of the plague was even worse than what the videos had shown. People vomited up black ooze, as if the land was spewing up tar. At one point, Karl had had to use the consoles map to find a detour around a hall clogged by people the Green Death had robbed of their memories. The poor souls were doomed to wander and wail, lost in a nightmare without beginning or end.
It was hard for him to watch.
Karl tried to lose his gaze in the consoles screen, not that it did much. He kept looking over his shoulder, still on his habit of checking up on Fink. Even on the coldest night, the horse would be warm and wet and full of life, a fire in flesh that Karl could lean against, and know he wasnt alone.
But it was just as hard for him not to look. Karl lingered, head slowly turning as he watched a line of physicians pass. It looked like they were going to try to guide the lost ones back to their rooms.
Karl made the Bond-sign and muttered a prayer under his breath, as did Geoffrey and the others.
Bever leaned in to whisper in Karls ear. It almost makes the Pox seem kind, doesnt it?
Karl didnt know what he could say to that, so he didnt.
Finally, they arrived at their first destination.
Karl, Morgan asked, is this it?
Karl briefly glanced down at the map. Yes. He nodded. Yes it is.
The five of them stood in an alcove in a hallway, in front of two glass-paned cabinets filled with food held in transparent, satiny packaging. Beside the cabinets sat a pot, bearing a small tree. At first, Karl thought it was mostly denudedleaves stripped, branches barebut then he saw the few remaining leaves were made of cloth.
He didnt know what to make of it.
The security office lay ahead of them, across the hall. If there was any doubt that this was the place, it was dispelled by the text embossed on a rectangle on the wall by the offices big, double doors. The doors were open, and were kept that way by struts unfolded from their base.
Whats the plan? Duncan asked.
We go in and ask nicely? Bever said.
Ever the fool Morgan muttered.
Geoffrey bit his lip. We will do what we will do. He glanced back at them from where he stood, at the head of their group. Come, he said, forward! His hospital gown fluttered around him as he marched forward, revealing his armor underneath.
Karl and the others followed. Karl felt his heart rise up into his throat as he stepped through the doorway. Duncan and Bever gasped.
I stand corrected, Morgan muttered.
Asking the security office for the return of their weapons wouldnt have gone badly at all, nor would it have gone anywhere else, because everyone here was dead.
The security office was a large open area, like a garden, barren and death-seeded. The wall at Karls right was almost entirely bare, while the wall to the left was inlaid with dark blue panels of some kind of glass. The panels almost entirely opaque, but let in just enough light for him to make out objects and figures on the other side, though were little more than darker blurs the darkened surfaces. A shiny polished stone counter sat dead ahead, and it was that which made them gasp.
There was a wall behind the counter, with walking space between itself and where the attendants sat. The wall was studded with console screens that showed what Karl could only guess were videos of other parts of the hospital. There were dozens of them. They had to be coming from the cameras Dr. Howle had mentioned.
Sword and Angel Karl thought.
The wall was a mosaic of horrors, with each screen a tile. The people manning the counter were dying or dead, it was difficult to tell which. The Green Death had ravaged their bodies. The fungus was sending up growths and shoots from the ulcers the plague had eaten into their flesh. Some of the growths were spreading onto the counter hungering ivy. Moaning and weeping lingered in the air. A cough ripped through the sound, as loud as gunfire, only to cut out just as suddenly, fading with a quiet groan.
Whoever it was, Karl knew they were dead.
Bever made the Bond-sign Angels Breath he muttered. Theyre all dead.
Duncan shook his head. And no ones come to check. He scowled. Have they no honor?
I I think theres just too much happening, Karl said. A man can only be in one place at a time, after all.
Theres nothing we can do for them, Geoffrey said.
A sickly-sweet stench clung to the air, like candied rotten fruit.
Bever shook his head. If I get my axe, I can put them out of their misery.
That you can, Morgan said, softly. That you can.
Geoffrey interrupted the solemnity of the moment by clearing his throat. If the people of this era have any sense, he said, they would not keep the weapons out front. Approaching the counter, he clambered over it and then turned toward the wall with the dark panels, pointing down the gap that led behind the paneled wall.
This way.
Bever, Duncan, and Morgan followed Geoffrey over the countertop. Bever crossed it in a single, vaulting bound. Karl took a different route, noticing a door in the counter off to the side.
He didnt want to drop the console while climbing over the counter.
Walking down the path behind the counter that went passed the paneled wall brought them to the offices core: an even larger open space, maybe twice the size of the entry area, filled with tables set up in aisles with walls of console screens mounted in front of them, arranged like a masons bricks.
There was a startled yelp.
Karl turned to the left. There was a dying man on the floor in the far corner of the room. A fungal growth was emerging from a crack in his scalp like a misshapen cockscomb, having sloughed the hair off his skull. He cowered in terror, moaning wordlessly, pawing at the wall with fingers rotten and bloody. Karl froze, as did the others. The man seemed to calm once theyd stopped. He folded into himself and he broke down, streaming soft tears.
Geoffrey took a step forward.
The cowering man screeched like a wild animal, recoiling in mindless terror, as if Geoffrey was the demon.
Geoffrey stopped and made the Bond-Sign. By the Godhead he muttered. Holding out his hands, he slowly stepped away. The cowering man watched him with an empty-eyed stare.
Geoffrey turned to face Karl and the others, with a look of utter defeat on his face.
Morgan shook his head. Take your own advice, Athelmarch. Theres nothing we can do here.
Duncan stepped forward. Gof look, theres a door. The rifleless rifleman pointed at the wall on the other side of the aisles of console-walled desks. Its open.
Geoffrey tried to respond, but a coughing fit stole his words away.
Karl swallowed hard.
The fit had clearly disturbed Geoffrey. The Count regained his composure with a nod. Lets go.
Through the doorway lay a narrow hallway, lined with rooms. The sickly sweet stench that peppered the air was even stronger here. Strange, shallow depressions marred the floor in long, slender streaks, as if carved in by many small strokes of the edge of a spoon. Here and there, the walls were covered in messy streaks of dried ooze.
Spread out, Geoffrey said. The weapons have to be here somewhere. He glanced at the stains and the abraded depression. But be careful.
Everyone nodded and then picked a room to search.
Karl chose a room at the far end of the hall. The door was closed. Turning the knob, he started pushing the door open when a shout belted out from another room.
Ive found them! Duncan yelled.
Karl moved toward the sound, only to stop dead in his tracks as a low, rumbling voice spoke from the other side of the door, like a murmuring regal.
Is someone there?
Before he even knew what he was doing, Karl turned and pushed the door open.
The door swung inward, revealing one of the serpent-monsters Karl had seen on the consoles videos.
The creature was tall, neck bending down where it abutted the ceiling. Its face was a mans, but on a head that was anything but. The creatures head was elongated lengthwise, as if someone had grabbed the mans face by the nose and stretched the skull in that direction, yet leaving his facial features unchanged. Glistening golden globes blinked on the sides of his head, surrounded by rinds that had once been ears. Spines grew out from his lengthened neck and back, the tips of which swelled with golden protuberances. One of his hands was deformeda claw. His legs were burnt, blackened twigs on either side of a plump cap of rust-colored flesh.
A budding tail.
Karl screamed. Footsteps pounded against the floor.
Time seemed to slow. Suddenly, Karl felt as if all of his nerves had been turned inside-out. Saliva frothed down his lips, and his limbs lost their vigor. Then the console fell from his hands, hitting the floor right as his vision suddenly tasted blue.
113.1 - Projection
I felt like a juggler, which was not good at all, considering my shoddy hand-eye coordination. Although Heggy demanding to speak with me face-to-face had definitely come out of the blue, overall, I felt that my encounter with the time-traveling Third Crusaders had gone pretty well, as long as you discounted the unexpected frisbee their description of the time rift had thrown my way.
Unfortunately, I had other matters to worry abouthence the juggling comparison.
Inside the world of his memories, Yuta was pointing at the wide-screen console Id raised beside the grand old sakura tree, yelling at me in outrage. Dr. Howle, this is absurd! Theyre obviously manipulating you!not safe! Standing up, Yuta stomped his socked-sandals on the dirt by the side of the narrow, tiled road. They played you like he turned to me, what is that musical instrument you told me about, the one you play?
The clarinet, I said.
Yes xactly thatHe nodded They played you like a clarinet.
Standing up, I glanced over at Andalon, who was cowering nervously against the trees trunk.
Yuta, please, I said, calm down. What are you talking about?
At this point, the people from Yutas memories were beginning to stare. Their eyes widened in alarm as they saw the television console standing beside the street. Broad-hatted guards in Munine armor came rushing down the street. I banished them all with a wave of my hand. The white, fortified walls opposite the stilt-legged hovels turned deathly still.
Closing his eyes, the samurai lord took a deep breath, cupped one hand, and pushed his fist into it.
You truly did not see it? he asked, calm and composed once more.
See what? I asked.
Yuta rubbed his forehead. Those knights, as you call them, will not be in the room when you return for them. I guarantee it.
What? I said, confused. But why?
He narrowed his eyes me. Theyre going to raid Vernons laboratory and rescue their comrade. Its as plain as day, and you gave them all the information they needed!
How? They wouldnt even know where to go!
Ichigo and I navigated the hospital on our own, and we did it while we were at deaths edge, Yuta said. They will have no trouble figuring it out for themselves, not with that Karl boy on their side, with his knowledge of your eras technology. Your countrymen were frighteningly resourceful in my time. You underestimate them at your own peril.
Oh I said. My expression fell. I deflated like a moribund balloon.
It did not help my confidence that Yuta had a knack for explaining things convincingly.
Fudge I muttered. I pulled at my bow-tie.
Why do you do that? Yuta asked.
Do what? I asked.
Yuta brought his hand up to his neck and made a tugging motion.
It helps me deal with stress I said, feeling very stressed. Then I sighed, and looked Yuta in the eyes.
At the risk of being impertinent, I said, do you mind if I ask why youre getting so invested in this? You said you wanted to see the other time-travelers, but now youre making this about me.
Is this another one of our sessions? he asked.
Maybe, I replied, though that depends more on you than anything else.
Why does it matter if I point out the knights misdeeds? he asked, crossing his arms.
In the study of the mind, I explained, there is a behavior known as projection. A person is psychologically projecting when they ascribe their own motivations and feelings to others. A person who frequently lies would be projecting if they, say, defended their falsehoods by accusing everyone else of being liars. A jealous man might interpret his rivals actions as being motivated by jealousy, even if nothing could have been further from the truth. People do this as a way of coping with feelings and desire that they have difficulty dealing with on their own.
Yuta pursed his lips. And you think I am doing this projecting?
Quite possibly, I said. I placed my hand on my chest. The knights? That was your fight, not mine. Youre projecting your fear of them onto me. I have no intention of fighting them. I nodded. Now, if you want to help me, Ill be happy to accept your assistance, but not if youre offering it with unsavory ulterior motives.
I stood up. Theres a lot at stake here. I know they killed you, and I know you were on the receiving end of the Third Crusades war efforts, but you are going to have to learn to put that conflict behind you. Its the only way youre going to be able to heal, and I sure as heck wouldnt want you to bring you fight into the present. Theres already enough going on right now.
Inhaling deeply, Yuta nodded. Fine, he said, after emptying his breath.
I noticed he was pressing the tips of his thumbs and forefingers together.
That was a hand-pose for Munine meditation.
He calmed himself.
I want to help you, he said. I am concerned for your safety. His expression turned grave, lips trembling. You are my only chance of seeing my daughter again, Dr. Howle. He swallowed hard. I will not let that chance be lost.
I closed my eyes and sighed. If our positions were reversed, Id probably try to do the same. I nodded. Your offer is accepted, I said, with a smile. Just try not to lose yourself to old wounds. I should know, I added, I do that all the time.
Yuta smirked. When I lose my temper, it is never without reason. I am certain the knights intend to mislead you, and that this will put you at risk. I am assessing a threat. Advice can be correct even when it comes from as you say, projection.
He was right about that. It absolutely could.
av my hand again, shatter the rest of the mind-world, leaving Yuta, Andalon, and I standing in my Main Menu.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
And then
Darn it! I muttered.
What is it? Yuta asked.
Dr. Marteneiss, I said.
Closing my eyes, I focused, recentering my consciousness in my physical body, making the me in my mind into a doppelganger, but not before opening a window in my Main Menu to give Yuta a view of the outside world.
Id walked a good distance from the knights room, having texted Heggy that Id meet her where Wards D, E, and F met out in the big hall.
She came rushing around the corner in a fast walk. She was agitated, and wasnt doing a thing to conceal it.
Genneth! she said.
I walked up to herwell, as close as social distancing allowed.
Whats the matter? I asked. Why couldnt we do this over text? Heggy whats going on?
Tell her you have to go, Yuta said.
Its not that simple, I said, sticking my hands out.
Yes it is, he replied. Now is the time for action! If I were you, I would Horoshas transformees. Their powers would be a valuable asset.
I wish it was that simple, Yuta, I said, but this isnt just about whats going on in General Labs. You have to understand, what those knights told me has made my theory go belly up!
What theory?
That description the knights gave about what the rift looks like? I said. It doesnt match what I saw!
I conjured my memory of the rift Id seen in the lobby. It played out in front of us, like a window in the air.
Is that a bad thing? Andalon asked.
I nodded vehemently, Yes! only to bite my lip and recant. Wellmaybe.
Yuta glowered at me.
Listen, Heggy said, about that stupid idea of yours
I stuck out my palms defensively, and shook them. No, nowe didnt do anything like that.
Moaning, Heggy closed her eyes and exhaled. She brought her gloved hand up to her PPE visor. Angels breath, Howle, she muttered, what have you done now?
Well, I
But then Heggy shook her head, as if cutting herself off. No no, what am I even sayin? I hate SNAFUs, she grumbled, I hate them so much.
Heggy, Im confused.
Listen, she said, you and Ani, you were right about what to do.
Wait, what?
In my Main Menu, I ran my hand through my hair. Leave it to me to become overwhelmed even when I had the ability to be in multiple places at the same time!
With a moan, I pointed at Andalon and then myself. Right now, I said, were working under the assumption that the rift I saw was a connection to &alon.
Yutas eyes bugged out as he instinctively became aware of the distinction Andalon and I had baked into our use of the words Andalon and &alon.
I quickly explained it to him, which resulted in him palming his face and shaking his head.
Yuta shook his head. This is a comedy of errors, he groaned.
Andalon nodded along with him, not that she had any idea what a comedy of errors was.
We can argue semiotics some other time, I said.
I went to try and talk some sense into my brother, Heggy said, but to no avail. If theres even a sliver of a dream that theres a way to beat the plague, he and his gonna do whatever it takes to see it through, no matter the cost. Theyre not even tryin to keep this contained. Its all consequences be damned. She shook her head. Now, please, tell me you havent gone and made things worse?
I decided to cut to the chase. Ani, Jonan, and I have a plan. Anis gonna create the distraction. Jonan will guide the knights to GL. Theyve only just been infected, so theyll have an edge over Vernons men. I got them to agree to help, but I have reasons to believe that they might have already left without me.
Heggys head trembled as her eyes fluttered wide. Waitwhat why are you here, then?
Because you
Heggy groaned. Just go! Go! She pulled out her console. Ill get in touch with the lovebirds. Well try and keep things under control.
And off I went.
I let a progeny consciousness take the wheel while I made my way back over to the knights room, desperately hoping that I wasnt too late. Meanwhile, I recentered myself into the me inside my Main Menu.
Yuta deserved my full attention.
Do not waste time going to their room, he said. They will have gone to the security office to collect their weapons. If you can, see that you get there before they do.
Im on it, body-me thought.
Right now, I said, I need to understand the rift. If the rift I saw really was a connection to &alonand it sure as heck felt like onewhy in the world would it appear in the past? I said.
Now it was Yutas turn to be confused.
I dont understand, he said.
Where the fungus goes, &alon goes too, bent on stopping it. If there were any traces of the Green Death in the knights time, it would make sense that the knights would have seen the &alon rift; shed be there, in the past, just like she is here in the present, fighting the fungus
the darkness! Andalon said, nodding her head,
I waved my hand. Same thing. Darkness, fungus, whatever you want to call it, the whole point is stopping it. So, considering the knights descriptions of the rift matched the one I saw in the lobby, either the rift wasnt a connection to &alon like I thought it was, or theres something else going on that Im not yet aware of.
Yuta stuck out his hand, as if imploring me to stop. He grimaced, squinting his eyes in confusion. Wait the disease can travel through time!? he asked, dumbstruck.
I nodded. Most likely, and thats just the tip of the iceberg.
Andalon started hopping up and down. Mr. Genneth! Mr. Genneth! Andalon has a think!
Go, I said, with a nod.
Maybe the rips were the same, but the kniggies didnt sees what you seed because theyre not wyrmeh.
That My jaw went slack. Thats actually a really good point, I muttered.
Is it even testable? Yuta asked.
I thought for a moment, and then nodded. Yes, I said. Yes it is.
I conjured up my memory of the rift in the lobby for a second time. I froze the playback right when the rift appeared.
When I first saw th, I said, my wyrmsight was active. In order to see what it would look like to an unassisted human eye, I just need to I focused. There!
It was like muting the sound on a video, only wyrmsight instead of sound. Ive just peeled away the sensory layer my wyrmsight was contributing to the memory. I rewound the memory with a twist of my wrist. Now, well see what it looked like to the average Joe.
We watched the memory play out.
Uh, Mr. Genneth, wheres the rifty?"
I put my hands to either side of my head. By the Godhead.
Theyre different Yuta said, awed.
The rift Id seen was all but invisible to what remained of my human eyes. Without the benefit of wyrmsight to elucidate it, the rift left just the barest patch of mirage-like quivering n the air. Even here, viewing the memory freeze-frame, it took a moment to see it. Had I not known where to look, I might not have noticed it at all, least of all if I was the middle of a battle.
Yet, with my wyrmsight on, the rift glowed like a strobe light on overdrive.
Fudge, I said, softlythen again, much louder. Fudge! I looked at Yuta, and then at Andalon. Theyre not the same! I said. My rift and the knights? Theyre not the same! Or, if they e, they so different that the difference itself worth worrying about
A shiver ran down both of my backsthe mental, and the physical.
What does it mean? Andalon asked.
I My voice trailed off. There were several possibilities, but, the most likelythe simplestwas
Beasts teeth, I thought.
I sighed heavily. I think the most likely explanation is that the rift the knights saw was that I gulped. Its the fungus tearing through time. Maybe its branching off into alternative timelines? Isnt that how time travel works? Is our present changing because the past has been re-written? II
This sounds very scary, Andalon said.
I nodded in agreement. Thank you, Andalon, for stating the obvious.
Perhaps they were mistaken, Yuta suggested, and the fungus had struck the past.
Hmm that would explain why the disease seemed to appear everywhere at once, simultaneously, I said, only to shake my head. Wait, no, that doesnt make sense either. If you changed the past, the alterations to the timeline would immediately ripple through to the present. I looked t Yuta. Thats how it works, right?
Dr. Howle, I may have traveled through time, but that does not mean I understand it.
I shook my head. Great, now things make even less sense. I need to talk to the knights, now! I need to correlate all this information, or Ill have no freaking chance of understanding whats going on!
What about reinforcements from Horosha? Yuta asked.
I shook my head. Theres no time!
Yuta, Andalon, and the Main Menu fractured and dissolved as I dismissed them to the void and plunged back into reality.
113.2 - Projection
I boosted myself forward with psychokinetic spurts. Id wrapped pataphysical nets around my feet like winged shoes of myth. Their power greatly lengthened my feeble strides, turning my steps long, low bounding leaps that thrusted me forward. I kept the power dialed back just enough so that it looked like I was merely running at an impressive clip. I could burst forward with abandon once I was clear of the core of the Ward.
Pulling out my mental mini-map, I charted a course to the security office.
As I rushed down the halls, I felt an itch in my brain. Somehow, I knew it was Yuta, demanding to be heard.
I decided to let him manifest.
Lord Uramarus ghost appeared in front of me, his arms crossed over his dark blue haori.
You dont need to remind me, I said. I know they would go to the security office first, but I just have to check their room, to be sure.
No, Yuta said, I was going to advise you that they will likely have picked up some of your eras weapons from the security office.
I groaned. Fudge me up the axe I muttered.
But what use was there in worrying about it now? Disaster had already struck.
When I arrived at their room, I flung the door open and jammed my head in.
There was no one inside.
As I expected, Yuta said, standing behind me.
I just needed to be sure, I muttered.
Hurry, he said. You might still make it in time.
I darted down the hall, pulling away from the frenzied activity of Ward Es heart. I let power flow into my energy shoes and burst forward at full speed, not worrying about prying eyes. The only people who saw me were the sick and the dying, and they were too miserable to care. I got maybe two or three stares from ooze-cracked sugar-dusted by the fungus spores, but that was it. Rounding a corner, I heard a door open from a patients room and dashed into a restroom niche for a moment to avoid being seen, but, other than that, I had no run-ins with any other healthcare workers. The security office was deeper in the Central Wing, and not located in any specific Ward. For most of us, it was just too far out of the way to be worth caring about anymoreout of sight, out of mind; they had their own catastrophes to contend with.
As had I.
Please, Angel, I thought, dont let me be too late.
Arriving at the security office, the first thing I saw were its wide open double doors. For a moment, I thought about dismissing the rings of blue and gold that swirled around my lower extremities, but I decided to keep them, just in case.
Then I heard screamsand not just human screams.
Mr. Genneth! Andalon yelled, floating beside me.
I know, I thought. I know.
I charged into the security office, leaping over the front counter in a single bound. For an instant, I felt genuinely heroic. Then I collided into the wall behind the counter. I shouted as I fell. I hit the ground with an ugly, painful thud.
I should have dialed down the power when I leapt.
Hearing sounds of combat from up ahead, I rolled onto my belly and looked up. My eyes followed the noise past the rows of surveillance desks in the large open area beyond the plastic separator that split the room in two. I made it just in time to see the combatants spill out from an open door on the far side of the room.
On The Guardians of Timemy favorite TV showthe time-travel shenanigans in the garage would often spill over into the Undergreen, West Elpeck Medical and Crusaders Hill and its environs. The fight playing out on the other side of the security office was like an episode of The Guardians of Time, only made by a production team from Hell.
Literally.
I saw Bever come running out of the doorway, carrying Karl in his arms. The other knights followed close behind, with their weapons in hand. They burst out of the doorway just before a set of claws tore through the frame, ripping out chunks of drywall. A moment later, a rust-colored transformee slithered into view. Ithe?dragged itself out into the open, roaring in polyphonic fury.
Ahead, Bever ran down the aisle space behind one of the rows of surveillance desks. Behind him, Duncan turned around and, in a shaky grip, pointed a modern-day pistol at the transformee.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
He fired.
The transformee bellowed. The bullets struck the discolored swaths of human flesh on his chest, in between spreading patches of orange scales.
The transformee threw himself at Duncan, but was cut off as Morgan and Geoffrey lunged forward in return.
Back, demon! Geoffrey yelled. Back!
Stop! Andalon yelled. Stop fighting!
Of course, they couldnt hear her.
I guessed it was up to me, now.
I groaned as I pushed myself up off the ground, and then sighed in relief as I used a psychokinetic scooper to lift myself into an upright position.
Morgan and Geoffrey pushed forward, striking with their polearmsa pike and halberd, respectively, by the looks of it. They thrust their weapons at an upward angle, like a gazelle bearing its horns. The transformees still-human eyes widened in shock. The creature lurched to the side, trying to dodge, but his stubby tail and vestigial legs kept sliding along the vinyl floor. He toppled to the floor, careening forward like a derailed train.
Sparks flew as Morgan and Geoffreys weapons scraped against the transformees scaly, spine-studded back.
The barreling transformee rolled into the walls of consoles in front of the surveillance desk. I managed to glimpse Geoffrey and Morgan through the gaps in the rows as they turned tail and ran, right as everything came crashing down.
Filling my psychic boots with power, I sprung, launching myself forward and up. I didnt quite clear over the top of the nearest console-wall, cracking a screen with my foot.
It was the kind of thing that should have hurt, but it didnt.
I quickened my thoughts at the top of my jump, right as I felt gravitys tug. Below, in the corner of my vision, I saw Bever looking up at me in astonishment. In the slowed time, my mouth began to movethe beginnings of a gaspas my wyrmsight showed how Karls condition had advanced.
But I could dwell on that later.
Even in the slowed motion, I was beginning to feel the pull of my descent. Id coded directions of force into my shoe-weaves, and now was just the time to change them. Instead of exerting a downward force, I made the filaments unwrap, sticking out like feathers from the back of my heel, and then I gave it a boost, launching myself forward. With a thought, I dismissed the magic shoe wrapit had done its dutyand reconjured the scooper from moments ago. I brought it up in front of my chest, to slow my quickening descent. It wasnt enough to stop it, but that wasnt the point.
As I let my thoughts slow and speed time back up again, I spent a moment thinking about what I was going to say to explain myself. It wasnt long before an idea came to me.
I just wished it would have been a good one, but it would have to do.
Time ticked like normal. There was a momentary dizziness as my magic worked its g-force magic. My course suddenly changed, angling downward. I leapt at the oncoming wyrm-man like a pouncing tiger, thickening the force wall against my chest as I fell. I spread my arms, feeling its false-solidness widen and widen.
I landed almost gently, skidding to a stop on the floor as my force-field grew through the consoles and desks to either side of me. My forcefield slammed into the transformee, sending him rolling back down the aisle. I pushed forward with my arms, pushing the forcefield forward the back wall. It was like Id sicced a bulldozer on him. The glistening threads pushed the transformee back, along with the debris it scooped up in the process: fallen consoles and chairs, and Morgans pike and Geoffreys halberd. The weaponss business ends clattered as they rolled back.
Dr. Howle!? someone yelled. I was pretty sure it was Geoffrey.
I briefly glanced over my shoulder.
Yes, it was Geoffrey.
I thrust one of my arms at them, palm open. Dont move! I yelled. I desperately hoped the time-travelers would recognize what the gesture meant: stop, dont do anything.
I then turned around, back to the problem in front of me.
My forcefield was still doing its thing. I hyperphantasized the sound of a snarling engine as I watched the transformee writhed against the forcefield like a snake in a cage. He kept trying to right himself and push off my forcefield with his changed hand, but to no effect. The barrier kept on knocking him down.
As soon as I saw his face, I glared at him.
Dont do anything! I yelled.
The transformees still-human eyes widened. He opened his mouth in protest. But
Dismissing my forcefield with a wave of my mind, I smacked my palms together as loudly and impressively as I could manage. I focused on a conveniently-sized objecta nearby toppled chairand willed a levitation weave around it. The unseen sphere of blue and gold force thrummed with gleaming power as it the chair up. For added effect, I raised one of my hands, flexing my fingers to give a claw-like appearance.
The chair rose over my head.
Stepping back, I slowly turned around, glaring at every set of eyes I sawAndalon and Yuta notwithstanding. And for the sake of my dignity, I pretended I was just playing with the augmented reality copy of Vaults of Mornn I had over at Margarets place.
I tried not to let the knights see me gulp.
I might have just taken the biggest leap of my life, but that was nothing compared to the leap of faith I was about to take.
Really, at this point, as long as they didnt think I was a demon, Id be satisfied
My name is Genneth Howle, I said, putting on the gravest tone of voice I could muster, and I am a sorcerer of unrivaled power.
To demonstrate, I changed the levitation sphere into a disk, directing its force outward. I flicked my hand right as I let the power flow.
The chair was sent hurtling through the air. It crashed into the wall on the other side of the room and clattered onto the floor, leaving a sizable hole in the dry-wall.
And I will not hesitate to use it, I added.
I made one more full turn. Soldiers of the faith, I said, trying to gum them up, the Age of Miracles has returned, and the Last Days have come. I am one of the Blessd. My powers come from the Angel Himself, and I am here to guide you. All of you.
The crusaders stared at me, wide-eyed with shock. For a moment, none of them moved. Then Geoffrey got down on one knee, as if I was about to wave the Imperial regalia over his head.
Blessd One! he said, staring at me with the utmost sincerity. His eyes were like fire.
The others followed suit moments later, their armor rustling as they moved, and clinking softly as they knelt on the vinyl floor.
Blessd One! they repeated.
For once, not only had my plan worked, it had worked even better than I thought it would.
I let myself savor a momentary bit of smugness.
Praise the bow-tie, I thought.
From the end of the half-ruined aisle of desks and consoles, the ghost of Lord Yuta Uramaru stood, shaking his head at me, his eyes wide shut in bemusement.
113.3 - Projection
Yes, for the record, that was my plan: convince them I was a sorcerer.
Was it dignified? No. But I was trying, darn it!
Id actually been debating whether it would be better if I claimed I was a wizard rather than a sorcerer, but, eventuallyby which I mean, in the slowed time of my big leapI decided against it. As far as I could tell, my use of pataphysics (or whatever you wanted to call it) was more sorcerer-like than wizardly; that is, it was an innate, spontaneously utilized ability, rather than a learned skill whose use Id prepared in advance. In the grand scheme of things, did this distinction really matter? No. But, on the off chance that the apocalypse decided to follow tabletop RPG mechanics, I didnt want to get caught misrepresenting the nature of my magic.
You never know.
Of course, Andalon didnt understand the distinction, nor did Yuta, but I was pretty sure that wasnt stopping him from judging me for having considered it.
Overall, I was quite pleased with my performance. Id convinced everyoneeven Henry, the transformeethat I was in possession of magical powers of divine origin. This was the easy part.
Unfortunately, after that, things got a lot more complicated.
For one thing, Geoffrey made it clear to me that I would rue the day if it turned out I was lying about who or what I was.
Were it not for the miracles you have wrought, he said, I wouldnt give you an inch of my trust. But it is not for me to question the will of the almighty.
So, there was that.
I stood in the middle of a ruined aisle, flanked on either side by fractured desks and toppled, console-mounted trellises. The floor was littered with upended chairs and slivers of broken tables and crunched plastic.
Geoffrey and the others stood in front of me, at the other end of the aisle, over where things hadnt yet been completely ruined. Behind me, Henry lay on the ground, his serpentine torso splayed out on a pile of broken furniture, his blobby stump of a tail wiggling behind him. He picked at the broken furniture with his claw. Hed stick the fragments into his mouth like they were toothpicks and then suck and chew.
I swear, I could see his tail getting longer.
It hadnt taken long to figure out why theyd been fighting. It was, unfortunately, Karls fault. The boy had collapsed, unconscious right as he opened the door to the room that Henry had been hiding in and, naturally, when the other knights rushed to his aid, theyd thought poor Henry was to blame. Granted, they also thought Karl had been possessed by an archdemon of Hellbut, one step at a time.
At my request, Bever had set Karl down on the floor in the middle of the aisle. Id grabbed a broken chairit was missing its backand sat down on it, using it as a stool. Id also levitated Geoffrey and Morgans weapons out from under Henrys underbelly and placed them beside Karl.
As for Karl, the boy was still unconscious, though the symptoms that Geoffrey and the others described him as having had stopped. Their reports were consistent with Karl having suddenly suffered a grand mal seizure.
On an ordinary day in an ordinary world, when someone without any pre-existing history of seizures (either of their own, or in their family) had a seizure, it was a very big deal that required an immediate investigation to determine the cause, though, by then, if something in the brain was really out of whackcancer, neurodegenerative disease, an infection of the central nervous system, etc.it was generally too late to do anything about it, and though this was neither an ordinary day nor an ordinary world, the same was true for Karls condition.
It was too late to do anything about it.
My wyrmsight had told me all Id needed to know.
It really was terrifying how quickly the Green Death progressed. Even now, the radiant, multicolored tendrils of fungal aura Id seen bundled up in Bever and Geoffreys chests when Id visited their room had already begun to elongate, reaching out to infiltrate the rest of their bodies, and Morgan and Duncan werent far behind.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Karl was the odd man out, and in more ways than one. His companions were older, beefier, and far more well-grizzled than he was. Had he lived in my time, he would have been a university student, not a soldier.
I wonder what Geoffrey and his companions would have thought of Karl had they known what was really happening to him. I could see wyrm-aura within Karls body, beneath the hospital gown he wore over his centuries-old armor. To my eyes, the violet, ultramarine light was as clear as day. It traced out a breastplate of runic circuitry over his chest, having spread there from his central nervous system. The transformations weave over his brain and spinal cord was making his bodys median axis gleam like a streetlamp at night. His brain was the bulb up top. Like with any other transformee, Karls seizure was just the first step of his developing Type Two NFP-20 infection. When he woke up, he was going to believe he was dead, and things were only going to get weirder from there.
Andalon sat down on the floor beside him, on her knees, staring at him excitedly, quietly muttering, Hes gonna be wyrmeh! over and over again.
Okay, I thought, thats enough now, Andalon.
Looking up at me, she smiled and nodded and said, Okay!, and then disappeared into thin air.
Kids these days.
I sighed.
Bever spoke up: So, do you know whats wrong with him?
This was the tricky part. Even now, the knights were deeply wary of Henry. They were genuinely afraid of him, for all the obvious reasons.
They thought he was a Norm; theyd even said as much. Yes, I had Andalon, and with her help, I knew things werent anywhere that cut and dry, but all of those facts wouldnt amount to anything if I couldnt get Geoffrey and the others to believe themand to believe me. The way things currently stood, I could attempt to dismantle their misconceptions, or, I could try to step around the issue (by which, I mean, Not talk about it) and wait until Id earned more of their trust before I fully broke the news to them.
I decided to do the latter.
Dont look at me like that. Youd have to be there to know what it was really like.
So, yeah, I wasnt going to try to convince them that the transformees werent demons. That seemed like an uphill battle, and I didnt feel the risk posed by failure would be worth the reward. That being said, I sure as heck wasnt going to do anything that would encourage their current view, not if I could avoid it. They believed me when I claimed to be one of the Blessd. I could use that to my advantage.
And not only that.
Yes, I said, answering Bevers question. I nodded. I do. But I need to ask you something, first.
Bever glared at me.
I needed to understand what the heck was happening with the various rifts Id seen so far. Was the fungus changing the past? Was there more than one version of our past?
I needed to know.
Obviously, its not like I could straight out ask the knights if their era was actually in my worlds past or some kind of weird parallel reality. They wouldnt know what to look for, and neither would I.
But there was one exception.
Yutas world and/or timeline had stars in it. If the knights world and/or timeline had stars, that would mean they were more similar to one another than they were to my own worlds past. What that would mean, I had no idea, because all of this was just waaaay too much for me at the moment, but at least it would be something.
My question is this, I said, do you know what a star is?
All of the knights stared at me. It was Geoffrey who broke the silence.
I do not know that word. I have never heard of such a thing. His eyes narrowed. Is it Mewnee?
A chill ran down to the tip of my tail.
This was not good. Not good at all. Granted, I had no clue what this absence of stars meant, but, given the way everything else was going, I figured Id rather be safe than sorry.
I sighed.
What is a star? Bever asked.
Its a long story, I muttered. But then I nodded graciously. But, thank you for asking question
This was proof; whichever worlds past they were from, itlike minewas starless.
Why?
It puts at least one of my worries out of the way, I said, though it would take me a while to explain the how. I cleared my throat. your question
I briefly slowed down time to make sure I had my story straight, then sped it back up again, and spoke as matter-of-factly as I could.
Karl has been chosen. Hes going to wake up soon, and when he does, he will be one of the Blessd. He will begin to develop powers, and I will be his guide. There are others here like me, I said, thinking of Suiseis group. Like me, they will be able to help Karl in ways that you cannot.
The knights rippled with motion as they collectively made the Bond-Sign.
Bever shook his head in awe. Little Prestinghams going up in the world, isnt he? he muttered, softly.
What about the Norm? Geoffrey asked. Narrowing his eyes, he threw a leering gaze at Henry behind me.
I shook my head. His name is Henry, I said, feeling more than a little peeved. I huffed. As for him, he has his own role to play in this, as do all of the Angels creations. Leave that to me, I said.
Are you sure? Duncan asked.
After glancing back at Henrywho was staring at me quite nervouslyI nodded. Absolutely.
How can you be so sure? Morgan asked.
Bever turned to his comrade and hissed. Morgan, hes one of the Blessd, dont
No, its alright, I said, waving my hand dismissively. Hes right to ask. I looked them in the eyes. I would have preferred if youd waited for me like I asked.
Forgive me doctor, Geoffrey said, or whatever you are, but I have more than enough reason to be suspicious of you and everyone around you. There are Mewnees here, he said. The very word made his lips curl in disgust. I see their script written all about this place. He knelt at Karls side. Karl showed me the DAISHU that rules your world. Geoffrey looked to his companions at his side. This is not the world we fought for. We fought to free the Trenton people from the Mewnee menace. He got up onto one knee. This DAISHU is in league with Hellwith the Norms.
113.4 - Projection
What? I asked.
Was this really what they believed?
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Yuta looking onward with a blank expression on his face.
I dont know what lies they have told you, Geoffrey said, but the Mewnees would stop at nothing to make this land theirs. Theyd make a deal with the Norms and damn us all if it meant undoing their defeat at our hands.
How does that lead you to conclude you can do this without me? I asked.
God! Bever said, clearly offended at my impertinence.
Geoffrey raised his hand. Its a valid question, Bever. He looked me in the eyes. I didnt trust you, he said. We need to rally the people. I have little doubt this General Marteneiss is in league with DAISHU. We will rescue our brother in arms and strike a blow for the Trenton people. We will show them the fight has not yet ended.
Mentally, I groaned.
I really hoped they hadnt been watching VOL. Last I heard, theyd been dealing with the apocalypse by running old episodes of Henrichys show.
Whatever the reason, I said, you need my help. I can guide you to General Labs.
Morgan held out a console. There is no need. Karl discovered how to use this contraption to create a map to show us the way.
I could feel Yutas I told you so look striking the back of my head.
Thats good, I said, but that wont tell you where the guards are. Youll get caught if you go in as you are. I can helpand in more ways than one.
Yes, we saw you get out a console of your own, Geoffrey said.
No. I was contacting one of my colleagues. He should be giving us the ability to see through the cameras soon enough.
Cmon Jonan, I thought.
I was just waiting for the Lets go to blare through the speakers inside my hazmat suit.
And, besides that, I added, youll have my formidable powers at your disposal. Trust me, you need me.
Geoffrey narrowed his eyes on me. If you have these powers, he said, why have you not taken the fight to the enemy? Your era is overrun!
Its not so simple, I replied, lowering my head. My duties are of a different sort: I protect souls from the fungus. I keep them from being corrupted into demons. They looked at me in shock and awe. Its because of my efforts that these demonsthe zombieshave been mostly kept at bay, at least here.
Are you truly keeping them at bay? Duncan asked. We fought those horrors when we arrived in your time.
Yes, I said, I was there, remember?
He looked at me nervously.
Darn it! Dont tell me their memories are already starting to go! I thought.
I was the one who made them stop, I said.
Geoffrey stared at me for a moment. You should have mentioned that first.
Im sorry, I said, this is all new to me, too. Its a race just to keep myself from falling behind.
Enough talk, Geoffrey said. We must hurry.
Wait! I said, reaching out with my arm.
There was more that they needed to know, and more that I needed to know.
Why are you doing this? I asked them.
To free our comrade, Duncan said.
To show the Trentoners of this era they need no longer bow to the Mewnees, Morgan said.
Geoffrey clenched his fist. This DAISHU is in league with the forces of Hell, he said, and your military serves their foul intentions.
Yes, I said, you told me already.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Yes, Geoffrey replied, and they must be stopped. The demons must be contained and expunged. Your people lack the will to do what is necessary He looked at his companions. We are not are not yet so dispirited or disabused. The enemy is in our midst, Dr. Howle. Geoffrey let out a horrid cough that made him stagger. He shook his head, clearly in pain. I am dying. I can feel it. None of us are long for this world, though perhaps Karl might prove to be an exception. He glanced up at the younger man, you lucky dog. Geoffrey turned back to me. If I am to die, let it be for a noble cause. That is what I think. He sighed. It is my last chance to lift the cloud that hovers over my Houses name.
Your name? I asked.
Geoffrey bowed his head. I am Geoffrey Athelmarch, Second Count of Seasweep.
My eyes widened. Holy fudge I muttered.
I was in the presence of an extinct breed. Rumors to the contrary notwithstanding, historians were in agreement that the last of the Athelmarches had been killed during the Prelatory. Prelate Zoster had declared the family Enemies of the Angel and had ordered for them to be rounded up and executed, and no one had lifted their hand to intervene on the familys behalf.
Your cause is a noble one, Geoffrey, I said. Its even nobler than you know,
What? he asked.
The others looked on in curiosity.
Yes. I nodded. Theres a young Maikokan woman theyve captured: Nina Broliguez. She shes also been gifted with powers. Shes one of the Blessd, though, as far as I know, she might be a reincarnation of the Lass herself. Either way, Id rather not see her become demon fodder.
Geoffrey bowed at me. You honor me with this request, doctor.
I stared Count Athelmarch in the eyes. I dont want anyone to die who doesnt need to die, I said.
If only war was so kind, Morgan quipped.
Is that all? Geoffrey said.
Yes, I said, only to add, well I still need to hear from Dr. Derric.
Alright, Doc, Jonan said, his voice blossoming inside my suit. Everythings good to go.
Right on time, I thought.
I sighed in relief. There, I said, Ive just got word from my colleague. Hes ready to guide us.
The knights bowed their heads to me, almost in unison, though shock soon bloomed on their faces as a groan stirred down below.
Ugh, Karl said, pushing himself up with his arms. What happened?
Since he hadnt seen my performance, I decided to give the briefest of encores. Whipping out my handy-dandy psychic scooper, I lifted him onto his feet. The young man yelped in surprise, and then stammered in shock.
I pointed at my chest. That was me, I said.
Dr. Howle? What
Youve been chosen, Karl, Duncan said. Its a miracle.
Karl turned around. What?
Youre one of the Blessd, Geoffrey explained, as is the good doctor. He gestured at me.
The young mans mouth gaped open. What!?
I nodded. Its true, I said. I would explain more, but Im afraid we dont have enough time. I lowered my voice. Something extraordinary is about to happen to you. Im coming with you and your friends; Ill help you on your quest; youll have my powers by your side. Ill explain everything as soon as I can. I promise.
Suddenly, Karls eyes bulged in his sockets as his brain made sense of the transformee lying on the ground behind me. The young man staggered back, shocked beyond belief, and scared out of his mind.
Wha-wha he stammered.
He wont hurt you, I said. I turned to face the transformee. Will you?
Henry started with a defensive reply: They but he soon cut himself off and just shook his head. No I wont. Im His sinuous neck slung down, shoulders slack. I dont want to hurt anybody.
I rose from my seat, walked up to the transformee and looked him in the eyes. As I said, theyre time travelers. They startle easily.
He nodded. I I can see that now, he said. He lifted his head. Whats going to happen to me, now?
Fudge I muttered.
I hadnt thought of that.
For a moment, I sped up my thoughts, until I came up with a plan.
Id ask Suisei for helpI mean, Yuta had been pushing for me to do so anyway. This could kill two birds with one stone. Knowing the knights attitude toward Munine people, they were more likely to kill him than trust him, but he could absolutely help out Henry, or at least send folks who would. Also, Dr. Horosha was currently my best shot at getting back-up if push came to shove and this desperate raid of ours ballooned into an outright catastrophe.
I returned my thoughts to normal. Hopefully, I said, some friends of mine should be here soon enough to help you. Ask for Dr. Suisei Horosha.
Shakily, the transformee nodded his head.
Dr. Howle, Geoffrey said, we must be off now.
I turned to face them. Im coming. I lowered my voice. Jonan? I said.
Did I hear you guys right? They figured out how to set up a map?
Yes, I answered.
Clever bastards. Well, sync your console with theirs. Get the map on yours, and then send a copy to me. You know how to do that, right?
Yes, I know how to do that much, I said.
Great! It looks like theres some hope for you yet!
Cringing, I walked off, following behind the knights. Yuta followed me wordlessly, with an expression that I couldnt quite make out. Was it pity? Respect? Concern? Worry? Or maybe it was all of them combined, and more.
As Geoffrey and the othersall excepting Karlvaulted over the front counter on their way out of the security office, I took out my console and quickly typed up a message, briefly slowing time to give myself a chance to figure out what I was going to say.
To Suisei Horosha and anyone else who might be listeningDAISHU, Father Shrovetide, the Holy Angel HimselfIm joining the time-traveling knights to go bust out the kidnapped patients that General Vernon Marteneiss is using as test subjects against their will. I am doing this because Im pretty sure that if we dont stop this NOW, were going to have a literal army of darkness on our hands. I realize this is probably going to get me outed as a transformee, but, I figure at least this way, Ill be doing something meaningful when it happens.
Suisei, in the highly likely event that this blows up in our faces, if you could get a transformee or two to serve as the magic cavalry to help contain the fallout, that would be great. Also, theres a frightened transformee in the security office who could use your help. His name is Henry.
Thanks in advance,
Genneth Howle, M.D.
114.1 - The Eye of the Beholder
Let no one ever say that it was easy to stay silent.
It had taken all of Pels strength to quiet her terror and keep from yelling at Rayph and Jules to run like wind.
If only escaping the Last Churchs clutches was that simple.
Pel looked up from her PortaCon and stared out through the Pirouettes windows. The Norms and their eager cultists were watching their every move.
And now were about to walk into the belly of the beast, she thought, as her gaze wandered up the looming flank of the Melted Palace.
Mom? Rayph asked, undoing his seatbelt.
Pel undid her own with a click, and then looked over her shoulder at our son.
Just stay calm, honey, okay? She tried her best to smile, and then reached out and pressed her fingers on Rayphs trembling knee. Stay. Calm.
Pel saw Jules lips stir out of the corner of her eye. She glared at our daughter. Jules responded with a shake of her head, an eye-roll and a bitten lip, her gaze drifting over to the Melted Palace.
Mom, were never going to make it out of there alive, she whispered.
Pel glanced at the half-wyrm standing guard on the street, not far from the short flight of stairs up to the Melted Palaces side entrance.
He was staring at her, licking his lips with a rotting tongue covered in green slime.
I think that ship has already sailed, Pel muttered, with quivering lips.
With a sigh, Pel stuffed her PortaCon into her purse, slung her purse over her shoulder, stepped out of the Pirouette, and opened the backseat door to let Rayph out of the car. Jules opened the passenger-side door and stepped out on her own. Pel made sure to link the car alarm to her console, so that if and when something decided to eat and/or grow inside the Pirouette, the car alarm would just go off on her console, rather than shriek out in the streets and lure all sorts of awful things with its noise.
As Pel walked up to the curb, out of sheer habitand probably a bit of disassociation, tooshe passed her hand across the parking meter, letting the scanner read her hand-chip along the sensor to charge her for the cost of the parking space.
The parking meter beeped in acknowledgement, ready to do its duty.
What are you doing? Jules asked, as she closed the car door.
Pel stopped, her finger hovering over the buttons on the parking meter. The machine was asking for the length of time she intended to use the spot.
Uh Pel backed away from the meter. Right she said.
Dad says its bad not to pay for parking, Rayph said.
Jules almost laughed at that.
One of the two gun-toting Last Church cultists over by the side entrance called out to them. Hey, get a move on! Its dangerous out here!
Says the man working with the demons, Pel thought.
Pel surveyed her surroundings once more, feeling even more vulnerable now that she and the kids were out in the open. Dark red stone walls rose high on either side of the street, their nooks and crannies looking more like the grooves of gums and fangs than ever before. At her back was the flank of the Melted Palace; ahead were ecclesiastical dormitoriesold new townhouses, built in the Second Empire style. The clergys residences were riddled with narrow streets and even narrower alleys that were filled with
She didnt want to think about that.
In desperation, she wondered, maybe its worth the risk, but then scratched that thought away with prejudice. Even if she could let the kids get to safety by taking the bullets the cultists would fire at them should they flee, that would mean leaving them alone as they faced the wyrm, and whatever dangers were lurking in the dormitories.
Once a place of life, the holy city of Elpeck was now little more than a hopper for the corpses the Green Death left in its wake.
Mom? Jules asked.
Pel tugged her coat closed around her with one hand, graing her purses strap in the other. She didnt regret being their mother. Not ever.
But mothers didnt get to choose the worlds their children would grow up to know.
Alright, she said, lets go.
Pel led the kids toward the steps. She bent forward and coughed, though she managed to cover her mouth with the sleeve of her coat.
The kids didnt say anything, and neither did she.
What was there to be said?
Pel was exhausted and terrified and achy and miserableand probably infected, because who wasnt?
Pel made sure to keep her breaths pointed away from Jules and Rayph. Even if it was only a matter of time until they caught the plague, too, Pel did not want to die knowing theyd gotten it from her.
Mothers didnt make themselves accomplices in a plagues murder of their children.
The three of them walked up the steps and headed into the building, with the cults guards following behind.
None of this felt real.
Lassedite Bishop was dead. And Lassedite Veruneno, he wasnt a Lassedite anymore. He wasnt even human anymore.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
Quite a few people had been less than thrilled by the thought of an inhuman monster laying claim to the seat of Lassedicy, though Verunes Norms had quickly disabused them of their misgivings. All that remained of the unpopular opinions were the shallow, tart troughs two Norms streams of spore breath had left in the basilicas pavement. The sight and the smell of it lived rent-free in Pels mind. Alive with wisps and plumes like alien fire, the green torrent had burned away all that it touched, reducing thedissenters remains to hissing, fizzing dregs. Horrified bystanders who stood too close to the death-cloud dropped like flies as the Norms spore-breath made the plague run wild through their bodies.
And the smell
Even from inside the Pirouette, dozens of yards away from the scene of the crime, Pel had been able to smell its sickly, rancid, overpowering sweetness.
Oddly enough, it made her think of me. I had a sweet tooth, after allespecially when it came to pastries and Pels cooking.
After causing a near riot by revealing himself to the crowdand the worldVerune had been in need of a place for his followers to park their vehicles. After all, you didnt need to be human to have a need for parking spaces. As with most things, this turned out to be easier said than done. Pels fears of parking her car in the Melted Palaces underground lot were borne out by the horrible, unearthly roars that emanated out from the entrance ramp mere seconds after Verunes convoy had starting driving their trucks in. Verune sent his Norms slithering in to deal with it; one even floated her way down the ramp. A few minutes later, theyd come back out again, significantly advanced in their changes, gazing on the world with three pairs of gleaming gold eyes each.
Whether the other cultists were still alive, she didnt know.
Pel put her hands on our childrens shoulders and whispered. Whatever you do, dont get close to the Norms.
You dont need to tell me twice, Jules muttered.
Mom, look! Rayph pointed.
His words knocked Pel out of her daze.
Over in an arched niche by the wall of a corridor, someone had set up a F-99 mask dispenser. It was about half full. Pel didnt waste any time rushing up to it and pulling out masks for herself and her children.
Once upon a time, it seemed, the Melted Palace had had at least one reasonable mind.
One of the guards stepped forward and grabbed Pel by the shoulder. What are you doing? he demanded, in between coughs.
Staying safe, Pel replied, after she finished putting on her mask. Seeing Rayph was having trouble with his, she set her purse on the carpeted floor and got down to one knee to help him put it on.
Hmph. The guard turned away. Get moving, Margaret is expecting you. His Holiness will be speaking soon. Mrs. Revenel wants you there.
Up ahead, an arched opening led out into the Great Nave. Pel could hear the Norms that were out there. And she could smell themlike lemon-scented gangrene, and rotting wedding cake
It made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.
Ii okay if we watch from the upper floors? Pel asked the guard.
Thats fine. Just follow me.
They walked past the entrance to the Great Nave, up to where the corridor turned onto a sumptuous marble staircase, mottled in dark shades and intricate sculpting.
Behind her, Rayph let out a yelp.
Flinging her head back, Pel turned around to see the half-changed Norm from out on the street slither through the side entrance and toward the Great Nave. Spines tipped in glowing green bulbs stuck up from his human torso, while his lower body was all serpentlong and thick.
One of the guards brought his hand to his earpiece. Understood, he said. He tapped his companion on the shoulder. Lets go.
Pel gripped the staircases balustrade. Where are you going?
There are some holdouts holed up in the clerics quarters, the guard said. Theyre not keen on listening to changelings.
You can watch the proceedings from above, the other guard said. Once theyre finished, someone will come to escort you to your lodgings.
We get lodgings? Jules asked.
The first guard nodded. Yes. Only the best for Margarets brood. Shes been expecting you, you know.
Pel and the kids looked at each other for a moment before continuing up the stairs to the second floor and walking up to the edge of the cloistered walkway, coming to a stop between two of its arches. Leaning over the low wall gave Pel a full view of the Great Nave below, in all its splendor. The stained glass windows shined their many colors, while the full glory of the afternoon sun poured out through the Naves ceiling Eye in a luminous cone. Currents of spores bobbed in the air, twinkling in the sunlight. They shined like grains of fire, green and gold.
Pel felt like she was going to vomit, and not just because she was sick.
Verune and his Norms were making the Great Nave into a serpents nest. It was like the dive bar back at her mothers place, only a thousand times worse. The Norms were everywhere, and they were making a mockery of the Great Nave. The pews were being torn out and ripped apart by tooth and claw and unholy magic. The Norms broke the wood into bits and pieces better fit to be piled into mounds to lay upon and coil on and around.
It wasnt enough that the world had ended; they had to go and debase the ruins.
And yet from where she stood, Pel could just barely make out the lower edge of the Sun Door at the back of the Nave.
Pel didnt know whether to laugh or cry.
Years ago, she would have said that no evil could get within a stones throw of that holy place. Even if the Angels Sword had been lost, the rock where it had once rested would remain hallowed ground. The power of God was as real to her as the air she breathed or the faces of her children.
But now?
She wanted to scream.
These monsters hadnt just destroyed her world. Theyd destroyed her hope.
Look, Jules said, pointing across the nave.
At the back of the walkway around the Nave, one floor above the Sun Door, Pel could see the Moon Doors had been thrown wide open. Though she couldnt see inside the Lassedites Audience Chamber from where she stood, she had little doubt Verune was there, planning Angel-knowswhat. After finishing his speech from the basilicas balcony, Verune had floated down to the pavement and flung open the Melted Palaces sculpted bronze doors with his supernatural power. The other Norms slithered behind him as he entered, holding their heads low in reverence.
There wasnt any sign the armored templars that were supposed to guard the Moon and Sun Doors.
She didnt want to think about what might have happened to them.
Jules looked left and right in furtive, nervous gestures. Alright, she said, seemingly satisfied, I dont think anyones watching us.
Is there something youre planning on doing? Pel asked.
Jules nodded. We need to get out of here. ASAP.
How? What do you think Verune and his cultists will do to us if they find us trying to leave. What do you think your grandmother will do? She shook her head. Not to mention, all of the exits are probably guarded, too.
You never know, Jules rebutted. This place is filled with secret corridors and shit.
Pel wanted to sob. Honey, youve been watching too many episodes of Guardians of Time with your father. R-real life doesnt work like that. She shook her head. Verunes men are getting the priests to join their cause. And even if we could make it to the car and drive away, the Norms would take us before were even halfway free, and the zombies would claim whatevers left.
So what are we supposed to do, Mom, Jules said, terror in her voice, just sit down and die? This isnt like you.
Pel wanted to say something comforting and wise, but she came up empty and sighed. I know, she said, softly.
Uh maybe one of the sneople can help uh keep us safe? Rayph suggested. It could be like an escort mission! He tri to be perky.
Jules narrowed her eyes at her brother. Sneople?
Snake people, he replied, with a serious nod.
Jules chortled. Does that mean were at snurch now?
Rayph, Pel said, you want us to get one of the Norms to help us?
He nodded. Uh-huh.
Pel wanted to point out that expecting a demon to help you would only lead to disaster, but shed been doing that very thing herself; shed gotten the Norms help in making it safely to the Melted Palace after a fashion.
Who would we even ask? she said.
We can look around, Jules said.
What can I do? Rayph asked, with a level of excitement his mother found genuinely discomfiting.
Stay close to me, Pel said, thats what.
114.2 - The Eye of the Beholder
The kids got put into one of the priests rooms. Pel had been insisting the Innocents house her and her children in an unused room, and fortunately enough, her status as Margarets daughter was enough to ensure her request would be granted. Unfortunately, that same status meant that when the demon that had taken over Margarets body invited Pel to a late lunch, Pel had no choice but to join her.
Apparently, Rupert wasnt available. Pel didnt know how to feel about that. She had never liked Archluminer Umberridge; he was to sneeze what lard was to bad cholesterol. And yet, for once, Pel found herself wishing for his company.
At least then, shed be able to leave.
Pel had joined her mother for lunch in the Great Nave as soon as shed gotten Jules and Rayph situated. Here, situated meant handing them consoles so that they could explore what remained of their dead worlds internet while begging, begging them not to go anywhere while she was gone, or do anything, or
Pels fingers twinned, an ache from how tightly shed clamped them around the edge of her console.
Lunch was being held on the cloistered walkway on the second floor above the nave, opposite from where Pel had stood with Jules and Rayph an hour before. It was a table for two, only without the table, unless you counted the sweeping girth of Margarets coiled lower body.
And Pel really, really didnt want to count that. She wished she was drunk out of her mind, or lost in the depths of a drug-addled bender. But she wasnt.
Sometimes, sobriety wasnt always what it was cracked up to be.
Pel didnt know what horrified her more: her mother, the two and one-third bodies lying beside her mother, or the charnel house horrors playing out in the Nave, below.
After leaving the room, it had taken all of Pels mortal strength to keep from turning around and running away with her heart screaming in her throat as the Grand Nave had come into view from where shed stepped out onto the Melted Palaces second floor. When approaching her mother, Pel had taken pains not to rush, nor to go too slowly, nor to scowl or shudder, nor to avert her eyes, nor hunch over too much nor lean back too far, nor breathe like a frightened bird, nor any and all of the anythings and nothings that the Norm could have taken as a sign that something was amiss.
Stay calm, Pel told herself. Stay balanced.
Pel kept her thoughts on the Moon Door far behind her and the Sun Door beneath it, and the Sword Chamber beyond. Those thoughts were a pendant for her soul; they kept her weighted toward the light, and she needed that, now, more than ever.
Pel prayed.
Though I walk beneath the eyes of Night, I fear no evil.
The thing in Margarets skin was blossoming forth, fed by the human remains piled around her.
The Angel guides my hand, and the Queens Law is my road.
Margaret had more than doubled in length, seeming more like a proper Norm now, her tail a plump, slug-curl coiled beneath her upper body. Her elongated neck gave her a monitor lizards gullet, with a wattle of distended human skin. The skin sloshing about with her meal, still bulging from within her throat, beyond the black ooze smeared over her protruding lips. The hanging skins pallor couldnt have contrasted more with the dark Norm scales spreading across her form.
The Beast walks beside me, chasing away shadow and bone.
As Pel intoned the prayer in her mind, more than anythingeven more than an end to the Green Death she wanted to believe in those words. The world needed the Angels holy power now, more than ever, and yet, He seemed content to watch in silence.
Hello, Pel, dear, Margaret said.
The Norm reached down with her monstrous arms, picked up the remains of a half-eaten corpse, and stuck the disembodied legs down her throat, biting down on them like they were oversized breadsticks. The way the bones crunched as Margaret bit down on them made Pel squirm.
Sit, Pel, she said, sit. She patted the floor with a claws hand, splaying her three fingers over the marble floor, making a wrinkle in the antique carpet laid out in the middle of the vaulted corridor.
Pel grabbed the balustrade alongside the walkway as she slowly lowered herself to the floor and sat down, cross-legged, never taking her eyes off her mothers body. She could see biomass crawling across her mothers body. Margarets underbelly brushed against the rug and the marble as it grew a little bit longer.
Come to mama, Margaret said, patting the flank of her lower coil.
Pel stared for a while, but then complied. Scooting across the floor, she pushed herself up against her mothers body, leaning against the warm, firm flesh, trying to get herself as close to the wall as she could manage. The marble was ice cold and its touch made her shiver and ache, but she couldnt bear moving away from it and getting closer to the Norm.
Margaret had piled her meals beside her, over the rug. Pel wanted to stay as far away from that corrupted flesh as possible.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.
She hoped her mask would hold up.
Where was the Angel? Where was her guide through this darkness? Had the Lass been here with the Sword in hand, shed have wiped this evil clean off the face of the earth.
Margaret pointed down at the Nave with a gore-slicked talon. Look, she said, isnt it beautiful?
There were many words for what was happening in the Nave. Beautiful wasnt one of them.
The Last Church was making good on Verunes proclamations. There were already half a dozen new Norms festering down below, drawn to the Melted Palace by Verunes words.
Pell dreaded to think of how many would come over just the next few daysassuming she lived long enough to witness it.
The cults system was diabolically simple. It was the same set-up as what Pel had seen in her mothers dive bar, only scaled up. The strongest Norms, furthest along in their changes, went out into the city streets to hunt for human bodies. The still-living ones and those changing into monsters were taken as converts. The rest were human carrionthe payments of sinto be gathered in piles in the Great Nave, for the Churchs Norms to feast, and the regular deliveries ensured the demons never wanted for sustenance.
An abattoir wouldnt have been half as gruesome as the piles of dead human beings amassed in the Nave. The divine image in which mankind had been made was scarcely recognizable in the fungus-ravaged flesh. Some of the misbegotten undead still moved, active zombies that the Norms dismembered as they consumed their rotten dignity, just to keep the food from crawling away.
When shed first seen it, Pel had immediately pulled Rayph and Jules away from the horrid sight. She didnt want her children to have those kinds of nightmares in their minds. It fell to her to suffer that in their stead.
The Last Churchs Norms changed as they ate. In a way, it was almost fitting: they acted like monsters, feasting on the dead as they did, only to become those monsters themselves, changing as they ate.
The recognizable figures of men, women, and children snapped and elongated as the demons within reshaped their bodies. They writhed and moaned as they sucked and chewed. Cracking teeth crunched on fungus and bone; tails wriggling out beneath the Melted Palaces majestic ceiling.
The demons were shedding their human shells. They shed them off, and raised their slender heads to greet the Sun.
Margaret watched it all with joy and warmth on her mutilated face. Pel couldnt remember the last time shed seen those emotions in her mother. As a child, shed always hoped to see them one day, but, now that she had, she wished she could reach back in time and tear those hopes to pieces.
All her life, Pel had believed in miracles. Shed lived by them and prayed by them, wishing for them in her every waking moment. And who wouldnt? Miracles were the promises made by the architecture of the soul of the world, the guarantee that she mattered, and that those she loved mattered, and that there would be justice. After all, miracles were how the Angel set things right. But now they seemed so far away. Once, her hopes had been confident and majestic. This was how the world worked, and here was my role to play.
But where was that now?
She couldnt let the Norm see her doubt. She couldnt.
Pel whimpered slightly. She nearly choked on the sound.
Margarets scales brushed on the carpet as she turned to face her. Did you say something, dear?
No, just just speaking to myself.
Dont do that, Pel. It makes you sound like a schizo.
Beneath her mask, Pel licked her lips. Her tongue was like gummy sand. She squeezed her console a little tighter, watching her own mummified horror glisten in the wet of Margarets tumescent eyes.
Pel knew the Norms and their human worshippers saw them as divine beasts, but all she saw were those hideous forms of theirs. In this sea of death, they were parodies of life, as if nature itself was mocking her.
Even so, Pel couldnt help but wonder
What if they were right?
Oh, God
What if they could see the divine beasts the Norms claimed to be?
No, that couldnt be true. Every word of all that Pel knew and believed in told her it couldnt be true. They were Gods words, not mans.
But still, that doubt lingered. That nagging, grating doubt.
Pel didnt know what to do. Shed always lived her life with her faith at her side. It was her constant companion, her guardian, her strength. But no, that support was gone.
Was my belief not strong enough? she wondered.
Or had she only believed because of the strength it had offered her?
But then she asked herself, what do I do?
Pel had barely noticed her mother beginning to feed on the second corpse, but then Margaret reached out and offered Pel the body, and Pel had to press her fingernails onto her dress and dig them into her thighs to keep herself from knocking the chair back and stumbling over the balustrade.
You want a bite? Margaret asked.
Margarets meal was an erstwhile priest, still clad in the Mallard Robes. Unlike the corpses from the dive barall of which had been twisted and deformed by the fungus until they barely seemed human anymorethis man was still fully intact. His prickle-bearded face was flushed with deaths calm pallor.
And he smelled of death.
It was the throat-squeezing scent of burnt chalk and dead dreams, slathered in caustic sweetness that nearly set Pels nasal passages on fire.
Margaret held him with a single hand, her claws wrapped around his torso. The priests robes shifted around as she flopped him about, revealing rivers of necrosis. Pus bobbed like sea foam on the black rot in his spore-dusted ulcers.
Oh God oh God oh God.
Pel was already nauseous, which made it a miracle she didnt puke her guts out right then and there.
She faked a cough to cover up the sound of a disgusted wretch jostling around in her throat.
N-No no thank you.
Margaret shrugged. Eh, your loss.
The Norm ripped off one of the priests arms with a gentle tug, and then tossed the severed limb up. With a flick of her lengthened neck, Margaret darted her head upward with her jaws opened wide and snapped the arm up out of the air, like a crocodile at a zoo.
Pel swallowed hard. Who was he?
I think he was Lassedite Bishops butler, or something? Whatever he was, he was probably another faggot, just like faggot Bishop, so who cares? Margaret waved one of her claws dismissively.
When did he die? Pel asked.
Watching Margaret eat this man of faith, Pel couldnt help but feel that the demon was gobbling up her own faith, leaving Pel hollow and forlorn.
Had the Angel abandoned the priest, too?
Dunno. He was found dead in his apartment. Margarets eyes widened in spiteful glee. The fucker hung himself. I bet it wasnt even the first time hed tried. Margaret spat on the corpse. Sicko.
Wisps of smoke rose up from where the Norms spores had landed on the dead priests robe.
Wait what? Pel asked. She hoped her mask would hide her alarm.
Had he killed himself because he knew was turning into a zombie?
It was possible, but it didnt match what Pel had seen. Everyone who had turned did so in almost the blink of an eye, usually with only enough time to cry out for help before their souls were stolen away.
So he couldnt have known. But that meant
Why are you Pel hesitated. She shook her head in dismay before redoubling her efforts, forcing herself to complete her thought. Why are you eating that man? she asked. Hes not a zombie.
114.3 - The Eye of the Beholder
Margaret looked away from the cloth-swaddled leg shed just ripped off the priests corpse.
So? She shrugged and then stuffed the limb down her throat and swallowed. Dead is dead, and meat is meat. Margaret burped. The Angel gave this man life, and he had the balls to spit that gift back in Gods face. Hes in hell for killing himself; who gives a fuck what happens to him now? Hell, he should be honored I ate him. Thats far better than what an unbeliever like him deserves.
This time, Pel couldnt hide her shock. Her eyes widened. Her flighty pulse rocketed. Youre youre eating people
For whatever reason, Margaret seemed to enjoy Pels revulsion.
I mean, yeah, honey, thats the point. Thats what Gods love is, and divine beasts like me get to administer it. Its a beautiful thing. With her powers, Margaret lifted the corpse to her mouth, then lashed out with her head and snapped up its skull. Bloody rivulets trickled down her jaw as she chewed through brain and bone.
Margaret swallowed with a sigh of pleasure.
For people like this unworthy fucker, she said, waving the priests corpse around like a dead fish, its my honor to make his existence never-ending agony for all eternity, and thats beautiful, cause its a reminder of how good those of us have it who were lucky enough to be saved. God is all. You dont even get to think about messing with Him. Either you bow, or you will be broken.
One of Margarets teeth fell out of her mouth. Her tonguea turgid, black, rotting thingdarted through the opening and pushed a couple more teeth out to clack as they fell to the ground.
Suddenly, Margaret raised her head. Her eyes went wide for a moment.
Huh Margaret let the remains of the priests body flop limply against her coiled flank. This pussy was the Lassedites Secretary. Killed himself after Bishop told him he was a faggot and then kissed him.
How do you know that? Pel asked.
The Norm pointed at some empty space on the carpet. Hes standing right here.
Pel stared. I dont see anything
Something must be wrong with your eyes, then, Margaret said. Maybe youre cursed or
Suddenly, Margarets brow (or what remained of it) furrowed in aggravation. She turned her head to the side, to address the empty space on the carpet.
The fuck did you just call me? Margaret snarled, then sneered and grinned. I guess your torture will be starting early, you miserable rat.
Margarets eyes widened in surprise. Beasts teeth, she pointed in glee, look at that!
Look at what? Pel asked.
Margaret turned to face her daughter. I just turned that piece of shit into a rat! Its like magic. She blinked. Oh, now theres an idea.
She traced out movements with a clawed finger, as if following something racing around. Look at him go! Hes a rat made of shit. Angel, that must burn.
But, seeing nothing, Pel held her tongue.
Margaret turned back to the invisible rat with a smirk. Oooh what if that shitty little head of yours was the size of a bowling ball.
No sooner were the words out of her mouth than Margaret raised her head and laughed, clapping her claws in joy. Look at that! Angels breath, thats ugly. But she quickly grimaced in disgust. Oh, shut the fuck up already. Its your fault you killed yourself. This is what you deserve. Angry, Margaret reared up and slashed her claws through the air. A moment later, she settled back into her coils. Good riddance.
Pel had no idea what was going on, and that just made it that much more terrifying. Though Pel hadnt seen the rat her mother had seen, she certainly felt like one, resting as she was against the Norms coils.
For one thing, the demon in her mothers flesh seemed to have lost touch with reality. She was seeing things that werent there. Worse, she was eating an ordinary person!
Pel had to force her leg to stay still. She kept as unmoving as a statue.
If the Norms would eat anyone
Pels stomach turned in knots.
One mistake, and she would be in for an eternity of torment.
Once again, Margaret pulled Pel away from her thoughts. This time, it was with a casual flick of a claw toward Pels face.
Pel flinched. She couldnt believe her heart hadnt already leapt out of her chest and raced down the corridor.
Must you wear that awful thing? Margaert asked.
What?
The mask, the Norm said, pointing at her daughters face.
Pel tried to be as diplomatic about it as she could possibly manage. I She glanced over the changelings feasting down below. Their bodies twitched as they changed. You saw what that spore breath did to those people in the basilica.
Margaret nodded. Yeah, that was pretty cool, wasnt it?
Pel let out a whimper of a laugh, and then coughed and cleared her throat, once again trying her best not to vomit.
I dont want that to happen to me M-Mom, so Im wearing the mask, as are the kids. I Pel tried to look elsewhereanywhere, other than the demon within arms reachbut everywhere she looked was worse. Im Im worried the spores are unsafe. Unsafe to breathe.
Pel froze stiff as the Norm bent over and ran a clawtip along her skull. The touch stung, burning as it cut her scalp and drew up blood.
Pel, honey, you have nothing to worry about. Your mama is becoming a creature of God. Ill keep you and the little ones safe and sound.
Pel wanted to scream, but she couldnt.
A demon had eaten her mothers soul, and was going to eat hers, too, and her childrens.
She nearly passed out, but a sudden scrape of groaning metal shocked Pel to the core. She turned about as she screamed, causing her hand to slip across her consoles screen.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
The console clattered to the carpet.
Oh, calm down, Margaret said, its just the patrol coming back.
Pel reached down and grabbed the PortaCon, barely noticing that shed accidentally set the camera to Record mode. But Pel didnt bother to turn it off.
She was too transfixed.
Sitting up straight, clutching to her console once more, Pel lifted her back from her mothers coils, to get a clear view of what was going on down in the horror in the Nave.
The zombie-filled afternoon wafted in as the Melted Palace mighty bronze doors swung open, and a Norm slithered into the Nave. The creature had to be the size of three cars laid end to end. Bodies hovered around it, first bunching up close as they floated in through the doorway and then spreading out, moving through the Nave like a flock of birds. The Norm whirled the corpses around with its dark powers, settling them down in a pile among broken pews.
Two smaller figures staggered in behind the Norm as it pulled in the tail end of its body. The figures were younga boy and a girl and almost human.
Angel, Pel thought, they have to be about Jules age!
Both of the newcomers had sizable tails, which dangled behind them, limp and ponderous. The girl, especially, looked oddly familiar.
The big Norm spoke, his lower jaw hanging slackly, like a snakes, but with a broken hinge. Pel had difficulty parsing his words. It was like speech melting into music.
Here, you can feast, he said. Join us in this sacred meal as you embrace the glory the Godhead has prepared for you.
The young man literally leapt at the opportunity. He used his unholy power to glide across the floor as if his feet were winged. He quickly slipped in between two other Norms, joining them as they fed on a pile of overgrown corpses, eating like suckling piglets and wriggling eels.
Then, to Pels shock, the girl screamed.
What the The girl stepped forward and lifted her arms in horror. What the fuck is this!?
Pel got onto her knees and leaned against the balustrade, her console till in hand.
Jessica? Pel muttered.
Could it really be her?
Why are you screaming? the big Norm asked.
Look at what youre doing you fuck-face! the girl yelled. Youre eating people! Youre freaking eating people!
Okay, now that was definitely Jessica Eigenhat.
The teenagers words echoed through the Nave. Feasting Norms looked up from their meals, their heads bobbing on their slowly lengthening necks.
That name took her back. Pel remembered how awkward it had been for everyone when shed had to stare down Jessica and her mother while she and Jules had been sitting before Principal Shepherd at Jules school.
The girls had gotten into a fight. As usual, Jessica had been the one whod started it.
She never gave Jules even a moment of peace.
The young Miss Eigenhat was the quintessential popular girl: the girlboss whose good looks, connections, and lackeys made her the head bitch everywhere she went until her early peak finally ended and she came crashing down into middle age. Even now, Jessicas long blonde hair was incapable of looking anything less than great, though there was no trace of the black, sequin-studded hair band she usually wore
Theyre demons, kid, the big Norm said, answering Jessicas hostile question. As divine beasts, its our duty to consume that evil and punish it and destroy it.
Jessica took a couple steps away from the Norm. Divine beasts?
Yes. The Hallowed Beast Itself is channeling Its power into us. Werent you listening on the walk over?
Honestly, no, Jessica said. You said you had food. That was good enough for me.
Just enough pieces of a human face remained on the Norms head for him to scowl as the Norm flicked his tail behind him, side to side behind He reared up his forepart, more than three men tall. A divine beast shouldnt be so flippant. With great power comes great responsibility.
And by responsibility, Jessica snapped, you mean eating people!? She gestured in outrage.
The Norm lowered himself to the ground and lunged at Jessica, who yelled in fright as she stumbled back. Jessica lost her footing and tripped over the tail of a feeding Norm, landing side-first onto a pile of corpses.
The girl shrieked as if someone had just pulled all her hair out by the roots.
The bodies stuck to her like flypaper as she hit the pile, faces and limbs plastering themselves to her still-human skin.
With a scream, Jessica pushed off the pile, desperate to pry herself free, only to scream even more as the dead flesh fueled a surge of change. Her voice distorted as her body deformed, the clustered corpses smoothing out, spreading their mass over her body. Growth bolted up her arm as her limb slid over half-crushed flesh. Her clothes tore. Skin exploded off her hands as her palm and fingers doubled, then tripled in size.
She tried to crawl away, but one of her legs broke at the knee.
No! Jessica screamed. No!
The other Norms watched this display in confusion.
Then an all-too familiar voice boomed from the second floor balcony, near the Moon Door.
Verune.
What is the reason for this commotion? he demanded.
His voice drew everyones eyeseven Pels.
With a spurt of power, Jessica managed to thrust herself off and out of the pile. She raised her head, struggling to speak. Im
She got up on her unbroken knee. The leg behind it was gnarled and shriveled, like a burnt match. Im not some fucking cannibal! Jessica wept as she screamed. Isnt this supposed to be a church? Youre all monsters! Youre all fucking monsters!
Open your eyes, girl, Verune said. Repent of your sins. He cooed in melodious polyphony. You have been chosen for a great and beautiful purpose. You should be honored to join the ranks of the divine beasts.
Verune summoned water with a flick of his hand. A stream of spore-stained water rose up from the basilicas fountains and its reflecting pools and flowed in through the doorway, where it coalesced into a sphere in the middle of the Nave. Verune thinned the sphere into a vertical disk and then turned it to catch the light of the setting sun passing through the Imperial Promenade. The disk lit up with the sunlight, becoming a brilliant mirror.
Look at yourself, girl, he said. See yourself as your Creator sees you.
Jessica shook her hideous, misshapen head. No no She started bringing her hands to her face, only to look at them in horror.
She screamed.
Dont cry, Verune said. Why are you crying?
Jessica raised her arms in rage. Look at what youve done to me!
Yes, I will. Verune said. And do you know what I see? He smiled broadly. I see a beast of myth, scaled in sapphires and maned in fire of gold. Your fangs are pearls that cut through the dark. You are beautiful.
Are you kidding me? Jesica shrieked.
Lying is a sin, Verune said.
All the Norms stared.
With a groan, for a speechless moment, Jessica lowered her head and stared at her hands, entranced by the Lassedites words. But then she shook her head.
No! She clasped her head in her hands. No, no no! Not again! She closed her eyes and screamed, flailing her hair. When she opened her eyes again, she bored down on the Lassedite in a glare of renewed determination. Fuck you! I already went through this bullshit once before! I know whats real, and what isnt!
Im showing you the truth, Verune said.
Jessica thrashed. No, youre not! Youre fucking hallucinating, and I should know, it happened to me! She looked around the Nave, locking eyes with the changelings. Listen to me, I thought I was going crazy, but then I realized: it wasnt fucking real! It was all in my head! Our thoughts have power, damn it! They make us see what isnt there! Jessica nearly swatted her head with her enlarged hand as she pointed a budding clawtip at her face. This is real! This is what we are, and it isnt changing!
Pel couldnt believe what she was hearing.
And yet
The newer Norms looked around, confused and afraid.
It isnt real?
What is she talking about?
I saw so many things. Crazy, crazy things!
Margaret had been hallucinating. The Secretary. The rat.
Jessica glared at Verune. Youre fucking nuts, bucko! she yelled.
Brothers, calm her, Verune said. Get her under control. Shes been corrupted. She must be healed!
Norms in more advanced states of change slithered out from the shadowed hallway at the Naves sides.
Leave me alone! Jessica yelled.
What if they were crazy?, Pel wondered.
The girl tried to run away, but stumbled, her changed body refusing to obey her like it once did. Jessica scraped across the marble as she fell to the floor. But then the approaching Norms caught Jessica with their power.
She never stood a chance.
No
Pel wanted to do something, but what could she do? Margaret loomed over her like the shadow of death, watching the proceedings in the Nave with the utmost interest.
Jessica writhed and flailed, fighting back with powers of her own. Her strikes flung bodies and broken pews left and right, streaking ruin across the floor But then her body quivered and calmed, caught in the web of the Norms unholy might. She tried to yell. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
The Norm slithered off, floating their prisoner alongside them, powerless to fight them.
What was her problem? Margaret muttered.
Pel pressed the pause button on the PortaCons surface, knowing that everything that had just happened was now recorded for posterity.
She had to know more.
115.1 - Shisha no kagura
You told her to do what!?, Heggy typed.
I mean, its working, Jonan texted.
Well, damn you, and the horse you rode in on! Heggy texted back.
Heggy stashed her console in one of her pockets and then picked up the pace. She also felt like shit, but then, so did everybody else these days.
Especially now.
There was a frog in the hallway. A big frog, as big as the horse that had appeared in the lobby. It was green and corpulent, paunch-bellied, with bulging yellow eyes that twitched in its slime-slicked sockets. It sat on a lily pad that hovered maybe an inch off the ground.
Further down the hall, fists hammered on the insides of doors.
People were stuck, and couldnt get out.
The frogs gullet ballooned with chirruping noise. The creatures edges flickered with pixelated instability.
Damn hologram, Heggy thought.
It was Jonans idea, obviously, and hed made Ani his accomplice.
Dr. Marteneiss! one of the nurses yelled. She was trying to calm some of the patients, but to little avail.
Frog! Frog! one of them said, pointing a trembling arm at the hologram in the hallway.
Sadly, enough of the patients minds were far enough gone that they thought the holograms were real. The patients scattered like frightened children, much to the other healthcare workers dismay.
Ill handle it! Heggy said. Just get the doors unlocked. We cant deal with a crisis without the manpower to do it!
Right! the nurse said, replying with a nod.
Heggy charged through the frog.
She had a bit of a trek to go through.
As part of Dr. Derrics, Lokanoks, and Howles three-way insubordination stunt, Jonan had proposed a brilliant idea for a distraction: fuck with ALICE and make the doors lock on their own and the hologram projectors go hog wild. And as much as Heggy hated to admit it, Jonans plan appeared to be working.
Everything was coming up crazy. It was like the most demented Cheldmas house shed ever seen. The hospital was full of life, and it was annoying as hell.
Big-eyed M-pop idols walked along the walls, singing a fast-beat tune. A can of soda pop hovered menacingly above the E Wards reception desk, slowly spinning to show off the brands logo. There was a calming cypress grove by the trauma stations, and a Benundi drake rodeo act was playing out in the Suture. Heggy dimly recognized some characters from her grandnieces favorite video games waving in front of one of the cafeterias. Pixelated curtains crisscrossed hallways like electrostatic cataracts, amid the fake gunfire coming from a chase scene from an episode of CSI:EPD playing out in real time.
That last bit really threw Vernons men for a whirl.
Whether it was because no one noticed her, or they were simply too busy to care, nobody stopped Dr. Marteneiss as she made her way to an IT station out in the big hall in between Wards E and D. It was simple set-up: a desk and counter here, some consoles set up behind them, and some more consoles set up on the wall. There was pair of shoes and a half-torn buttoned-up shirt on the floor behind the chair behind the desk, and for a second, Heggy wondered if that might have been a hologram, too, but then realized it was real when she saw the actual hologram: an animated chili-figure of Werumed-san dancing in the middle of the hallway. He was dragging his fingers over his face horizontally, making Vs with his index and pointer fingers.
Speakers further down the hall blared out sound effects to accompany the holograms set loose in the hospital. Some of them were quite loud.
Heggy did a double-take when she thought she saw a real live demon prowling down the hallway, only to realize it was just an illusion.
Next to the screens up on the wall behind the IT desk, a door was ajar.
Room 112.
Heggy figured there was all of two minutes left before one or more of Vernons soldiers tracked the madness to its source.
She was about to fling the door open and storm inside when the door opened on its own and a certain Dr. Ani Lokanok came creeping out through the opening.
She couldnt have looked more suspicious if shed even tried. Ani looked left and right, to check if the coast was clear, only to flinch, wide-eyed, as she locked gazes with Dr. Marteneiss.
She stuck out her palms in self-defense.
Dr. Marteneiss, I can explain!
Dont need to, Heggy said. Genneth and your boyfriend already filled me in. Now, cmon, she waved her arm, lets skedaddle.
Heggy led Ani out into the Hall of Echoes. She had to hiss at Dr. Lokanok to try to not look so guilty as they passed a group of soldiers traveling in the opposite direction across the marble expanse.
The great outdoors beckoned.
Try your best to look like youre just out on a stroll, Heggy whispered, as they crossed the sett-stone paved street, toward the Garden Court.
Ani furrowed her brow. I dont see many people strolling, she said.
The two of them settled down under the wilting boughs of a sickly willow, near the edge of Garden Court. Heggy felt dirt-tired, and from the looks of it, so did Dr. Lokanok, but nerves had a way of keeping you on your toes. They stood by the roses, and lavender, and boxwood, where the grass edge came up against the black links of one of the militarys hastily erected fences.
Ani leaned against the willows trunk. Withered leaves fell from its boughs like dying butterflies. The tree itself bowed down, like a penitent at Divulgence.
Heggy spent a few minutes just looking around warily, sick with worry that she was about to get caught abetting a disturbance of the peace.
But no one came.
Ani seemed to drown in gloom. She kept looking over at the General Labs building, expecting something to happen, even though nothing did.
Normally, Ani was a vivacious young thingperspicacity personified, with a big mouth and even bigger glasses. But, now Dr. Lokanok was as silent as the sea, and just as turbulent.
It was clear the news of her fathers death had hit her like a ton of bricks.
The afternoon was getting long overhead, not that the overcast autumn skies showed much sign of it. Sunlight poked shy holes through the lopsided quilt of overhanging clouds. Vernons boys had been busy as beavers, building up their improvised military facility from black latticed walls and copious amounts of tarp.
She had to hand it to them. The set-up theyd made in the Garden Court was as secure as any Heggy had ever seen. Theyd built a miniature aircraft hangar in one corner of Garden Court Drive: white tarp strung on metal ribs, packed full with a handful of aerostats. Troop transportswheeled or treadedwere scattered like sentinels along the four-cornered street. The fronds and fans of granite sett pavement were the floor of a never-ending security checkpoint.Stolen novel; please report.
The Garden Court itself was a sea of tents, framed by black lattice walls, watchtowers, and fellas with big armor and even bigger guns.
Especially the white ones.
Last Heggy had heard about those heat rays, they were supposed to be experimental.
No time like the present, I guess, she thought.
The garden and the drive were littered with lines of people and tides of trash. Heggy saw discarded wrappers, cracked consoles, abandoned bags. Entire garments had been shed onto the street or the grass. About half the tents were privy to those lines, the people in them waiting to be checked and tested, hoping for some kind of treatment, orif possibleadmittance into the hospital. The rest were makeshift clinics, which meant little more than cots and blankets and whatever smattering of supplies ALICEs rationing protocols would let them spare.
I cant believe they keep coming Ani muttered.
People are stubborn, Heggy replied, especially about dyin.
Survivors kept trickling in through the checkpoint set up at the Crusader Hill tunnel. Spitfire flashed every now and thensometimes literally so, if it came from the heat rayseither from soldiers stationed up on the balconies of the buildings around the Garden Court Drive, or from the barrels of the guns beneath the roving aerostats. Heggy knew the damn things were there to protect everyone, but she couldnt shake the feeling that they were vultures lying in wait, circling over one of mankinds final bastions.
Even with her PPE still onthe damn things were basically glued to their faces now, 24/7Heggy could still pick up a trace of a tangy sweetness in the air. She knew what it meantand that it meant nothing goodbut, at this point, that was little more than icing on the cake.
So Ani coughed softly. Now what?
Well Heggy said, with a sigh. Ordinarily, Id say stay out here, get ourselves an alibi. She looked over the scene in the Garden court, noting several groups of soldiers were entering the stairs in the street and making their way down to the garage.
I sense a but coming, Ani replied.
Guilty as charged, Heggy said. She crossed her arms. What were you doin in there?
Ani looked at her quizzically. I thought you said
Heggy waved her arm in dismissal. No, I mean, why were you stickin around after youd done what needed to be done. If someone else had wandered in there before me
Ani lowered her head. I was doing some extra stuff that Jonan suggested. It will take a while for anyone to unfuck the system. She looked over to GL again. I just hope that gives Genneth enough time
Right now, Heggy said, I dont know what the hell is going on with your guys scheme. Id text Jonan for more details, but I have a feeling hes a bit busy right now.
Heggy looked down at the floors. The flowers drooped and sagged, with petals wilted and pale.
Did yall plan somethin beyond make a distraction and then go for broke, or am I supposed to believe that Dr. Howle and those knights are just wingin it right now?
If anyone could figure out how to fly, Ani said, I think it would be Genneth. Though, most likely, it would be by accident.
Heggy exhaled and shook her head. Thats not exactly reassuring.
For a couple more minutes, both of them stayed quiet. Ani kept looking over to General Labs, but there was nothing of interest happening.
Well, other than people dying all around.
Do you really believe Genneth, all that stuff bout the ghosts? Heggy asked.
She wasnt sure if she believed it herself. Heggy had been trying to keep some distance between herself and the seemingly supernatural parts of recent events. It was easier to just keep on trucking, moving ahead like a shark.
She figured she could work out the details later.
Genneth wouldnt lie about something like that, Ani said. And, even if it was too good to be truethat one of his patients was somehow in contact with my fathers spiritI trust that Genneth would find some way to make it all worthwhile.
Turning, Heggy looked Dr. Lokanok in the eyes. Im sorry about your father, Ani. Truly.
Ani stared at her for a while, wide-eyed. Tears glistened in the dying sunlight.
Th-thank you, Dr. Marteneiss, Ani said, quietly. I I keep wanting to think that what people are saying is right, and that these really are the Last Days. Maybe then, I could have faith that Id get to make things right with him in the world-to-come.
Heggy stared at the younger doctor, not really grasping her reasoning. Ill admit, she said, Im not as deep of a Lassedile as you, Dr. Lokanok, but, how can this not be the Last Days?
Ani chuckled softly. Youre like the millionth person to ask me that question. Id groan in frustration if I could, but I think Im long past the point of frustration.
Would you mind humoring me? Heggy asked.
Fine fine, Ani said. She coughed. Its its like I told Genneth, she said, I think. She was far from the picture of confidence. Wheres the Light? Ani looked up at the overcast sky. The Last Days are supposed to be a battle between Good and Evil, and I hope I dont need to tell you which side is supposed to win. So wheres the Light? Wheres the victory?
I Heggy pursed her lips in thought. I like to think the victory is in the good that we do, she said. Theres no real reason for good things to happen, so every one of them is precious. Its our light, as my Dad used to say.
Ani nodded. Yeah, I agree. She sniffled. But scripture says were gonna win, so Dr. Lokanok struggled to smile. Hers came out fractured and hesitant. So, she said, this cant be the end, right? The Light has to shine, first. It has to.
It worried Heggy that Ani sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than anyone else.
Heggy nodded. Yeah, she replied, I guess when you put it that way, I can see what you mean.
And, Ani added, maybe Genneth seeing this plan through to the end might just be the first step.
I dont know what hurts more, Ani said, softly, knowing that my father probably died a horrible, agonizing death, all alone, tortured as part of a military experiment, or knowing that the last thing I said to him was me being angry as hell. All my life, I wanted to make peace with him. I wanted to make things right. But now, I never will. And yet
What is it? Heggy asked.
Ani shuddered. Angels breath, this is going to sound awful, but Im angry at myself for being upset.
Heggys brow crumpled up so high, she worried her skin would be ripped right off the bone. Why on earth would you be angry over that?
Ani shook her head and looked up, searching for the Sun. Why do I get this reprieve? Why do I get to grieve my loss, when Alon Lokanok is just one among the billions of lives that were swallowed up by this nightmare? Shouldnt I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders? Isnt that what makes us human, empathy? She cried openly now. Or is there something wrong with me?
Honey, Heggy said, her expression utterly flat, thats Genneths thing that youre doin right now, and I dont think hell be pleased to see you stealin his spotlight.
There was a moment of silence. Thats not funny, Ani said.
Dr. Lokanok, you have survivors guilt.
Well, I wish I didnt, Ani replied.
Heggy shook her head. Be careful what you wish for.
Ani waved her hand. And what about you? she said, unexpectedly trenchant. She lowered her voice. You knew what your brother was doing this entire time. Hes killing people, Heggy.
I know, Dr. Marteneiss muttered.
Even now, Ani continued, his orders are killing people, and youre just standing here doing nothing. And you think you can talk to meor Genenthabout guilt?
Though Heggy wasnt exactly used to being directly challenged like this, she knew all about keeping her temper under control. When you stubbed your toe on a rock or your superior officer called you a fucking moron, you didnt scream and yelland it wasnt just for the sake of decorum, either. In the military, indulging your impulses was an easy way to win an express ticket to an early grave. You didnt get to make a fuss when you were sneaking in through the back entrance of a Costranak drug cartels compound, and if you did, the guards on watch would find you and blow your brains out.
Still
Heggy stared at Ani. I guess youre not the only one whos havin to repeat themselves today. She clenched her fists. I tried to get my brother to stop, but he wouldnt listen.
Ani stared at her.
Thats why Im helpin yall with this little fit of insubordination, Heggy continued. She shook her head and pursed her lips. Even so I understand where Vernon is comin from, all the same. It isnt right, what hes doing, but Id be lying if I said he wasnt doing it for a good cause, and for all the right reasons.
They say the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, Ani quipped.
The ends dont justify the means, Heggy replied, except when they do.
So how do you know which is which?
I dont, but I still try, Heggy said. Youre not the only person whos unsure of themselves, you know.
There was a moment of silence that wasnt silenceit was just the absence of two people talking. Eventually, Heggy broke it.
Angels spit, she muttered, what I wouldnt give for a cigarette right now.
You smoked? Ani asked, tilting her head toward Dr. Marteneiss.
Yeah, it helped keep me focused back when I was still servin as a combat medic. I quit it when I quit that.
It was at that time that a soldier finally noticed the two of them and walked up to their position. He was one of Vernons elites. You could barely see their faces through their sleek, slicked back tear-drop helmets. Heggy could almost swear she could hear power buzzing in that slender white rifle of his.
Fuckin laser beams she thought.
Hey, you two, the soldier said, what are you doing?
Takin a break, Heggy said.
Yeah, well, youve been there for long enough. Either get moving, or get back to work. This area needs to be secured, especially after the hologram fracas. Beasts teeth, I hope they find whoever did that
Heggy turned to Ani. Well, Dr. Lokanok, you heard the man. Lets get a move-on.
Ani nodded.
The two physicians started walking over to the tents.
You done this before? Heggy asked.
Ani nodded again. Yeah, yeah, I know what to do.
And then some loudspeakers up on one of the guard towers crunched and turned on. They started broadcasting Vernons voice for all to hear.
Everyone, he said, with a noticeable sigh in his voice, Ive got some news youre all going to want to hear.
A stillness seized the air.
Oh fuck Heggy muttered.
115.2 - Shisha no kagura
Wait, Jonan said.
I stuck out my hand. Geoffrey saw it, and then said, Hold, softly.
We all stopped, huddling against the wall, near the corner where the corridor merged with another in a T-shaped intersection.
Where? I askedJonan, not Geoffrey.
To your left, theres a group passing by.
I can hear them, Morgan said.
We could just barely make out boot soles tromping on the vinyl floor.
Are they
No, Jonan said, interrupting me. Theyre not going your way. It looks like Anis distraction is paying off.
When do we move, Howle? Bever asked.
I stared to speak to Jonan, saying, Just tell me wh
Now! he said, almost yelling in my ears. Go! Go! Now!
Lets go! I hissed. Move!
We turned left.
Alright, Jonan said, the stairwell should be at the next right.
We know, I told him. Karl still has the map on his console.
The whole situation had me breathless. If youd told me I was living an episode of The Guardians of Time, Id have believed it. Here I was, a nerdy neuropsychiatrist, stealthing through a hospital with a bunch of time traveling knights from the Third Crusade, who also happened to believe that I was a sorcerer working under the Angels employ.
And then things got even weirder. Here and there, seemingly without rhyme or reason, doors started going shut. Hologram projectors turned on of their own volition, filling the hallways with flickering images that couldnt have belonged there less, even if theyd tried. It was like my hyperphantasia, only this time, everyone could see it.
Holographic dogs bolting between holographic trees. Holographic mascots going over safety instructions. Everything you could think of, and more. We even passed footage from a holographic rendition of an episode of The Guardians of Time.
The sights had spooked Geoffrey and his friends, but I managed to get them to take it in stride.
Now, if only everyone else could have done so as easily.
All things considered, we were doing pretty good. Karl was directing the knights using the map his console had plotted for them, and Jonan was doing his job of being our eye in the sky. He knew the route wed intended to take, and had been alerting us if and when we needed to modify it to avoid getting caught.
Unfortunately, sometimes, you just had to lay low and wait.
Other than serving as Jonans mouthpiece, my most important contribution to the mission so far was in convincing the knights that walking into the lab through its front door would spell disaster. Thankfully, they listened, and I helped Karl chart a new course to GL, through the back entrance, accessible from the first basement level.
Jonan says there are fewer people down there, I said.
Pushing ahead with a small burst of psychokinetic speed, I took the lead, directing the knights to an antique stairwell. It didnt even have a door separating the hallway from the landing. We attracted the stares of a couple passing nurses, but they were too exhausted and broken to raise a fuss over it.
I was about to start going down the stairs one by one when Jonan yelled into my ears: Shit! Theres a group of soldiers coming your way!
Another one!? I muttered.
I wouldnt have time to hobble down the staircase.
I summoned Andalon to my side with a well-placed thought.
I looked her in the eyes. If I screw up, please help, I said.
And she nodded.
After a split-second with my hands on the railing, looking with trepidation down the shaft in the middle of the stairwell, I let my powers fly. I sprung up off the ground, vaulting over the railing and then plummeting downward through the shaft. The stairs rushed past me as I fell.
Worst case scenario, I broke my legs, and that wasnt really a problem, since I couldnt feel them anymore, anyhow.
Andalon swooped down through the air, flying after me.
Thickening my wyrmsight, I gathered plexus threads underneath me. The blue and gold filaments writhed beneath my feet, like flames, as I poured power into upward thrust. My fall slowed precipitously, leaving me nearly motionless as I reached the bottom, my feet hovering inches above the floor.
I banished the flaming filaments, falling to the floor with a soft thud.
The knights stared at me, wide-eyed.
You would be a terror on the battlefield, Bever said.
Is there any reason you are accompanying us, Dr. Howle, Karl asked, or is it merely the Angels will?
Its a lot of things, I said. The plague that has struck our world is no ordinary disease, I said. Its an extension of Hell itself.
Any fool with eyes can see that, Morgan said, grimly.
Karl nodded. We saw the videos.
Wow, I guess the zombie videos really had gone viral if even folks from the early 17th century had seen them.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
The Green Death is doing what scripture foretold, I said, as youve probably surmised.
Yes, Geoffrey said, with a nod. This pestilence is raising Hells armies; its as plain as day. Hell has come to conquer our landour worldand the Mewnees are accomplices.
Ordinarily, I loathed anything even remotely jingoistic, but, given that these men had just been plucked from a state of war to reclaim theirourhomeland, I figured they deserved some slack.
Duncan, Bever, and Morgan nodded gravely.
Um, hello? Jonan said. You still need to get moving! I cant see you right now. There arent any cameras in that old stairwell.
Jonan tells me we need to get a move on, I said.
The others nodded, and off we went.
As we walked, Yuta emerged from thin air, unseen by the others. His form coalesced as if from mist. He leaned against the wall of the hallway, with his katana at his hip. How can you be so sure that your religions myths explain these extraordinary events? he asked. That strikes me as presumptuous.
Why wouldnt it? I asked.
It just seems too good to be true, Yuta said.
Well, I said, its either that, or Mr. Himichis manga, take your pick.
Closing his eyes, Yuta snorted and sighed.
Dr. Howle? Karl asked, staring.
I bowed my head in apology. My apologies, I said. I was about to slow time to come up with an explanation when one suddenly came to me. As a sorcerer, I said, I can commune with spirits of the dead, so sometimes it will seem as if I am talking to people who arent there. I promise, they are, its only that you cant see them.
Again, Ize for not having mentioned this before
Karl looked up from the console in his hand. The entrance to the laboratory Dr. Howle informed us of should be just up ahead, around the corner.
Jonan, is the way clear? I asked.
I, uhoh shit, he said.
My heart sank. Whats going on?
Doctor? Morgan said, turning back to face me.
Gotta go! Jonan said.
The radio feed immediately cut out.
I think someone has found Dr. Derric, I said. Well be on our own from here on out.
All the more reason to hurry, Bever said.
We moved down the hall, only to stop as Duncan shot out his arm. Quiet! he hissed. Someones coming!
Thickening my wyrmsight, I confirmed it for myself. Being able to detect the fungus in peoples bodies gave me a kind of X-ray vision. While there were a bit too many people on the ground floormy wyrmsight could not distinguish between oncoming nurses and oncoming soldiersthe first basement level of GL we were was much more sparsely populated, which made the tactic viable.
I saw a small cluster of fungal aura tromping toward usthe warm bodies of still-living soldiers.
At least, I hoped they were still soldiers.
We all froze stiff as a group of soldiers ran down the hologram-struck hallway. Even Andalon held perfectly still.
We retreated down a side corridor as they passed by.
Its alright, I told myself, I can do this. Were nearly there.
I think the coast is clear, I said.
Forward, Geoffrey said.
Nodding, we rushed ahead, crossing the intersection. The corridor on the other side turned to the left. Id visited GLs main lab a couple times before, and onsulting my memories as we rounded the corner I stuck out my arm and hissed, Wait, stop!
The knights armor clinked beneath their hospital gowns as they stopped.
What is it? Bever demanded.
Just wait a second, I said. I crept ahead, thickening my wyrmsight as I peeked around the corner.
Oh fudge, I thought.
What I saw made me bite my lip.
Around the corner was the translucent wall of frosted glass that marked the back entrance to GLs Main Lab. The Main Lab was effectively a complex within the hospital complex. Past the double doors in the middle of the frosted glass, there was a long, broad corridor-room that served as the heart of the Main Lab. It was T-shaped, with the doors in the middle of the wide part of the T. Down the left and right branches lay offices, meeting rooms, utility closets, and the like. The labs themselves were clustered around the corridor-rooms main axis, behind more walls of frosted glass. tanding in the hallway, ere not bright lityoud think were lost in icy cave in the dead of winter.
At the far side of the hall lay another set of double doors. These let out into a reception lobby, past which stood the double doors that led into the garage, where the bulk of Vernons troops were still standing guardassuming Jonans intel was still reliable.
With a moments thought, I hyperphantasized a zoomable mini-map of the area in the lower right-hand corner of my vision.
Glancing around the corner, I confirmed my wyrmsights findings with my human eyes. There was a group of maybe half a dozen people standing in the main corridor, spaced out in an orderly fashion. They were little more than blurs through the semi-transparent plastic wall, though they glowed with fungal aura beneath my wyrmsight. For what it was worth, I didnt see any transformees among them.
I should have known it wouldnt be as simple as waltzing in and freeing Nina and the others.
What is it, Sir? Karl asked.
I turned around to face him. Theres a pair of doors around the corner. The labs are in rooms that branch off to either side of the corridor beyond those doors.
Thats good, Bever said.
Andalon broke out in an optimistic smile.
But there are soldiers in the corridor, I said.
That is not good, Bever said.
Andalons smile turned to a worried frown, one that I shared.
What are you going to do? she asked me.
But none of the knights seemed to share my dismay.
Bever lifted his axe. We prepared for this.
Yes, I said, but, I I sighedaybe theres a chance we can reason with them.
This is war, Dr. Howle, Geoffrey said. People die in war. That is why we abhor it. He motioned his head toward the corner.
Yuta appeared at my side, once again, as if from mist. He shook his head. The sadist has a point, he said. There is no way around this. Blood will have to be shed.
What makes him a sadist? I whispered.
I never met a Trenton rebel who wasnt twisted by hate. They used Darkpox against innocents, Dr. Howle. They were as merciless as their oppressors.
Dr. Howle? Karl asked.
I I shook my head. What if they have guns? Theyll kill you before you get a blow in edgewise, even if their infections make them slower to respondand, for the record, they are infected. Are you sure you can bet them at their own game? I asked.
Mr. Genneth, Andalon said, can you stop em without hurting them?
Nodding, Geoffrey, stamped the base of his halberds shaft on the floor. If it is for the Lass, he said, I will happily give my life. The Last Days have come. If Paradise is to be mine, I will find out soon enough. He , and then closed his eyes. One way or another.
Morgan tamped the haft of his pike onto the vinyl. All will be lost if we hesitate.
Panicking a little, I slowed time. Everyone but Yuta and Andalon seemed to freeze in place.
Are you alright, Dr. Howle? Yuta asked. He held his arms to the side, and there was a look of concern on his face.
Im fine, I thought-said.
Yuta stepped back in shock. He looked around, trying to find the source of my voice.
Youre hearing my thoughts, I thought-said.
Why cant you move? he asked.
Ive made myself think more quickly. This makes time seem to pass more slowly.
For what purpose? he asked.
It gives him a chance to do his thinks, Andalon said.
I would have nodded if I could.
Yes, I thought-said.
And thats when it hit me.
Back when the knights first arrived, Id done necromancy by exploiting Andalons ability to hack into and countervail the fungus. Id been able to control the infected with that power, Id been able to control the infected, and even clear away the hold the fungus had over them, releasing them from their zombified state.
Andalon, I thought-asked, remember when we stopped the zombies?
Clenching her fists, Andalon walked up to me and stood tall. She brimmed with excitement.
Yeah? she asked.
I was about to find out if my necromantic powers were true to their name.
Could I use that power to control people who are infected, even if they arent zombies? I asked.
Lowering her head slightly, Andalon pursed her lips in thought. Oddly, I noticed she rubbed a finger on her throat. She rebounded a moment later.
Amplersandalon says yes!
What? Yuta asked.
I returned my perception of time to normal.
I figured the knights ought to hear this as well.
I have an idea, I said.
115.3 - Shisha no kagura
Yes? Karl asked.
Everyone turned to face me.
Im going to try to use my powers to try to control the infected. I pointed around the corner, toward where the soldiers were. With any luck, Ill be able to manipulate their bodies like they were puppets. I clenched my fists. If I can just keep them from moving, you can go in and free the captives, and strike a blow for civil rights, I added, managing to put on a smile.
Bever shook his head. This is madness, and I love it.
Finally, Morgan quipped, you admit it. The pikeman rolled his eyes.
I bit my lip. I realize that this might be somewhat ethically questionable
This is war, Doctor, Duncan said, interrupting me, and a war against Hell, no less. Its a small price to pay.
The others nodded in assent.
Alright, Andalon, I said, turning to face her. Lets do it.
Andalon? Karl asked. W-Whos that?
Uh, I stammered, shes shes my familiar. I waved my arm dramatically.
They seemed to buy it.
I widened my stance. Prepare yourselves, I said, I dont know how long Ill be able to keep this up. Ill leave it to you to tell me when you think its safe to go. Ill show you the way.
Im ready, Mr. Genneth, Andalon said.
Closing my eyes, I focused, summoning the memory of what Id done in the lobby to retrace my steps. I could sense trails of light flow back and forth between Andalon and myself. The connection to &alon sparked. With my thoughts, I reached out to the soldiers at the labs back entrance. I could feel &alons energy moving through me, tapping into the fungus within them.
Light rippled down Andalons sky-blue hair, and her eyes glowed.
I gave the targeted bodies their orders.
Dont move, I thought. Dont speak. Dont hurt anyone.
I felt the command leave my mind and travel elsewhere, but then
Fudge I muttered.
Andalons eyes widened in alarm. Mr. Genneth!
The way she looked at me told me she could feel it, too.
Whats wrong? Duncan asked.
I shook my head.
I sighed. I have control of three of them, I said, focusing my attention on the three brightest-glowing patches of fungal aura.
And the others? Morgan asked.
I shook my head. Their infections must not be advanced enough for me to control them yet.
Even now, I could feel those three mens wills struggling against my interference. They knew they were being manipulated
Beasts teeth, I muttered. As soon as I release my hold on those three, theyre going to freak out.
As if on cue, the light in Andalons hair flickered and went out.
Hunger pangs stand my chest.
She fell onto her hands and knees, panting for breath.
Sorry, Mr. Genneth, she said. I I cant
The screams started a moment later.
I immediately sped up my thoughts.
Fudge. Fudge. Fudge.
What are you going to do? Yuta asked.
I I dont know, I thought-said.
The enemy will quickly find us, he said.
Im well aware of that, Lord Uramaru!
But what do you intend to do about it? Yuta replied, crossing his arms, tightening his dark blue haori across his chest. This was your plan after all. You had the temerity to loop these men into your quest. You should see this through to the end. He shook his head. I cannot do it for you.
And then a thought occurred to me.
Light bulb! I thought-said.
What is a light bulb? Yuta and Andalon said, in near-unison.
It means I have an idea.
Which is? Yuta asked.
You! I thought-said. I would have pointed at him if I could.
The samurais thick eyebrows peaked. What?
One of the first spirits I encountered managed to take control of my psychokinetic powers, and it used them to hurt people. If I can give my powers to you, you can knock the soldiers unconscious. And since you arent a physical presence, they wont be able to hurt you.
Now, how was I going to do this?
Hmmm
Yuta, I thought, hold out your sword.
Nodding, he complied. The phantom katana glinted in the light.
Focusing on Yutas blade, I summoned a sheet of pataphysical energies, which I then willed to wrap around the katana as tightly as I could make them. The sheets worked the way my psychic holdfasts didthe ones that anchored me in placeonly, here, the sheet was wrapped into an extremely thin tube; a psychic scabbard, if you will.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
I spent a moment waffling on how thick to make the sheet and, and how densely to pack its filaments. The more intense the weave, the stronger its pataphysical effect.
Since time was of the essence, I decided to go the middle road: not too thick, nor too thin. The blue and gold filaments glistened as I let the power flow. They orbited the blade in tight loops.
And I did it all without moving a muscle.
In an ideal world, I would have had time to test it out firstmaybe against one of the knights mle weaponsbut I couldnt.
There wasnt time.
Remember, I thought-said, incapacitate them if you can.
Yuta around the corner. e spoke upwas out of sight.
Interesting
What is it? I thought-asked.
I cannot see their bodies, but I can see the auras around themthe same auras that you see. I also see the surroundings as you remember them.
Will that be enough? I asked.
Lets find out.
Apparently, the samurai didnt need to be in view for me to be able to sense his presence. I knew exactly where he was as he soundlessly strode down the hallway. I even knew the exact moment when he phased through the Main Labs back entrance, passing through the glass like it was a layer of fog.
Through the walls, I watched my plexus move with Yutas blade.
Letting times flow return to normal, I turned to face the knights.
One of my spirit companions will help us, I said. Hell knock out the soldiers for us.
That would be very useful, Bever said.
Is Karl briefly closed his eyes and shook his head. Has it started yet? he asked.
His timing couldnt have been more perfect.
The phantom sword rushed up to one of the multicolored squiggles and struck, hitting the squiggle with the flat of its blade, rather than its edge.
The fungal aura toppled to the floor.
All the knights eyes widened as the first screams broke out.
Holy shit! a soldier yelled.
The soldiers auras grouped together. They were taking a defensive position. The phantom blade swerved around the clustered auras, swathed in circles of blue and gold. Yuta cocked his katana back, and then struck.
A lump of brightly glowing aura separated from the rest and fell to the floor. A full bodys worth of aura toppled beside it as the lump rolled to a stop.
I knew what that meant. Yuta had just decapitated someoneI could only hope by accident.
I screamed in horror. No!
Ronnie! Ronnie!!
Holy Angel
I stepped back, and clenched my teeth.
Did you hear that? It came from outside!
The cluster of auras moved toward us.
Toward the door.
Fudge.
Mr. Genneth! Andalon yelled.
I turned to the knights. Theyre coming!
Glancing at each other, Geoffrey and his men leapt into action. They charged into the hallway, and I ran after them.
This was a terrible mistake.
I barely had time to scream.
On the other side of the frosted glass, the soldiers blurry figures lifted up long, dark objects.
Oh, fudge! I screamed. Duck! Duck!
Unfurling a layer of filaments beneath me, I flopped forward, falling onto my belly as bullets crashed through the glass wall. Bite-sized fragments of glass hailed onto the vinyl floor, bouncing off the ground. Geoffrey, Bever, Morgan, and Duncan managed to dodge the bullets by leaping toward the sides of the corridor wallsbut Karl wasnt so lucky. The boy screamed as a bullet tore through his gown and the outer side of his trousers, splattering streaks of his blood on the corridors wall.
I flipped the polarity of my psychic belly cushion, launching myself up onto my knees with a psychokinetic shove. I looked up just in time to see Yutanow fully in viewslash at the soldiers from behind. The plexus filaments crackled in deathly silence, punctuated by the sounds of samurais ghostly breaths.
The soldiers split up. The men in the back turned around to face their invisible attacker while their comrades in front rushed up the shattered double doors.
They raised their guns.
Angels breath!
My dead legs wobbled beneath me as I whipped up a pataphysical forcefield with a swipe of my arm. If Letty Kathaldri had blocked bullets with a forcefieldand she hadthen so could I. I just needed to direct the force forward, to counteract the bullets momentum.
Time slowed as my thoughts quickened.
Despite my misgivings about my necromantic abilities, it really sucked that I couldnt use them, what with Andalon still down on her hands and knees, panting heavily. Since Id controlled far more zombies back in the lobby and that hadnt tired Andalon anywhere near as much as this had, I could only assume that trying to hack into the fungus took a lot out of her if the fungus wasnt well-established in its host.
A shame; a little necromancy to restrain the soldiers movements would have really come in handy.
I guess its up to me, I thought.
In the slowed time, I concentrated on building up my forcefield. I wove it into being like an ancient at a loom, one strand at a time. Blue, gold, blue, gold. I painted their radiance up and down the air in sequence, one next to the other. As new threads appeared, the older ones brightened and thickened, strengthening as the barrier grew and grew.
Up ahead, slow-motion flashes erupted from the soldiers gun-barrels.
They were firing!
Cmon!, I thought, speeding up my forcefields formation.
Behind the flashes of the approaching bullets, Yutas katana swept out a broad arc of light, like a photo in long exposure. As my forcefield grew, the intensity of the katanas pataphysics dimmed.
I must have been diverting power from him to my forcefield.
I let time quicken again, slowing my thoughts. My forcefield unfurled in every direction, lines of energy settling in place until the cataract of woven light nearly spanned the corridor.
The bullets ricocheted off my forcefield. Their metal glinted as they clattered to the floor.
For a split second, everyone stared at me, speechless. Then Bever nodded and lifted his axe.
My thanks, sorcerer, he said.
He let out a blood-curdling war cry as he charged ahead. The sound made my coiled-up tail twinge in my hazmat suits back compartment.
One soldier shrieked, the others fired. The bullets bounced off my forcefield. I felt my power push against the weight of Bevers body as he passed through the forcefield. My magic boosted his momentum, catapulting him forward. He tackled the soldiers with the full force of his body, shoulder first. They fell like bowling pins. There was a sharp, deep, ping as a bullet bounced off Bevers heavy armor, leaving a ragged hole in his gown.
I could tell the forcefield was draining me. It was like a muscle, aching more and more with each passing second. I still had plenty of reserves left, but I had to be careful.
But then Duncan yelled behind me, and I was knocked out of my thoughts.
Howle, he barked, watch yourself!
Looking over my shoulder, I saw Karl and Duncan raising their modern firearms. I barely had time to dart out of the way as they started shooting. The bullets left little sonic-booms rippling through the air where they passed through my forcefield and accelerated to supersonic speeds. Any remaining glass in the wall flew into the Main Labs corridor, blasted away by the gusts that followed in the sonic booms wake. The bullets tore through the rear-file of the soldiers.
Mr. Genneth! Andalon yelled, raising her head. She gasped for breath. You cant do this forever!
She was right.
I cut off my force-field, slowing time for a moment to give my strength back to the plexus around Yutas katana.
Yuta, I thought-yelled, youre up!
He raised his katana high. Once more, the blade was swathed in orbits of blue and gold.
Geoffrey and Morgan pushed off the corridors wall to put a spring in their step as they charged forward. They flanked Bever as they stepped over the hollow glass-frames. The axeman had the soldiers pinned to the ground, not that they werent trying to wrangle free of his grip and weight, but he was just too strongand too, gosh-darn big.
The two polearmsmen lunged forward with their weapons. Geoffrey impaled one of the rear-file soldiers necks with the head-spike of his halberd, as brutal as anything Id ever seen. As the man fell, he fired his rifle, his blood trickling down his arm. Semi-automatic fire sprayed through the hallway, and without my barrier to protect him, Morgan got struck square in the chest.
Behind me, I heard a thud.
Karl and I screamed: Duncan had toppled backward, killed by a bullet through the brain. But then I whipped my head forward as Yuta let out a battle-cry. I turned just in time to see him whirl his katana like a fire-dancers flames.
Kaguraa dance for the gods.
His blade rose and fell as it doled out successive strokes. The soldiers bodies came apart, like meat julienned.
Morgan yelled as he thrusted his pike downward, into one of the bodies Bever had pinned down. The axeman pushed off the ground, chopping the other soldiers arm off with his axe before bringing it down on the mans skull.
The last remaining soldier tried to escape, crawling back along the hallway. Yutas gray hakama trousers billowed like storm-clouds as he lurched forward and struck, slicing the man in half, down the back and shoulder. The dead mans halves fell to either side, gushing blood. The sectioned corpse landed wetly on the vinyl, splashing onto the pooling fluid.
116.1 - Circumstances
Even as a kid, Vernon had always been a little bit pushy, but then again, so was every Marteneisses. It was a family trait, and for once, Heggy wasnt proud of that, not in the least.
True to his word, despite some holographic hiccups, Vernons men had commandeered the Mark 3 matter printers down in the basement. Not only had the military taken over production and allocation of the mycophage, but theyd told the people as such.
Heggy was amazed the hospital wasnt already up in flames. Granted, it was still barely an hour after Vernon had made his announcement, so, there was always the possibility that things were still warming up.
There was more than just spores choking the air, now.
Heggy glanced at her console on the counter, checking once again on the status of the patients who had received the mycophage. The data made Heggy want to cry, only she couldnt make up her mind what the feelings behind those tears would be.
Joy? Terror? Fuckin nausea?
On the one hand, the mycophage wasnt the miracle cure theyd been hoping for. On the other hand it was certainly more than just a sugar pill. For whatever reason, the mycophage was meaningfully impacting the infection. Without fail, everyone who had received it recovered but only slightly. It was more of an arresta pausethan a recovery, as if someone or something had intervened and held the fungus onslaught at bay, if only for a short while. This would have been great news, had anyone had an explanation for it. But nobody did, not even Dr. Nowston, and that was scary, because they needed that explanation now, more than ever.
The folks who had been given the first rounds of doses were starting to show signs of decline, though because theyd been given additional doses after that, everyone was gonna have to wait until the evening to see whether or not the mycophage could keep them alive.
Heggy found herself muttering under her breath.
Please, let it work please.
Unfortunately, her brother was doing a great job of mucking things up.
Next, one of the soldiers said.
The line trudged forward.
Heggy and Ani had returned to their places in the examination tents, much to the relief of the doctors stationed there. Heggy couldnt blame them; no one liked working at the threat of gunpoint. Heggy wanted to settle into the rhythm of the triage, if only to quell her worries about what I was up to and what the future might hold, but it was tough going, to say the least.
A gust of wind blew through the Court. The white tents synthetic polymer was strung over the plastic skeleton of a barreled frame that kept it standing, and the tarp walls taut. The breeze kicked up the lifeless autumn leaves, whirling them against the shoes and slacks and weighted skirts that stood in line by the tents entrance. There was a portable lamp on a nearby countertop. It shone with a bright, ghostly white against the darkness that the sunlight eking through the tents porthole windows was too weak to dispel.
Heggys tent was dominated by a row of portable examination tables lined down the middle. The thick, clunky boards of stained, off-white plastic looked their age, as did the tarnished, foldable chrome legs that supported them. Like Ani and the other physicians in the tent, Heggy sat in a plastic chair that probably hadnt seen the light of day since Letty Kathaldri had.
Leaning to her side, Heggy looked over the features of the latest civilian to come and lay down in the examination table beside her. Two of Vernons best stood to the side of the tent, black-armored and loaded up the wazoo. Before, theyd been there to keep doctors like Heggy safe. Now, they were there to keep the doctors in line.
The examination table was currently upright, in chair mode. The man in it had pasty skin, probable vitamin deficiencies, and frizzy hair that didnt seem to know the meaning of the word comb.
At a glance, the man seemed surprisingly plague-free, so much so that even from the tent next door, Ani paused to stare. Heggy didnt need a stethoscope to tell that the mans airways were almost completely unobstructed.
It made Heggy unexpectedly excited. She sat up straight.
He looks clean, Heggy said. You should have him taken inside. We can
Im sorry, Dr. Marteneiss, one of the soldiers said, but its like we told you before.
Heggy huffed, and then looked the nervous patient in the eyes. Sir behind her mask, Heggy bit her lip, Im gonna have to scan your chip.
What? Why?
Heggy tried to muster up the force needed to say the words, but the soldiers got to it before she did. This time, however, the soldier who spoke up didnt just lean in and whisper the answer to the guy in the chair like he had with the previous patient. No. Instead, this dick decided to shout it over the crowds heads.
Were going to be scanning for your personal details. Until weve got enough of the mycophage to drown in it, were going to be allocating care based on merit.
Anxious murmurs rippled through the crowd as the tension in the air racketed up a notch. It was a bitter delirium. The news of the mycophage had given people hope, and with that hope came strengthborrowed, though it wasalong with expectations, and the will to press onward. Vernon had had to scatter some of his elite troopsthe guys in whiteacross the Garden Court to keep folks in line. People whod tried to force their way through were getting blasted, and only the hope of getting the mycophage for themselves kept the bystanders from rising up right then and there.
You cant do this! someone shouted.
The soldier shook his head. Its not like I want to, buddy. Orders are orders.
Heggy gritted her teeth. She wasnt used to being on the other side of conflicts like this.
But then the man on the examination table stuck out his hand, which brought Heggy back into the moment.
Here, he said.
Dr. Marteneiss scanned him using the Info app on her PortaCon. All the major details of the guys life appeared on the screen, condensed into a couple rows of orderly text.
|
Name: Samuel LangdonThis story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Age: 51
Sex: Male
Occupation: Educator (Natural Sciences - Physics; Secondary School)
Income Bracket: 70th Percentile ( 2% M.O.E.)
Marital Status: Wedded. 27 years. Olivia Langdon (Deceased).
Children: Susan (F) (Deceased), Janet (F) (Deceased), Clarissa (F) (Deceased), Ash (M) (Deceased).
|
Not wanting to pry further, Heggy looked away, even as more of Mr. Langdons personal details scrolled by: his political party registration, his credit rating, his medical service priority number, estimated assets (both liquid and non), and so on and so forth.
Ive got his data. Heggy pointed the console at the soldiers helmet and then transferred it over, watching as text and pictures scrolled down the soldiers visor.
Low priority, the soldier replied. He tilted his head to the side. Sir, please proceed to the waiting area.
Mr. Langdons eyes widened. He turned around in his seat. W-What? But
Now hold on a minute, Heggy said. She pointed at Mr. Langdon.
If this guy has some sort of immunity to the funguseven a partial onethat would be a game-changer..
Well, it wasnt going to stop the collapse of civilization, but at least it would keep humanity from going extinct.
And, just maybe, stop Vernon before it was too late.
Im fine, Mr. Langdon said. Right? Im fine. Its just a cough. I get colds all the time.
Through his visor, Heggy could just barely make out the soldier narrowing his eyes. Alright, but give him an examination first. I dont want to waste resources on a false alarm.
Heggy nodded.
It was better than nothing.
She turned to Mr. Langdon.
Sir, Heggy said, could you roll up your sleeves?
What? Blinking, the man glanced over his arms. Oh okay.
He rolled them up.
Worried faces eavesdropping from the line by the entrance let out gasps.
The way the fungal filaments branched darkly beneath the pale skin on the underside of his arms made the hyphae look almost like tattoos.
The man shook his head, despondent and disbelieving. No thats not possible. That that wasnt there this morning! Ive kept myself locked in my beasteaten basement. I only left of because of the fucking zombies!
Heggy winced at the mans bad luck.
But what could she do?
Pausing, Heggy took a deep breath. Im sorry, sir, youll have to wait in one of the clinic tents.
The mans dismayed stammers were broken up by a fit of coughing. Heggy rose from her chair to help him to his feet.
Its the least I can do, Heggy told herself.
Mr. Langdon pushed away from her as soon as hed gotten to his feet. He staggered out through the back end of the tent, almost insensate.
Heggys thoughts turned inward.
At the moment, Heggy wanted nothing more than to punch her little brother in the face. Hard. The kind of punch that sent a man to a dentistassuming there were any dentists left.
Well, what she wanted most was for someone to pinch her and make her wake up from the wildest nightmare shed ever weathered.
But that wasnt going to happen, so shed settle for punching Vern in the face.
Granted, shed have to get his helmet off, first.
Nervous glances rippled down the line as Mr. Langdon trudged off to a clinic tent.
Surreptitiously, Heggy sent a text message to Ani, giving her a heads-up that the guy was coming her way. Dr. Lokanok could do a better job of making people comfortable than Heggy could.
Heggy wondered about that document her brother had given her. She hadnt had the time to read it, and wasnt really in the mood.
Heggy hated the current situation because it was driving a stake through her family ties, and that was the last thing you needed in times of crisis.
Solidarity kept you alive.
Its not Verns fault, she thought, its the circumstances.
Ani and Genneth were absolutely right to be furious with the militarys actions, but that didnt change the facts on the ground. The government was done. Society was ending. Even DAISHU itself probably wasnt long for this world. Vernons honorhis military discipline and dignitywas all that stood between the survivors and the void. No matter what, you had to have faith in the system. Once good faith was lost, people couldnt trust one another, and that trust would take eons to rebuildand, even then, there was no guarantee itd come back.
Heggy sighed.
Her thoughts felt dissonant, and she didnt like that.
Didnt like it one bit.
Next, one of the soldiers said.
As the line trudged forward, once more, Heggy lost herself to the moment. Shed been half-lost already, and the dissonance of her thoughts was just the final straw. She let herself drift back to a memory so time-worn, even its crumbled edges had already been smoothed over.
As a girl, nothing filled little Heggy Marteneiss with bubbles and bees quite like spending an afternoon with her father, overseeing the ships at Trueshore Cape. Sometimes, her dad went just for the sake of going. Those days were Heggys favorites. Without duty to distract him, her father was stories, all the way down.
Marteneisses are heroes, hed tell her, heroes through and through. We practically invented patriotism.
And how she reveled in the examples!
Your great-great-grandfather, Gebediah Marteneiss? Its cause of him that we desegregated our armed forces. Chief Minister Canfield wanted to make the changes, but he couldnt be the one who went and did it, cause the flak hed get wouldve gotten him clicked clean out of office. Your GrampGramp was Secretary of the Navy at the time. He was the one who made the change, with Canfields tacit consent. After that, Munine folks could enlist in the navy, then Costranaks, then everyone else. And its all cause of us. We did that.
The stories seemed to go on forever.
But the cherished memorythe one to which she fledthat was special.
That was the memory about the Yellowjacket. Oh, she remembered when shed first laid eyes on that beauty. She was a floating fortress of gunsmoke and steel, riveted and riveting. Its soldiers had painted the metal around the guns in yellow and black, to match the name.
Thats the Yellowjacket, Heggy, her father said, standing beside her on the docks, clasping her hand in his. It was your great uncle Hoffs ship. I dare say, its the most beautiful battleship there ever was. When pirates or blockade runners saw those bold stripes, they knew they were done for. Thats what real strength is, Heggy. Everyone in the room turns and looks, just because youd stepped inside.
It made Heggy feel safe. It was the iron hand of Trentons might. It safeguarded all and always did what was right.
And, really, it was all she had left to fall back on.
Heggy resolved right then and there to go talk to her brother again. There had to be a way to fix this.
There had to.
A voice shot out from a loudspeaker up on one of the guard towers.
Remember: if you cant stand anymore, you can sit down on the ground next to the tents. People will get to you as soon as they can.
That was a lie.
Heggy had asked Colonel Sandersone of Vernons subordinateswhy they were giving people that particular bit of advice, the Colonel had laid it out for her cut and dry.
If they pass out or die, its better that it happens while theyre on the ground, out of sight.
Most people were too dazed to notice that many of the folks sitting on the sidelines by the tents or the garden wall had stopped moving. Those who still had their wits didnt notice, either, because all they could think about was finding a way to prove themselves worthy of getting the mycophage.
It was a damn powder-keg.
The reason why the systemany systemworked was because people saw each other as human beings. Laws didnt make men good; men made laws good. Cheaters, opportunists, and cutthroats were the scum of the earth because they made a mockery of that. They did what they wanted just because they wanted to and told themselves, To hell with the consequences.
Heggy had thought her brother would know better.
I Im reporting, someone said, stammering, and so
Dr. Marteneiss looked up. Next in line was one of the saddest sights Heggy had ever set eyes on: a young mother, with her even younger daughter in tow. Her coat was splotched and stained. Bits of dried ooze on her long, sky blue skirt were crumbling into green spores. The girl at her side couldnt have been more than four years old, and was bundled up in a fuzzy coat with thick cufflinks.
The womans words were hushed and stammered. Heggy could barely parse what she was saying.
Maam, Heggy said, youll need to speak up. I cant hear you.
Im reporting because Im dead, and she gulped; her pale face flushed. Theres a a growth. She brought her hands to her mouth. And the rotting skin its peeling off, and and
Her expression weltered with tears.
116.2 - Circumstances
Dr. Marteneiss inhaled and then swallowed hard.
Holy Angel, please, have mercy. Not another one.
Heggy looked to the soldiers standing guard. Ive got a Type Two case, she said.
Did you test for it? the soldier replied.
Heggy glanced at the woman. The womans grip on her daughters lanky arm tightened, the way grips tended to do when they were searching for something to hold on to, to keep from being pulled under.
Heggy looked back at the soldier. No need.
The soldiers looked at one another, muttering in confusion.
Heggy could only imagine what Vernon was going to do with the transformees.
Maam, she asked, is your daughter?
The woman shook her head. She isnt I mean, she isshe has a coughbut its just her allergies. I couldnt leave her at home. Marc he hes already The woman struggled to breathe. She kept tugging at her collar, as if the clothes were too tight for her.
More words barked from the loudspeakers, but Heggy wasnt paying enough attention to process them.
The woman stepped closed. II cant. I cant be turning into one of those things, she said, barely above a whisper, Im scared. Please, Doctor. Please help me. She started to sob. Please
She gestured at her daughter, as if the girl was a precious gem she was terrified of losing.
And, well she was.
Heggy got up from her seat. Heat and moisture churned in the space between her face and her PPE visor. She turned to one of the soldiers.
IIm sorry, Heggy said. I need to take a break. I
The mother looked on in confusion. Wha?
Grabbing her console, Heggy turned away as she trudged out of the tent. She kept her gaze low, ignoring the line of eyes watching her as she passed. Her PPE felt snugger than ever. It was like a straightjacket, binding her tight.
Or maybe that was just the feeling of the fungus crawling through her body?
As she wandered back toward the cypresses in the garden, Heggy bent over and coughed.
It felt like she was hacking her guts out. She leaned against the tree trunk, panting for breath.
Moonlight, she muttered, feeling something icky slide down the back of her through, what I wouldnt give for a cigarette right now.
Heggys every instinct screamed to rip off the helmet and breathe deep the crisp, fresh autumn air. But she knew she couldnt.
Heggy lifted up her console and opened up the document Vernon had sent her. There was a message attached. She opens that first.
Dear General Marteneiss so Kirk Kirk Dempshire that Kirk is dead and Im not far behind I dont even know if were broadcasting anymore also Im uh dictating this into my console because I dont remember how to spell imagine that Period. Honestly Im just sending out the final messages right now its hard to talk. I dont remember writing this list but I had this list and you were on it so there you go Period I sent a message to uh whats his name Henrichy before this one. I told him to go duck himself. I dont know if you remember this but it was my first book it was the thing that made me famous and I have your family to thank for it. I wanted to uh the politicians told the book making people that I had to cut out content from my book because it made the country look bad period. I was the one who went out to talk to all those guys from the the uh the Prela and I I got lots of stuff. It never got to see the light so I thought you and yours deserved to see it period. You probably already know it but if you didnt
aqwesrdtfghvjb
Oh fuck IT HURTS IT HURTS
Sent from Ilzees Console
Ilzee? Heggy thought. Ilzee Rambone?
But before Dr. Marteneiss could look further, microphone feedback screeched out of the loudspeakers.
This is your final warning, the speaker yelled. Step back, now!
The noise jolted Heggy to attention. Slipping her console in her PPEs belly pocket, she looked around the corner of the tent, craning her head to see the source of the commotion.
Something was happening out in front of the Hall of Echoes.
A crowd of people was mobbing the fences that cut through Garden Court Drive. The black metal wireframe was starting to buckle under the weight. Hands grabbed and arms flailed as people tried to push their way through the small gaps between the fences or between the soldiers and their riot shields.
I guess this is it, Heggy thought.
Once again, it was time for her to clean up other peoples messes.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
Heggy marched across the garden, past white tents, trampled flowers, and lines of desperate civilians. She approached the clustered vehicles, loudspeaker equipment, and twin walls of soldiers that make the checkpoint the military had set up to control flow of people into and out of the hospital.
One of the soldiers yelled.
Back off, fucker!
A man had been trying to squeeze his way through the barrier, and the soldier had dealt with him by punching him square in the jaw. The blow knocked the man back, and the crowd recoiled with him. Ignoring the burning in her chest, Heggy ran over as quickly as she could.
If Vernon and his men werent going to protect their honor, then Heggy figured it fell to her to do it for them.
Without skipping a beat, Heggy grabbed the soldier by the shoulder and manhandled him real good, turning him around so that he could see her.
It caught everyone off guardthe soldiers, most of all. They turned, ready to mete out punishment. From the looks on their faces, Heggy could tell that theyd been expecting to see a rioter whod jumped the fence, not a doctor.
What the hell are you doing, doctor? the man demanded, scowling at Heggy.
Bout to ask you the same thing! she said.
The crowd watched on, quieting down, evenbemused by the unexpected turn of events.
A man in the crowd spoke up. Were dying here, doctor. And then the General says you have something that might be a treatment, but youre fucking holding it back!
Another voice joined in. Not even the end of the world is enough to get the system unrigged!
Down with imperialism! shouted another. There will be justice! Justice!
It was a critique Heggy had heard many times before; I should know, Id given a similar one to her, myself, over many a cafeteria meal. But, just like then, Heggy knew it couldnt be true.
At least, she thought she did.
Now, though
Gant said they got the cure in there, and everyone said it was a lie, but Marteneiss set it straight. Its true! Its all true! Theyre gonna hold out on us until we bow down or die!
No, Heggy yelled, those are
She wanted to say lies, but she couldnt, because that wouldnt be true. Not quite.
Dr. Marteneiss next words made her weep. Theres no cure! she said. If we had one, wed be sharing itbecause thats what doctors do!
Gasps rippled through the crowd, though just as many voices hardened and fought back, instead.
Like I would trust you, lady!
A hand clamped down on Heggys shoulder.
Who the hell do you think you are?
Turning, Heggy saw one of the white troopers. The bands on his shoulder indicated his rank: Sergeant.
Im Dr. Heggy Marteneiss, she replied.
M-Marteneiss? The Sergeants tongue stumbled under the weight of the name.
Has everyone here forgotten everything about everything? Heggy snapped. She stabbed her thumb against her chest. Listen, bucko, I was a Lt. Colonelcombat physician, no less. I outrank you.
Please, help me! someone yelled. My whole family is sick! We cant wait! Help us, please!
Everythings fucking broken, Dr. Marteneiss, the Sergeant said. Telling these poor folks otherwise is only going to stoke the fire.
What youve been doing isnt any better! Heggy yelled.
Im not going to let the government inject poison into my veins! someone screamed.
Clearly, youve been out of service for a while, Dr. Marteneiss, the Sergeant said. I have my orders, Doctor, and I intend to follow them. All hell would break loose if I didnt, not to mention my stipend.
The crowd ranted and raved, louder and louder.
No, its DAISHU! Its DAISHU!
Its the atheists! The God-killers!
Heggy wanted to reach out and tell the Sergeant that there was more to giving and receiving authority than serving the bottom line, but she didnt know how to put it into wordsit was something she hadnt really considered before.
The crowd started to churn.
Im scared!
Let me in!
But then a fresh crop of screams broke out, over by the tents in the gardens.
A woman shrieked in heartbreak.
No! No! I wont! I wont go! she screamed. Sally! You cant take me from her! Sally!
Other voices clamor. Outrage seethed.
Heggy rushed over as fast as she could, as did several soldiers. She nearly stumbled as she caught a glimpse of the screamer.
Oh God
It was the woman from before. The one with the little girl.
Heggy hadnt even gotten her name.
Dr. Marteneiss heart nearly leapt out of her chest as an invisible hand tore a chunk off the end of one of the white tents. The metal frame groaned as the torn segment turned over and fell to the ground. People scattered and screamed, and then everything fell apart.
It happened so quickly.
A child screeched in terror. Heggy stopped, turning to help, but it was too late.
Little Sally, in her fright, had run around the back of the tent to where people were laying down to die. Other adults gathered around and saw it for themselves, drawn by the childs cries. Panic spread like wildfire. Chaos spread and multiplied, and Heggy was powerless to stop it.
Please, maam, you have to calm down!
The voice was like a lightning bolt, flashing in the chaos.
Ani.
Dr. Lokanok had come out of the clinic tent shed been assigned to. She stood beside Sallys mother, pleading with the womandevoted to her duty, even in the heart of the storm. Sallys mother stood like a sprinkler, slowly turning round and round.
There was no wind, but the grass and shrubs around the woman began to stir.
Ani!! Heggy yelled.
The memory of what Letty Kathaldri had done to the soldiers and nurses in the hallway outside Room 268 was fresh in her mind, and she wasnt about to let Dr. Lokanok get sliced in half for having dared to do the right thing.
Darting forward, Heggy lunged at Ani. She grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled, right as blades of psychic force shot up and out from Sallys mother. The air cracked with sonic booms.
Sally! she screamed. Sally!
The blades of her power were viscous mirages that sliced through tents and trees. Black lattice walls teetered and fell as fences were torn through. A crescent force carved a furrow through the ground, lopping off the limbs of anyone in its path.
Heggy pulled, throwing herself and Dr. Lokanok onto the ground, rolling off to the side.
The air exploded with feral howls. The scattering lines of people twitched and coiled as their wills were overwritten.
The feralism spread out from Sallys mother, starting from the dismembered bystanders whod been caught in her attack.
Zombies! a soldier screamed.
Gunfire broke out as the soldiers fired on the crowd.
Sallys mother ran in terror.
The next thing Heggy knew, she was back in the Costranak jungles once again, surrounded by danger and madness. A half-dormant part of her mind lurched awake. Clambering off Ani, Heggy crunched down low, avoiding fire and running civilians as she chased after Sallys mother.
Heggy took in as many details as she could.
There was fresh blood splattered on some of the tents. Bodies were scattered on the ground, and not because theyd laid down for a rest. Commands blared through the loudspeakers. Heggy turned back, and saw the crowd-sea raging to surge over the barriers. The spooked souls were seizing the day.
In the middle of the madness, Heggy noticed something. The turning spread in waves. Had she not been in the middle of the Garden Court, she might not have noticed it.
The waves emanated from injuries and violence.
A mind-blade whisked passed right over Heggys head. It trailed suction in its wake. The blade sliced open several peoples torsos. Seconds later, those injured bodies turned feral, and the condition spread, propagating outward. Where the bullets struck, spasmodic movements rippled through the crowd as if a stone had been dropped in a pond.
It was reactive, the turning.
It was like the fucking fungus was defending itself.
She had to calm the mother, before she killed them all.
Mustering everything she had, Heggy sprinted over to the woman while she gasped for breath in between shouts. Heggy grabbed both her hands, and held them tight.
Stop! Heggy begged. She squeezed the womans slender hands. Youre hurting people.
Sallys mother wept. Y-You tried to take me take me away from my Sally
Look at what youre doing!
And then, down in the garage, something exploded.
117.1 - O Schmerz! Du Alldurchdringer!
Geoffrey pushed the man off his halberd with his leg, and then slid his grip back into position on his weapons blood-slicked shaft and turned to face me.
Genneth! he yelled.
Id frozen stiff.
The way is clear, he said. Hurry!
With a gulp, I staggered forward, shocked by what I saw. It was a scene worthy of an abattoir. All the soldiers were dead, and my allies had done the butchering.
A tingle sparked at the back of my neck.
Andalon looked at it, wide-eyed and numb. She was still on her knees.
I think Im going to be sick I muttered.
Duncan! Karl shouted.
Oh God.
Karls fellow rifleman was dead as dead can be.
Bever kicked the dead soldiers corpses as he rose up and flicked the blood off his armor. Well sing the Cant for him when the battle is done, he said.
Meanwhile, Morgan clutched his wounded flank.
There should be some wound epoxy in the labs, I told him, if we hurry, I can
Morgan shook his head. Theres no time. He tamped the haft of his pike on the floor. Where are the captives?
I stammered. I But then I shook my head.
Focusing on my wyrmsight, I managed to pick out the auras of the infected. All of the rooms around usbehind the walls of frosted glasshad at least some of the captives. However, the majority of them were concentrated in the lab to my left, directly ahead.
I rushed toward the door. As youd expect, the lock was controlled by the console beside the door.
I pointed at the door. Here.
I didnt know if my status as a Ward CMT member would be enough to grant me access to the lab, but it was worth a shot. Approaching the console, I lifted my right hand, but before I could sweep the chip in my cufflink over the scanner, Bever trudged forward and slammed the head of his axe into the semi-transparent glass wall, shattering at and granting us passage. We tromped inside, leaving bloody footprints on the vinyl floor behind us. Yuta and Andalon followed close behind me.
I immediately recognized the room as the one from Alons memories. Indeed, even now, I could feel him stir from his realm within my mind.
Bullets had destroyed the glass divider that separated the control area from the rest of the lab. Glass littered the tables and floor like shaved ice.
All the knights made the Bond-sign. I merely stared, trembling.
How could they do this? I muttered.
The scene inside the lab was nightmarish. It was a torture fetishists wet dream. A welter of death and terror. Dozens of examination tables had been brought into the lab and rolled up against the walls, one next to another, raised nearly to the vertical. There was a person in nearly every one, and they were infected down to the last, defaced by ulcers and the fungus subdermal lightning. I had to dim my wyrmsight to keep my eyes from feeling like they were boiling inside my skull. A couple of hideous, slivered flesh-things littered parts of the floor like dead grubs. It looked like theyd once been human, or were made of something that had been.
I swallowed hard.
By the Angel, it looked delicious, and I hated myself for thinking so. I had to fight the urge to rip my hazmat suits helmet off and feast on them.
Nearly half of the test subjects were unresponsive. Their consciousness auras were so faint beneath the fungus aura that I couldnt tell whether they were living or dead, not without the proper medical equipment.
Andalon, I pleaded, there has to be something we can do!
But she looked at them and looked at me and then shook her head.
Break the Tablets I muttered.
As for the other half, they squirmed haplessly, writhing against the leather restraints that bound them to the examination tables. And they were petrified. Many still screamed, even though the gags in their mouths muffled nearly all the sound.
Stepping forward, I yelled: Were here to help!
I mean, we were covered in blood, and had just blasted through the labs outer wall to get inside. I figured it was worth clarifying that we were the good guys.
The people stared at me.
I noticed that Nina wasnt among them. Nor, for that matter, was anything that I could recognize as Alon Lokanoks corpse.
The knights, however
Eylon! Geoffrey yelled.
All of them gathered by the red-head. He was bound to one of the tables in the middle of the room.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.
Cut the restraints! Geoffrey yelled. All of them! Now!
Theyre around their wrists and ankles! I added.
I pushed power back into the weave around Yutas katana. Help them! I said.
He nodded and joined them.
They made quick work, slicing through the restraints. The blue and gold phantom blade thwicked and thwacked across my thinned wyrmsight, breaking one restraint after another. The subjects toppled forward, falling to their knees. Those that could move tried to get up, but many simply stayed on the floor, trapped in a catatonic state.
Bever, Karl said, help me with him!
The boy was trying to get Eylon off the metal table. Hed managed to get him sitting upright.
Its alright, I said, Ive got it.
Stepping toward the table, I diverted power from the plexus around Yutas katana to summon a psychokinetic scooper that lifted Eylon up and helped him to his feet. Immediately, I had to draw even more power in order to stretch the scooper and wrap it around to the front of Eylons body, to keep him from toppling forward.
K-Karl? he said, with tired eyes. He looked around in confusion.
Yes, sir, Karl said, Im here.
I I
Eylon wasnt completely catatonic, but he was far from being shipshape, either. He was shell-shocked, overwhelmed by both the disease and the terror of what hed experienced.
His hands trembled, his fingers contracting oddly, as if he didnt know how to move him.
Can you walk? I asked him.
It took Eylon a moment to look at me, and, even then, he didnt look me in the eyes.
Howle! Geoffrey shouted. We could use your assistance!
I bit my lip.
What am I supposed to do? Karl asked me.
Just stay there.
I ran off to help the others. Morgan and I helped people to their feet, while Geoffrey and Bever continued to break the restraints.
Howle, what about the door? Bever asked, pointing with his axe.
Unlike its front wall, the labs other three walls were solid, one of which had a door in it, a door which led to a slightly smaller, more specialized area. The door was a heavy slab of solid metal, likely hydraulic, and was currently closed tight.
It was very much foreboding to look at.
I started thickening my wrymsightat this point, it was basically X-ray visiononly to flinch as shouts reverberated down the main corridor.
I turned toward the sound.
My wyrmsight showed a dozen or so infected soldiers rushing into the building.
We have company! I said.
They must have come through the garage.
Andalon started shaking her arms in panic. She shot fretful gazes my way. She didnt need to say, Do something! The look of fear in her big blue eyes told me all I needed to know.
Geoffrey and the othersexcept for Karlran toward the broken wall as quickly as they could, ready to meet the enemy in the hallway.
Dr. Howle! the boy cried. He was trying to walk Eylon with him, with little success.
I gritted my teeth. Hold on, Im coming.
Dr. Howle?
I turned to face Yuta.
Dr. Howle? Karl said.
I stuck out my arm. Just hold on, ghost things!
I will not use your power without your consent, Yuta said. What shall I do?
I froze.
All I could think of was the bloodbath wed already made, and thered only be another massacre if I sicced Yuta on this next wave of soldiers. Of course, if I did nothing, my allies would die, and I imagined the test subjects wed rescued wouldnt fare too well, either.
They were witnesses, after all.
By the Angel
My imagination ran wild as my hyperphantasia acted up again. Fresh blood dripped down from the ceiling, pooling in the tiny lines in the vinyl floor. I yelped as figures stepped into the room, only to fall apart as an unseen force sliced to pieces.
Biting my lip, I focused.
Its not real, I told myself.
The blood and gore vanished.
Behind me, the test subjects wed saved were huddled in the corner of the lab, utterly terrified. Many of them didnt even know where they were.
I couldnt leave them here.
I made the Bond-Sign.
Andalon, I thought, please forgive me.
She stared at me in confusion. Mr. Genneth?
I had no other choice.
Geoffrey, get back! I yelled. Fall back! Fall back.
Morgan was the first to turn around, hobbling back into the lab. His injuries were definitely slowing him down.
I walked up to Karl and Eylon, joining the boy in supporting the ailing time-traveler. I noticed Karls transformee aura had just about engulfed his entire body.
Lets get him to the rest of the captives, I told Karl.
The scruff-haired kid nodded. As we led Eylon toward the corner in a three-legged walk, I looked over my shoulder and gave Yuta the orders hed asked for.
Go, Yuta, I thought-said, flicking my arm toward the main corridor. Go!
I fought back tears.
Id just issued a death sentence. There was no way the soldiers could stop the spectral samurai. He was an absent, asomatous presence, welding a weapon that barely even existed.
Yuta swung his katana as he phased through the wall, disappearing from sight. All I saw was his phantom blade, aswirl with spectral threads, rushing forward, colliding with the tight clusters of infection aura. The screams broke out a moment later. Heads and limbs took flight and plunged, radiant with fungal aura.
It was a massacre. Bever regarded it in slack jawed and horror.
If he wanted to judge me, he could do so after the captives were safe.
Karl, Eylon, and I reached the corner where the other captives cowered.
Set him down, I said.
Karl turned to me. But
I shook my head. No, no buts! Look at him, I said, as we set him down.
Eylon sat down trembling.
He can hardly move, I said. I grabbed Karl by the arm. Listen, we need to help as many as we can. First the ones who walk, then
Mr. Genneth! Andalon yelled, running up to me.
I pulled away.
Doctor H
But Id turned away from Karl, and was looking toward where Andalon was pointing, on the opposite side of the hallway.
Granted, I couldnt see the hallwaythere was a wall in the waybut that wasnt the point.
Across the hallway, I saw motes of white light blink in the distance. I recognized that light.
It was Ninas light.
Nina?! I yelled.
She must have been in one of the other labs!
The Blessd? Geoffrey asked.
Yes, I said, not stopping to turn around as I hobbled toward the hallway and the blood and the bullet-fire, shattered glass crunching beneath my soles.
Slowing down, I grabbed the edge of the door, ready to push off it to fling myself across the hallway, only to wince at the feeling of stray glass cutting into my palm, through my glove. My skin tingled for a second as my transformation sealed the wound shut.
Down the hall, the soldiers were firing wildly, trying to shoot at an enemy they couldnt see. Yutas strikes, meanwhile, were nothing short of balletic. His haori fluttered as he turned and spun, slicing men in twain.
Mr. Genneth! Andalon yelled. What is that!?
I looked just in time to see threads of black energy burst out from the frosted glass. Before I could make out the source, the shadow magic wrapped around Yutas katana, and the feeling of my magic suddenly changed. It was as if someone had wrapped a garrote around my plexus and cut off all circulation.
The grasping black devoured the blue and gold filaments around Yutas katana. The energy I spent was still where Id projected it, but it wasnt doing anything. The flow of the black threads out from the wall stopped, but the remaining threads did not die away. Instead, they quivered midair, wrapped around Yutas sword in a strangulating scribble.
What the heck!? I thought.
Howle! Yuta yelled. My sword!
I gasped. Andalon, what just happened?
A soldier yelled: Theres someone down there!
Oh fudge.
I turned back. Geoffrey! Help!
117.2 - O Schmerz! Du Alldurchdringer!
With Bever at his side, Geoffrey rushed through the shattered glass wall and out into the hallway. Karl followed up behind them, his hands trembling as he struggled to reload the pistol.
Yuta screamed. Genneth!
Shaking my head in focus, I wrapped a fresh sheet of pataphysics around his katana as quickly as I could, overwriting the black scribbles. My power glowed; rings and filaments swirled around the sword once more.
More soldiers streamed in, only to scream in terror as we caught them in a pincer maneuverGeoffrey and Bever striking at them from up front, Yuta slicing at them from behind.
Karl fired off shot after shot, accuracy left much to be desired. He hit a few soldiers in the legs or chest, but just as many of his bullets lodged in the glass.
Andalon floated ahead. Mr. Genneth! Her face tightened in alarm.
I sensed a buzz as power built off to the lab at my left.
Please, no, I thought, not again.
But it happened again. Another burst of black erupted from the wall and wrapped around Yutas katana, instantly snuffing out my spell.
Andalon, what is this?
There, she said, pointing up ahead. There! I can sees it!
The spell-source had gotten closer, close enough that I could see it and its aura more clearly. Magenta colors danced in a mass of fungal aura that swaddled a large, dark, blurry lump on the other side of the frosted glass.
Magenta was the color of the fungus will.
No. No no no.
The fungus had taken control. It was making a plaything out of Ninas body.
Mr. Genneth, shes
I couldnt let Hell have Ninas powers.
Andalon, I shouted, lets do the thing!
Im ready! she yelled.
Yuta, I thought-said, Im going to need my power back!
Running down the hallway toward the soldiers, the circles of blue and gold around Yutas katana vanished as I sliced my arm through the air and slammed a wave of pataphysics at the soldiers from the side. A few of the soldiers toppled over as my attack shoved them against the wall, but then more of that dark energy spooled out from the glass wall. It grabbed my plexus like a hand of worms and squeezed, crushing my weave and cutting off my powers flow. The wall of light Id sent sweeping across the hallway vanished, strangled by the darkand leaving me a sitting duck.
I screamed for help.
Bever plowed into two of the soldiers. He cleaved his axe through a forearm as both targets toppled to the floor. Unable to run out of his way, I got swept up in his momentum. He all fell together, slamming into the floor.
In the chaos, screams rushed out from the shattered lab. I flipped onto my belly and looked up to see hospital gowns whipping by.
The captives were escaping, fleeing down the main corridor.
They were running for their lives.
It started as a trickle, and then grew to a torrent: dying, frightened people scrambling in a mad dash to escape the hell theyd been trapped in.
Even Vernons men took pause.
But I didnt see Eylon among them.
Even more soldiers streamed in through the mouth of the corridorreinforcements from the garage; elite troops, in sleek, white armor. They started firing before any of us could react.
Two or three of the fleeing patients fell dead, their fungus-riddled heads or chests sliced open by the heat rays from the elite troopers rifles. The cauterized bodies smoked and burned.
Andalon screamed in horror. The sound was overwhelmingNear the exit behind the soldiers, a transformee had barreled through the frosted glass wall of the lab to the right. Glass rained in the corridor.
Andalon leapt up, shouting in triumph. Wyrmeh!
It was the most fully changed transformee Id ever seen.
No, it wasnt a transformee. Not anymore. This was a wyrm
familiar violet and ultramarine runic circuitry
A living wall of otherworldly muscle rippled beneath a wall of amber-brown scales. It was more than twice as thick as a man, and many, many times as long.
I screamed for help as I focused all my willpower on the wyrm. It would have wyrmsight, it would be able to see I was its kin.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.
And kin help one another, right?
The wyrm slithered into the hallway, knocking soldiers to the ground. It reared up its forepart.
It was a serpent out of myth, with arms and claws and a dragons head, tipped in a snout that had no mouth. Two fang-like horns jutted from the back of its head, glowing with a pale orange bioluminescence. Spikes ran down its spine, lambent in that same color through the walls as the wyrm moved
At the edge of the cone of shadow, I could see green wisps play at its snouts many holes.
If it had a gender, I didnt know it. The only indication it had ever been human were the blotches of pallid, unchanged skin that still remained on its chest and underbelly. The blotches coated it like an apron.
Wyrmeh, help! Andalon screamed, leaping up and down. Wyr
But then it turned to face us, and Andalon covered her mouth and shrieked.
Its eyes.
Andalon stumbled back, and then tripped on her nightgown and fell to the floor. She crawled back, head trembling, with a voice like glass.
W-Wyrmeh?
And like glass, it broke.
horns bashed holes in the ceiling, freeing flaky debris t to the floor. One of horns struck one of the fluorescent ceiling lights. The light died with a zort, raining a panoply of sparks.
The wyrm slithered toward u.
I barely noticed the gunfire blasting into the wyrms flank. The bullets bounced off its scales, cascading onto the blood-streaked floor. A couple of the heat rays grazed it, leaving white-hot trails on its hide, but the heat faded a moment later, totally ineffective.
A wyrms eyes were golden: six golden globes, three on either side of its head, one in front of the other, all in a row.
But not this wyrm. This wyrms eyes were silver.
Through my wyrmsight, I could see a magenta aura flare beneath the transformees luminous circuitry.
Magenta: the color fungus will.
No! Andalon screamed, shaking her head. No! No! No!
Rearing back its head, the wyrm lunged forward, blasting a sporey torrent out its many nostrils. The stuff moved like floating liquid. Screams went off like misplayed notes, snuffed out in half a second as the acid spore breath reduced three soldiers to fizzing faex. The green cloud lapped against the surrounding walls, stirred by moving bodies. In seconds, the glass gave way, dissolving into bubbling slag.
Sirens and gunfire flashed on the other side of the cloud. Bullets tore holes through the cloud; people ran in every direction.
I whipped up a forcefield to shield the knights and the captives. I didnt care if the darkness reached out and quashed it. It only needed to last for a moment. And it was a good thing that I had conjured the forcefield because, a moment later, a laser struck the cloud, suddenly igniting it. A fiery wave rippled through the hallway as spores combusted, leaving us stranded in choking smoke.
Bullets bounced off the wyrms minutely scaled amber-brown hide as the creature turned around, unhindered by the blast. The wyrms movements whisked away trails of smoke, revealing glimpses of bodies burnt and burning stumbling through the dark-light, or writhing on the floor. Everyone screamed.
And through my wyrmsight, I saw the fungus take control.
Magenta crept into everything. A few of the soldiers fell to their knees, only to start moving with twitches and shudders. Hands spasmed and then turned violent, clawing at the nearest face or limb.
Help! someone screamed. I cant stop!
Shrieks and growls erupted from the broken labs.
nfected swarmed out through the shattered glass. Tables with captives still bound to them crashed to the floor as their occupants spasmed and thrashed.
I dismissed my forcefield before the shadow magic could crush it.
Geoffrey, Morgan, and Bever brandished their weapons, cutting down the zombies charging their way. The trails of spores still in the air ate away at the knights gowns, revealing their armor for all to see.
Andalon! I yelled.
She floated beside me.
Now! I said. Connect with &alon!
And with a nod, she began to glow. Getting down onto my knees, I held her hand as her power flowed into me.
The wyrm threw itself at the infected. Dead or alive, they stuck to it like glue, giving it a mane of dangling bodies. Bellowing, the wyrm flicked its body, hurling itself through the hole its breath weapon had eaten into the nearby wall Glass, metal, brick, ash, and spores were sucked out through the hole, following the wyrms momentum as it slithered into the Main Labs reception area.
The half-charred zombies followed, spilling out through the openings.
Thrusting out my armswith Andalon hovering beside me, glowing with powerI felt through the unseen connections &alon was forming between m and the infected.
It was just like the mle in the lobby. I peeled off the fungus magenta will, scraping the baleful color from their auras like so many scratch cards. All at once, the zombies calmed. Their roars and snarls broke into sobs and screams of pain. Some of them fell to the ground weeping, others just kept on running.
Anywhere but here, you know?
No! Geoffrey bellowed, charging forward. There was panic in his eyes.
That way! he yelled, pointing down the hallway in the direction from which wed come. That way!
It was a good call.
Those who could ran. Others stood like statues, lacking any senses to which they could return. Some just fell limply to the floor.
The garage boomed with sound: screams, gunfire, sizzling acid, and the wyrms unearthly cries. Fusillades blasted through the lobbys frosted glass. Karl ran toward me, stepping over blood and body parts. W-Whatwhat o I do?
He was crying.
The other labs, I said, there are people in there, we need to get them out!
And I still needed to free Nina from the fungus control.
What about Eylon? he demanded. Wh-what about all the injured? The in-infirm?
I was going to need to have a long, painful conversation with him, wasnt I?
But it would have to wait.
I pointed to the lab closest to the source of the shadow spell. This way! I yelled.
As we rushed ahead, a second bright light bloomed in my wyrmsighta mammoth form of pure fungal aura.
The source of the shadow spell was moving!
Mr. Genneth! Andalon screamed.
I know! I yelled.
W-What? Karl asked.
Get back! I said, stcking out my arm to block his path.
We both skidded to a stop just in time.
A creature came charging out through the opening the wyrm had made in the wall. Parts of the wall and ceiling were torn free.
By the Godhead
The creature was the physical vessel for the cluster of infection aura that wielded the shadow magic against my powers. If you squinted, youd have thought it was some huge animal, but the truth was so much worse. I didnt know what to call it, other than: abomination.
It was a composite creature, built from human beings, living and dead. Theyd been arranged in a mammal-like form, but with six legs instead of four, each capped with wicked claws. Its limbs were like caryatids, only assembled from more than one body, and without restriction to gender. The bodies had melted together, fusing in placesbricks held together by fungal mortar. In some places, over its monstrous bulk, the fungus had completely replaced the flesh of the infected with its own. They were thick, vaguely hexagonal plates that overlapped like scale mail. It had neither head nor tail. The bodies on its front and rear were living friezes, bound by the fungus as it consumed them and fruited, fungal branches erupting from ears and mouths and eyes.
And then it turned to face us.
I gasped in horror. No No!!
Nina was front and center, embedded at the heart of the frieze. Her face was expressionless and wan, and drooped lifelessly. A fungal crown had split open the top of her skull.
Was this a demon, rendered in flesh?
117.3 - O Schmerz! Du Alldurchdringer!
Lass preserve us! Karl yelled.
The abomination turned, trundling into the lobby. Through my wyrmsight, I saw souls and their auras churn in the monsters core, as if trapped there.
I screamed. That thing has her! We have to get her out of it!
It didnt matter whether she was dead or alive. As long as it had her, it could use her.
I ran ahead, my rotten legs making me stumble as I stepped over the fallen.
Screams erupted from the lobby up ahead as the abomination barreled forward. There was a horrific crash as the thing burst into the garage through the far wall. Hot, stuffy air spilled into the hallway.
Andalon flew at my side as I ran. Mr. Genneth!
I know! I said. I know!
I couldnt let Nina stay part of a demon.
No more holding back. I had to give it my all.
Id rip that darn thing to pieces!
I had a feeling I was about to give myself some really nasty hunger pangs.
I ran through the lobby, pushing off the counter of the reception desk, sprinting forward with pataphysical speed. There was a horizontal stream of bullets up ahead, blasting at the wyrm where it had coiled over to my right.
Geoffrey and I locked eyes.
Ignore the wyrm! I yelled. Its the other creaturethe demon! I pointed at it. We have to stop it!
The garage erupted with gunfire as the abomination clambered over the rows of parked cars. The metal creaked and groaned beneath its clawed feet, and then crumpled as it swiped them out of the way, crashing them into the garages structural columns or one another.
To my right, the wyrm reared back its head and bellowed.
I skidded to a stop.
Oh fudge
I could see the wisps of green spiraling into its snout-holes as it inhaled.
Slowing time, I changed my direction and darted forward, mustering my power. I drew up plexuses and wove them into forcefields that I layered thick to my either sides.
One wall to block the wyrm, another to block the soldiers and their gunfire.
Like a cobra, the wyrm struck, lashing forward as it unleashed its breath weapon, a torrent of green death roaring out from its snout. Through the slowed time, as I ran straight ahead, I watched my forcefield divert the spore breath. The green deluge bounced off my glistening plexus, rebounding toward the wyrm.
Was this what the Lass felt when she parted the waters of Elpeck Bay?
Cooooooooooommmmmmmmmmmmme onnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn! I yelled, turning my head back. My words stretched across the moment. The air felt like molasses against my lips.
I saw Geoffrey, Bever, Morgan, and Karl follow in my footsteps, running through my forcefield corridor. Up ahead, Yuta was running low to the ground with his katana behind him. The samurai had phased through a partially crushed car.
I let time quicken as soon as my feet hit the garages mosaic floor. Having cleared the danger, I withdrew my forcefields. Gunfire and spore breath intermixed behind us.
The abomination loomed ahead. It was swinging its claws at scattered clusters of soldiers. More of the Generals men spilled out from the Galleria on the garages opposite side.
I was pretty sure I could hear what sounded like a tank rolling down the exit ramp.
The girl at the front of it, I said, pointing at the abomination, we have to get her out!
Bever turned to me. Is that?
Yes, I said, its her.
Yuta nodded, and ran off, katana glistening as he phased through the parked cars. I followed behind, alongside Geoffrey and his comrades. We ran in between the rows of cars.
Through a moment of slowed time, I looked down to see that I was using my powers to keep myself balanced and push myself forward.
Had I even done that?
I felt a sliver of myself stir.
Youre welcome.
I guess I had my doppelgenneths to thank.
In that moment of slowed time, I realized something.
This is, isnt it? I thought. My ruse was over. Barring a miracle, there would be no coming back from this. I was using my powers out in the open.
At least were going out with a bang, I told my body-self.
Yeah, I thought, I guess I was.
The military was pelting the abomination with bullets, and they werent doing much. They either ricocheted off its armored plates, or lodged in the human flesh exposed on the creatures surface, seemingly to no effect.
I didnt see any heat rays.
Had all their elite troops been slain?
The abomination swung at two soldiers, impaling them with its claws. Its claw-tips raked bloody furrows in the mosaic floor.
Id played enough video games to recognize a boss fight when I saw one. And this boss had special resistancesimmunity to bullets, for one. Worse, it had hijacked Ninas powers andI thinkhad somehow used them to cancel out mine.
And why would it do that?This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Because it knows we can hurt it, I told myself.
Exactly right.
Well, at least I hoped it was right.
Still, right or not, it was stopping my attacks before I could get any hits in.
Unless
I had an idea.
Yuta! I yelled. Slash it Aim for its legs!
Thats a thing you did when fighting monsters, right?
I infused Yutas sword with my magic as he ran aheadand he got a hit in, a decisive horizontal slash on one of the unarmored parts of one of the abominations front legs. The phantom katana cut clean through the bulky limb. The abomination stumbled forward. Some of the soldiers cheered, thinking they were responsible for it.
The abominations armor plates raised up off its bodygoing erectlike hair bristling in anger.
Then, just as Id expected, the shadow magic intervened. Through my wyrmsight, the now-familiar tendrils of dark energy spooled out from Ninas body and wrapped around Yutas sword.
Perfect timing.
Lets see how it handles a pincer maneuver, I thought.
Expecting the counter, Id started pulling my power away from Yutas katana before Id even felt the energy-pressure of the things shadow weaves crush my own. I took the power from Yutas sword and coalesced it into a blade of my own: massive sword of filamentous lightblue, golden, and gloriousseveral feet wide, and many more long.
A giant katana.
With a scream, I charged at the abomination from behind. I pulled my blade back, ready to strike.
If this was anything like Yutas attack, Id split the creature straight down the middle.
Energy flared, swirling around the abomination in black and white, forming rasping black coils that merged into a thick wall. My energy blade collapsed as it slammed into the barrier, as if the wall was a whetstone that had ground it away.
My dead blood ran cold in my veins.
So much for my pincer maneuver, I thought.
The bodies in the abominations back spasmed. The thing reared up.
Dr. Howle!
Turning, I saw Geoffrey running toward me, halberd in hand.
I darted out of the way just in time. The knight lunged forward, swinging his halberd in a wide berth that lopped off a solid chunk of human flesh from one of the abominations hind legs. Man and steel cut through the barrier of dark energy like it wasnt even there.
Of course! Why didnt I realize it sooner?
The barrier had only blocked my pataphysics!
Geoffreys blow made the beast stagger. The creatures overlapping plates rippled as it toppled onto its side.
One of the soldiers screamed: Fire away!
The military pumped bullets into the abominations soft underbelly. Metal rained on the mosaic floor.
Shes up at the front! I yelled.
Bever and I followed Geoffrey around to the front of the creature. I saw Karl running to join us from off to the side. As we approached, the abomination swept one of its forelegs across the tiled floor. Bever blocked the blow, catching his axe in the gap between two of its claws. The axes haft snapped in two, launching Bever backwards. He crashed into the side of a crumpled sedan.
Morgan seized the opportunity, stabbing the monster from behind with his pike.
The beast rocked from side to side, trying to right itself. The bodies at its frontincluding Ninasthumped ungainly against the tile.
Lunging forward, Geoffrey cleaved his halberd through the clustered bodies, then, raising it back, he brought it down on the still-visible human flesh in a massive blow, slicing away the bodies to either side of Nina.
Howle, he yelled, your powers. Help me! Pull!
I started preparing a weave, but then flinched as the wyrm in the lobby bellowed polyphonic thunder.
Quickening my thoughts, I slowed time to focus on crafting my plexus. Through the slowed time, I watched Geoffrey throw himself at the abomination.
My eyes went wide.
Digging in, Geoffrey wrapped his arms around Ninas glassy-eyed corpse.
He pulled, but then broke out in a scream.
Mr. Genneth! Andalon screamedshe floated overhead.
Geoffreys boots scraped against the tiled floor as he tried to pull away. But his efforts were fruitless.
Whats I staggered back in shock. Whats happening!?
The fungus answered my question for me by pulling on the knight, sucking him into its abominations flesh.
Help! he shrieked. II cantits
Karl screamed. Geoffrey! He fired his pistol at the monster. The bullets didnt even bounce off; the creature sucked them into its flesh.
Geoffreys screams stretched and broke as the abominations fungal mortar crawled up his arms. He fell to his knees, frothing wildly at the mouth. The patches of thickened wyrmsight on my field of vision showed the abominations infection-aura merging with Geoffreys.
It sucked him in like a feasting amoeba.
I tried pulling the knight free with my pataphysics, but tendrils of dark light shot out from the creature and batted away my weaves, swatting them like flies.
W-We have to pull him out! Karl yelled.
Karl, Morgan, and I ran forward. Geoffrey fought against the consuming flesh, straining to reach out with his arms. We each grabbed one of his arms, and pulled, but my frail legs gave out and I fell to the ground. On a reflex, I reached out to brace myself. My hand landed on the abominations hide.
Geoffreys screams were cut short as his head suddenly snapped back. The sound of his bones cracking bounced off the garages ceiling. All the tension in his body fell away. The fungus subsumed him. The abomination was like flypaper. Geoffreys armor got stuck where it touched it, peeling off his skin. Thousands of writhing tendrils plunged into himhaustoria, seeking to feed.
The fungus was setting its rootsand not just in the dying knight.
The abominations undead flesh squirmed beneath my palm, crawling through the cut in my glove. I screamed as the squirming intensified. There was a brief burning sensation, and then
Suddenly, it was like Id been pricked by lightning. Energy roared through my body.
It took me a second to understand what was happeningto understand what I was feeling.
The fungal flesh had eaten away at my glove, using the cut from before as an inroads. A blissful tickle consumed my hand as my body seemed to drink up the abominations biomass. All the auras churning within the creatures body flowed into me. Geoffreys consciousness joined them, darting up into my hand, along with a wave of pleasure that dented my hunger as it roared through me.
Even Ninas lightthe white motespassed into me, onto my hand and up my arm.
I think Id just taken back the souls the monster had stolen.
And not just that.
The fungus and I were fighting for control of the biomass. The fungus seemed to build its monsters from the bodies of its victims. It fused them togetherturning human beings into building blocks to toy with as it saw fit, and then used their souls to power the abominations it had wrought.
But now, &alon was fighting back.
If I couldnt save the lives the fungus had taken, at least I could free their flesh from its bondage to Hell.
Familiar spectral blue flames appeared. Like dandelions on the wind, they drifted down and then passed into Andalon and me.
I guess this counted as a meal.
The dark light swirling around the abomination began to thin. The barrier it had formed to block my attacks flickered. Entire sections gave way.
Mr. Genneth! Andalon yelled. Youre getting her power! Amplersandalons power!
Was there hope for me after all?
I summoned my energy sword once again. I wove it upwardan executioners blade raised high above the abomination; a giant clock-hand, ready to crush. At the same time, I wound force in front of mea coil, ready to spring. And then I let the power flow.
I held nothing back.
Pressure blossomed across my chest as my pataphysical miracle launched me backward. Pain stung my palm where my contact with the abomination had broken. Quickening my thoughts, I watched through slowed time as the second half of my magic did its work.
The energy blade angled over the abomination swung down, descending like the Angel Himself from the skies above.
My back hit the garage floor, bashing my tail. My shoulders buckled as force rippled through me.
I skidded to a stop.
My blade cut the abomination down the middle, splitting its armored plates like butter. Heat and black ooze steamed up from the creatures exposed core.
But I could do more.
I had to, for Ninas sake.
And for Geoffrey.
In the slowed time, I made another spring, this one beneath me, between my back and the floor, using it to launch myself back to my feet. I took the plexus my doppelgenenth had woven around my legs and lower body and willed it forward and upward, catching me like a glove, holding me upright.
I slowed my thoughts, quickening time once more.
Spreading my arms, I pooled the various plexuses around me into a second blade. My body burned.
It was the longest mile Id ever run.
Ninas white light whirl around me, soothing the burn.
It gave me strength.
Screaming, I pushed my hands forward. My second blade joined its brother, rising high. The two, glittering clock-hands gyrated above the abomination. Slowly, I stepped back, spinning my arms around and arounda conductor of Andalons might. The blades spun and spun, slicing the creature in half, and in half again and in half again. Soldiers gasped as the hail of bullets bounced off my force blades, marking their contours for all to see.
Hold your fire! someone yelled.
The fungal abomination fell apart in a steaming pile of meat. Kibbles and cubes spilled onto nearby cars and the garages mosaic floor.
And then, overhead, the green death came billowing. A hurricane, from the silver-eyed wyrm.
It crested over us in a mighty wave.
118.1 - Chaos
Has this happened to you, I wonder? Youre playing a game, and youve just finished a tough boss battlepossibly only by the skin of your teethand then the game just throws you into another one. No mercy.
Its not a pleasant experience, let me tell you.
But it pales in comparison to the real thing.
The chaser.
Id just filleted a four-legged fungal abominationa log-work creature, only the logs were made of corpses.
Three seconds later, I turn around to face a tsunami of green.
Spores.
There wasnt even time to panic, so I quickened my thoughts and made some. The onrushing tide of spore breath blasting out of General Labs slowed, turning feathery and plumed. Wisps wicked in upward twirls in the slowed time, spilling forward like an alien air.
A missile rocked out of the wavefront, flying parallel to the ground, swathed in a corkscrew of blue and gold. The tsunami churned around it, stirred into a vortex, fatal and elegant.
I turned away, facing forward. My thoughts raced, but I moved with agonizing slowness.
Nina was dead.
How? How could that have happened?
Karl came into view up ahead, wide-eyed and terrified.
A shadow loomed over him. It loomed over all of us, casting a wide berth across the garages mosaic floor.
Slowly, my eyes rolled up.
The wave was cresting over our heads. Spores gathered in droplets, trickling and spooled.
Gravity tugged them downwards.
Hit the deck!
I fell forward. I would have whipped up a plexus to cushion my fall, but all my willpower had gone into a protective forcefield Id woven behind me.
Id pulled it over my head like a cloak.
I willed the cloak forward. Through the slowed time, the sheets of pulsing color extendeda wave beneath the wavespreading to cover Karl.
But, too late, he was already running away.
My lips twitched as my nervous system ordered them to open up and yell.
I slowed my thoughts to return time to normal right as my No! boiled up from my throat.
Sounds sped up like an overclocked record.
I fell forward. Inside my hazmat suit, I was a car crash in miniature. My glasses bashed against my face. The visor caught the brunt of my fall, sending my head rebounding off the mosaic seascape. There was a loud crack as the helmets plastic buckled
Then the green spore-cloud inundated everything. The torrent battered my force-cloak. I looked up just in time to see the plexus-swathed wyrm corkscrew past me. It zoomed over vehicles, leaving a wispy trail in its wake.
Bracing my arms, I pushed myself up.
The wyrm plowed through the glass wall between the garage and the Galleria. Swerving upward it broke through the ceiling, erupting through one of the skylights. Glassy daylight rained down, along with cordons, and black metal fences, and tents, and dozens of bodies.
I cut the power from my force-cloak and gathered it underneath me, to lift me to my feet.
Nina was supposed to be one of the Blessd, right? One of the Angels chosen warriors.
No. That
If there could be more than one Angel, then everything was suspect.
The wyrms breath weapon had blown across a third of the garage in a strip spanning end to end. Half of the spore cloud pooled around the parked cars. The metal chassises hissed and bubbled, as if slicked with sea-foam. Naked metal stuck out from the sedans whose roofs had corroded away.
The other half of the cloud was pulled into the Undergreen in the wyrms wake. Everything in its path was sandblasted and bare. The clouds hung in the shallow ditches it had guttered into the tile.
A couple more feet to the right, and the wyrm would have blown through one of the garages support pillars.
The abomination that Id killed was a steaming midden in the middle of the garage, crumbling and bubbling. Spores gathered around it, pooling like fog at an islands edge.
And the bodies.
By the Angel, the bodies
Shoes and legs stood like smoldered stumps. Cloth and armor crumbled into char. Foaming green burned on naked, blackened bone.
They were the lucky ones.
Others still lived, reduced to trembling figures of sizzling flesh and smoking, charcoal-stick limbs. Entire swaths of backs and flanks were burned away.
Andalon, what do we do now? I asked, within myself. Second-me sat in the chair in my mind-office, with Andalon in the chair on the opposite side.
Nina, she
Id wanted to believe that Ninas powers would have protected her from the fungus. I mean, they protected Suisei, so, why
Andalon looked me in the eyes. Mr. Sushi has to know. He hasta!
But then why did I feel so much dread?
Karl lay on the ground, sputtering. His transformations rune-work plexus glowed like a strobe light in my wyrmsight. It must have been giving its all, just to keep him alive.
He must have dived forward to try to dodge the spore breath.
The back half of his body had been burned awayhis shoulder blades, his neck, a good deal of his scalpexposing the cords of layered wyrmflesh that had replaced his central nervous system.
Im scared, I said.
Andalon looked on in concern.
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Check the soul crystals! I told myself.
First-Me was right.
The mind office melted away, everything whisking off to the side, stretching out as the world spun, only to coalesce at my Main Menu. The great sphere of soul crystals floated in the pure, open sky.
Sorcerer! Bever yelled. Help!
Turning, I saw Bever and Morgan leaning against one another, barely able to stand. Morgan was semi-conscious. The lower parts of his legs had been melted off. His tibias extruded from the ends of his legs, blackened like used matches.
The axemans armor was eaten through in places, particularly on his back. The edges of the dissolved portions of the metal still bubbled.
And then, Bever saw Karl.
Break the Tablets! he cried. Karl, boy whats
Karl moaned.
The gashes and scrapes marring Karls face were slicked in drool. His saliva pooled on the mosaic floor. With another wordless moan, he crawled toward the dead abominations steaming mass. He reached for it with an unsteady hand, twitching like a crushed insect.
Filaments budded out from the wyrmflesh in his back, attempting to heal his wounds. But the growth was sluggish and stilted.
Angel p-preserve us Morgan muttered. He whispered in terror.
Help him, Mr. Genneth! Andalon cried. Hes starving! Hes dying!!
Swallowing harda gob of my own sweet, tangy saliva sliding down my throat, I pushed the minced abomination toward Karl with a psychic shove. Chunks of twisted corpse flesh spilled onto Karls body. They stuck to him like glue where they touched.
He yelped and moaned.
In seconds, filaments wriggled out from the column of wyrmflesh in Karls melted back. Some of the filaments plunged into his wounds. Others sewed their way through the chunks of flesh, striking them together like beads on a necklace. The chunks deformed as their biomass flowed onto the connecting filaments.
Whats? Karl strained to reach his chest. Whats happening to me? His voice distorted as he changed.
Howle? Bever yelled. What? What have you done? The horror in his face was struck through with disbelief and betrayal.
Morgan pushed Bever away and fell to the floor.
Leave me! he cried. Help the the boy!
Nodding sternly, Bever grabbed his axe and moved toward Karl.
Morgan began to twitch and froth. The spores on his blackened tibia stubs took root. Fungal filaments grew up his flesh and armor with horrifying speed.
Get back! Karl yelled, sticking out a hand, only for it to twitch and change as he held it.
The sphere spun and churned as I whisked through the crystals. Andalon watched on in trepidation.
There.
I pulled one of the crystals out. Fluidic light sloshed around within it, steadily filling up.
Weve got her, I said, turning to Andalon. Ive got Ninas soul.
Now, I just needed to wait for it to finish uploading. I set up an alarm that would go off once it had.
And once it did? Well Id cross that bridge when I got to it.
Bever turned to me. You! he roared. You did this!
He charged at me.
I tried to yell at him to make him stop, but there wasnt enough time.
There wasnt even time for me to move out of the way.
I needed to unify myself. I needed to focus. I had to actnow!
I was afraid. And the more of me there was, the more fear there was. Fear, uncertainty, and doubt.
Im sorry, I thought.
You dont need to apologize, I told First-Me. Once Ninas spirit is ready, well get our answers.
I spread my arms. Feeling trickled away as I dissolved back into myself.
I felt myself fully. One world, myself, alone.
I slowed time just as Bever started to swing his axe. I whipped up a forcefield and placed it in front of me, like the prow of a ship. Bevers axe clashed against it, sending off sparks that briefly elucidated the barriers front edge. The forcefield caught Bever off guard, throwing him back. His axe got ripped from his hand as he was flung to the floorright into Karls transforming body.
By the Godhead I muttered.
It was like with Geoffrey, only worse. The exposed, spore-eaten parts of Bevers flesh fused with Karl, melding into the boys back. The knight twitched and folded as his body was subsumed. He managed to mutter, Its not your fault before his skull cracked and his head was stretched long, wrapping around Karls back like the swirls on a barber pole.
Karl tried to reach around to peel his friend off his body, but it was no use.
The knights spore-coated armor buckled and snapped as it was absorbed.
Bever! Karl screamed. Bever! His voice distorted like the axemans face.
Spikes burst from Karls spine, pushing off what remained of his clothes. The spikes marched down his spine, punch punch punch, while the bone below lengthened and creaked, thickening into a mighty tail that swept across the floor.
All traces of Bevers body had vanished.
In moments, the last pieces of the slain abomination had slithered into him, joining Bevers biomass. They flowed up his arms and neck, extending his torso along with his tail, until, even when sprawled flat on his belly, he was nearly as tall as me.
Ten feet long.
Fifteen.
Twenty.
The boys arms bulged obscenely as his hands exploded into wyrm claws. His head was like a grape compared to his forest-green hands.
He reached forward with a trembling hand and pointed at the Galleria.
By the Godhead I muttered.
Feral infected were spilling down the stairs. It was a mad dash of mindless fury. They stumbled over one another. Rotting bones cracked open on the floor. Others fell through the hole in the ceiling, coming to pieces as they smacked on the ground.
Screaming soldierstheir armor dissolving in the spore-tidewere pummeled by the human deluge. Bullets fired. Screams and shrieks burst. Shards of broken glass painted the floor in streaks of blood.
Mr. Genneth! Andalon yelled. You have to stop them! She pointed up, toward the hole. Zombies zombies zombies!
I turned to Karl. But, what about
You killed them! Karl yelled, still mid-change. Geoffrey Geoffrey would have protected the people! You hid. You betrayed. His eyes bulged gold as he screamed. Liar! Liar! He spat out spores, which scattered across the tile in sizzling splotches.
I
I wanted to tell him it was an accident. I wanted to tell him I hadnt
Mr. Genneth, Andalon yelled. You gotta protect everybody! You gotta help and save!
B-But! I stammered.
Karl screamed as he wept.
Up ahead, the zombies were crawling across the broken glass, spilling out into the garage. Their ulcers and broken limbs hardly stopped them; they just made their powerless hosts scream in agony.
Fudge, I thought. I could feel guilty later.
Andalon!
I looked her in the eyes.
She nodded.
Stepping forward, I closed my eyes and took a deep, deep breath. I instantly sensed the power flowing from Andalon. In my minds eye, she was a living flame, white fire on black
I opened my eyes to see light pour from her body. I thickened my wyrmsight to the fullest. Suddenly, I was an island in a sea of writhing magenta.
The aura of the horde.
Andalon! I yelled.
Her hair streamed upward, as candescent as the fires in my mind.
A ripple spread across the morass of zombie-aura, spreading out from where I stood. The aura twitched as the ripple passed through it. Each twitch was the formation of a connection, and I could feel every one of them.
The burden was more than I could have ever imagined. It knocked me onto all fours, nearly overwhelmed. My gloved hand smacked on the mosaic tile.
But I held firm to the connection. I stayed in control. With gritted teeth, I raised my head and looked straight ahead.
And then I blewa little puff of air. I dont know why I did it, it just felt natural.
The magenta tinge in the zombies aura scattered like dust in the wind. All those vile lights went out, and the surging hordes momentum got the rug pulled out from underneath it. People stumbled and fell. They landed flat on their faces or smacked into a structural pillar or the side of a parked car.
I was in control.
I tightened my grip on their wills, just enough to stop them from moving. Wanting to give them back control of their bodies, I relaxed my mental hold on them. Beside me, Andalons light dwindled. Ahead, the freed zombies broke down, sobbing and screaming.
But I couldnt let go all the way. Beneath the layers of Andalons power, I could feel the fungus. It was struggling against me, clawing against the psychic sinew like a man buried in a grave.
I stayed vigilant, holding on to a sliver of Andalons powerenough of her light to keep the fungus at bay.
Andalon turned her head to face me. Mr. Genneth
There was fear in her eyes.
Angels breath, I could feel it too!
Something else was wrong.
I had to slow my perception of time to notice it.
Break the Tablets, I thought.
Not all of the infected Id freed the infected from the fungus control were able to enjoy their freedom. For every person who staggered to their feet, I saw two that lay motionless where theyd fallen. Others stood like scarecrows, blankly staring and empty-headed.
Why arent they going back to normal? I thoughtasked.
Andalon lowered her head in shame. It must be too late, she said. The darkness must have got them.
I sped time again.
Fudge
Gunfire broke out in counterpoint to a wyrms otherworldly cries.
The sound sent shivers down my spine.
Andalon floated into the Galleria. Mr. Genneth! she said, brimming with urgency.
Im coming! I yelled.
But as I ran forward, a polyphonic voice boomed behind me.
Dr. Howle! Karl said.
The sound made me flinch.
Around me, the freed zombies looked up and then screamed. They stumbled as they fled in terror.
I turned, and then staggered back.
Karl loomed over me, head and shoulders rising up above the surrounding cars. Hed wrapped his arms around a support column. He clung to it like he was caught in a river; like if, at any moment, he might get swept away.
In appearance, he strongly resembled what Greg had become, only he was bigger than Mr. Pfefferman had become, and more of his humanity was still intact. He was serpentine below the waist, with his arms, neck, shoulders, and torso having mostly changed to what I now recognized as wyrmly proportions. Only the Godhead knew how much more the boy would grow before he was fully changed. Yet his face was still his, even if most of his hair had fallen out.
He glanced down at his serpentine lower body, disgusted by himself. He twitched his tail-body, not knowing how to move it. Metal creaked and groaned as he bumped against the surrounding car.
H-Help me he said.
It was barely above a whisper, but it set the air aquiver, and sent out faint, curling trails of spores.
Behind me, up through the broken skylight, the silver-eyed wyrm keened.
Fudge me up the axe, I muttered.
118.2 - Chaos
Though I did not know it at the time, Dr. Suisei Horosha had, in fact, read the text message Id sent him. It had surprised him. That made this the second time Id surprised him, and, considering hed known me for barely a week, that was unusual. Disturbing, even.
Suisei hated surprises in general, but especially so when they sent him off in a sprint.
Suisei raced down the hallway, chasing after the transformees.
Nurse Costran! he yelled. Dr. Rathpalla!
Up ahead, there was a crash as one of the hallways windows was punched clear through, along with a good portion of the surrounding wall. The nurse and the doctor had combined their powers and their body weight to blast a hole in the hospital wall.
Wait! Suisei yelled.
But the two transformees flung themselves out before he could whip up something to stop him.
Suisei pined for the days when he could stop a car with just a wave of his hand.
It was so much easier to deal with people when they couldnt run away from you.
Well, Larry said. From where he stood at Suiseis side, he glanced back at the double doors to the Self Help Group, deep in the hallway behind them. At least they didnt make the hole too close to headquarters.
He turned to face forward once more.
The janitor towered over Suisei, more than twice Dr. Horoshas height, and nearly all of it was arm. Larrys remaining human arm had joined its brother in the change, leaving him with two massive wyrm arms sticking out like struts from either side of his mostly human body. Larrys legs dangled underneath him, as did his short tail, which stuck out from a hole hed cut in his trousers. The janitor-transformee had taken to using his arms as his legs. He had to bend his head down while he waddled down hallways, to avoid bashing his skull into the ceiling or his face into any dangling light fixtures.
Shadows passed over Suiseis head as Larry stepped around him, toward the hole. Larry craned his neck down, to look out through the hole.
Larry Suisei said, voicing his concern.
Its the fastest way, Larry replied, with a mighty shrug.
Please, wait, Suisei pleaded, but it was too late.
He saw Larry move, and then yelled Wait! to stop him, but the janitor didnt listen. Instead, Larry shouldered through the hole in the wall and leapt down the several-story drop, taking a bit more of the wall with him, knocked free by his passing claws.
Leaning forward, Suisei braced himself by pressing his arms against either side of the holes ragged mouth.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Down on the street below, the three transformees had landed on the tops of cars parked by the curb. The vehicles metal roofs had crumpled beneath them like used cushions. Suiseis anger abated somewhat when he saw Larry crawl off one of the crushed cars and join Yuth and Ibrahim by the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street.
All three transformees looked up at Dr. Horosha and locked eyes with him before they waddled down the street.
Well, Suisei thought, at least Dr. Howle is getting those reinforcements he asked for.
A sweet wind howled through the hole, buffeting Suiseis white physicians coat. Dr. Horosha stood there, deep in thought, and was planning his next step when alarms went off across the hospital.
Apparently, someone had pulled the fire alarm.
Suisei could have thought of worse ways to alert everyone to the riot, zombie horde, and wyrm attack in progress in Garden Court.
Larry wasnt wrong: leaping the several stories jump down to street level was the quickest route to the Garden Court. The courtyard was just around the corner, at the end of the street. Had Suisei been in top form, he would have joined them. Using pataphysics to slow your fall was practically childs play, and Suisei had done it more times than he could count.
Why waste money skydiving when you could jump off the top of a skyscraper and land comfortably on the ground?
He wrinkled his nose at the scent of spores in the air.
The alarm continued to keen.
Sighing, Suisei stepped away from the hole. If he chose to jump, hed technically have enough power to cushion his fall. The problem was, he couldnt do that and maintain his electrostatic barrier at the same time. This was a problem, because the interactions of the pataphysical electrostatics and the spores highly electronegative acidic coating were all that was keeping the spores from touching him and infecting him with the Green Death.
Dangerous environmental contaminants were so frustrating to deal with. Biochemical nightmares, radiation spills gone wrongdealing with situations like that brought headaches and complications in equal proportion. It was like giving yourself a handicap. Ordinarily, Suisei would have just powered through it, but, unfortunately, that was not an option.
Not in this place.
He still wasnt entirely sure how it worked. The pataphysics were so thin here. He felt like a flower, thrust deep into the desertshriveled and desiccated.
He didnt understand the underlying mechanism. Hed pondered so many different possibilities. Was it an absence of available power? Another compatibility error, perhaps? Or, maybe, the power was already here, waiting to be harnessed, but something was sapping it out of him before he could put it to use.
If only these people had had the proper technology to study it.
Then again, he thought, the problem was the reason why they lacked proper technology.
Chicken and the egg, that.
Well however it worked, there was no doubt in Suiseis mind that it was the work of the darkness of which the Tachyon had spoken. It was the only sensible conclusion, to the extent that anything in this past year could be called sensible.
His life had been so much simpler when his only worries were foreign dignitaries whose minds had been swapped with rabbit men, or the murderous rampages of destabilized bone constructs.
Even if Suisei could make the jumpat the cost of temporarily dispelling the electrostatic barrierothers would see him emerge with the transformees. Theyd make the connection, and that would put the self-help groups transformees in danger.
And Suisei wasnt going to risk that.
Even if it made him a fool, he still wanted to believe there was a world where he got to see his children again.
With a sigh, Suisei Horosha set off in a run. He was going to have to take the long waynot to mention, get a gun.
But he was used to going off the beaten path.
The more things change, he thought, with bone-dry humor, the more things stay the same.
118.3 - Chaos
Geoffrey was dead. Morgan was dead, curled up on the floor like a broken spider.
Bever was dead. The kind man with the big-hearted laugh and the best chicken dumplings this side of anywhere.
Dead. Or maybe worse than dead; fused into Karls body in some unholy abomination.
Karl wanted to scream and cry, but he didnt know how. His body was a mystery to him. Even his grief had to wait.
He stared in shock at his handsclawed and three-fingered.
Everything seemed so small.
Dr. Howle stood before him, shaken and diminutive.
Howle the Sorcerer.
Howle the Traitor.
Karl shook his head. Whats happening to me?
Even his voice was alien. It was like a pipe organ, or a church choir.
Dr. Howle stammered. You He shook his head and sighed. Youre a transformee. Youre changing into a wyrm. The doctor averted his gaze. A Norm.
Sounds of battle clanged above the underground chamber. The Norm that had flown through the ceiling bellowed again. The sound made the spines on Karls back stiffen, sending a tingle down his tail.
He shuddered.
Karl tried to move, only to stumble and flop onto his stomach. Metal groaned as he crushed the roofs of the vehicles beneath him, and then again as he pushed himself up.
His claws cut through the metal like it was paper.
What did you do to Bever!? Karl cried.
Dr. Howle stuck out his hands. I didnt mean it. I didnt! Angels truth, I swear it. I He gulped and then wept. I just wanted to deflect him. I He stared at Bevers axe, lying all alone on the floor, halfway between Morgan and Dr. Howle.
But my body, Karl moaned, it
It consumed him, I know, Howle said. Its not your fault. He and Morgan were doomed, anyway. The wyrms spores seeded the fungus in them. It thats what let it happen. He shook his head. His voice broke. Im sorry. Im so, so sorry.
The wyrm?
Thethe Norm, Howle clarified.
Karl stammered. D-Did you know this would happen?
Bever? Dr. Howle replied. NoI mean He groaned loudly. I didnt know he would be absorbed so quickly. Im sorry, I should have done better.
Did you know about these ch-changes!? Karl howled.
Yes, I did, Dr. Howle replied, after a pause. Im
Are you really one of the Blessd? Karl asked.
He wanted to cry, but no tears came.
I
That was a No, then.
Why did you lie!? Karl yelled. What are you?!
He noticed wispy, green plumes puff out with his breath as he screamed. They wafted through the air, lilting toward the ground.
I
Karl flicked his head up as the Norm roared again.
Dr. Howle looked over his shoulder, clearly terrified at the thought of the chaos playing out over their heads.
But, for all his anger, the thought that refused to leave Karl alone was the sight of Geoffreys body cracking and twitching as the fungus-monster absorbed his flesh.
G-Geoffrey he stuttered. Hes theyre
It was too much.
Karl raked his claws down the sides of his head, carving furrows into still-human skin. The wounds tickled for a moment as they stitched themselves up.
Listen, Howle said, Im sorry for lying. Im sorry for getting your friends killed. It was stupid, and I deserve your condemnation. He pointed toward the wall of broken glass. But right now weve got bigger concerns to deal with! He patted his chest, and then tapped the side of his helmet. You have powers now. You can move things with your mind. Use that! Help me! Help us! Be angry with me if you want, I dont care! Just dont let your friends deaths be in vain!
At that thought, Karl heard Geoffreys voice echo in his ears:
If you want to find your courage, accept your fears. Only then will you be able to grow.
You killed them, Karl muttered. You and the Norms.
I
Karl shook his head. He had no more time for the doctors prevarications.
Howle stepped aside as Karl pulled himself forward, scraping his claws across the tile. Behind him, his tail-body floundered. He seemed to be able to move it in every way except the way he wanted. Driven by anger and pain, he slithered forward along the mosaic-covered floor, stopping and starting every few seconds. The impossible sensations of his bodys transformation were running circles in his mind, like one of the future worlds videosabove all else, the feeling of growth. His tail was like his back, if his back had kept going and going. He hardly knew which part of himself was which; there was just so much to feel.
Karl! Dr. Howle yelled. Karl!
Hadnt Howle said hed wanted to talk to him later about what was in store for him as one of the Angels Blessd.
Its no wonder Howle put it off, he thought.
Karl wanted to ask the doctor how much longer he had before a Norm possessed him, as it had the other wyrm.
Did that mean Howle was a demon, too? But, if he was, why had he returned the zombies to their senses?
Karl didnt know what to think of that.
Karl! Howle yelled. What are you doing?!
What you told me to do!Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!
Wait! Howle said, following after him. Listen! Theres more I have to
Turning his forepart around as best as he could, Karl looked back at the doctor and yelled.
I dont want to listen to you! I want to listen to Geoffrey, but I cant, because hes dead! I want him to guide me. I want Bever to make his meals and Morgan to speak ill of it. I want to see Duncan draw and hear one of Gerens stories! Now, I never will!
The sorcerer tried to speak. I
Karl thumped his chest with a claw. Their bodies are in me, now. I will stop the Norm before the madness takes me, and then I will die and I wont be a burden anymore!
What?! Howle yelled, shocked and confused.
Its my fault we came to this blasted place, Karl cried. Fink went into the portal, and I chased after him, and Geoffrey chased after me. Its my fault the Norm attacked us! Its my fault Bever died! Its my fault! All mine! Now, leave me alone youyou he snarled, liar!
Karl pushed ahead, unable to bear the heartache.
He grabbed support pillars to pull himself forward, and then pushed off them to thrust himself past them. Acid-eaten debrismetal, corpses, glassgot flung this way and that by Karls wayward tail. Broken glass tickled Karls underbelly as he wormed up the stairs into the underground gallery.
Within, some soldiers darted into view, shooting bullets at him as they crossed the gallery. The bullets stung, but they didnt stop him. The bullet fire drifted upwards; Karl blocked it with his forearms. His many minute, green scales repelled the bullets, as if they were nothing.
His breaths were so loud.
Pushing off one of the support pillars, Karl coiled himselfor, at least tried to coil himselfon a portion of the ceiling that had collapsed to the floor. It was a slab stone, and rose up like a ramp. People still clambered up and down it, fleeing like mad. Several leapt off just to get away from him.
Pulling himself onto the slab, his sinuous tail-body drooping over the edges, he pushed himself up the slab until he rose into the sun. Sticking his arms forward, he sunk his claws into the grassy earth at the sinkholes edge.
Then he pulled, dragging himself onto the surface.
Hoping to kick off the stone like he would have had he still had feet, Karl flailed his tail flailed behind him, but to little effectthough it did make Dr. Howle yelp and stagger back
Karl pulled the rest of himself out of the hole by thrusting his hips forward, not that he had any hips to thrust. His tail spooled around him, flopping onto the ooze-splattered grass.
And then he noticed the chaos all around him, and for a slack-jawed moment, Karl forgot himself.
People were running every which way; bullets flew left and right. The amber-brown Norm clawed through trees and tents alike, toppling over fences, flicking bodies with its thrashing tail. It whipped its head side to side, dribbling spores. Its silver eyes glinting in the sunset.
Everyone was stampeding to the surrounding buildings, desperate to get into the hospital.
Karls gaze darted about as he saw red lines of sound and light sweep through the air. They sliced through flesh and punched mortal holes, the exposed flesh steaming, seared by some fabulous heat.
Everywhere Karl looked, civilians stumbled and snarled, suddenly losing themselves to zombie-will, only to snap back to their senses a moment later, though the soldiers hardly seemed to notice, even when it happened to them. The gunmen on the watchtowers fired like mad, shooting at anything that moved.
Stop! a voice yelled. Stop shooting!
Turning, Karl lowered himself to see Dr. Howle walking up the slab, feet flat against its slope, as if by magic.
The doctor waved his hands. Stop shooting! His voice came out tinny through his green, full-body suit. Theyre back to normal! Theyre back to normal!
But no one listened. Dr. Howle might have as well been yelling into a tempest. Had Karl not been right beside him, he probably wouldnt have heard him.
But everyone very much noticed Karl. Fresh screams shot out.
Shit, Sarge! Theres another one!
Get to the aerostats, quickly!
Suddenly, Karl was gifted with a face-full of bullets.
He whipped his head to the side and screamed. Ducking low, Karl pulled himself along the grass, his claws tearing furrows into the soil.
Like with his self-inflicted wounds, there was no blood and little pain, just a brief tickling sensation as the hurt faded.
Stop shooting at me! he cried. Im serving our country, too!
His voice was louder than hed expected it to be. Several of the soldiers took notice, especially on the watchtowers.
They stared.
Geoffrey would have been disgusted with them.
Karl pointed his claws at them. Their sharp tips drew the eyes of the civilians fleeing to the hospital for shelter.
The army caused this! he yelled. They kidnapped the sick; they tortured them! The General turned them into monsters!
Karls voice was a carnival wonder. All the musicians on all the streets of all the cities in the world could have played in unison, and it wouldnt have sounded half as loud as his voice, and unlike Dr. Howles words, people heard Karls.
There was an impossible moment when many of the fleeing civilians stopped running, their faces churning with disbelief, even as the zombies came charging at them.
But it was only for a moment. An instant later, everything erupted in frenzied indignation.
Fear was spliced with anger.
Waves of force rippled out from one corner of the crowd, at Karls right. People fell like fumbled swords. Screams turned toward the source: a hunchbacked figure clad in heavy garments.
He was rage incarnate.
Murderers! he screamed, bellowing his fury. Murderers!
The man threw off his hooded jacket, revealing that one of his eyes was a golden orb eye. The distended length of his neck and torso stretched free, no longer hidden beneath his clothes.
Was he another sorcerer? Or another demon?
Was there even a difference?
The man flicked an arm. One of the military transports was sent careening across the street. Soldiers tried to run out of the way, but they were not fast enough. The vehicle slammed into them, scattering their viscera to the wind.
The dead told me, the sorcerer said. I didnt believe them at first! I didnt.
No! Karl thought.
All order was gone. Before, the people had been running to the hospital. Now, chaos reigned. People ran every which way. Terror spread like wildfire through the seething tide of humanity.
Suddenly, a cluster of peoplecivilian, soldierspasmed as Hell claimed their bodies as its own. Then another cluster, and another. The crowds split, running away from themselves.
Fudge! Dr. Howle cried. Whats happening!?
Karl looked down at the man in his shadow.
What do you mean, its fighting back!? Dr. Howle said.
He must have been talking to Andalon.
Zombies crashed into the black-lattice fences. Others climbed up the watchtowers.
Howle gasped. Oh no. No no no no no!
Trees snapped and fell. Cars crunched.
Karl swerved to look at the center of the disturbance.
Angels breath, he thought.
Sorcerers! he yelled, pointing with a claw.
More of the demon-sorcerers were joining the fray. They were directing their powers at their oppressors and betrayers.
You arent helping! one yelled, Theyre dead! My son and wife are dead!Its all your fault!
A car tumbled down the sett-paved street.
It was a free-for-all, now. People attacked each other without reason, maddened by fear, rage, and pain.
The Norm slithered up toward the edge of the garden. With a flick of its tail, it swept up several soldiers, flinging them against a buildings fa?ade. The sweep of its body tore through the lattice-metal fence crisscrossing the street in front of the older-looking building. Dozens of people got knocked to the pavement as the fence slid across the ground, lacerating the bodies of the fallen.
More of the fences toppled or ripped apart as the Norm slithered back onto the garden. Plants and bodies blackened and sizzled in its wake, corroded by its fatal breaths.
The soldiers were split. Some trained their fire on the Norm, while others moved down the oncoming zombies, clearing the way for men with the ray-guns to move into position.
Karl slithered after the Norm.
Maybe I can stop it, he thought.
They were nearly the same size, after all.
Karls spines stiffened as he stretched up tall.
Monster! he yelled, swiping an arm through the air. Face me!
He had to get its attention somehow.
Face
What the fuck!? someone shouted, having heard Karls words. But their outburst drowned in screams of terror as nearby soldiers stumbled and turned. The soldiers bodies twitched out of control. They struck at everyone around them, even their comrades.
Then, from a high tower and the rooftops, a rain of bullets descended. Bones and black ooze scattered across the setts as headshots burst open the lost mens skulls.
Karl! Howle yelled.
But Karl ignored him, stumbling forward. Deformed cypresses and shriveled willows uprooted as Karl pulled their trunks for leverage. Shoving a white tent out of his way, he exposed the spread of corpses laid out underneath it.
Zombies charged through the open space. Physicians ran screaming, fleeing the nearby tents, only to stumble and snarl as the evil claimed them.
Coilingrearing up high and raising its headthe Norm breathed a tall plume of spores with an unearthly bellow. Slithering off the garden once more, it approached one of the buildings and then reared up its forepart, as if to climb.
Karl made the Bond-Sign. By the Godhead
The Norm rose up off the ground.
Floating.
Flying.
Karl!? Howle yelled again.
Snapping to attention, Karl turned to face him.
What are you doing?! Howle asked. Why wont you talk to me? I can
Leave me alone! Karl yelled.
Tears welled in Dr. Howles eyes.
Im sorry! Dr. Howle yelled. Its
If you are, then act! Karl yelled. You do something!
For an instant, Dr. Howles gaze turned distant, like it had several times before. A moment later, he shook his head in frustration. Of all things, he muttered, why does it have to be necromancy?
And then he raised his hands.
118.4 - Chaos
It really was distressingly easy to get a gun in Trenton, though that was no surprise to Suisei.
Some things really did never change.
The transformee Howle had mentionedHenrywas still in the security office, waiting for the aid Genneth had promised him. The fact that the first words out of Susieis mouth were Where are the guns? made Henry acutely confused, but, once Suisei explained who he was and that Genneths promise would be honored in full, the transformee became much more willing to answer the question.
When you had as many problems to deal with as Suisei did, getting the people who were shooting at each other to stop shooting at each other almost always took precedence.
Suisei ignored the stains and scratch marks as he darted down through the security offices hallway. He flung open the door to the armory and burst inside, immediately gladdened to see some familiar faces.
The Brock 12. The A3-Norm.
And then he saw the Ushi-Oni 7. It left him with a twinkle in his eye.
Nice to see you, old friend, Suisei muttered.
He savored the act of curling his fingers around the semiautomatics synthetic leather grip. It was like the first bite of chocolate after years stranded at sea.
Simply delectable.
A brief shake told him it was already loaded.
Good, he thought.
Yes, unlike his old Ushi-Oni, this one wasnt pataphysically tuned. It was just a gunbut, at least, it was a familiar one.
Then he undid the safety and ran like hell. He dashed down the hallways at blistering speeds, channeling the tunings hed put on his shoes. The speed-tuning was one of the only webs hed managed to keep stable. All the others had come apart at the seams, sometimes while he was in the middle of weaving them.
Working by hand could be so tedious at times.
Suiseis white coat fluttered as he ran. Nurses yelped in alarm, leaping out of his way. Unfortunately, the bodies of the dead and the dying were far less nimble. Suisei tried to avoid stepping on them as best as he could, but a few legs still ended up getting crushed beneath his powered feet.
The jolts the impacts sent through his legs made speed-bumps seem welcoming by comparison.
Well, at least they didnt scream.
Suisei made his assessments on the fly, glancing at the wall-mounted consoles as he ran. It wasnt security camera footage; someone had hooked a professional-grade camcorder to the IT network, broadcasting live footage of Garden Court from the vantage point of one of the windows on the Administration Buildings upper floors.
For a moment, he wondered, and then he saw Jonans face pass by the camera, and his last remaining doubts were banished.
Dr. Derric really was a force to be reckoned with. Thanks to Jonans latest ploy, Suisei had a clear view of the situation out in the Garden Court.
It was beyond a nightmare. The military cordons had toppled like cardboard in the wind. The waves of people pouring into the central courtyard were equal parts victim and vermin. So much gunfire flashed from the ground, walls, and rooftops, youd have thought the city lights had come on early. Blood and black ooze misted the open air. Green spores bobbed in the viscosity of the sunset breeze. Falling bodies marked the diseased autumn leaves, only to rise again as mindless revenants.
And then a transformee flew past the camera.
No, not a transformee, Suisei told himself. A wyrm.
Shit, he said, muttering in his native tongue.
He sped forward even faster. A crowd screamed as he made the turn into the Hall of Echoes.
Once, a couple days ago, someone had made a valiant attempt at setting up cordons in the Hall. Whatever remained of this effort now lay crumpled on the floor, trodden underfoot. Some people ran about, but most were too sick to do even that. Instead, they lied down and cowered in place, piling against the walls, or huddling in niches, beneath the grand staircases, or behind the desks that had been set up in the Hall to deal with the patient surge. Others lay in the middle of the floor convulsing with seizures or coughsor bothspewing out black and green.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Outside, gunfire blazed.
And, of course, the soldiers were also using laser beams.
How tedious, Suisei thought.
But the windows.
He gasped in shock. A shiver ran down his spine.
And that was saying something.
Angels breath, he thought.
For centuries, the grand wooden doors at the head of the Hall of Echoes had served as the hospitals main entrance. Tall windows were set into the wall on either side, their lozenge-shaped panes supported by a lattice of transom and mullion. The glass was drenched in gore, as if the skies had rained crimson and ink. Hands and limbs knocked on the windows, flailing, smearing blood and death across the lower panes, rattling the windows with every blow. Some of the limbs just fell apart as people tried to charge the windows. Bullets burst the infected bodies open. Limbs tore off along the lines of ulcers.
Soldiers posted by the massive marble columns built into the Hall of Echoes walls flocked toward the entrance. Theyd made a barrier with their bodies. They yelled as one, with voices raw and hoarse.
The soldiers squeaked the door open with a great heave. It was like a dam had burst. People scrambled to get inside, but the soldiers stood their ground. Flanking either side of the thin opening, they kept the rabble at bay as VIPs trickled in. Most were hospital personnel or General Marteneiss subordinates, a few were patients. The people behind them beat their backs, sticking their arms through the gaps. The sounds of the battle outside swept in through the opening, filling the Hall of Echoes with a typhoon of violence and death.
The hospital staff were completely outclassed. They skittered about like rats, desperate to help however they could. Physicians bobbed in place like buoys in the bay. In trying to be everywhere at once, they ended up going nowhere.
But only at first.
As more and more people trickled in, order and purpose built their artifices. Groups of doctors and nurses spurred to action, conquering fear and disbelief.
High up, a window pane shattered, shot through by a bulletand not one of Suiseis. Shards of glass rained onto the floor.
A familiar voice roared: Horosha!
The word bounced off the Halls arched marble ceiling.
Suisei looked up. Dr. Marteneiss?
Dr. Horosha could barely make out Dr. Marteneiss face from within her PPE. She trundled through the fortified entrance, carrying a wet waif of a woman, shielding her with her embrace. The woman was distraught beyond words. Her body might have been in the hospital, but her thoughts certainly werent.
Oh, he realized.
He could sense the invisible energies swirling around her body.
The woman was a transformee.
Suisei rushed forward to help, but then wood groaned. Soldiers screamed, scattering from the door.
The torrent had come.
He felt it an instant before it struck. It was like plastic spiderwebs pressing against his face, blown forward by a merciless wind.
There were transformees out there. They were using their powers, and they knew what they were doing.
Suiseis blood ran cold a split second before he saw the first few bodies getting launched into the air.
Run! he yelled. Run!
The crowd should have scattered down the street, but instead, they focused on forcing their way inside, knocking down soldiers and one another. Flailing bodies clambered over one another, zombies on patients on soldiers on zombies.
Suisei could hardly believe his relief when he felt the transformees presence move away.
Oh good, he thought. They just want to kill everybody.
That meant they werent organized, and that meant they could be dealt with.
In theory.
Skidding to a stop on the marble floor, Suisei widened his stance and then raised his gun and fired. The pataphysics for guided bullets were simple enough that he could make them on the fly, at no detriment to his spore-repelling electrostatics. Unlike slowing a fall or launching himself from rooftop to rooftop, guiding bullets to their targets didnt require modulating forces. You just plotted the path and pushed.
He fired four bullets in quick succession. They curved through the air, following his chosen paths around fleeing civilians, right into oncoming zombies skulls. The dead zombies toppled backward from the impacts, knocking into the zombies behind them, and slowing them down.
Somewhat.
Suiseis shots echoed in the Hall, enough to draw even more screams.
Move, he yelled. Move! He pointed at the stairs to the second floor and the doors at the back of the Hall.
Suddenly, the sounds of gunfire coalesced.
Suisei gulped.
The soldiers out in the courtyard were just firing at the people heading into the hospital. Zombies, soldiers, citizens, doctorsit didnt matter.
Inwardly, Suisei groaned.
This is why only people who could guide bullets ought to qualify for gun ownership. If soldiers couldnt not shoot the people they were supposed to defend, what were they good for?
Gritting his teeth, Suisei fired another volley of guided bullets. He guided two at a pair of zombies whod leapt over the backs of the doctors running ahead of them. The zombies were still midair when his bullets pierced their skulls. Their lifeless corpses hit the floor with wet, oozing thuds.
Suisei emptied the clip and pulled out a fresh magazine from one of the pockets inside his coat. It had been a while since hed reloaded an Ushi-Oni 7, but he trusted his muscle memory to see him through.
Heggy yelled. What the hell!?
Suisei looked up.
Some of the people pouring into the Hall had suddenly stopped moving.
No, not just them, Suisei thought. All the zombies.
For a moment, they stood as still as rods.
All at once, the zombies turned and ran out of the hospital, ignoring the humans around them.
Outside, the soldiers kept firing, and the zombies
The zombies were running into the line of fire. Then they stood in place, side-by-side andassuming they still had themlocked arms with one another. They made themselves into meat shields, soaking up bullets.
Baffled, Suisei muttered in his native tongue: What the hell?
118.5 - Chaos
Andalon wasnt affected by the slowed time. She cowered at my feet, too scared to look ahead, even as she glowed with power for me to channel.
I couldnt blame her.
The fungus was fighting back. It had pulled out all stops. Freeing the zombies from its influence was no longer cutting it. The darkness kept coming, unflagging and rapacious, hellbent on stealing back control. But that was only half of the battle.
The other half was the actual battle itself.
I cant believe I didnt see it earlier, I thought.
It was only with my sped-up thoughts that I was able to notice and realize just how right Andalon had been when shed told me the fungus was fighting back.
The fungus wasnt just fighting against our efforts to stop it. It was literally fighting back. If you shot at it, it fought back! And screw the infectious disease route! When the fungus fought back, it fought with tooth and clawand tendriland it didnt matter whether it was a person, a zombie, an abomination or a wyrm. The fungus responded to violence with violence. Pain and terror gave the darkness an inroad. Even attacking zombies was enough to trigger the fungus responseand its response was to make every nearby Type One patient go feral.
No wonder that the zombie state spread like wildfire! Trying to fight it would only feed the flames.
Unfortunately, that left only one option for me: necromancy.
It cant take control if you have control, Mr. Genneth! Andalon had told mebrand new knowledge, courtesy of &alons spectral blue flames.
For all its frightful power, when it came to control over the human mind, the fungus couldnt beat Andalon in a head-to-head confrontationat least not when I was helping.
It was use it, or lose it. So, I used it.
All of the zombies whose souls had been stolen by the fungus? They no longer had any minds to speak of, so there were no ethical issues to stop me from taking control of their empty shells. Id made the lost ones my puppets, and they werent going to hurt anyone anymorenot as long as I had something to say about it.
It was time to turn destruction into construction!
My zombie-puppets began to obey my commands as time sped up again. I turned them away from the hospital. The fleeing civilians were blameless. They werent the ones to blame for the violence. I steered the hordes away from the people and toward the soldiers, but I didnt sicc them on Vernons men.
I was better than that.
War wont end unless one side assents to peace. And I, for one, would be happy to do the honors.
I ordered my zombies to stand firm and lock their arms together, forming a protective wall. They soaked up the bullets like sponges.
There were hundreds of them, and I controlled every last one. They were my toy soldiers, and their motions were mechanical perfection.
That, more than anything else, made the soldiers take pause. Suddenly, the gunfire theyd been directing at the crowdsand one another petered out. Everyone else realized what was happeningthe zombies were forming a human shield against the bulletseven though no one understood why it was happening. But the why didnt matter here. All that mattered was that the zombies werent attacking people, because that gave anyone who still had a mind the opening they needed to get the hell out of there.
Unfortunately, the angry transformees out in the Garden Court had other ideas.
A fresh round of screams belted out over the courtyard as twin cannons of blue and gold pataphysics blasted across the garden. Soldiers and black metal lattice were hurled through the air. Armor broke open as bodies crashed into the street.
And overhead, the silver-eyed wyrm soared.
Aerostats came roaring out of the mini-hangar in the corner of Garden Court Drive. They trained their guns on the wyrm as they rose up off the ground.
Then they fired.
Impacts sparked along the wyrms ochre hide. The bullets fell like flashing rain.
They might as well have just sprayed water at it, for all the good it did them.
Roaring in anger, huffing out spore streams this way and that, the silver-eyed wyrm swam through the air. It whipped around, like a bear charging at its prey.
Floating up, Andalon stuck out her arms in the wyrms direction.
Wyrmeh, no! she cried. She looked down at me. Mr. Genneth, can you
No, no. I shook my head, Im already at my limit! My whole body was shuddering.
No matter what, I had to keep the zombies under my control. That was the only way any of us were getting out of this alive. I didnt know if I could hack into a wyrm the way I could into the infected, and, unfortunately, now was not the time to try. In the half minute or so since Id asserted necromantic control, I hadnt picked up so much as a single new blot of magenta aura appearing to my wyrmsightthe tell-tale sign of a person turned zombie.
I, Im sorry, Andalon, I said, I have to hold them, or else
Off in the distance, there was a tremendous boom. A split second later, incendiary munitions exploded at the wyrms flank, shredding heat and flame.
No! Andalon screamed.
Green clouds spewed forth, cutting through the falling red. Silver eyes swept through the cloud as the plexus-shrouded wyrm spiraled through the air. The energy currents flashed as the wyrm spun like a drill. It slammed itself into the hull of the nearest aerostat, launching it like a billiard.
The careening aircraft crashed into the aerostat behind it, knocking it right into the wall of the hospitals left wing, engine-first. The engine burst as the aerostat crashed. Glass shattered, stone collapsed. Metal groaned.
Then came the explosion.
Karl rushed toward the demon-sorcerers, lost in his emotions, slithering as fast as he could. He moved ungainly, like a drunken serpent, rolling, tumbling, throwing himself over obstacles, righting himself with his claws. He tried to avoid a group of running soldiers, but accidentally knocked some of them onto the pavement with his flanks.
Sorry! he yelled.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.
Up ahead, one of the sorcerers stared at him, dumbfounded. To Karl, the figure seemed no taller than a child.
What are you doing?! the sorcerer yelled. Why are you helping them?!
Why are you hurting people?! Karl snapped.
The sorcerer stopped. Tears flowed from his one, still-human eye. I
Overhead, the floating Norm burst aflame. The aircraft crashed into the side of the hospital.
The Norm swooped down.
Karls spines twitched as distorted shouts reverberated behind him.
He turned.
It was coming from the other corner of the courtyard.
What do I do? the voice said.
Three new, monstrous figures had entered the courtyard. Two were serpents, like himself, though not as fully formed. The third was unbelievable. His two massive arms were even bigger than Karls. They jutted out at his sides, covered in minute reddish-brown scales, in stark contrast to the mans tall, but still clearly human body.
One of the serpents raised their arms. Dont shoot! he saida male voice. Were here to help!
About half of the soldiers within range began to fire on the new arrivals. The other soldiers turned their attention to the Norm.
Any remaining civilians ran, screaming.
The Norm swerved through the air, coiling above the garden before coming down for a landing. The wyrms momentum whipped up the green plumes spurting from the holes in its snout, whisking the plumes across the ground.
Karl turned to the sorcerer in front of him.
The sorcerer stumbled, falling onto his bottom. Im not doing anything! he yelled, holding up his deformed hands. Im not doing anything!
On the other side of the courtyard, the two serpentines and the arm-man ran through breaks in the black-lattice fencing, charging at two havoc-wreaking sorcerers. They swiped their claws as they tackled them.
Karl didnt understand it. They were demons, and yet
He shook his head.
It didnt matter. They were trying to stop the chaos.
A fresh wave of screams broke out as the silver-eyed Norm turned and slithered toward the hospital, and the line of zombies that stood in the way.
In that moment, Karl found his courage.
He did what Geoffrey would have done: he charged at the monster, claws at the ready, a battle-scream exploding from his throat.
Suisei couldnt quite see what had happened, but he didnt need to. The spurts of flame and debris hed seen flying by as hed stood in the Hall of Echoes had told him everything he needed to know: something had exploded. Something big.
Nothing made a situation worse quite like explosions.
Dr. Marteneiss! Suisei yelled. A fire is underway. I will put it out.
Technically, Suisei did not know whether or not his statement was true, but that was irrelevant, because it was within the margin of error. He didnt know if anything was on fire yet, but given the situation, whatever wasnt wouldnt stay that way for long.
Heggy looked up and stared at him like hed lost his mind. Considering Dr. Marteneiss was still bearing the weight of the woman leaning against her body, her judgment likely carried a great deal of weight.
Horosha, she said, you
Suisei shook his head. Forgive me, he said, bowing apologetically, but there is no time.
And then he ran off, without another word, darting past the edge of the limping, weeping crowds that were staggering into the Hall of Echoes. Then he turned around and dashed up the grand staircase. His shoes clopped on the polished stone as he climbed. Rising to the mezzanine level, he circled around to the front of the Hall, bringing himself close enough to one of the Halls ornate front windows to see what had happenedand, more importantly, where.
Lovely, he muttered.
From the looks of things, two aerostats had collided with one another, and then with the wall of the Internal Medicine Building, opposite General Labs.
Letting out a hiss, Suisei turned to the right, scrambled up the short flight of stairs to the second floor and then set off in a run down the hallway. The windows set in the Administration Buildings old outer wall gave Suisei a view of the developing chaos. The windows flicked by as he ran.
Outside, the silver-eyed wyrm had landed in the gardens, clearing the area around it with a flick of its body. A couple of the plumes of spores wafting up from the landing wyrms snout caught some of the sparks coming off from the burning building. The plumes detonated like fireworks.
Suisei staggered to a stop.
The spores explode? he thought.
This was bad.
Then, to his astonishment, it got worse. The combusted clouds gleamed with tiny motes as it caught the rays of the setting sun.
The spores acid coating had combusted, not the spores themselves.
The things were fireproof, too?
This was very, very bad.
Why does fire have to make everything worse? he wondered.
Off to the side, Suisei saw Larry, Dr. Rathpalla, and Nurse Costran lumbering across the ruins of the militarys makeshift encampments, chasing after the silver-eyed wyrm, which was slithering toward the Hall of Echoes and the wall of zombies that stood in its way.
A shiver ran down Suiseis back as a terrifying bellow rent the air. Dr. Horoshas eyes widened as he watched a large transformeeunknown to himungainly slither across the greenery and onto Garden Court Drive. The transformee shoved soldiers and vehicles out of the way with thrusts of his claws and undulations of his body and tail, though that might have also just been his attempts to keep himself upright.
Suisei ran faster, pushing his speed enhancements to the max. He passed several late-stage Type One patients, wandering aimlessly through the hall. Their minds were almost entirely gone, the fungus having scoured them clean of everything that made them who they were. Their souls had been whittled down to the elements, leaving only a geography of naked grief, drowned in incognizant terror. Suisei could sense the fungus energies thrill within their bodies.
The sheer power left him feeling lightheaded.
The levels of power at work were astronomical. His own abilities were a pittance in comparison.
Its a miracle Ive even been able to last this long, Suisei thought. Though, it was nowhere near as much of a miracle as how Dr. Howlea male ingnue, if there ever was onemanaged to keep up with it all.
Suisei wanted to pray, but he was terrified that no one was left who could hear his prayer.
He had to climb another flight of stairs before he reached the level where the aerostat had crashed. The stench of spores, ash, and flame were his compass, as were the many screams.
The aerostat had crashed into part of a number wardWard 9. Like every other wardletter or numberWard 9 had long since abandoned its intended purposes, having given itself over to housing NFP-20 patients. The impact had opened a massive hole in the wallbroad, and diamond-shaped. The vinyl floor crumbled away where it met the outdoors. The aerostat had torn through several of the Wards inner walls, strewing red-hot debris in every direction. A short path of devastation scraped a shallow depression in the vinyl, only to dead-end where the aerostats engine had exploded. The vehicle had burst in two, setting everything on fire.
A couple of nurses ran about, carrying fire extinguishers.
Quick, Suisei yelled, run! He waved his hand, beckoning people to the Wards double-doored exit. Get out of here!
A nurse in wildly stained red scrubs lured toward him.
What are you doing? she yelled. You get out of here!
One of the fire extinguisher nurses ran up to some flaming medical curtains and sprayed them, only for the extinguisher to explode as a spore cloud burst free. Chunks of the extinguishers contaminated tank crashed into the walls. One tore through another nurses torso, instantly killing him. The screams of the fire extinguisher nurse were cut off as the corrosive spores ate through her clothes and skin. Her abraded corpse fell, splitting the spreading spore cloud in half. She hit the floor with a thud.
Suisei nearly pissed himself at the sight of the spores spilling out into the flame-heated air.
Run! he yelled.
And this time, the healthcare workers listened.
Then, without a moments hesitation, Suisei ran into the cloud. The spores parted to either side, like solar wind against the planetary field. The impossibly small, vivid green particles glinted in the daylight like dust in the dawn. Against them, his electrostatic barriers normally unseen pataphysics were traced out for all to see.
The outer edges of the cloud caught fire, sending an explosion propagating inward. Before the conflagration could consume the rest and blow him to smithereens, Suisei wove a whirlwind in the air. The vortex sucked in the spore cloud, thickening with green as it pulled the spores in, away from encroaching flames. Suisei made the necessary adjustments on the fly, turning the currents inward to compress the spore cloud into an increasingly small region of space until it was an apple-sized mass of quivering green semi-liquid substance. Bending down, he picked up a stray, singed plastic cup from the floor and set it down on top of the dust, right as he dismissed the spell.
Suisei could already hear the plastic starting to sizzle as the spores acidic coating began to eat away at its confinement.
Or was it the floor that was melting?
Shit, he muttered.
He could slap himself later, when he wasnt in the middle of a raging inferno next to a cup of explosive spores.
From his coat pocket, Suisei pulled out some hand sanitizer. Bending it on either side, he broke the plastic flak releasing the alcohol-based fluid within. He then poured onto the spore pile after briefly lifting the cup.
Bases cancel acids.
He noticed the spores green color faded the instant they made contact with the alcohol.
He covered it up again. The sizzling seemed to slow.
He just hoped that also meant it would no longer explode when ignited.
Suisei had to force himself to ignore the new waves of pataphysics he sensed whipping across the Garden Court.
The fires needed to be put out before it couldnt be stopped. The hospital should have had its own fire department, but they hadnt arrived, which Suisei assumed was because they, like most people, were dead.
So, with the greatest reluctance, Suisei dismissed his electrostatic barrier and got to work.
118.6 - Chaos
Dr. Rathpalla was angry.
Most of the soldiers had stopped shooting, except for the ones that hadnt, which was bad, but not as bad as the transformees who took the chaos as their cue to act out their revenge fantasies by using their psychokinesis to shred people to bits.
Ibrahims anger made him claw harder.
With what little strength his rotting legs still had, he leapt off the grass, lunging his serpentine body at the she-transformee in front of him. She stood in the shadow of a hollow, toppled watchtower, foaming at the mouth.
Fortunately, Ibrahim was bigger than she was. He pinned her beneath his body. She screamed like mad as he immobilized her by stabbing his claws into her arms. Barely any blood seeped from the wounds, and that which did was clotted and dark.
A second transformee snarled at them.
Dr. Rathpalla lifted his head, curling his sinuous neck. Larry? he asked.
On it, the janitor replied.
Floating above the ground, legs and tail and tattered robes dangling beneath them, the transformee launched an uprooted willow at the three of them with a wave of their claw.
Larry flopped onto his stomach. Ibrahim let go of the transformee woman right as Larry grabbed hold of her. Her screams and flails were cut short when Larry ripped her torso in half, and then dropped both halves of her unmoving body onto the spore-eaten grass.
A terrified soldier pointed his slender white rifle at Larry and fired, searing the janitors arms as Larry flung himself forward and grabbed the oncoming willow tree with one of his monstrous arms. Larry snarled in pain as he fell to the ground, but he held firm to the tree. The scales the beam had hit changed to a dull red as the heat dissipated. Nearby patches of still-human skin blackened and shriveled from the heat, only for fresh wyrmflesh to knit the wounds shut.
Yuth! Larry yelled. The transformee! He chucked the willow at the floating transformee.
The soldiers laser beam cut into the willows trunk, setting it on fire.
The transformee caught the willow with their power. They drew it into an orbit, whipping it around their back, and were just about to hurl it back when Yuth came charging at them from off to the side.
Shed used her powers to fling herself like a javelin.
Yuth, the transformee, and the burning willow tumbled across the grass. Patches of spore and ooze popped and burst as they caught flame.
The soldier focused his laser rifle on Ibrahim. Dr. Rathpalla grunted in pain as the heat ray burnt through the back of his coat. The heat stung the flesh on his back.
It must not have been fully changed yet.
Craning his neck, Ibrahim plucked the soldiers laser rifle out of his hands with his psychokinesis, and then broke it in two. The rifle let out a bright flash as it snapped.
The white-armored soldier fell onto his back and scuttled out of the way.
Ibrahim motioned his head at the angry transformee impaled on his claws.
Larry, you take this one, he said.
Got it!
Larry got up onto his big arms and lumbered over.
Ibrahim let go of the transformee as Larry grabbed hold of her. The janitor ripped her torso in half, promptly ending her screams of protest. He dropped both halves of her unmoving body onto the spore-eaten grass.
The soldier screamed in horror.
Im a doctor, shell be fine, Ibrahim said, with a wave of his claw. Its just to slow her down. Shell regenerate quickly enough.
The soldier kept on screaming.
As the self-help group had discovered, with enough time and fresh flesh, there seemed to be no physical wound a wyrm couldnt recover from. The only major exceptions were thermonuclear blasts and getting ground into meat-paste. They couldnt test the former, and there werent too many volunteers for the latter.
A little help here!? Yuth bellowed.
On it! Ibrahim said.
He slither-scampered toward her flames, weaving through the flames. He visualized a massive piece of paper falling onto the ground and then, with his powers, made it so, choking off the fires air supply under a crushing blanket of psychokinetic force.
The willow and other plants cracked and fell to pieces.
Ibrahim dismissed the weave a moment later, the fires fully snuffed.
Flinging himself forward, he and Yuth twined themselves around the kicking, screaming transformee. Yuth fought back against the transformees psychokinesis with her own. Particles quivered midair, held in place by the dueling forces.
Then Ibrahim coiled around to the side, wrapped his claws around the transformees skull, ripped their head off, and tossed it aside.
The transformees humanoid body went limp beneath Yuth and Ibrahims underbellies.
Uh, guys? Larry asked, pointing one of his arms. Whos that?
Ibrahim raised his forepart.
A roar echoed across Garden Court as the biggest transformee Ibrahim had ever seen charged at the silver-eyed wyrm. The two of them twisted around one another as they snarled and clawed, spewing spores this way and that.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Dr. Rathpalla didnt know who the transformee was, but was glad as hell that he seemed to be on their side.
Shit! Yuth yelled, pointing with a claw.
Ibrahim barely had time to turn to look before a wall of force slammed into the doors to the Hall of Echoes. Pataphysical waves shook the building at its foundations, mashing bodies into a pulp. There was an instant where the windows were splattered all over with the mortal stew before another wave pelted the Administration Buildings fa?ade, popping the windows with bursts of raining shards. Then a third blast struck, this time more concentrated, aimed at the doors. The wood creaked and groaned as the doors were thrusted in and opened up.
A monstrous figure emerged from the garden. A long, swollen sausage of a tail trailed behind him as he trudged onto the Garden Court Drive. Clothes and rags several sizes too large were bundled on the transformees back. They got caught on the wreckage of the black metal fetching and ripped and tore as they were pulled away.
The transformee crossed the sett stones, plodding toward the Administration Building. His powers were tremendousand, worse, it looked like he knew what he was doing.
Debris parted to either side of him, like waves in the wind. Vehicles reared up on their back wheels as they skidded away. Man and metal were pushed aside, crunched and crumpled by the airs creasing fingers.
Ibrahim glanced at Yuth. They were both about ten feet tall now, not counting their tails. Nodding at each other, they waddled forward. Dr. Rathpalla ducked as Larry leapt over them, launching himself at the robed transformee with a push of his giant arms.
The transformee looked over his shoulder and then riposted, blasting out a wall of force that slammed into Larry mid-air, knocking him to the side.
Larry crashed onto the old, scalloped-paved street. He tumbled into a line of unmoving zombies, knocking them over like bowling pins.
Ibrahim gasped.
Some of the zombies stuck to Larrys naked legs. With sickening crunches, their bodies deformed twitching like ticks as they melted into Larrys flesh. Their mass flowed onto his legs, merging with them.
Larry screamed as he righted himself.
Two corpses combined with his legs, their skulls and limbs melding together. Bones dissolved and reformed, building up the janitors tail.
Ibrahim! Yuth yelled.
Dr. Rathpalla nodded. Right!
Lumbering forward, a leg snagging and ripping free, Yuth and Ibrahim threw weaves onto the rampaging transformee. Dr. Rathpalla knew it would have been easier if he could have seen the powers the way Greg or I could, but they made do, focusing on what they could sense in their minds eye.
It had been Suiseis suggestion, and it worked like a charm. Dr. Horoshas skill with using these powers were out of this world. Suisei even put Greg to shame.
Working together, Ibrahim and Yuth ensnared the renegade in a psychokinetic net.
Yuth raised her forepart off the ground as the netted transformee floated into the air.
From under his tattered hood, the transformee stuck out his slender, snouted head. His five golden eyes narrowed. Trails of spores mingled with the saliva dribbling out of his mouth.
He screamed.
What the? Ibrahim thought.
Somehow, he could feel his opponents thoughts grab onto his psychokinesis.
An incorporeal connection.
Yuth, Ibrahim yelled, hes!
But Nurse Costran only had time to turn her head in shock as the renegade hijacked their weave. Through his minds eye, Dr. Rathpalla could see the energies getting ripped apart, their threads shaken out like dirty bedsheets.
And then a whole bunch of whiplash slammed into Dr. Rathpallas chest, knocking him and Yuth back.
The world tilted on end as Ibrahims forepart toppled onto his tail, falling onto the shrubs on the gardens edge. Rolling onto his side, righting himselfpulling his tail across the settsDr. Rathpalla saw the renegade drop to the ground. The renegade landed on his knees, his fist smashing onto the stone.
The renegade rose to his feet, lashing out with his arm.
You belong with us! he yelled, flinging spit and spores. There was madness in his eyes. The Last Days are here, and the Last Church is the only safe
A red-brown mass swept across the street. Quick as a whistle, the giant-armed transformee reared up on his new tail, grabbed the renegade and tossed him up and launched him with a power-boosted throw. Leaves, bullets, blood, and bone scattered down the street, whipped up by the wind coming off of Larrys throw.
The renegade rocketed over the Internal Medicine Building. He arced through the air, going and going, until he disappeared many blocks away, plummeting into the heart of the city.
Ibrahim pushed himself off the ground with a psychokinetic lift.
He turned to Larry. Nice. He bowed his head in admiration.
But Larrys expression fell. Uh-oh.
Ibrahim turned.
Up ahead, soldiers were emerging from under the Crusader Hill tunnel. Heavily armed soldiers.
Heavily armored soldiers.
Also, the Internal Medicine Building was on fire.
The heat coming off the flames was almost palpable. It weighed heavily on Suiseis body. He had to struggle to swallow his every breath.
He raised his arms.
Given the Green Deaths pataphysical nature, Suisei had little faith WeElMeds PPE would adequately protect himnot in the long term, at any rate. But that was more than enough.
He just needed it to last for a couple of seconds. Suisei figured his chance of survival was two out of three; not bad, all things considered.
Hed have to do this quickly.
Power was a language, as coded and nuanced as Nature itself. Getting good results was just a matter of asking the right questions, metaphorically speaking.
Suisei didnt usually close his eyes when he weaved. Then again, he couldnt recall the last time hed made a weave as big as this one.
Closing his eyes removed any visual distractions.
If you wanted to kill someone less talented than yourself, you could use a weave to freeze the water in their blood plasma into minute crystals. It was best to do this at one of their extremities, ideally the feet, but, in a pinch, the hands would also suffice. They were the easiest to interfere with, being at a far remove from the brain. From there, you just needed to keep the crystals from melting for the second or two it would take for the crystals to complete a couple trips around the circulatory system and lacerate the walls of their arteries from within. Then you walked away, and a couple minutes later the victim would pass out from the internal hemorrhaging, and by the time anyone realized what was going on, it would already be too late.
What Suisei was about to do was a lot like that, only at a much bigger scale, and without the calm, bloodthirsty intent.
He pulled the weaves shape from his memories. Temperature control weaves were boilerplate for working magi, and Suisei knew them well. He just wasnt used to deploying them for big, showy displays.
His throat felt like an oven as he breathed in deep.
Suisei filled the surrounding air with his weave, duplicating the spellform again and again until his minds eye was stranded in the middle of a pleated, periodic sea. A grand swarm.
The energies sputtered and twitched.
It was getting hard for him to breathe. The fire was gobbling up the available oxygen.
He had to hurry.
Opening his eyes, Suisei flooded his weave with power. He spread his arms wide, launching the dense pataphysics out in every direction.
The air quivered.
Particles stilled. Molecules calmed.
The fire died, frozen to death.
The effect spread out like a blast of shadow. Flames vanished as the cold front swept across the Ward, revealing all the charred debris. Saline froze in the hanging IV bags. Motes of frost hung in the aircaptured water vapor, bound in cold.
Suisei swooned from the exertion. It was like squeezing water from a stone. There was so little power in the air, so Suisei had to make up the difference, giving of what little he had left of himself.
He felt like he was about to pass out.
He held out until the last tongues of flame retreated into nothingness.
Smoke hung over the char, like a funeral pall.
And then he let go.
Suisei fell to his knees, panting for breath. With his last bit of strengthhis vision going dark and blurryhe re-wove his electrostatic barrier and affixed it to his body.
There.
He didnt need to be awake to keep it running.
The last thing he did before losing consciousness was to flop to the side, to make sure he landed far away from the melted, slightly charred plastic cup covering the pile of de-acidified spores.
118.7 - Chaos
Karl was a whirlwind, a drill rolling between stone and sky.
He raged and whipped and clawed and screamed.
The two serpents chased each others tailsand he was one of them.
Black lattice fencing scraped against Karls hide as they tossed and turned. Branches snapped, metal crunched. Pressure flicked the spines on his back, pulling up clods of earth whenever they got caught in the soil.
In hindsight, throwing himself into a wrestling match with a body he still didnt know how to use wasnt the best idea, but that was to be expected.
Karl knew he wasnt much good at anything. But he didnt need to be good. He didnt need to be skilled.
He just needed to win.
Just this once, he needed to win.
Lifting his arm, Karl belted out a fresh yell as he raked his claws against the Norms rust-colored scales. He peeled off whole patches with every strike.
The Norm reared its head and roared. Coiling its tail around Karl, it squeezed him tight, as if to snap him in half. Karls human torso dangled out from one end of the Norms coils, while his tail thrashed free on the other. He raked his claws over the Norm repeatedly, tearing off more scales, cutting furrows into the thickly corded flesh beneath, but the monster didnt so much as flinch.
As they tumbled, Karl felt a presence weighing on his mind. It was like a stone on his eyelids, trying to drag him off to sleep.
Was this some kind of enchantment?
No!
Karl roared. He fought the intrusion, remembering his brothers in arms and all that they had done for him.
What Geoffrey had done. Theyd shown him support and faith that not even his own flesh and blood had deigned to give him.
And hed failed them.
But not here. Not now.
The fungus had taken Geoffrey from him. It had robbed him of his first human friend. It had taken away the only real older brother hed ever known.
Somehow, in his gut, Karl knew what was happening to him. It was the evil that had come to his world.
It was trying to take control of him.
I wont bend! he thought.
If the evil wanted him, itd have to break him, first.
Stretching as much as he could, Karl bent his tail somewhere near the middle and lunged forward. But it wasnt enough, so he pushed off the ground with his claws to thrust himself forward even more, enough to give him the purchase he needed to sink his three-fingered claws into the soil. Then, with a hard squeeze, he pulled, flipping his body upside down in a half-circle turn that slammed the Norm into the ground, stunning it.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
The monster huffed out spurts of green clouds, flailing in panic. Its silver eyes blinked and blinked.
And its constrictor grip loosened.
Seizing the moment, Karl wrested himself free of its coils, using muscles in his tail and flanks that he didnt know he had.
He didnt know what he was doing, he just knew that it was working.
A barrage of bullets and lancing heat bombarded Karls back. He groaned, more annoyed than injured, but there was no time to deal with that.
Whipping himself around, Karl turned around and threw himself onto the Norm, nearly tumbling over his own coils.
But he caught it, right as its underbelly faced the sky.
And there it was: a patch of still-human skin, between the monsters arms.
Karl stabbed his claws into the patch. They slid in like knives through butter. The Norm convulsed, thrashing its head and tail. The fountain of green clouds that spewed out from its many nostrils burned what human flesh Karl still had on him. But the young man endured the pain, gritting his teeth.
He focused on wrapping his lower body around the Norm to keep it still.
He didnt want anyone else to get hurt.
Once more, even stronger than before, Karl felt that insidious weight press on his mind. The evil was trying to seize his mind, just like the zombies.
You wont take me! he screamed.
Then Karl slid his claw down, all the way to the base of the Norms soft patch.
Suddenly, the tension in the Norms body changed. It writhed against itself as much as against Karls coil. It roared, thrashing its head from side to side. Its silver eyes flickered rapidly, flashing between silver and gold. The sight startled Karl, creating an opening.
With a mighty buck, the Norm flicked Karl away, sending him rolling onto his side. He quickly righted himself.
In between the streams of bullets, Karl saw the lines of red light, blisteringly hot.
They set fire to whatever they touched. These were far thicker than ones hed seen before.
They were coming from large artillery, mounted on the backs of the militarys squat vehicles.
Turning, Karl saw the Norm was clutching its head in its claws, shaking it left and right while its eyes flickered between silver and gold.
Its fighting back Karl thought, stunned. Angels mercy
Did that mean there was good in them? In the demons?
By the Godhead
It was cruel beyond words. PeopleNorms or notfighting one another; fighting against themselves.
Raising his head, Karl saw other changelings like himself fighting others of their kind. They went so far as to rip the sorcerers to pieces, just to stop them from hurting anyone. One of thema serpentine figureambled toward the red-beam vehicles and the red-beam soldiers dressed in white at their sides, his arms spread wide. There was still enough human in him for Karl to recognize the Zidian features in his face.
This Norm was taking fire to protect the innocent.
Lost, and confuseda roaring Norm behind him trying to claw the silver madness out of its brainKarls sorrow and rage spilled over the walls of his terror. Conviction burned in him like lightning. It blossomed from his chest, spreading outward to his tipsa knotted melody, yearning to break free.
Stop it! he screamed. Stop it! Stop it!!
And break free it did.
A wave shot out of his bodya vast, ever-widening sphere, seen only through how it cast up what it caught in its wake.
Time seemed to slow.
The unseen sphere whisked away everything in its path as it blasted across the courtyard, overturning vehicles, knocking people to the ground, picking up shed tents, toppled tables, and broken boughs and flicking them onto the walls.
Even the Norm was knocked to the ground.
Time quickened.
Karl looked around in confusion just long enough to see the Norms eyes go solid silver. Turning its head, it contracted its body like a spring, and then launched into the sky, soaring out of sight.
Raising its head, it sang. The air reverberated with its alien lament; a dirge of many voices, sung through the holes in the Norms snout. And for a moment, everyone just looked up and stared.
And thentired, hungry, and drainedhis tail sprawled out behind him, Karl fell onto his hands and wept.
119.1 - Heil sei dem Freudenlicht der Welt
The fungus was in retreat.
The fungus was in retreat.
A calm washed over the Garden Court as the silver-eyed wyrm soared away. Everyone was silent. Everything was still.
At the time, it was the most surreal experience Id ever had, and that was saying something. My doppelgangers didnt even come close to it.
And that cry it let out
It was like music.
It sent tingles dancing down my spine. Meanwhile, Andalon just knelt down and cried.
I couldnt blame her.
The fungus-controlled wyrm wasnt the only thing to retreat. Through my connection to the zombies, I could feel the fungus retract its influence. Our struggle over the zombies nervous systems faded away.
I wish I could have said the fungus was gone for good, but it wasnt. Wed won the battle, not the war. I could feel it there, lurking, down in the depths. For whatever reason, the fungus had decided to shelve its efforts to take control of the infected.
For now.
Its gonna come back, Andalon said, small-mouthed and wide eyed.
The blue-haired spirit-girl was broken with desperation. Her pale face was a dying Moon. She swayed to fro. The light of her flickering power was weak and dimmed. It looked like she would collapse any second.
For a moment, everyone looked around, stunned and confused. The sight of the wyrm thrashing around with its head in its claws as its eyes flickered back and forth between silver and gold had caught everyone off guard. I swear, the looks written on some peoples faces showed genuine sympathy, especially for Karl.
Hed fought for them. Theyd shot him and burned him, but he fought for them, all the same.
I wondered if he was aware of the gravity of what had just transpired.
As hed fought the wyrm, his transformed eye had begun to flicker between gold and silver. The fungus had been trying to take control of him, but, somehow, hed fought it off, and then hed followed it up with that massive psychokinetic blast.
Ill be honest: seeing Karls eyes flash silver scared the belassedites out of me. I hadnt realized the fungus influence could take over transformees, too. Id thought we needed to mostly change, first.
Apparently not.
It was petrifying to watch it happen in real time. Going silver-eyed was for Type Two cases what going zombie was for Type Ones. Even our auras changed in the same way: seen through a wyrms eyes, both processes were accompanied by the spread of that magenta aura as the fungus overwrote the victims will.
Did that mean I was also at risk, or did having Andalon at my side give me some sort of protection?
I wasnt keen on finding out.
Great, just when I thought being a transformee meant I didnt need to worry about being taken over by the fungus. There went my last shred of a sense of security.
Terrified, Andalon floated up beside me. No, Mr. Genneth, she said, shaking her head, I wont let it take you! I wont!
But can you be sure? I whispered.
I Her voice trailed off, utterly broken.
Im sorry, I muttered, shaking my head. I shouldnt have said that.
Mr.Mr. Genneth, Andalon said, wearily pointing her finger.
People were finally starting to rebound from the blast, andwouldnt you know itthe soldiers were the first ones up, and not just any soldiers, but Vernons white-armored elites, with their heat ray rifles.
Karl noticed the soldiers were stirring. Raising his head, he admonished them. He kept repeating the words Stop fighting over and over again, adding variations and embellishments to hammer his point home.
I am not your enemy. He pointed at some of the rows of zombies under my control. And neither are they.
Three inhuman figures emerged from behind an overturned military transport. To my astonishment, I recognized them. Dr. Rathpalla, Nurse Costran, and Larry the janitor.
From the transformee self-help group.
Before anyone got a chance to second guess Karl and restart the violence, I released my hold on the zombies whose souls the fungus had stolen, but not before giving them a final: lower yourself to the ground.
Gasps broke out as all of the zombies sat down or knelt. Some of them were still lowering themselves to the ground when I lifted my influence. Those unlucky ones toppled over, utterly motionless, and possibly braindead.
For the next minute or so, all the sounds I heard were soft or distant: quiet sobs, moans, misery, agonized coughs, the thrums of distant aerostats, the keens of fading sirens, and above it all, the stolen wyrms fading threnody.
With the release of my control over the zombies, Andalons power stopped flowing into me. She closed her sea-blue eyes as the light left her. Exhausted, she collapsed, toppling to the side. She vanished before she ever hit the ground.
The fan-shaped patterns of Garden Court Drives sett-paved streets were encrusted with ooze, bodies, defiled blood, and sweet, sweet spores. The mess splattered across the Halls grand doors and the adjacent columns and ornamented. It was like the work of a mad painter.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.
Then two figures emerged from the Hall of Echoes. Clad in PPE, it staggered out into the fading day.
All heads turnedmine included.
One of the figures fell to their knees.
Several soldiers drew close.
And then, I realized who they were.
Oh God, I muttered.
Heggy.
Ani.
I rushed to comfort them, only to hear a clear tonelike a glass harmoniccut through my mind.
The alarm was going off.
I muttered under my breath. Nina.
Being in two places at once? Here we go again!
Heggy was busy getting Jonan out of trouble with the soldiers. After that, we were going to have a conference.
You know, to discuss recent events.
I didnt know whether to be thrilled or terrified.
And Second-Me was far from the only one.
Dr. Howle? Nina asked.
I sighed.
A seal burped out on the water. A tapir seal, to be precise, named for the snooty, stubby trunk-like extensions of the males noses and snouts.
I titled my head in deference. My apologies. Im in the middle of more than one conversation right now.
Nina stared at me. Ill take your word for it.
While Id like to think Id gotten the hang of running two different conversations at once, dealing with two stupidly important conversations at the same time was still a bit taxing for me. Things had started off simply enough: one of my secondary consciousnesses was manning my body out in the real world while the bulk of my awareness was centered within my head, hard at work re-introducing myself to Nina admit the nautical charm of Codmans wharf, but then Ani came up to me and, well
Out in the Thick World, Ani hugged me tightly, weeping into my chest. Though her hazmat suit was only a couple of rugged millimeters thick, it might as well have been miles. It bottled up her tears, and forced her words to crawl their way through a speakerphone, as if she was a creature from another world.
How could someone be that close to you, yet feel so far away?
Though both Ani and I were still reeling from everything that had just happened, she was taking it even harder than I was. I could have slowed my perceptions of time to let myself fully debrief Nina before saying even a word to Ani, but I just couldnt wait.
So, I had to double-task.
Back in mind, another seal burped.
They liked doing that.
That same seal flopped onto its back, blubbery bulk jiggling as it idly waved its limbs.
The seals had been coming to this part of the Bay long before the ancient Peckt had ever built their ports. The tapir seals were a fixture of the brief spats of sunshine that graced Elpeck Bay in between our rainy, fog-clad winters and rainier, fog-claddier summers. They gathered with an intensity youd normally only find in seagulls, dead-set on idling away the afternoon by lazing about in the Sun. Occasionally, one would flap a fin, or flop over like a patty on the grill, or let out a bellow or a burp. But for the most part, it was peaceful.
Codmans wharf set up basking zones for the seals, building platforms in the water a couple yards away from land.
An imaginary crowd had gathered up on one of the nearby wharfs, piling against a wooden railing to watch the seals do their thing. The air was brackish, the water, turquoise, and crabs snippy.
Nina and I sat on a log-carved bench up on the wharf, with our backs up against the outer wall of a Lobster King seafood restaurant. If you listened closely, you could hear the saturated fats crackling on the griddle, in between the cries of birds and infants.
Id been waffling over where to hold my talk with Nina, and Ileenes spirit had recommended this particular location.
I have to admit, it had its charms. Codmans Wharf was forever stuck in the past, a piece of the late First Republic at the cusp of the peninsula, encrusted with maritime paraphernaliakiosks and knick-knack vendors as far as the eye could see. A couple otters drifted by, lazily floating in the current, munching on shellfish scavenged from the deep. A gull flew down, trying to steal the otters meal, but the little guy routed his attacker away with a slap of his paw.
The people around us were little more than NPCsthough Id been getting better at making them.
So, Nina said, turning to face me. Im dead?
I nodded. Im sorry.
Shed asked to see what had become of her body. Id begged her not to press the issue further, but Ms. Broliguez was quite insistent.
She handled my memory-footage better than Id expected.
Nina was a tough cookie, for sure.
Stepping away from me, Ani pulled out her console. She tried to show it to me, but lost her conviction mid-gesture. Instead, she let her arms hang slack at her sides. Her sniffles spurted from her suit like stray static.
Ani stared me in the eyes.
I think Im a bad person, she said.
Dont say that.
I should be focused on the people who are suffering because of the disaster that just exploded in our laps, she said, but Im not. Instead, I just stand around, obsessing over whether or not the mycophage will be a viable therapy. Its like I cant even think about anything that isnt that, and I dont know what Im going to do if it if
Anis lips shuddered. She couldnt bring herself to say the words.
You shouldnt blame yourself for how you feel, Ani, I said, least of all when those feelings come from a place of genuine kindness.
Meanwhile, in the other half of my perceptions, Nina stood dressed in what Id charitably describe as grumpy butchnot that I blamed her. Denim helped hold things together, and in more ways than one, and Ninas weathered blue denim jacket was no exception. Shed matched the jacket with a pair of denim shorts of a darker, navy-blue hue. I made no comment; as a rule, I let my ghosts dress however they wanted to, though I did include an auto-censor feature on my end in case it turned out their preferred set of duds was no clothes at all.
What happened to those motherfuckers? The ones that did this to me? Ninas features hardened as she crossed her arms. God, my family! she said, blurting out the words with a shudder of concern that blocked me from getting so much as a single word in edgewise. Whats happened to them? She was rife with worry. Are they safe? Did they
I dont know, I replied, with a shake of my head. Ill have to check. I lowered my gaze. From what Dr. Marteneiss told me, the military has taken over administration of the mycophage. Theyre administering it en masse. It wont be long now before we know whether it works or not. I bowed my head apologetically. Nina Im sorry I couldnt save you. I shook my head again. I should have called you as soon as I learned about Dr. Horoshas abilities. Perhaps he could have helped you.
Why didnt you? she asked.
I got distracted. Embarrassed, I ran my hands through my hair.
Nina smirked. Considering how many minds youve got scrambled inside your head, Dr. Howle, thats not really surprising.
Youre too kind, I said. I almost smiled.
Almost.
Nah Shaking her head, Nina then flung her hair around, rattling the strings of turquoise beads. Im kind of a bitch. I sort of have to be. She let out a forced chuckle. The guys in my life. Dad. Quatmo. Lu Her voice trailed off.
119.2 - Heil sei dem Freudenlicht der Welt
I blame myself, Ani said, back in the real world. We should have been more attentive! We should have intervened. Maybe then they wouldnt have
Its not your fault, I said. The militarys experiments were going to move forward no matter what you did. I dont think there was anything any of us could have done to avoid this outcome.
Thats easy for you to say, Ani said. It wasnt your family that was on the line.
Oh, Beasts teeth, I Immediately, Ani looked away and shook her head. Genneth, I didntI didnt mean it like that. Im s
I know, I said.
Inside, I looked Nina in the eyes.
If you dont mind, Nina, theres something Id like you to do with you.
That certainly came out awkwardly.
Nina grimaced. Are you coming on to me?
I stuck up my hands in a defensive posture and shook them and my head. No no no no no no no
Im just kidding, she said, with a laugh.
At this point, I was starting to miss the chaos and the zombies.
So what is it? she asked.
With everything coming up crazy, I figured it wise to go back to the roots. If my religions foundational assumptions were in error, maybe rethinking them would lead me to recover something useful.
Now: what root antedated the Testaments and even Angelfall itself?
Answer: dreams.
Though much of Trentons ancient pagan traditions had been lost, we could gain insight by extrapolating from the vestiges of pre-Lasseditic Polovian folk-belief. After all, Polovia and its people had interacted with and been influenced by Trentons since the stone age. And one of those extrapolations was a belief that dreams could bridge the worlds of flesh and spirit, and man and god.
Andalon had appeared to me in a dream. Mr. Himichi had come up with Catamander Brave thanks to a dream. Human cultures and religions across the world attributed mystical and prophetic significance to dreams that went far beyond modern sciences currentalbeit slightly murkyunderstanding of them as stirrings of the subconscious.
What if there was something to those beliefs? What if the Angels and Demons that lurked in the aether had communicated to ancient peoples through dreams? Ancient Trenton witches consumed special herbs to place themselves into a deep slumber to open themselves to divine influence. There was even precedent for it in Scripture: supposedly, the Blessd would hear the Triuns commands in their dreams.
And now, I had all of Ninas memories and dreams at my fingertips.
I figured it was worth a shot.
I knew it was bad, Ani said, but this? What were they doing? Ani bit her lip. Angel maybe this really is the end.
Ani looked drained and downtrodden, as if every last drop of sunshine had been rung out of her.
I shook my head. Ani, dont do that. Please.
Dont do what? she asked.
Give up hope, I said, answering gently.
Now you sound like Jonan, she said, tears twinkling in her eyes.
I chuckled softly. Ill take that as a compliment.
Its just so hard. Ani squeezed my forearm tightly and stared down at the ground.
Remember when I said I thought you might be one of the Blessd? I asked Nina.
The young woman nodded. How could I forget?
Maybe its because I just knew less then than I do now, but Im not sure anymore. I dont know what you are, or what Suisei is, for that matter. But perhaps theres a way I can find out.
Nina shot me a wary stare. Is this gonna be some kind of dangerous?
No. I shook my head. At first, I wanted to believe you were one of the Blessd, because that would mean you were an all-powerful divine warrior capable of fending back even the deepest darkness. But, as I said, now Im no longer sure. Still, I wonder
Yes?
If what the Old Believers and the ancient pagans believed was true, and the divine really does communicate to us through dreams, theres a chance that they communicated with you at some point in the past, only you dont remember it. Most people hardly remember any of their dreams. So, you never know: there might be something important locked up in your head.
Like what? Nina asked.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
Mmm maybe something that explains why you have your powers?
You know me, I told Ani, I put up a front all the time. I do it for the patients. It helps when they see someone smiling.
She let go of my arm. Genneth Im worried Im losing my faith. Its so hard. Every step gets more and more difficult. She stared off into the distance. Looking around, I wonder what Im even fighting for. I mean whats left?
I would tell you if I knew. I wanted to hold Anis hand, but I hesitated. I was afraid shed be able to feel my missing fingers, so I kept my distance. Right now Im just glad that youre okay.
Back in my mind, Nina gave me a skeptical look. You really think thisll work?
A vital clue to your powers, the monsters, and who-knows-what else might be lurking somewhere in your subconscious mind, I said.
Really? She stared at me, and her gaze made me fidget with my mental recreation of my lucky bowtie.
Honestly I bent forward and sighed. I have no idea. I made a piston of my leg: shaking, shaking, shaking. Im freaking out here, and am absolutely, 100% grasping at straws. According to Scripture, the Lass herself heard the Godhead speak to her through her dreams. Maybe you did, too. I mean, wouldnt that be so nice? If the stories people told really were a depiction of the world as it was and is?
Yeah, it would, she replied. So what exactly do I need to do?
Nothing really, I said. Just try to relax.
I reached out to her gently and pressed my fingers onto her scalp. A light blossomed, spreading outward to envelop us as I pried inside a dream within a dream.
Ninas consciousness wasnt the first that Id entered in this fashion; all the work Id been doing in my mind office had given me plenty of experience for situations like this.
I made it through without any trouble. The light cleared as we arrived.
Nina and I stood side-by-side, inside a swirling sphere of sensory inputs. Images and sounds, and tastes and smells streamed around us like wind. Feelings flickered and flashed in the tumult. It was like standing in the heart of a storm, and was just as intimidating.
Even Nina, for all her grumpy butch energy, stepped back and grabbed my hand while casting a nervous glance my way.
Its okay, I said, looking over my shoulder. I stepped out of the way to give her a better view. Theres nothing you need to be afraid of.
Indeed, the storm was growing calmer with every passing moment. Images reified and coalesced. Spirits of people, places, feelings, and things came together as Ninas memories of her dreams self-assembled. Gradually, the movements stilled, until we were looking at a grand collage of her minds most glistening moments, floating in the aether.
She stared at it like she was window-shopping.
What is all this?
Your dreams, I said.
Speaking of which, my attention was immediately drawn to a dream that was giving off a definite weird vibe, so I stepped and grabbed it and pulled it toward us.
The sphere opened up around the dream as it began to play. Nina and I watched her younger selfs dream-self run through a dense jungle. The palms fronds were edged in glass. Animated bees with apple-sized bodies buzzed overhead. Behind her, something galumphed through the vitreous verdure, chasing in pursuit. It elbowed its way through the trees, flinging branches and animals left and right with swats of its grotesque, meaty hands.
Oh god, Nina said. I remember this. I hate this dream. It kept freaking me out over and over again.
Nina soon made it to a clearing, and it was just then that her pursuer burst into view.
It wasnt a demon, though it certainly wasnt pretty.
El Balib, she muttered, lowering her head
Thats the uh thats a Maikokan god, right?
More or less, she replied.
El Balib was a giant, as tall as the trees, clad in a leaf-made toga. His body was a lawn of wiry red hairs, except for the bare, rough flesh on his oversized palms and soles and face, where his nose was bright red, and as swollen as a stretched raindrop.
My Dad had gotten a mask for the festival. It scared the hell out of me.
I can tell, I said.
I dismissed the dream with a wave of my hand.
Nina crossed her arms in concern. Are you going to have to look through every single fuckin'' dream Ive ever had?
I wanted to say, No, but that would have been a lie. Truth be told, I hadnt given it any thought until shed mentioned it.
Thats a good point, I said. Hmm I curled my finger on my chin, scratching my light beard. But how to do it?
What do you mean, how?
Its not like I automatically know everything that you do, I explained. It would be a lot easier if I knew what I was looking for. Powerful memories have a presence to them. I can feel them lurking; theyre kind of like bumps on the air. But here trying to find a message from God in one of your dreams is like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack. Of course it would help if you knew which dream had been the message dream, but you dont.
She lowered her head. Im sorry.
I shook my head. You dont need to apologize. Its not like you signed up to be one of the Blessd.
And just like that, an insight popped into my mind. I raised my hand, sticking a finger up in a demonstration of enlightenment.
Ah! Ive got it.
Ninas eyes widened. You found it?
Smiling gently, I shook my head again. No, but I think I figured out how to get there. I stuck out my hands. Im gonna focus on themes, I explained. Mystery and divinity, for example. I made my hands glow for added effect.
The swarm of memories began to move once more. Images swam past us, receding into the depths as others came to the fore.
Its kind of like searching for something on the internet, I said.
The memories settled a moment later.
Tell me if you see anything, I said.
Nina nodded.
We searched together.
There was a dream of Nina being judged by a council of her familys deities. There was even a dream of Nina in a one-on-one boxing match with a bronze statue of the Holy Angel.
I dont even remember half of these. She turned to me. How will we know if weve found it?
I sighed. Id like to think wed be able to know just by looking. A special feeling, you know?
She nodded.
Yet, no matter how much we searched, we couldnt find anything.
Shit, she cursed, softly.
Maybe I need to try different themes.
Fate, I said. Foreboding.
There was a dream of Ninas family casting her out, leaving her to fend all for herself. There was a dream of a living tea-time play-set drowning her in a tub of pink glop. There was a dream of the city streets filled with the corpses of dead pets. But no messages from God.
I kept searching.
Destiny. The images changed. We glanced over the results.
I gritted my teeth.
Nothing.
I tried another topic. Nightmares. Terror.
I saw a dream where Nina was being hounded by werewolves only to become one, herself. I saw a dream where she was trying to find her little brother, but he was nowhere to be found. I saw a dream where her father cursed her for failing to live up to his expectations.
But I didnt find any of the things I was looking for.
Concern flashed on Ninas face. Dr. Howle, she said, maybe we should
No. I stuck my arm in front of her. It has to be here. It has to.
I grew more desperate. I flicked through so many possibilities, the dream sphere started to whirl around us all over again.
Hope, I said.
Nothing.
Change.
Nothing.
Death!
Nothing.
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
Dr. Howle Nina said.
There was fear in her eyes.
Theres nothing! Fudge it all! I ran my hands through my hair.. Theres nothing! I I dont understand. I turned to face her. You had powers before you were ever infected. There should be something, I said. There has to be
Why? Nina asked.
Because if there isnt, then I have no idea whats going on, and if I truly dont know whats going on, then we are thoroughly screwed.
A fear took root in the pit of my stomach: what if wed gotten this all wrong?
119.3 - Heil sei dem Freudenlicht der Welt
Conference. Noun. Meaning? A formal meeting or discussion, from the root word confer, meaning to bring together. Bring people together. Thats what conferences were supposed to do. Thats why Heggy had called us to join one.
Let the record show that the conference I was now in failed to satisfy its own definition.
Yes, there were a lot of feelings in the air, but togetherness wasnt one of them. Instead, it felt like we were drifting further apart.
To be fair, it was hard to lend feelings of solidarity to a teleconference, especially one as disparate as this.
Vernon was there, as were Heggy, Dr. Horosha, ALICE, and leaders from the Crisis Management Teams of WeElMeds major Wards. Well, actually not quite. They were there in the sense that they were part of the grid of little boxes on my PortaCon''s screen as I sat on a toilet in the restroom that Id been randomly assigned for safety purposes.
Believe it or not, social distancing was still very much a thing. Heggy insisted on it with a passion that broke my heart to witness.
All of us were separated from each other. Those who had offices were broadcasting from them. Others, like myself, had to make do with restrooms, supply closets, and other cloistered corners.
It goes without saying that my meeting with Nina hadnt gone as planned. Id hoped to come away with a better understanding of her (and possibly Suiseis) role in all this, and perhaps some guidance as to what to do next. If she was one of the Blessd, why had she fallen victim to the fungus and its demons?
Knowing there were multiple Angels had thrown me for a whirl. I was still trying to cling to the notion that Lassedicy and its legends had something useful to tell me about what was happening to my world.
Because, if they didnt, what was I going to do? What could I do, other than just to continue as I had been, all while the world slowly burned.
I was scared. I felt lostaimless. And Andalon wasnt being much help. She was floating up in front of me. She lay flat, with her nightgowned belly facing the floor as she stared down at my consoles screen.
We were holding the meeting to figure out what to do about, well everything. Our agenda included (but were not limited to) fortifying against future zombie attacks, deciding whether or not Vernon should (or even could) be stripped of his command and/or rank as punishment for the dangerous experiments hed overseen. And, of course, there was the biggest doozy of them all: what would we do with the transformees?
Heggy was devastated. Dried tears matted her face; the crows-feet at the edges of her eyes were lost in puffy skin and agitation. Worst of all, she was doing nothing to hide it. Her usual affable stoicism was nowhere to be found. Instead, she just stared straight ahead with a gaze that put the laser rifles crosshairs to shame.
I wondered if she was glaring at her brother, or contemplating the sight of the Garden Court, spattered in death and devastation.
Because everything was cramped and miserable, though I kept tabs on my body, I recentered my consciousness to a mental conference room Id whipped up for the occasion. While my butt (well tail) might have been parked on the open toilet seat, within my mind, I sat at a table facing simulacra of the conference attendees. I was taking the feed coming in from my eyeballs and using it to create the copies seated all around me.
I guess you could call it motion-capture technology, after a fashion. I did my best to average out each conference-goers surroundings , which had the result of making the table look pretty trippy. Its shape was irregular, like a great big puzzle piece, extending outward in front of anyone who was sitting in front of a table in real life, but scooping away when it neared anyone who wasnt actually at a table. Pastel paintings hanging on the walls around us, copied from the genuine articles out in the Thick World.
On my console, a persons box grew bigger when they spoke.
By the looks of things, General Marteneiss was about to speak.
In both worlds, he smacked his hand down onto the desk in front of him.
You call yourselves men of science?! he yelled.
Yeah, the conference was not going well, to put it mildly.
Listen to yourselves! he barked. You sound like witch-hunters!
Maybe there had been some wisdom in holding it remotely, after all
Dr. Bzool leaned back, pyramiding her fingers. Im sorry if its discomfiting, General, but
She let out a horrid cough.
Being rational means acknowledging new evidence when it presents itself.
Though Dr. Bzools PPE was doing a good job of covering up the full extent of the infiltration, even we could tell the fungus dark lightning was already creeping up her neck.
She continued: Lassedite Verune has returned. Zombies roam the streets. For crying out loud, our own patients are turning into archdemons! She huffed and wheezed. Faced with this evidence, atheism is no longer tenable. Scripture had it right all along. I dont like it either, but the logical conclusion is the logical conclusion, regardless of whether you like it.
Many of the doctors in attendance murmured in consent, though almost as many were up in arms, standing up, waving their hands, or shouting back.
What do you want us to do, Dr. Bzool, one proposed, tartly, slaughter them all? Exterminate these transformees?
Heggy leaned forward toward her console, her lips tightly pursed. I, for one, dont give a hoot if theyre Norms or not. She pointed her finger downward. Three of themthree WeElMed employees, I remind youjust put their lives at risk to subdue those rampagin transformees. Last Days or not, the golden rule of war still applies: dont betray your allies. Loyal transformees who protected civilians in the chaos oughta be able to help with what comes next. The transformees psychokinetic powers will be damn useful, she said. Even if you dont trust them to fight alongside you, yall should at least let them help with the fuckin clean-up. She pointed her thumb back over her shoulder. Theres a shitload of debris we need to clear out of the courtyard. Psychokinesis could make that a cinch.
Dr. Marteneiss isnt wrong, I said.
Honestly, it amazed me that Heggy had managed to come up with basically the same idea that Jonan had proposed to me earlier. She really must have been seeing things in a new light.
The General nodded. My sisters right. After, uh Vernon lost his words. Dr. Howle, what was his name again?
Karl, I answered.
Vernon nodded again. After what Karl and your transformee colleagues did, its worth giving them a shot. Wed be fools to waste this resource.
Cant you just shoot missiles at them until they die? someone asked.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Vernon shook his head. Even if that worked, we dont have enough missiles, and its not like new ones are being made. He briefly closed his eyes. Once everything is cleaned up and secured, we need to take measures to get the loyal transformees on our side. We can have them sequester themselves in the garage with the rest of the transformees that have come out of the woodwork. The loyal ones can prove their trustworthiness by keeping the others under control. He nodded again.
You cant seriously expect that to work, Dr. Bzool said.
As Karl showed us, the best weapon against a Norm is another Norm, Vernon replied. Thats logic, too, Dr. Bzool.
Andalon floated to my side as I began to speak. My tone was angry and plain.
As much as I dislike agreeing with someone who sanctioned illegal experiments on non-consenting test subjects, I said, with a sigh, the Marteneiss have a point. If we could, Id rather have us work with the transformees, rather than against them, especially those who are or were WeElMed employees in good standing.
In the conference room inside my head, I locked eyes with Heggy.
Theres no questioning their loyalty, I continued, not after the bravery theyve shown in combat. Karl, Larry, Yuth, Ibrahim. Besides, Ive worked extensively with transformees. Their powers really are miraculous. Theyd be an incredible asset to have.
And this is your honest opinion, Dr. Howle? Dr. Bzool asked.
I nodded.
If you feel their powers are so useful, why only suggest it now?
Darn. That was a good question.
I clenched my claws.
Its not like I could go over and ask them if theyd be willing to help fend off zombies. If you havent noticed, things are a little crazy around here. And its not like their powers are combat-ready from the moment they start changing. I pursed my lips. I guess you could say weve reached the critical point, I added. And, now that transformees like Dr. Rathpalla have come forward and taken charge, wed be fools to reject their aid.
One of the CMT leaders coughed horridly as he stood up in the toilet stall from which he was broadcasting. This is madness! he said. He stomped his feet on the restrooms tiled floor.
In my conference room, the painting behind him depicted said stall, toilet and all.
You all saw what happened! he continued. The Norm that attacked us had silver eyes, and the so-called loyal transformee who fought it stopped fighting it when his eyes turned silver! Its just like with the zombies. The demons are using the plague to transform our bodies into vessels for them to occupy. He coughed and groaned. So what if theyre loyal now. It doesnt matter, just like it doesnt matter that Im not a zombie right now. He shuddered. Sword stab me, whos to say I wont go feral right this second? It doesnt matter. Im a potential threat, just like the Norms are, but Im not the one with the fucking magic powers!
All the more reason why it would be foolish of you to try to strip me of power, Vernon said. Im not a madman. Im not a megalomaniac, either. Im not going to order my soldiers to shoot people who are doing the right thing. I have one day left to tell whats left of High Command that Ive figured out how to stop the zombies, or theyre going to nuke Elpeck, and every other city in the country. Bombs are already falling on Polovia and Odensk. Were only a couple of days away from the whole fucking world turning into glass!
Forgive me for being impertinent, General Marteneiss, Dr. Bzool said, but, the way I see it, its you who needs us, not the other way around.
Heggy narrowed her eyes. Thats outta line, Sandra.
Dr. Bzool clapped her hands in anger. There are no lines anymore Heggy! The world has ended, and it took all the lines down with it. She coughed. Whatever stopped the zombies from attacking back there, she pointed, its here, and were going to figure out what it is, because our future as a species depends on it. Im not gonna let you doom us all by housing demons in our midst!
At that moment, I suddenly became aware of the impossible irony of my situation. In the chaos of the raid and the ensuing battle, Id been too panicked to realize it, but now, in the calm after the storm, the conclusion stuck out like a sore thumb.
When Id joined Geoffrey and the others in the raid, Id assumed Id out myself as a transformee. Instead, somehow, Id survived it all with my secret intact.
It was an honest-to-goodness miracle. Yet, of all the miracles I could have prayed for, it would have been the last one Id ever want.
End the plague. Save the world. Conquer death. Make things go back to the way they were before.
Those were the miracles I wanted.
I laughed bitterly, garnering stares from everyone around me.
Why are you laughing, Dr. Howle? Dr. Bzool asked.
Would you prefer I cry, instead? I replied.
No one had proffered a comeback, not even Dr. Marteneiss.
I looked up at Andalon.
Mr. Genneth?
With irony came clarity. The way things stood, I figured there was maybe a fifty-fifty chance this conference would end with a declaration to kill all wyrms. And with the threat of nuclear annihilation hanging over our heads
I sighed and shook my head.
Most of me wasnt ready to admit defeat. I couldnt give up now. Not yet. I wanted to keep fighting, and I knew my colleagues did, too. Why else were we here, still desperately clinging to life? It was why we were doctors! Worked to save people, even if they couldnt be saved.
Especially when they couldnt be saved. We had to hold out hope, otherwise what would our patients have left to turn to? Wed be leaving them out in the dark, to perish in the dark, alone and afraid.
It goes without saying that up until now, Id refrained from bringing up the fact that I was a transformee, too. Maybe it was because of all the horrors Id just been through, maybe it was because my thoughts were so frayed that I couldnt so much as conjure up Yutas ghost to give me a good, stern talking-to, or
Who was I kidding? I knew why.
I was terrified.
My reluctance to spill the beans about myself was a form of denial, pure and simple. I didnt want to leave my identity behind. Even so, Id been making progress. Slowly but surely, I was getting myself to come around to the fact that I was going to be a wyrm.
And then the fungus had thrown me a frisbee I couldnt catch.
Silver eyes.
Id thought I was safe, that it was only others who were at risk.
The Type Ones.
The ghosts.
But I was wrong. I really was a potential threat. All the transformees were.
Karl had nearly lost himself to the fungus during the battle.
Whos to say I wouldnt be next?
I mean, other than &alon herself, I was probably the biggest thorn in the fungus side.
How much longer would it be before the fungus tried to overtake me?
Worry blossomed on Andalons face.
Mr. Genneth, what are you
I looked up at her.
Do you think that the other transformees could learn to control the zombies the way I can? I asked, speaking to her in my imaginary conference room.
Pursing her lips in thought, Andalon nodded. Maybe, she said. But She looked me in the eyes. Theyd hafta make a connexshun to Amplersandalon, first. And theyre not changed enough yet.
But then how am I able to do it, when Ive been stalling my transformation all this time?
I dunno, she said.
Can you do help them to connect to &alon I asked.
She stared at me, and then, lowering her head in defeat, muttered, I dunno once more.
If the battle in Garden Court had accomplished anything, it had shown me the extent of my still-developing abilities.
Dr. Rathpalla and the others had been right.
We had the mycophage.
Had I reached the point where I was no longer useful as a doctor?
It was strange, Id come so far from the neuropsychiatrist Id once been.
I was a Keeper of Paradise.
I was giving therapy to the dead.
I was a sorcererof the necromantic wyrm variety.
Oh fudge.
Id completely forgotten about Lantor.
The incursion!
I imagined it was probably pretty ripe by now. I could certainly use Gregs help in probing its mysteries.
I sighed.
Mr. Genneth? My worries had Andalon looking aghast.
I shook my head. I want to help, Andalon, I said. And sometimes wanting to help means having to accept that the kind of help you wanted to give wasnt the right kind of help after all.
Inside my conference room, I let out a long sigh. Yes, in committing myself to the raid, Id come to terms with outing myself as a transformee. Id said as much in the message Id sent to Dr. Horosha.
Still that didnt make what I was about to do any easier for me.
But it had to be done.
We need to make up our minds, people, someone said. The military has the weapons. We can slice the Norms to pieces with laser beams, if we wanted.
We tried that, Vernon said. It didnt work.
Well, then use bigger lasers! someone added.
Whatever we do, the other continued, we need to do it. We have to make a decision. The clock is ticking.
I muttered under my breath: Here goes nothing.
I recentered my consciousness in my body. I was still in the conference room, only less so than before.
I spent a moment taking stock of my changes so far.
My lengthened form, forcing me to stoop as I walked, hidden in a hazmat suit. My hands, three fingered and clawed, with tongue depressors to accentuate the missing fingers in my gloves. My tail, wound up in the back of my suit. It felt like I was sitting in an armchair, only the armchair was part of me.
Fudge.
Then, clearing my throat, I spoke.
I have something to say.
119.4 - Heil sei dem Freudenlicht der Welt
Well, dont just sit there, Heggy said, with a nod. Go on, Genneth. Say what you have to say.
Im infected, I said.
Heggy nodded darkly. I have no doubt we all are, she said.
But I shook my head. No, Heggy. I sighed. Im a transformee. Im a Type Two case.
The silence that followed those words was almost as bad as the one Pel and the kids had given me when Id told them.
Angel, even thinking about that still hurt like heck.
Finally, Heggy coughed, breaking the silence. How long have you known? she asked.
I swallowed hard. Almost a week. My words were meek.
In response, Heggy looked as if shed just aged a decade and a half. Her features sagged. Disappointment quivered in her olivine eyes.
She said somethingI saw her lips movebut the sound was drowned out by indignant uproar from the other doctors.
A third of them called me a monster, another third called me a murderer. The rest thought this was some kind of sick joke.
I wished it was.
Quiet! Heggy yelled. The word was like a thunderclap.
All the heads in all the boxes on my console screen flinched in unison, as did their copies in my mind.
Hes not lying, she said, softly. Ive
I swear, I could hear her lips smack.
Ive known Dr. Howle for a long time, she said. I know what its like when he lies. Normally, hes terrible at it, but She shook her head. I guess this once, he managed to outwit me. Also, she grimaced, hes not the kind of guy whod make a joke like this.
Her eyes bore into mine. She stared straight through to my soulassuming I still had one.
In the restroom stall, I looked up at Andalon. She was staring down at me, with her back facing the ceiling. The expression on her face was profound. It was a face many masks, all of which were true.
Pride.
Respect.
Heartache.
Empathy.
Why are you sharing this revelation with us, Dr. Howle? Vernon asked, with icy calm.
And here it comes I thought.
I breathed in deep, the air hissing through my teeth.
Because I said, Im the reason WeElMed is zombie-free, just like Im the one who stopped the zombies out in Garden Court. And in the lobby.
Genneth, Heggy said, turning less leaden, what were you doin out in Garden Court, really?
I smiled at her, trying not to cry. Exactly what I told you wed do. I helped them break into General Labs and free Vernons test subjects. Though, for the record, I also used my powers to convince our time-traveling friends from the Third Crusade that I was a sorcererand one of the Angels Blessd, no less. I kinda needed to do that to get them to trust me.
Dr. Bzool stood up from her seat. Dr. Marteneiss, this is absurd! Do you really expect
I slowed time to a crawl, freezing everything around mebut just for a moment.
I guess Im going to have to do it the hard way, I thought.
Id like to say Dr. Bzool volunteered for the honor, but she was the most infected of the conference attendees currently close enough to be within range of my necromantic influence.
Even though the consoles camera wasnt able to capture what I could see with my wyrmsight picked up onthe images on the screen looked the same whether or not I was using wyrmsightby using my wyrmsight on my surroundings, I could tell that Dr. Bzool was in the ladies restroom opposite the mens restroom I currently happened to be in. I could see the aura of her infection through the restrooms walls, and I knew it was her, because it moved in sync with her movements on the screen and in my imaginary conference room.
Also, she was broadcasting from a toilet stall.
Andalon? I muttered.
She floated down to me as I reached out with my hand. Nodding, she closed her eyes, and together, we channeled &alons power.
The effect was instantaneous: Dr. Bzool froze in place.
Multiple doctors called her name, but she did not respond in the slightest. Youd have thought she was a wax figurine.
For the first time in my life, Heggy looked at me with fear in her eyes. Genneth?
I stood up.
Dr. Bzools Type One infection was far enough along that I could make her my puppet. She moved at my command, and for added visual impact, I moved my body in the same way I was moving hers.
We raised our left arms. We tilted our heads left and right. We bowed.
Closing my eyes to focus, I even made her speak.
I kept my lips sealed as she spoke.
This is Dr. Genneth Howle speaking, she said, broadcasting live from the body of Sandra Bzool.
I had to exaggerate the movements of her mouth and lips in order to get the sounds to come out right, but, even then, her voice came out eerie and unnatural.
Sighing, I released my control. Id violated Bzools bodily integrity for about thirty seconds.
The good doctors eyes bugged out of her skull the instant she regained control. Trembling in terror, she staggered back, stumbling on the toilet behind her, toppling backward. Fortunately, I managed to intervene quickly enough, taking control of her body long enough to make her reach out and grab the handle on the stalls wall.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
Sandra, I said, on the count of three, Im going to give control of your body back to you, I said.
I probably should have done this the first time.
When I do, I added, make sure youre squeezing your hand around the handle. I dont want you to fall, okay? I paused. One, two, three.
Then I released her.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw her grip hold.
I wouldnt be surprised if she never spoke to me again.
Sorry about that. I bowed apologetically before sitting back down. You just happened to be the easiest target to manipulateand I dont mean that in a condescending way.
I think Im just going to go home now, one of the doctors said, quietly. I I cant take this anymore.
To his credit, the guys box went dark as he left the teleconference.
His copy in my mind walked off, disappearing as he phased through a wall.
Fucking hell, Genneth Heggy muttered.
Well, Dr. Howle, Vernon said, his eyes brightly lit by his hazmat suits inner lights, you now have my undivided attention.
My mouth was a desert by the time I was done talking. My tongue was crusted over with little flakes of tangy-sweet spore-laced spit. I cringed as I swallowed them.
Disgustingly enough, they actually didnt taste half-bad.
All it took to make our conference live up to its definition was for me to turn it into a letter.
Whod have thunk it?
I told them everything. I even told them about having Andalon help me remodel my body as I struggled to figure out what the right look for the pangol would be. Like pretty much everything else that had happened, it was a surreal experience. I felt like a marble rolling off a glacier, to the tune of the waves of Bond-signs rippling across my imaginary conference room.
Any questions? I asked.
Dr. Howle, General Marteneiss said, if I hadnt just seen you make a marionette out of Dr. Bzools body, Id say you were stark ravin mad.
That wasnt a question, I said.
Endearingly enough, Andalon said the exact same thing at the exact same time, pointing at Vernon accusatively in both of my two theaters of awareness.
The General glared at me.
Alright, I said, why dont I ask a question? Do you believe me? Do any of you?
Vernon tilted his head. Do I believe that you can control the zombies? He nodded. Abso-fuckin-lutely. Do I believe that you believe what you told us is true? Ditto. Now, as to whether I believe its the truth Id say that doesnt matter one way or the other.
Heggy closed her eyes and shook her head. Vern, she said, whatre you gettin on about?
We dont have the luxury to care about truth, he replied. Truth is for people who have time to stop and smell the roses. We dont have either of those.
This was true. The roses out in the garden were about as dead as dead, burned, crushed, corroded, fungus-infected flowers could be.
No siree, he continued. I care about results. He looked around. Would anyone object if I keep going? he asked.
Were not going to let you experiment on innocent people, General, I said.
I was hoping a show of solidarity with my former species would put me in their good graces.
If youd told me about your abilities earlier, Dr. Howle, he said. I wouldnt have needed to.
Ow.
That that stung.
I didnt know! I hissed. I only found out when the knights ap
You dont need to tell us again, a Dr. Born said.
Vernon coughed and cleared his throat. Genneth, your country needs you. In both worlds, he put both his hands down on the table. Can you keep using your abilities to keep the zombies under control? And can other transformees acquire this ability, or is it just you? If it turns out you can teach em how to do it, thatd be a damn good reason to keep you transformees around.
As I said, I answered, the reason I can control the infected is because Ampersandalon can. Andalon just taps into her greater selfs powers.
Why is there an ampersand? someone groaned. I dont understand!
Just roll with it, I said.
I had to say, for once, it was nice to not have to be the one who was behind on everything, for once.
In my mind-world, I looked General Marteneiss in the eyes. Ive asked Andalon, and she doesnt know whether or not the other transformees could acquire the necromantic powers I seem to have.
Necromantic? Dr. Bzool asked, narrowing her eyes.
Controlling the infected and the zombies, I explained.
I sighed. As I was saying, though Andalons amnesia doesnt preclude the possibility of necromancy being a standard-issue wyrm power, I have a gut feeling that it isnt that cut and dry. This has something to do with my special connection to Andalon, I said, Im sure of it.
Youre really that convinced that youre the beasteaten chosen one? someone asked.
Its not a matter of being convinced, I replied. Ive looked and looked and looked, but no matter who I ask, I havent found any wyrms who can interact with Andalon the way I can. The most anyone else seems to get are faint glimpses of her, as if she was a ghost among ghosts. No one else has demonstrated necromantic abilities like mine. Andalon tells me that controlling zombies requires having a strong connection to Ampersandalon, and that connection gets stronger the more a transformee changes.
But that makes no sense! Dr. Born snapped. Youre barely changed at all!
The suit hides more than youd think it would, I said, but I shook my head, youre not wrong. I wish I could give you an explanation, but, I glanced at Andalon, unfortunately, I cant, not without taking the plunge and fast forwarding my transformation with a boatload of infected flesh. I was hesitant to do that before, because I wanted to believe I could hold on to my humanity, but now, Im worried that speeding along the changes will put me at risk of getting possessed by a Norm.
Vernon let out a long, long groan. Fine, so theres only one of you, he said, with a huff. Thats better than none. How far can you extend your control?
At the moment, I said, Id say the stunt I pulled in Garden Court is at the upper limit of what I can currently do. But, I dont know how much my powers will increase as I continue my transformation.
Im going to call this good news, the General replied.
Butbut, I interjected, its not just my necromantic abilities. As I said, Ive been teaching other transformees how to properly care for the souls of the dead. This deters the infected from getting possessed and going zombie. And thats something every transformee can do. The more who do it, the fewer zombies there will be. Granted, without necromancy, the others wont save anyone whos already turned, but this will keep them from turning in the first place.
Thats Lowering his head, Vernon let out a ragged sigh. Ugh thats not really what I was hopin to hear.
Its better than nothing, someone said.
Will it be enough to keep us from getting nuked? asked another.
I have no fucking clue, the General replied.
Heggy slapped her gloved hands on her thighs. If we keep on goin like this, well keep talkin till the cows come home. To that end, Ive got some propositions for yall.
Go ahead, Dr. Marteneiss, Dr. Bzool said.
First: the transformees involved in the fight get sequestered in the garage, like Vern suggested. Second: Dr. Howle helps get as many transformees as possible doing the Keeper of Paradise shit. Third: were going to have to crack down on the closeted Type Two cases among WeElMed staff. If Genneth could figure out how to fake a negative test result, anyone can.
I groaned quietly at that.
And, finally Heggy turned toward me. Genneth, you said youre hidin a tail in that hazmat suit of yours?
I nodded. Yeah.
Well, keep it in there. Youve been keepin it under wraps so far; keep keepin it under wraps.
I sat there, on the toiletand in the conference roomfor a couple seconds, blinking in confusion.
w-what? I stammered.
If the plot got any thicker, I think Id lose my mind.
Genneth, Heggy said, as much as I hate saying this youre going to need to keep your condition in the closet for the time being.
I wasnt the only one shocked by Heggys reply.
Why?
This Dr. Marteneiss shook her head. The folks out there? Theyre not gonna be able to handle your story. Hell, I can barely handle it. Her eyes rolled over to the side of the screen. Vern?
Same, he said, nodding morosely. You can tell the members of your CMT, and other transformeeswell leave that to your discretionbut, you need to keep your changes under wraps, if only for a little while.
Why?
Use your brain, Howle. Right now, your continued existence is of the utmost import to the future of the human race. Meanwhile, if they knew, three quarters of the remaining Trenton public would think youre turning into an archdemon. Those two viewpoints are like oil and water. They dont mix The General sighed. I need to figure out a way to convince my men to not kill you and the rest of the transformees. He shook his head. You doctors arent the only folks who are pissed off at me right now.
What happens if any of us turn silver-eyed?
The General chuckled. Well, then were fucked no matter what we do.
Fudge.
120.1 - Nahash
I swear, when that conference finally spat me out back into the courtyard, it left me in worse shape than I had been after the battle royale. For days, Id been (hyper)fantasizing about what would happen once I told my colleagues my secret. But, not in my wildest dreams would I have guessed theyd respond by telling me to keep keepin it under wraps. I really didnt know what to make of it.
Honestly, I felt lost.
Andalon tried to cheer me up. She pointed out I no longer had to worry about keeping my secret.
And, I mean, yeah, but that didnt really help.
I was terribly hungry. That battle had taken a lot out of me, and puppet time with Dr. Bzool had only further strained my limits.
As usual, I dealt with the stress by trying to make myself useful. At the moment, that meant helping with clean-up.
Angel, the clean-up
Tense didnt even begin to describe it. Several times, I had to step out into the middle of the ruined courtyard and insert myself between Vernons soldiers and the trio of Ibrahim, Yuth, and Larry. The lengthy discussions that ensued consisted of me trying to dissuade the soldiers from firing point-blank.
I was worried someone might get hurt.
Ibrahim, bless his heart, volunteered to go down to the garage.
If having fewer of us around would make you more at ease, hed said, Ill be happy to go to the garage.
Karl had gotten taken down to the garage. It wasnt that people didnt appreciate what hed done, it was just people were scared.
Hed almost gone silver-eyed, too, after all.
The soldiers accepted Ibrahims offer, and off he went.
I imagined Karl would appreciate the company.
The remaining transformees were incredibly helpful, making use of their powers to the fullest. They wandered the courtyard, sweeping up bodies with their psychokinesis. Yuth was able to levitate whole clusters of corpses through the air, and suggested he could slither off to go dump the bodies somewhere, away from the hospital. This suggestion was shot down, though. The military insisted on doing it themselves.
It didnt help that the soldiers caught transformees nibbling on the corpses on multiple different occasions.
Angel, I had to fight back my drool as I struggled to keep myself from joining them. I distracted myself by giving Yuth and Larry the latest updates, explaining what had happened with the knights. I didnt need to worry about any eavesdroppers. The soldiers were plenty keen on keeping their distance from us.
I didnt tell them about the other Angels. Things were hard enough for the others as-is. I didnt want to burden them with more, especially if that burden would take away what little consolation the faith could still give them.
By and by, a couple of the white medical tents got rebuilt, using replacement tarp fresh from WeElMeds matter printers. However, by and large, the courtyard was a shadow of what it had been merely hours before. Nearly all the fencing was ruined past the point of use. One of Vernons commanders made the surprisingly helpful suggestion that, if the transformees were hungry, they could eat all the wrecked metal, and it fell to me to tell him why that was a bad idea.
Yes, they can eat the metal, but then theyll burp up ionizing radiation, I said. Thats a danger to both people and equipment.
Shit the commander replied.
The only other option was to recycle the metal by feeding it to the matter printers to have it converted into raw materials. It was a slow-going process, both because it took significantly longer for the printers to break down metal than it did for them to break down plastic, but also because most of our printers were already busy printing up medical suppliesbedding, gowns, sheets, syringes, and, above all, mycophage.
Once Larry and the others had helped to clear the streets of any wrecked vehicles, Vernons men were able to drive the dump trucks waiting on Merchant Street into the courtyard. Their duties done, the transformees slunk off to the garage, until all that remained were bodies and undertakers.
I was in the latter category.
The concerted effort to clean up the carnage had given the hospital some much needed breathing room, with which it could bring out its dead.
It had been about three days since Mayor Joleston and the governor had deployed the military and declared martial law. Two days ago, things had been running relatively smoothly. The military had been working in concert with anyone willing to drive a truck, sending convoys of trucks to the hospital to ferry away the constant stream of fresh bodies. But, since Vernons arrival yesterday, that had pretty much crawled to a standstill. Now, in the calm that had followed the battle, the dump trucks were starting up again. And it wasnt just dump trucks. The troops were getting as many big vehicles from the nearby streets as they could salvage. They brought trucks of every species. There were two dump trucks, a troop truck, a VIP tour truck, a sanitation truck, and even a fire truck.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.
And all of them were being loaded up with the bodies of the dead.
It went without saying that this wasnt going to last, and everyone knew iteven if they didnt say it.
And, for the record, no one didand I couldnt blame them.
I stood on the older, smaller street opposite Merchant Boulevard, on the other side of the Administration Building. The grime and mustiness of the sett-stone pavement seemed almost warm and welcoming compared to the courtyards horrors. Like Garden Court Drive and all the other streets from the Second Empire, the individual stones in the pavement flared, like fans or sea shellsthe waves of a silent sea.
The pile on the curb was half and again as tall as me. It wasnt the most stable of piles. A good third of it had onto the streeta wave of flesh atop the waves of stone. Some of the bodies were from the battle, or those who had died soon after or before or after it, but many were the corpses of patients freshly pulled from WeElMeds halls.
I stood behind one of the dump trucks. The trucks green-painted metal body was kind of acting like a retaining wall, keeping the rest of the corpse-pile from spilling onto the street.
It was the closest Id ever gotten to a dump truck, and it had me admiring how much care had been put into their design. In the glorious world of tomorrow, even our dump trucks looked sexy
The truck was smooth and rounded where youd have expected thered be sharp edges. The jaws on the trucks prodigious rear-end were the only exception to that rule. The two unfeeling pieces of hefty metal formed a jagged, W-shaped mouth. At the moment, the trucks jaws were wide open, showing off the jutting, triangle-tipped teeth on top and bottom. Inside, bodies piled like a rotten tongue.
My legs might as well have been made of stone. I felt nothing from them. It made me wonder how much longer theyd stay functional.
I figured it wasnt long.
Bending over, I reached down, ready to pick up the next corpse. This one was light enough that I didnt need to use my powers or ask for the soldiers help with lifting the body into the dump truck.
As with all the other bodies, the urge to consume jostled about in my mind the moment my hazmat suits gloves grabbed hold of the corpse. Ordinarily, I would have had to fight to keep that urge at bay, but this time Fate had given me a helping hand.
The right side of the corpses face was deformed by necrotic, ulcerated tissue. Fungal filaments threaded through the skin like a torturers stitches. The left half of the girls face was ashen, but relatively intact, spiderwebbed by dark lightning. The fungus had opened fissures in the girls head, out from which its tumorous masses burgeoned and bulged. The parts of her scalp where the girls Night-black hair hadnt fallen out in clumps still had their familiar silky sheen.
Unlike the others, I didnt chuck the girls body into the dump truck. Instead, I held her, ginger and heartbroken, clutching her to my chest.
Yuta Uramarus soul stood beside me, gloom-faced and weeping.
Hoshi. Poor Hoshi.
I turned to look at Yuta, but he was gone. Even then, I could sense his pain. It was like a salted ember, burning on the soft tissue inside my skull. I sent a doppelgenneth to counsel him, but Yuta refused to acknowledge him.
He wanted to be left to his grief.
Sighing, I gently brushed the remnants of Hoshis hair off her face and slid her one remaining eyelid closed.
The other eye had been overtaken by the fungus.
Clutching Hoshis corpse tightly, I wept. I whispered my regrets into her unhearing ears.
Im sorry. Im so, so sorry. A shudder rippled down my back. I wish I could have done better.
Gently, I laid Hoshi to rest atop the mound of fungus-eaten corpses in the dump truck. Arms and legs had interleaved one another like a pile of sticksa macabre leaf litter of many different skins.
While wed been in the conference, Ani had been bawling her eyes out, having returned to the hospitala survivor of the battleonly to find that Hoshi had expired. As Jonan had explained to me via text, Ani blamed herself. The way she saw it, if she hadnt screwed up the plan and hadnt had to get pulled out by Heggy, she would have been able to go back and give Hoshi another dose of the mycophage.
Hed texted:
If you wanna know what I think, its not her fault. The mycophage doesnt work. Its just that simple. And why would it work? Nothing else did.
Andalon appeared at my side, quietly weeping. Resting one of her hands on the truck, she stared into its mouth.
Im sorry, Mr. Genneth. She turned her head and looked up at me.
Sorry for what? I muttered.
I She lowered her head. Andalon couldnt stop it.
What do you mean? I whispered. Suddenly, I realized what shed meant.
It was from yesterday, when shed excitedly told me that shed found a way to make the Green Def less bad.
Those very words played for the both of us to hear.
She nodded.
I dont understand, I said. Hoshi died because the mycophage didnt work.
But Andalon shook her head. Andalon dunno what a mikey-face is, but she looked over at Hoshis body in the truck. Those peoples are gone cause I wasnt strong enuff.
I I stared at her. What?
But then it hit me. It hit me like a gelid lighting bolt. I had no blood in my veins, and yet it ran cold, all the same.
Break the Tablets, I thought.
It was you? I asked.
What was me? she asked, confused.
Andalon had said shed found a way to halt the progression of the Green Death. Given all the nonsense with the knights and my necromancy, Id lost sight of that little detail, but now, it was staring me in the face, clear as day.
I had to make sure.
I glanced at Hoshis corpse. Patients like Hoshi were given the mycophagea kind of medicine. It made them get better. They were sick with the Green Death, but they got better.
I spoke to her in a whisper, not wanting to disturb the soldier over to my left, at the other corner of the dump trucks mouth. We were both helping to load up this dump truck.
Though that really didnt matter right now.
Andalons eyes widened in recognition. Oh. She shook her head. Nuh-uh. That was Andalon.
But, the mycophage
Andalon tried to make the fungus stop, but it foughted back and, I She lowered her head in shame. Im sorry, Mr. Genneth. Its too strong. I I cant
She looked up at me.
I cant do it. She wept. Are are you mad at me? She clasped her hands together. Please, dont be
I swallowed hard. No, Andalon. My voice nearly broke. I fought back tears. Im not mad. I shuddered. You My lips quivered as I struggled to smile.
I patted her on the head. You did a good job. I nodded. Sometimes, we do everything right, but things still end badly. Its the way of the world. Still, keep trying. Do whatever you can. Even the littlest bit makes a world of a difference.
She nodded in heartfelt understanding.
Beside me, the soldier coughed.
Andalon vanished as I turned to face him.
Is everything alright, Doctor? he said. Ah, fuck, what am I saying? Of course it isnt.
Lt. Colonel Kaplan coughed again, and then groaned.
120.2 - Nahash
By his accent, Adam had most likely grown up in Crownsleep, up in northwestern Trenton. As far as appearances went, what wasnt hidden behind Adams camo-patterned uniform, the overlay of black carbon-fiber armor, or his frightful gas mask spoke to a man who looked like a discount version of Jonan: blonde hair, blue eyes, with a prominent nose.
The two of us were hardly the only ones on dump truck duty. A dozen soldiers or so were doing the awful work of loading the corpses into the trucks. A few doctors and nurses were assisting in the effort, but the bulk of the work fell to the military. The chaos had not been good for relations between WeElMeds staff and Vernons men.
The stretch of curb in front of the Administration Building was occupied by dump trucks, placed almost bumper to bumper. Ours was around the corner, the last in the line.
There were many reasons Id opted for dump truck duty.
Unsurprisingly, after the battle, both the military and the hospital were cracking down on Type Two cases who were hiding their transformee status from the rest of us. Vernons soldiers were conducting inspections inside the Administration Building. The appointments for the examinations could be deferred if you were hard at work, but not for long.
So, I kept myself scarce.
All of the conference attendees had agreed that I ought to stay out of the building until they were done. I would have done so even if they hadnt told me to. I couldnt bear the hypocrisy of standing by while everyone else was being outed.
Id chosen the dump truck in the side street because it meant I only needed to look at one corpse pile, rather than see all of them lined up alongside the fleet of dump trucks. It was less tempting that way. It made it easier for me to resist the bottomless pit the hunger was hollowing out inside of me.
Right now, it was difficult for me to look at my colleagues, simply because of how much the wyrm attack had done to erode what little remained of our morale.
Before, thered been a sense of camaraderie, despite the insurmountable odds. It might have been a losing battle, but we were fighting it, and that gave us a reason to keep going. If we couldnt stop the fungus, at least we could give it one heck of a bad time.
But now?
People were tired of fighting. Our nurses no longer bothered to hide their despair. Things were quieting down.
The lights were going out.
I turned to the next body in the pile.
Do you need help with the next one? the Lt. Colonel asked.
I shook my head.
For a doctor, youre a strong fellow, thats for sure.
The fungus has reduced these bodies to skin and bone, I said, numbly. Or not even that. Theyre I sighed. Theyre not very heavy.
It was an explanation, yesjust not the real one.
Bending over, I grabbed the next body with both hands: a grown man, felled at the peak of his life. I made filamentous plumes of psychic power erupt from the street. They pushed up on the corpse from below with enough force that placing the body into the truck was just a matter of maintaining the momentum, swinging like a cherry picker.
The corpse hit the dump trucks cadavers with an ugly thump, skin slapping on skin.
A wave of hunger rippled through me, leaving me feeling light headed. I had to pull my head away from the dump truck.
Closing my eyes, I groaned.
Lt. Colonel Kaplan looked up from the naked corpse he was hefting into the dump truck.
A teenage boy.
Are you alright? he asked.
I groaned again. No.
I turned away from the dump truck with a shudder, not wanting to make eye contact with its sweet, putrid jaws.
Honestly, I should have gotten the heck out of there right then and there, but I didnt.
And that was my mistake.
I turned back to the bodies piled on the curb and the sett-paved street.
I swallowed a gob of sporey saliva.
Some of the bodies were wrapped in cloth or plastic, though many were completely naked.
I felt dizzy and lightheaded.
Other bodies still came with their original packaging. I saw casual attire, business suits, womens midday finery, work clothes, several pairs of ruined samue. It was the machinery of daily life.
And what use was it now?
And then someone spoke. Excuse me, sir? Whats going on?
Raising my head, I find myself looking up at a tall, erudite man with short hair and small round spectacles.
Had this been the me from several days ago, I might have been fooled, but I was wiser now. The instant I saw his spotless formal business attiredark gray pinstripe suit, slacks, dress shoes; a dark green tie with pale, hazy gold diagonal stripesI knew he wasnt among the living.
Also, his legs were passing through the corpse-hillock up on the curb.
He started screaming pretty quickly.
Sighing, I made a new progeny consciousness. Another set of eyes grew inside my mind as the ghost vanished from the Thick World and appeared inside Daydream Alley.
Well, inside another Daydream Alley.
What with all the dead people around me, new ghosts had been coming my way like you wouldnt believe. I was stretching myself thin, trying to accommodate them all with mind-worlds of their own. Id had to put a couple dozen of them in suspended animation to keep myself from passing out altogether.
This latest arrival got treated to a Daydream Alley that recreated our surroundings as they should have been: full of hustle and bustle, and sprouting up all over with greenonly plants, instead of spores.
Shutting my eyes again, I played music in my mind, trying to drown out the noise of the businessmans screams.
And he vomited on the street. Great.
A little help here? Lt. Colonel Kaplan asked.
My eyes fluttered open. Turning to him, I nodded and reached out to help him with a dead housewife, still in her afternoon best. I recognized her.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Id seen her sitting in a chair in one of the hallways in Ward E, waiting for her son to wake up.
Her son was the teenager Kaplan had chucked into the truck a couple of minutes before.
A coughing fit struck the Lt. Colonel, making him lose his grip on the mothers body. Her skull hit a sett as the Lt. Colonel staggered and slumped against the side of the dump truck.
Her bones broke like dropped ceramic. Viscous black ichor slowly oozed from the wound.
Why the fuck is this happening? Kaplan asked, barely above a whisper. His voice was hoarse, and his breaths were unsteady.
Had this been an ordinary day, Id have asked him to mind his language, but it wasnt, so I didnt.
At times like this, only a jerk would.
I was starting to regret having taken corpse duty.
A quick glance at him through my wyrmsight showed his infection had significantly advanced. The aura was all over his bodya phantom skeleton, beyond the reach of his senses.
The Lt. Colonel shook his head.
Whod we upset? he asked, wheezing for breath.
The darkness had woven its lightning under his eyes.
He let out a pitiful laugh. He tried to smile at me, and managed to succeed for all of three seconds before he gave up.
I prayed, you know, he said. His voice cracked. I did everything I was supposed to. I went to church, I Divulged my sins, I tried to honor the Angel whenever I could. I did my job, I tried to help people. Shit thats why I enlisted.
He looked up at the sky. Dusk was in full bloom, blotting the sky in indigo and wine.
They say the world was made for us, you know? Well, let me tell you and I dont care who hears me thats a load of shit! Masters of our domain. He scoffed. Look at this! He gestured to the bodies all around us. Just look at it!
I lowered my head.
Im tired of looking, I said, with a sigh.
This world wasnt made for us, it was made for death.
I I wouldnt say that, I said.
I couldnt help but remember my conversation with Greg. Sometimes bad things just happen.
The words were far more difficult to say than I would have thought.
Tell that to them, he said, pointing at the dead. His hand twitched in his gauntlets. Flesh blood bone death, he said. Thats all it is. Everywhere you look. Flesh blood bone death. And fungus. Fucking fungus!
He punched the side of the truck.
I flinched.
I was pretty sure Id heard bones break.
We put ourselves up on a high horse, thinkin were special. But in the end, what difference does it make? What difference does anyone make?
Before I could answer him, I was buffeted by a wave of pain, centered on my head. It was like my skull was a pressure cooker.
The feeling reminded me of
Oh fudge I muttered.
I felt like Id felt back when Ileene had beaten the crud out of Andalon.
I staggered.
This was bad.
I turned around, instinctively looking for a way out. As I did, I got a good look of the narrow street and the ghosts that were now flickering in and out of existence, sometimes even mid-stride. Sometimes they appeared in twos or threes, arguing or laughing, sobbing or screaming in terror. Others were alone. I caught glimpses of them going about their dayflashes of memoriesbefore they vanished back into non-existence.
Id lost track of one of the most important rules of being a transformee: we dont function properly when were really, really hungry.
My eyes watered. Aches dug into my head with every flicker.
Gripping my head and gritting my teeth, hoping to block the pain.
Saliva pooled in my mouth, swirling with sweet, tangy spores.
It was like gravel in water, only powdery and fine.
Doctor, Kaplan groaned, whats wrong?
It was here that I began to panic.
Id never pushed my hunger this far.
Godhead, no
Id been so stupid! So gosh darn stupid!
I should have eaten. I should have eaten.
Darn my shame, I thought.
I was vulnerable. Wed only just managed to scrape by in the battle with the fungus, and now look at me, I was neglecting my self-carejust as Yuth had saidand was putting myself and my spirit-passengers in danger of being seized by hell.
I couldnt get Hoshis corpse off my mind.
Then, I felt a strange twinge in my shoulder.
I whipped my head around.
The phantom businessman was back. Hed broken out of Daydream Alley. Gone were his neat dress and prim, crisp appearance. He was panicked and disheveled.
I was panicked and disheveled.
Fungal filaments crawled beneath the mans skin, spreading before my eyes.
What did you do to me? he moaned, pressing his hands to the sides of his head. Whats happened to me?!
Shutting my eyes, I willed him away.
A moment later, an electric sensation sparked through my body.
I fluttered my eyes open.
The ghost had pounced at me, and phased through.
Go away, I thought.
I shut my eyes again, squeezing even tighter than before.
But he wouldnt go away.
Andalon, I thought-said, help! Demons!
I took several steps back.
The tingling sensation rippled across my back.
Oh fudge, it was my hunger. It was my fudging hunger.
I turned to see the corpses of three children standing behind me. Black ooze speckled in green dripped down their hospital gowns.
They wept.
The one in the middle was Hoshi.
No! I yelled.
Mommy! Daddy! Where are you!?
Help! Help!
I wanted to console them. I really did.
My head throbbed. I staggered.
Theyre pouring into me, I realized. The dead.
The Lt. Colonel pushed off the dump truck and yelled. Doc! What the fuck is going on?!
Straining through tear-blurred eyes, I saw ghosts coming around the corner. Theyd taken notice of me. They were racing toward me.
My hunger ratcheted up with each and every one of their footsteps.
Andalon appeared beside me, her face twisted in fear.
Help! I said, staggering back onto the curbaway from the corpses, thank the Angel.
You need to eat, Mr. Genneth!
Lt. Colonel Kaplan reached out to me.
The ghosts kept coming.
Andalon, I thought-said, get out of here! Quickly!
Andalon stared at me, her face full of fear.
So was mine.
I couldnt allow there to be a repeat of what happened with Ileene. I couldnt afford to be separated from Andalon because Id let spirits injure hernot now, not when I needed her more than ever.
Please! I begged her.
She vanished just as the ghosts reached her. Instead, the spirits fell through me.
Doc! Doc!
The Lt. Colonel had put his hands on my shoulders. He shook me, yelling at me. I could see the fear and concern in his eyes, behind his gas mask, fear and concern mixed in his eyes.
The heat and tightness of my hazmat suit was fudging unbearable.
Sweet deliciousness wafted in through my suits built-in rebreather. The aroma got trapped inside my hazmat suit. It hit me like a sledgehammer. I fell to my knees. My kneecaps hit the fan-shaped stone pavementnot that I felt anything.
I gagged. Green, powdery saliva spewed from my mouth. The solution dissolved my hazmat suits visor like it was just a sugary glaze, and then splattered onto the Lt. Colonels face and chest. The acids melted through his gas mask and his body armor. They sizzled like oil on a hot grill.
Lt. Colonel Kaplan toppled backward. The back of his helmet bashed against the setts.
Every fiber of my being was screaming at me to dive head-first into the corpse-mound at my side. The fungus was calling to me.
I wondered: were my eyes turning silver?
But it wasnt just the dead.
I looked over the Lt. Colonel. He was dying; he had been, for hours, now. His allure was nothing compared to the ripe cadavers on the ground.
And yet
I had to make a choice. I could throw myself onto the corpse-pile and change all at once, like Karl had, or I could fall on the one, still warm body right in front of me.
I tried to use my psychokinesis to pull a body free from the pile, but my plexus threads came out flickering and frazzled. More of the hillock came apart as a couple more bodies spilled onto the stone, away from me.
Fudge.
Angel forgive me.
I was falling, and I couldnt stop it. All I could do was choose where I fell.
I fell on Kaplan.
Angel, forgive me.
I didnt want him to scream. I was afraid of what might happen.
And I was afraid of losing the rest of myself to the change.
Even after all Id been through, I was still afraid.
For days, Id been struggling to conceal my necks inhuman lengthbut no longer. I sprang my head at Adam. My jaws opened, and kept on opening, wider and wider. My lips tore open at the sides as my lower jaw distended like a snakes. I pressed my hanging mouth onto Adams face. My throat caught his screams. For a moment, I panicked that I wouldnt be able to swallow him all, but it quickly passed as my corrosive saliva softened the soldiers skull. I heard the crink and crack of his bones dissolving in my mouth.
I sucked down his head like a chocolate egg with caramel filling. Like truffles and nougat. I shoved his neck down my gullet and slurped up his rich, fungus-stained blood. Lifting my jaws from his drained, headless corpse, I licked his flanks. His armor was cotton candy, dissolving beneath my tongue. His flesh burbled as my acid saliva thinned him and burned him, turning his flanks into a soft paste. I stuck one of his arms down my throat, all the way up to his armpit. I bit it off.
Bone effervesced on my tongue.
Deep within, I screamed at myself to stop, but I couldnt. The hunger was overriding my inhibitions. I stuffed his other arm down my throat. His torso followed soon after.
121.1 - Erleuchte mein bedürftig Herz
I was about halfway done eating Lt. Colonel Adam Kaplans thighs when I came back to my senses.
I had become death, the destroyer of worlds.
No.
This wasnt supposed to happen.
No. No no no.
Pushing myself off the ground, I knocked the Lt. Colonels half-eaten corpse down the street with a swing of a psychokinetic club.
I didnt even scream. I just ran down the street, away from the courtyard, sobbing rivers.
What have I done?
The air was steeped in deaths sweet stink. Even for a pastry-loving sweet tooth like me, the scent was overpowering. Things like masks or rebreathers hardly took the edge out of the stench.
Even from around the corner, I could hear the engines rumbling like bottled thunder inside the trucks lined up in front of the Administration Building. The noise reverberated off the old, tall fa?ades that lined the streets, masking the sound of Adams fall. Had I not eaten him as quickly as I had, he would have screamed, drawing others.
That was just one of the million thoughts jostling around in my head as I ran.
I didnt look back.
Part of me wanted to run around the corner and divulge my sins to the soldiers on duty, but I didnt.
I didnt want to inadvertently make more victims.
Holy Angel, what had I done?
I didnt just have a potbelly. I had a pottorso. Everything between my waist and the base of my neck was a bloated backpack. Adams body was dissolving inside me, like sugar cubes in a glass of sparkling wine. I could feel my body tugging at his flesh, sending in tendrils to absorb and ply.
I was counting the seconds until the changes set in.
I ripped off what remained of my hazmat suits half-melted headpiece. Without a heartbeat or the need to breathe, I was keenly aware of the soft, fizzing sound my corrosive saliva made as it continued eating away at the suits bright green plastic. That, and the boots rhythmic clacks on the stone pavement.
Boots my dead feet couldnt feel.
I dashed through the nearest set of double doors. Ironically, they led me into General Labsthe ground floor, that is. The glass slid out of my way as I approached. I paid no attention to the screen above the door, nor to Werumed-san and his multilingual greetings.
Even here, in one of General Labs rear hallwaysthe very definition of off the beaten paththe hospital was packed with people, sick, helpless, frightened, and dying people. The mask dispenser that had been set up by the entrance had been knocked over, along with the bulky unit of waste receptacles nearby. I picked a mask up off the floor and pressed it against my face, not knowing whether it was fresh, and not caring in the slightest, though the sweet scent wafting into my nostrils told me it probably wasnt.
Things started blurring together. I felt dizzy.
Shoving myself off the door, I darted down a side corridor, frantically searching for a place to hide. I could feel the pressure building inside me, in my body, in my soul. Tears curdled in my eyes.
The Lt. Colonel was sinking into me. The transformation had repurposed his flesh, making it mine. Biomass percolated into me, creeping along in sheets and wriggling slivers.
Spotting a stairwell, I flung open the door and staggered in. A tide of stale air belched up from the resonant abyss, thick with a dry stifling warmth.
My legs gave out at the landing. I toppled forward. I slowed time as I fell, weaving a psychic toboggan beneath me, curling its front up to exert force against my fall.
Sparks flew as my forcefields scraped against the hard edges of the old metal steps. I slid down, belly first; a water slide without the water.
It was a descent in more ways than one. I wasnt just descending to the first basement level, I was descending into moral darkness.I was descending into humbled wretchedness. I was sinkingdrowning.
Came down hard, screaming in slow motion as I bounced off the floor and ricocheted off the wall of the adjacent hallway. I let time run like normal once Id skidded to a stop. The one of my legs that hadnt broken yet cracked from the impact. The severed lower half of my right leg jostled about as I settled to a stop, lolling along the floor at tragicomic angles.
I wanted my wife. I wanted my kids. I wanted my son. I wanted my sister.
I wanted the mother Id never known.
I wanted to take the people I loved and wrap my arms around them and hold them tight, proud that there was no safer place than in my embrace. I wanted Pel to tell me what I needed to do to make everything right again. I wanted Jules to give her snarky deconstructions of my daily foibles. I wanted to duel my son in a ScudRacer match, knowing that the last Its-It was at stakethe ice cream treat that couldnt be beat. I wanted the balm of life as it ought to be lived.
But I couldnt have that, could I?
I rasped and gurgled as I landed on my belly. The lower extremities of my hazmat suit were little more than plastic bags filled with loose, oblong stones.
My powers had killed a person once before, when theyd been hijacked by the demon that Frank Isafobes spirit had become. But this was different. I couldnt excuse this as an accident. It was all me.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
I tried to get up, but my legs wouldnt work anymore.
I dragged myself forward, pulling with my hands and claws. Pataphysics bulged along my arms as I pulled myself forward.
I was terrified someone might pass me and see.
My body shivereda presentiment of imminent change.
And yet
Looking up, I saw the room numbers beside the doors.
1Ba315. 1Ba316. 1Ba317.
Even if Id been able to make it to Suiseis group in time, it wouldnt have soothed me. It wouldnt have brought me comfort. There was only one place I could have gone, only one person I had left to turn to.
A friend was a light in the darkness; a chance to be understood, and a reminder that you werent alone.
But I was dangerous. Deadly even.
This was my fault. My mistake.
Id been haunted by demons. Demons of secrets; demons of lies; demons of empty promises, plague, excrescence, and death.
I wanted to exorcise them all. I wanted to shrive myself to my most trusted friend, someone who wouldnt hate me for what Id done, even if I deserved it.
But who was I to put that burden on his shoulders? It was my fault. Brand shouldnt have had to suffer for that. Electric wisps crawled beneath my skin in a strange mirror of my tears and sweat.
And thenonce againfate made my decision for me.
G-Genneth!?
Dr. Nowston had stepped out of his lab in Room 1Ba318, covered head to toe in a hazmat suit of his own.
We even wore matching colors.
Brand, I panted, no please get back! I jutted out my arm at him.
The pressure in my body crescendoed. Skin, bone, and muscle rippled out from between my shoulder blades, all the way down to the tip of my tail, wound up in the suits oxygen tank space.
Brand didnt say anything. He stared at me. For an instant, there was shock in his eyes, but then it subsided. Stolid determination took its place.
He grabbed me in both arms and helped me up.
I was too torn to physically rebuff him. All I could do was moan, No its not safe.
He looked me in the eyes. So?
And then he dragged me into his lab.
Change ran rampant through me. My flesh burbled. I groaned, but that groan leapt into a yelp as pain shot up through my tail and sent me tumbling forward onto the floor, taking Brand along with me. The pain squeezed my hands, as if my suits gloves were caught in a viseand the vise was tightening.
I sprawled out on the laboratory floor, straining my limbs. I was a boiler ready to burst.
And then I did.
Tears ripped loose all over my suit, and every inch was blessd relief. My hips bucked. Room temperature air swept in through a tear at the back of the suit, touching my tail. Compared to the suits stifling heat, the stale laboratory air might as well have winters icy spume. My gauntlets popped. Swaths of plastic dug into the valleys between my fingers. Another tear shot out as I lengthened. The labs tiled floor pressed against an exposed part of my belly. I yelped in surprise at the unexpected cold, pushing off the ground with a reflexive psychokinetic burst that flipped me onto my back. The changes came to a halt right as I felt a row of somethings twinge down the middle of my back, along my spine.
I looked up. Brand had risen into a kneeling posture. He hovered over me, his eyes fixated on me, twitching left and right as he took in my every detail.
Slowly, he shook his head. His mouth was as wide open as the door right behind him.
Holy shit, he said.
And though it might just have been the glare of the fluorescent ceiling lights off the visor of his yellow hazmat suit, I could have sworn I saw a twinkle in the pathologists eyes.
And then he grinned.
Even before the Green Death came to our world, I was no stranger to weird stuff. Id once worked with a psychiatric patient whod thought his wife was a shoe. Still, that was nothing compared to the weirdness I was now contending with.
I was lost in the wake of darkness of my own making.
I was turning into a wyrm.
No: I already was one.
Meanwhile, Brand Nowston was acting like a kid on Shrovestide morning.
Brand had gotten a pair of scissors to help cut off the rest of my hazmat suit. I had to tell him to leave the right sleeve of my coat alone, because the cufflinks contained my chip where Greg had soldered it to the fabric.
I didnt need to tell Brand to get him to spare my bow-tie, though. He knew how much the little thing meant to me. I was a horrid sight. There was a lot more of me than ever before. A stout column of scaly, umber-purple skin bridged the spacious gap between my waist and where the upper rim of my pants would have gone. It was at least as long as my legs had been.
Any distinction between my tail and my belly was now moot. My unified tail-belly was a broad log from which my legs jutted out at either side. Everything below the middle of my thighs was gone, while what remained of my thighs was waxy in the middle and necrotic black at the edges where it crumbled away. The limbs were shrunken and thin, as if theyd been ground down by a lathe, particularly the points that bore my weight as I used them like struts to keep myself upright. Had they not been utterly dead to all physical sensation, I imagined my thigh-stubs would have felt a lot like stiff burlap sacks, but filled with rice rather than stuff of flesh and bone.
My body was now more tubelike than anything else. My belly had fallen between my legs, where it now merged seamlessly with my tail. Leaning against the cabinets beneath Brands countertop, I had an L-shaped silhouette, with my mostly upright forepart and my tail continuing behind me, winding like a river. Muscles in my new stretch of belly tensed to keep my forepart upright, though they were still new enough that every once in a while they went slack with a twitch, forcing me to shift my weight onto my thigh-struts, which buckled under the strain, a bit more of the flesh and bone flaking off as a result. It should have hurt beyond imagination, but it didnt. Instead, there was the barest feeling of pressure against my underbelly as my broken femurs exposed cores scraped across the vinyl floor. Honestly, the sensation was more annoying than anything else, to the point that I eventually resorted to using my powers to keep myself upright and stable just to avoid it.
All my junk was gone, both front and back. I didnt have a crotch anymore, and even if I did, there was so much more of me than ever before that I wouldnt have had the slightest idea of where to look for it. Heck, looking at me, you never would have known I ever had anything worth covering up in the first place. As part of my new, tubular profile, everything in the junction where my upper body met my tail had been smoothed over.
When was the last time you had a bowel movement? Brand asked.
I oh.
It was then that I realized I hadnt used the restroom in almost a week.
The more you know.
Brand asking me about my bowel movements was a quintessentially Brand sort of question, and a perfect example of why I was his only friend.
Angel, what I wouldnt have given to see home videos of him as a kid.
Yet as unreal as it was to feel all this, seeing it was even stranger still. Even though I saw it with my own two eyes, I couldnt believe what I saw, because what I felt contradicted it.
If youd asked me to point at my legs, Id have pointed at my tail. Thats what it felt like. The neural traffic running through my spinal cord turned down my tail instead of my vestigial legs. My body had grown a new limb, and my nervous systems proprioceptive architecture had been very busy sliding into their new configuration. Seeing it made me cognizant of the changes in a way that bodily feeling simply didnt convey on its own. It had too many joints. My leg was all joints, now.
Fudge!
My tail wriggled and thrashed with my stress.
Hey! Brand said. Its alright. Calm down. He pressed his hand onto the side of my torso, and slowly, I calmed, though I struggled to keep myself from going through with my deep breathing relaxation habit.
I didnt want to infect him.
For what it was worth, though, I dont think Brand would mind, or even notice. He was far more entranced with my changes.
121.2 - Erleuchte mein bedürftig Herz
Brand Nowston was whatever the opposite of a social butterfly was. (A social moth?) Whatever you chose to call it, it never took more than five minutes to see it was true, and understand why it was true, unless you were somehow even more socially oblivious than he was.
Whatever fires of human neurobehavioral development were behind people recognizing and internalizing the fact that conversations were back-and-forth, not one person lecturing for minutes on end, Brand hadnt gotten it. He was blissfully unaware that some topics were not appropriate for discussing over a meal. He was incapable of telling when a person wanted him to stop talking.
He didnt see why it wasnt okay to pick a dead snail up off the ground and start dissecting it on the table, a couple inches away from your sandwich. You could point it out to him, and he would bow and politely apologize, and then a week later, it would happen all over again.
The list goes on.
But this were a feature, not a bug. His curiosity and open-mindedness were inseparable from who he was and what he did, and it made him one of the most brilliant, authentic, honest, truthful, loyal, and earnestly, painfully kind individuals Id ever known.
People are who they are, and unless you take all of them, there will never be certainty or truth.
Still, from time to timesuch as at this very momentI would come face to face with his quirks in a way that I couldnt just smile and wave them away, not when Brand was ogling me from inside his yellow-green hazmat suit like I was a freshly dissected lab rat.
I wish I had time to write a paper about you, he said. Or ten.
Brand I said.
Leave it to Dr. Nowston to not notice my current heartache.
This must have been what those sexy swimsuit models felt like. Next to your face, your feelings were the last part anyone cared to glance at.
Though, to be fair, I hadnt been exactly vocal about my emotional and spiritual woesmostly because I was too overwhelmed with all the changes.
My hands had gone full wyrm. Fine scales atop fungal flesh started just below my elbows. From there, they went all the way to my fingertips. I had only six digits: two fingers and a thumb on each hand. Theyd grown in length and width, and now sported fully formed claws as black as Night. Light gathered like droplets at the brightness of their savage tips.
And then there was my back.
My neck was long enough that I could turn my head around and look down my back, and what I saw did not inspire confidence.
I had lumps.
They must have come from the twinges Id felt down my spine.
It was like someone had taken chicken eggs and put them underneath my skin, in a line that went down my back and disappeared somewhere in the middle of my tail. The skin along my back was human on the edges, but with a wyrmflesh spine that branched off onto my human skin the way the Green Deaths hyphae spread through its Type One victims.
I couldnt help but think of the mane of spikes Id seen emerge from Karls back.
I guess I was growing a mane now.
Suddenly, Brand did something Id rather he hadnt: he grabbed my tail and squeezedhard.
Do you feel this when I touch it? he asked.
My flinching answered his question for him, as did my I gripe.
Brand!
Not even I had a strong enough of an imaginationwyrm hyperphantasizing yeswithstandingto picture the flights of thought Dr. Nowston had lost himself in.
This is crazy, man, he said. I
Dr. Nowston! With a yell, I ripped off the face mask Id picked up earlier; the thing was drizzled with my tears. Pale patches of green discoloration had appeared where my tears had dried, along with a thin, dusty layer of those impossibly small, impossibly deadly spores. Near the spores, the F-99s translucent fabric had lost its translucence, instead beginning to brown and blacken, as if being slowly burnt by an unseen flame.
Acid would do that sort of thing.
More spore-tainted tears trickled down my face.
Brand fell silent.
Youre right, he said. Finally, he saw me, not as a patient, or as his latest science experiment, but as a personas his friend. Unfortunately, that meant his momentary excitement was now dead in the water, and the regret on his face said as much.
He lowered his head in shame. Im Im sorry. That was rude of me.
I sighed, breathing out visible wisps of green.
Fudge, I thought.
Thank you, I said, softly.
My back lumps twitched.
As I lay on the floor of Dr. Nowstons pathology lab, I felt the lapsedness of my lapsed Lassedicy more acutely than ever before. An urge welled up in my chest.
I needed to Divulge.
Yes, the urge was somewhat blunted by the knowledge that there was more than one Angel, and so all of Lassedicy was incontrovertibly wrong, but, as they say old habits die hard.
I didnt expect forgiveness for killing Adam. Im not even sure I wanted it, let alone deserved it. But I had to tell someone.
Id reached out twice now. First to the transformees in the self-help group, when Id shared with them what I knew about Andalon, and then to Heggy and the others.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
I didnt want to get found out, or discovered by happenstance. I wanted to be the one to reach out. It felt good to come clean, and I still had so many others to tell.
Ani.
My transformee patients.
Jonan.
I had to own up to what Id done. How else could I ever begin down the path to forgiveness?
Id been taught that only Divinity could truly forgive us for our sins. Because of our Primordial Sin against the Angel, Man and Nature had fallen into corruption. Our sins were our own, yes, and in that respect, we could be forgiven by those whom we wronged. However, our predilection to sin was beyond our control. Not even the most noble soul could overcome that. The Moonlight Queens Living Law showed us the path that human beings were meant to follow, but that alone was but a carving in stonethe Tablets of Destiny. It was only by the mercy of the Angels Love and the grace of His Light that we could walk down the path of forgiveness and become who and what we were always meant to be.
Your fellow man could forgive your sins against him; he could not forgive you for your sins against Godand, as the fount of all goodness, all sins were sins against Goddefiance against creations preordained order.
The Churchs sacraments were the instruments of her harmony. To the uninitiated and the ill-informed, they were merely rites of religious observance, no different from any other religious traditions storied rituals. But for faithful Lassedileswell, for those who acknowledged the sacraments as part of their faiththe sacraments went beyond mere tradition. They were an integral part of our Covenant with the Angel. To partake in the sacraments was to participate in the consummation of the Godheads will. The sacraments were the mystic chords that actualized the symphony of all creation.
They were eleven in number, and I was lapsed in all of them. Attending my childrens Bondings and Jules Sealing didnt count, and it had been centuries since jury duty last counted for the sacrament of Remediation.
Enough!
Enough running. Enough lying about my own wretchednessbecausewho was I kidding?I was a mess.
A total fudging mess.
I told Brand everything, just like Id told Heggy and her brother. I shared my current understanding of the transformations mechanics. I told him how I thought my powers worked. I told him about coming clean to Heggy and the others, and then about them telling me to keep keeping it under wraps.
I told him Id killed and eaten Adam.
In the end, I was glad that Brand had been there to hear my divulgence. Id always known I could trust him.
There werent words to describe the way Brand Nowston said, Damn, after Id finished spilling the beansor, if the words did exist, they were far above my pay grade.
Brand sighed. Then there was a long silence, after which he leaned forward and hugged me, around the torso.
My arms drooped limply at my sides. I hardly know what to do with them.
Brand, I said, stop. I wriggled free, taking care to keep my claws away from his hazmat suit. I shook my head, despondent. I killed a man.
What do you expect me to say? he asked.
I lowered my head in dejection. That Im a bad person. That, all this time, Ive been at least as wrong as I have been right. That Ive been stupid and crazy, trying to save people when Im just as screwed up as everyone else.
Averting my eyes, I stared at my claws.
I think you still have more to say, Brand said.
And he was right.
Looking up at him, I saw that hed narrowed his eyes.
My next words came out softlyoh so softly. The fluorescent lights on the ceiling wove golden cobwebs in my tears.
You never went to Sessions School, Brand, I said. You wouldnt quite know what it was like, having never been a believer, yourself, I said.
He smiled faintly. I appreciate my parents decisions more and more each passing day.
I actually chuckled at that, but then I shuddered. A quiver ran down my spine, making my lumps twitch once again.
A message ran through my childhood, Brand. You know what it said? It said I was tainted. I waved an arm in a broad gesture. That everyone was. And that message was tucked away in every Luminers loving smile, in every schoolyard flower, every comforting word; every bit of encouragement, every shred of praise. They said that, long ago, people thought there was a monster in the earth, and there was, only it wasnt under our feet, it was in our hearts. We were the ones who had set it loose, with our pride. Life would have been perfect were it not for our pride. I was told that I was broken. I was reprobate, vermin, slime and that there was nothing anyone could do to fix it, least of all little old me. Only the Angel could. Outside of His Light, I had no value. Without Gods love, it would be better if the world didnt exist. I shivered. And it was that lovethat love, so magnanimous, because we didnt deserve it that love was all that kept us from an eternity of darkness in hellfrost and demons torment. I turned away.
Shit, man Brand muttered.
Ive spent my whole life trying to prove them wrong, I said. Ive been trying to show themto show myselfthat I could be good just by choice alone. That I wasnt broken. I wept. That Danas death wasnt my fault. Or that I never met My voice cracked. Mom
I stared Brand in the eyes. I shook my head so rapidly and subtly, it must have looked like I was quivering. But maybe they were right, I whispered. I presented my arms to him. Look at me now. Look what my pride has made me.
There were tears in Brands eyes. You really have lost your faith, he said, only its not the one youre thinking of. What youve really lost is your faith in yourself.
Darn right.
How can I believe in myself, Brand? Look at what Ive done! I wanted to come clean, and I ended up having to get back in the closet all over again!
Everyone makes mistakes, Genneth, Brand replied. We can argue about intentions till were blue in the face, but that still wont erase the reality that people fuck up. A lot. He shrugged amiably. But I have no interest in whataboutism and recriminations. You know me, man, science saved my life. He mustered a twitchy-lipped smile. I was a lonely little kid, until the day I grabbed a magnifying glass and dug around in the garden to see what Id find. It once was that I only saw all the stuff I didnt haveall the friends, all the toys, all the fancy shit. And yeah, that stuff matters, and it hurts to come up empty-handed. But, he raised his eyes, I learned that life was just another experiment. The biggest one of all. And what matters, what really, truly matters is what youre going to do next. You screwed up? Well then, how do you fix it? How do you account for the errors to keep from screwing up next time?
Everyone screws up, Genneth Howle, he said, looking me in the eyes. Thats the easy part. Whats tough is changing for the better because you screwed up. As far as Im concerned, thats the only form of penance that actually counts.
I stared at my friend, wonderstruck.
Brand, I said, I want to believe that. Desperately. I glanced down at my inhumanity. But Im scared.
So am I, Genneth. Dr. Nowston nodded solemnly. So am I. Thats the human condition for you. He smiled. But Im confident youll be able to figure it out. Now, he added, rising to his feet, while you work on that, hows about we go get you a fancy new suit, eh?
He grinned.
121.3 - Erleuchte mein bedürftig Herz
By sheer luck, there was a printing room just a hop and skip away from Brands lab. Unfortunately, as Heggy might have put it, at the moment, the tanks of polymerized glop that fueled the printer were emptier than a patient sitting down for a colonoscopy. Brand carried off what remained of my hazmat suit without hesitation, alongside several plastic chairs and fed them into the printer to give it the raw materials to print me a new hazmat suit, one specially customized to accommodate my latest changes.
I protested at first.
I thought you said I needed to change for the better? I asked him. How is doing exactly what I was doing before advancing me toward that goal? Id narrowed my eyes at him. You know, doing the same thing over and over again while expecting a different result is the definition of
And of course, hed cut me off, politelybut aggressivelypressing his palms together.
Dr. Genneth Howle is an asset to West Elpeck Medical, hed said. We cant afford to keep him on the sidelines. Even the fricken military thinks so.
Yeah, but
No, Genneth, he said. youve lost but privileges.
That came out funnier than hed probably thought it would.
Much like Engoliss disease, my feelings of guilt had progressed from their acute stage to the subdued chronic form. They sloshed around the bottom of my soul, ponderous and bitter. A week agomaybe even only a couple of days agoI would have wasted beastly amounts of time ruminating on those feelings until my thoughts were red and raw. But not this time. I had changed.
This is no time for a pity party, I told myself, clenching my claws with resolve.
I needed to do something.
Id have all the time in the world to weep if Hells darkness succeeded in snuffing out the last rays of Light. Right now, with Brand away on printer duty, I had my matters of my own to attend to. This latest bout of transformation had reduced my legs to uselessness, dangling like demented training wheels from either side of what had once been my waist.
I wasnt going anywhere until I figured out how to move again.
From a distance, I imagined I looked like a really long lizard, only with human bits at the front end. My blackened, shriveled leg-struts were a bit ahead of my midpoint. Both halves of my body were nearly as long as my original human body was tall, though with a slight bias toward my aft half. I must have been near ten feet long, not that I had any interest in taking exact measurements. This situation was mortifying enough as-is.
My bodys new layout made standing a challengeto put it mildly. There was a point in the upper middle of my belly I could bend without much difficulty, rearing up everything above it. Unfortunately, the result had my head low enough to the ground that it would have made Nurse Kaylin feel tall; I barely brought my head over the edge of the table against the wall where Brand kept his microscope and other laboratorical doodads.
I tried to lift myself up by grabbing the edge of the table with my claws and pushing myself up. Doing so caused the tables plastic material to crack down the middle like it was peanut brittle.
Apparently, I no longer knew my own strength.
I managed to keep everything from spilling onto the ground with my powers, but it wasnt easy. Though my skills had definitely improved, using my psychokinesis to manipulate a dozen different objects simultaneously was even more taxing than I thought it would be, especially considering the ease with which Id managed to control all the zombies.
I guessed the mechanics of my necromantic and psychokinetic abilities were sufficiently different that what one could easily accomplish, the other might have more difficulty.
I set the beakers and the microscope back on what was left of the table and put the broken section of the table in my hand on the floor out of reach, resisting the temptation to nibble on it.
After all this I was still hungry.
Fudge me, I muttered, shaking my head. Fudge me
Trying to lift myself up further only caused more problems. I tried dragging myself up one of the rooms square support columns, but that brought back some unpleasant hyperphantasized memories of me failing to climb up a pole back in my middle school physical education class.
My claws raked through the columns paint, tearing through the layers of drywall and insulation, down to the steel beam underneath.
I stopped trying before I took the building down with me.
Funnily enough, my problem here was the same as it had been back in middle school: I wasnt using my lower body properly. When you climbed a pole, you had to use your legs as much as your arms, andthen, as nowI was having trouble, only this time, I really didnt have much in terms of legs that I could usefully move.
All that time Id kept my tail stuffed inside the pocket for the oxygen tank at the back of my hazmat suit meant I hadnt gotten to practice moving the darn thing. I spent a good fifteen minutes experimenting with it, flicking it up and down; sliding it left and rightand accidentally knocking over a couple of rolling chairs.
There was so much more of myself to keep track of!
Bizarrely enough, my mind-world forays into non-human bodies was proving to be somewhat helpful. Id like to have said that my having gone to medical school also helped, but I was far beyond human biology at this point.
Veterinary school would have been better preparation for wyrmdom.
Focus on the positives I muttered.
Well since pretty much everything below my chest was mostly wyrmflesh, the labs chilly vinyl floor didnt feel cold to me at all.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Also, I was acclimating to my bodys new sensations pretty quickly. That was something to be proud of, I guess. I no longer flinched at the feeling of my tail and underbelly brushing against the floor. Though, getting used to the fact that part of me was over here while another part was over there was definitely going to take some time.
I absentmindedly scratched at the back of my neck, only to wince as my claws opened up wounds in my skin, though those wounds stitched themselves shut in mere seconds.
I sighed.
Just another part of being wyrmy.
Eventually, my experiments bore fruit. The most workable postures seemed to be in between me looking like a capital U and me looking like a capital J, with the bottoms of the letters being the fulcrum where my body met the floor. Either way, I was far too tall; my neck and belly were too long. I swayed like a reed in the wind.
Id also figured out how to move, though only on a semi-reliable basis. This involved me slither-waddling forward or backward, in order to change the point on my body from where I was balancing myself. My slumping, sifting weight, had crushed my legs into a permanent half-crouch. The disintegrating bones crinkled like bags of rice whenever I moved.
It felt like I was stuck in a permanent squat.
My tail slogged behind me, and whenever I tried to lift it up off the floor, I could feel its weight tugging at my back and neck. It was like someone was pulling me by the hair.
I let my tail flop back down. I flinched as it smacked onto the floor. It didnt hurt, it just there was too much feeling.
Focusing, I gritted my teeth, only to hear one of them crack open.
I groaned.
I hadnt seen any sign of the tell-tale blue flames that appeared whenever I atedata streams from &alon, strengthening my connection to her greater self. Their absence was particularly unnerving, considering how much Id eaten. I would have expected a deluge. But things were coming up empty.
This worried me. Was the reaction simply delayed, or was there a more sinister reason for it? Perhaps the fungus was interfering.
Clenching my claws, I groaned. If I keep worrying about this, I wont get anything done, I muttered.
I needed to focus.
Alright, I mumbled. Its time to get serious.
Id ask Andalon about the flames when I next saw her.
Id hoped I could move around just using my bodys muscles, but either they werent fully formed enough ormore likelyI was being stupid, so, I had no choice but to give myself a leg up with my powers.
Closing my eyes, I grew a patch of fibrous aura along my back and sides. Humming with power, it acted like supporting cushions, providing a slight pressure from the sides and behind to keep me steady in the J posture. I made sure to curl the luminous fibers into a closed loop, just like Tira had shown me back in the self-help group. To my delight, the weaves stayed in place even when I stopped actively thinking about them. After a couple seconds, I found I could make them react to my will like they were just another part of my body, and without any lag. With just a thought, I could have my psychic supports adjust me or push me one way or the other.
Now, I just need to figure out how to walk again, I told myself.
Several other pieces of furniture and lab equipment fell (or nearly did) as I toyed with different intensities for my psychic cushions. Eventually, I figured out how to use them without fear of flinging myself (either in whole, or in part) at a desk or a support column. It seemed I was going to be waddling instead of walking, twisting side-to-side at my fulcrum point to throw me and my legs forward. I used my powers to keep my balance, andif necessaryto give myself a push.
I had a strong feeling I wasnt supposed to be moving this way, but I refused to start slithering. Not yet.
I wasnt ready to make that leap.
I stopped once I felt Id gotten the hang of it. To my surprise, I heard applause. Turning aroundtwistingI came face to face with my adoring audience.
Hooray for Mr. Genneth! Hooray!
Andalon clapped profusely, only to stop as inexplicably as shed started.
Sighing, I relaxed, letting my somewhere-in-between-a-J-and-a-U-shaped-posture slump onto my psychokinetic cushions.
They were surprisingly comfy.
As usual, Andalons timing was uncanny.
Andalon, I asked, why havent the blue flames appeared yet? Ive never eaten as much as this, and yet
Her expression darkened. I dunno. Maybe Amplersandalon is havin trouble.
Is there anything I can do? I asked.
She shook her head. I dunno.
I sighed. I should have expected that.
Are you okay, Mr. Genneth? she asked. Andalon craned her neck as she stepped toward me. Is it just the no bluey?
What do you mean? I asked.
I felt you when you was talking to Mr. Brandy. Tears pooled in her stormy blue eyes. They glinted in the shafts of light that passed through her sky-blue bangs. She lowered her gaze. You didnt have a mama, just like me.
This was a pleasant surprise. Andalon was exhibiting emotional maturity beyond what Id come to expect of her. It caught me off guard, making the leaden feeling in my heart go all runny, shaken up by Andalons kindness.
Then, walking up to me, Andalon embraced me in a hug, wrapping her arms around the lower half of my midsection.
And I felt it, and it wasnt coldit was lukewarm.
It will never cease to amaze me how, in the right context, the simplest of actions can reduce a man to tears.
Brand arrived not long after that, lumbering into his lab with a voluminous hazmat suit in the cart he wheeled in front of him. It looked like hed slain a violet cyclops and had taken its skin as a prize.
Seeing me with fresh tears, Brand set the suit on a nearby unbroken table and rushed over to me.
Genneth! Whats wrong? he said. Did something else happen?
His concern was almost parental.
Without hesitation, I told him what happenedand, I have to say, it felt good to do that.
Andalon? he said. Shes here? Even from behind his own hazmat suits visor, Brands eyes bulged with excitement.
Andalon started jumping up and down, tugging at my arm.
Can Andalon talk to Mr. Brandy? she said. Andalon wants to talk to Mr. Brandy! Please oh please oh please, Andalon wants to talk to other peeps! Peeeps!
Brand staggered back as his eyes leapt at my arm. Holy shit! he said. He spread his arms to his sides in a defensive posture, elbows flexed.
Andalons jumping had made my arm wag up and down in sync with her movements.
Okay! I said, turning to face her. Okay! I tried not to laugh.
I nodded at Brand. Yes, I said, shes hereand she wants to talk to you.
She does? Brand sputtered, leaning forward with excitement.
I could picture the dreams of scientific glory passing before Dr. Nowstons eyes. Literally. Hyperphantasies paraded in front of me, floating dioramas of award ceremonies, awed journalists, and applauding conference attendees. And Brand was the center of each and every one.
I nodded. Alright, I said, turning back to Andalon. Talk to Brand as if youre talking to me. Ill say your words for you. Itll be like what you did for Tira.
Beaming, Andalon let out a firm, loud Hello!
I conveyed it for her. She waved her hand at him.
Hello, Andalon, he replied.
Yep, this is awkward, I said, under my breath.
Andalon is best friends with Mr. Genneth, she said, but is still very lonely.
What about everyone in the self-help group? I asked her.
She impassionedly stomped her foot.
Theyre wymehs, thats diffrent!
I rolled my eyes.
She turned back to Brand.
Will Mr. Brandy be Andalons friend? Pleeease?
Be careful, Brand, I mutteredgrimacing, half in jest, Andalons friendship comes with some pretty thick strings attached.
Im well aware of that, he replied.
Id told him all about the other transformees encounters with Andalon, after all.
Dr. Nowston patted his fist on his chest. But I think Im pretty well prepared. Smirking, he nodded, bowing deeplygracefullyhis arm stretching up like the neck of a swan. Sure, little miss Andalon, he said. You can count Dr. Brand Nowston as your friend. Were all on the same side here. Were all trying to stop the fungus.
Andalon clasped her hands together, holding them close to her chest. Her sky-blue eyes were wide and joy-glistened.
This is the best day ever, she said.
And then she vanished.
I relayed this to Brand.
Thats He blinked bemusedly. Thats it?
Apparently, I said. I shrugged.
Shes not the most predictable sort, I take it? he asked.
You have no idea
121.4 - Erleuchte mein bedürftig Herz
Brand insisted on examining me. Again.
Did you miss something during round one? I asked.
Its more that you werent moving much, he said, kneeling beside me. Now, though, you are, and that gives me a chance to see your physiology in action!
With all the help hed given me, it wasnt like I could say no.
If youd walked into the room and saw the fascination in his eyes as he watched me, you wouldnt have known there were zombies outside the building. He was looking at me like I was the Angel Himself. Could he have been more tactful about it? Sure. But he wasnt, and that was just who Brand was. He treated everyone like hed known them since preschool. It was another one of his personality features that put some people off, but, as his friend, I was more than willing to forgive his indiscretions.
Still, even I had my limits.
Could you stop petting it? I said, glancing back at him.
Dr. Nowston complied, taking his hands off my tail, though not unreluctantly.
I was sitting on the ground, by which I mean Id propped up my upper by using my legs like kick-stands for a bicycle. It worked well enough, as long as I didnt move, though I left little crumbled bits of thigh and femur on the vinyl as my weight dug my legs into floor. Meanwhile, my tail stretched out behind me. I was trying my best to keep it still, in order to make my intentional movements clear when I did them. Brand had been asking me to curl it left and right, and the like. Even so, as I waited, it twitched occasionally, like a restless leg.
Brand glanced the information hed been typing into his PortaCons Notes app.
Genneth, he said, this isnt human tissue.
I noticed.
But you felt it, he replied. And its acting with your bodys homeostasis mechanisms, rather than against them. Its like those mind-controlling protists in ants, directing you to feel and do things you otherwise wouldnt do.
Tochukaso? I asked.
No, Brand, waving his hand dismissively, not the video game fungus. Im talking about a different mind-controlling parasite. Its not a fungus, its a trematodethe lancet liver fluke.
Theres more than one zombie ant parasite? I asked.
Oh yes, he replied. Biochemical alteration of host behavior is a surprisingly popular evolutionary niche among endoparasites of arthropods. Theres this one nematomorphic worm that infects grasshoppers, making them he shook his head, actually, no, let me stay on topic. He looked at me. What was the topic again?
Ant-controlling liver flukes.
Ah, yes.Brand nodded, eyes widening. So as I was saying this liver fluke.
The liver fluke
hen it comes to parasites, not all hosts are created equal. Some parasites life cycles require them to move through several different hosts. The primary host is the one they end up in the end; its where the parasite reproduces. The secondary hosts are those it infects along the way.
Its the circle of life I muttered.
Brand pointed at me. Exactly. he liver flukes eggs get released into the cows manure, and then a snail comes along and eats an infected cow pie. After maturing a bit inside the snail, the snails excrete the flukes in little balls of slime, inside which the parasites have encysted themselves. Ants get infected by eating the slime balls.
ow does it get back to the cow? I asked.
The parasites alter the ants brain to make the ant climb up a tall blade of grass and clamp onto it with its mandibles. Every night, from dusk till dawn, the parasite makes the ant hang from the top of a tall blade of grass, waiting for a cow to munch on it and thereby bring the cycle to a close.
The night? I asked. Why not during the day?
They actually aim to get eaten in the morning, but they cant stay out all day in the Sun because the heat would make the ant desiccate.
Okay, but what does this have to do with me? I asked. Are you saying Im an ant? I felt disgusted and flustered, and yet also somehow flattered? How is this helpful? I asked. Or relevant?
NFP-20 is like the liver fluke. It changes both its victims and their behavior. But you can feel your parasite.
To prove his point, he pinched my tail.
Stop that! I winced. (It wasnt that it hurt, it just really freaking weird.)
The sensation had hardly faded when I had an epiphany. I shuddered.
The connection goes both ways I muttered.
I didnt want to believe it.
The Reflex Arc. It was Neurology 101. Afferent and Efferent. When touch receptors detect stimulisay, Brands hand pinching methe neurons hooked up to the receptors send afferent signals to the brain. There, the information is processed, and efferent signalsthe replyare sent to appropriate part of the body to mete out the intended responsein this case, me wincing and asking Brand to stop. Any theory of consciousness worth its salt needed to take these connections into account. It had to explain the mysterious magic that lurked in between biochemical reality and the stuff that thoughts are made of.
So, my mind is integrated with the fungus? I said, thinking aloud.
Yes, Brand replied.
Well that was definitely a sobering revelation.
Wait.
Brand, youre wrong.I pulled my tail around me. Im not the ant I said, Im the parasite. My words ended in a whimper gulp Am I even myself anymore? Am I dead?
Brand nodded with gusto. Brilliant! He dashed out more notes on his console, mashing his thumbs onto its touchscreen keyboard. Well absolutely have to look into that.
I glared at him. Brand
His posture stiffened. Oh. You meant it rhetorically. He grimaced. Does it help if I remind you were still completely in the dark about the true nature of consciousness? Its one of the world-riddles, you know.Stolen story; please report.
World-riddles?
Yep, he replied. He listed them: The ultimate nature of matter and force; the origin of movement; the origin of life; the semblance of teleology in nature; the origin of subjective perceptionwhich is part of consciousness; the origins of language and intelligent thoughtalso part of consciousness; and, of course, the existence of free will.
Im well aware of the philosophical and neurophysiological quandaries that plague theories of consciousness, Dr. Nowston. Ill have you know Ive written a couple papers on the subject.
It wasnt often that I got to tout my research. Unfortunately, I wasnt going to be publishing anything else anytime soon.
I stared at my claws.
Youre really wrapped up in this, arent you? Brand said.
I nodded. Everything comes back to Andalon. I feel like Im being tested. I want to be able to believe her, becausedarn it!I need something to be able to believe in, now more than ever.
We can believe in one another, he said. Why not that? I mean, were all friends now. Its official.
Dr. Nowston wriggled an eyebrow in wry amusement.
There was a long pause.
For starters, because theres more than one Angel? I said. Also, to get away from theology for a moment, Im terrified that it wont cut it to just believe in other people. What if its not good enough? Really, whats the point of believing at all if belief cant save us? I sighed. Andalon has upended everything I thought I knew. All the old debates are percolating to the surface, and the only consistent lesson I can take away from it all is that I want to be able to help peopleas does Andalon.
Really? Brand asked.
Yes. I nodded. Ill swear by it. You know me, Im good at catching liars. And she isnt one of them.
Ive been thinking about Andalon, myself, Brand said.
And what have you been thinking? I asked.
Personally, he replied, I think the Night is some kind of massive structure, built by somebody far wiser or stronger than ushopefully bothso, I havent got much to say about the whole the prophecies are fulfilled bit, but I think Andalon is a parasite on the fungus. I think shes a hyperparasite: a parasites parasite.
Dr. Skorbinka said the same thing, I said.
How? Did you tell him?
I tilted my head side to side. Yes and no. I told him I had reason to believe the fungus was supernatural
That much is obvious, Brand said.
I nodded. Again, Dr. Skorbinka said the same thing. I also told him I had reason to believe that Type Twoi.e, Andalonwas at war with the disease we know as the Green Death. I didnt explain how I knew it, but I lucked out Mistelann didnt pursue the issue further.
Brand smiled faintly. Great minds think alike, I guess.
But, please, I said, continue.
So, you might say I think Andalon is a ghost in the fungus. Not like the ghosts of the dead, but not unlike it, either.
How so? I asked.
She manipulates it, he said. I think that would go a long way to resolving your existential dilemma. Andalonwell, Ampersandalonis acting as an intermediary between your consciousness and the fungal tissue of your wyrm-body. Just like the liver flukes alter the ants behavior, Andalon is altering the fungus behavior. And its not just the fungus in those of the infected who turn into wyrms. He pointed at me. Your necromancy is another example. He scratched the top of his hazmat suits headpiece. I guess you could say youre one of the lucky one.
I shook my head. Theres nothing lucky about this, Brand.
You could be dead, and possiblymaybe even certainlyuploaded into a wyrm, he replied. And dont even get me started about the philosophical problem about whether or not an uploaded copy of a persons consciousness is still the same person, or even contiguous with the mind they had back in their body. And thats only if you assume the process underlying the spirit transference actually transfers our cognition. It might just be a really convincing replica.
Dr. Nowston furrowed his brow in my general direction. Arent you supposed to be the expert in this sort of thing? he asked. Havent you already considered these questions?
I nodded. I have, though Id prefer to hold that off until this is all over. I gazed down at my transfigured body. My neck was long enough that I could turn my head around to give myself a full view of my body spooled out around and behind me. This wyrm transformation has more than satisfied my daily recommended dose of existential crisis.
Brand snorted. Thats fair. You do what you gotta do to keep going, otherwise youre lost.
But I was really hoping I could change the subject. Can your hyperparasite theory explain why none of the other transformees can interact with Andalon the way I can?
Brand scratched at the part of his helmet beneath his chin.
Maybe youre more sensitive to it, or are somehow more compatible?
Thats not a good enough answer! I yelled, only to sigh and then immediately apologize for my outburst.
I dunno man, Brand replied. Im just spitballing here. This is crazy stuff. At this point all I can say is that believing in a Godor an Andalonis no crazier than believing a benevolent hyperparasite is trying to fight back against a fungus from a world beyond our own.
My console buzzed from where Brand had placed it on a nearby table.
Without thinking, I used my power to whisk my console through the air. I aimed it at one of my cushions, which caught it and held it aloft.
Youre getting pretty good at that, Brand said.
Raising my arm, I scanned the cufflink of my sleeve along the scanner and unlocked it.
Fudge, I muttered. My shift is going to start soon.
Brand stared at me like I was a madman. Youre still following a schedule?
Arent you? I asked.
He shook his head. NFP-20 has put most of the logistics staff in the grave, along with everyone else.
A moment passed in silence.
You know, Brand whispered, this is, his voice broke, this is the end of the world. He forced out a rough laugh. It was scarred, haggard sound.
The sound of a broken soul.
lowly shook his head. Fungus and wyrms. What a way to go
Brand?
My friend shrugged as he forced himself to smirk. He cleared the tear-slime from his throat.
He sniffled Sorry about that. Its just he sighed. Its tough, Genneth. Its real tough.
I looked him in the eyes. Youre stronger than you know, I told him.
That
At first, I thought he was shivering but then I realized he was nodding.
Genneth he met my gaze. That means more to me than you could possibly know
His voice trailed off. I could almost feel his thoughts wandering over me, but then Brand caught himself and cleared his throat once more.
Now, how about we get you suited up? he said, getting up into a crouch.
I furrowed my brow. Arent you worried Ill just screw up again like before? I asked.
A little, yeah, he said, but Im still going to help you. Cause thats what friends do.
He smiled gently.
And we got to work.
It took a long time to get me situated. Stuffing a wyrm-shaped person into a human-shaped hazmat suit wasnt the easiest of feats, after all.
Brand did most of the work. It wouldve been a spectacular failure had he not been there to help me dress myself. My tails newfound bulk had made my previous arrangements obsolete. It took some experimentationDr. Nowstons favorite pastimebefore we found a solution.
I ended up having to fold my tail against my back, wrap it once around my torso, and then press the rest into the empty oxygen tank pocket in the back of the suit. I also had to scrunch up my neck just to be able to fit my head inside the helmet. In the middle of this, just as we were about to stuff my vestigial legs into the hazmat suits legs, Brand doubled back to the printer to whip up a pair of prosthetic lower extremities to stick at the ends of my thigh-stubs. I used my powers to slip my loafers onto the plastic feet. The end result left me feeling like a tricycle standing on tiptoes (tipwheels?), and looking like I was wearing one of those old-fashioned diving suits. I was ponderous, bloated, stout, lumpy as heck, and imposingly tall.
All I was missing was the diving bell.
Brand also fetched six synthetic corks and some plastic spherules. The corks were for my claw tips, while the spherules got poured into the hazmat suits gloves, to fill in for the fingers I no longer had.
By this point, people were going to start asking questions about where I was, but Brand refused to let me go until I could prove to him that I could, quote, alk without looking like computer animation gone wrong. Ultimately, I managed to create a passable simulacrum of a human gait, using the fulcrum point of my underbellycurrently located in my hazmat suits waistto make my body waddle forward. This made my legs flex and move. Closed psychokinetic weaves helped smooth the process. By the end, through my wyrmsight, I had made a girdle and a pair of boots from luminous, blue-gold filaments, wrapped around my torso and lower legs.
Brand told me my movements looked sort of rag-doll-y. However, as long as you werent staring at me for too long, you probably wouldnt notice it. I was hedging my bets that everyone else was at least half as tired as I was.
Finally, the time came. I had to go.
Standing in the doorway to his lab, I locked eyes with Brand. I felt like I was stepping out of Divulgence closet at church. But I wasnt at peace. I still worried, deep down, that I was tainted; that I was cursed by my inability to embrace the God that I couldnt bring myself to believe in.
But, at least, I didnt feel alone.
Even Andalon had made a new friend.
Brand I started to say, but I was unable to find the words.
He nodded.
As I turned away and hobbled out the door, a terrible din shot out behind me. Metal crashed. Wheels rolled across the floor.
I spun around to Brand Nowston collapsed onto the floor of his laboratory, twitching uncontrollably equipment is limbs splayed out beside him. Saliva frothed from his mouth, whipping up bubbles that pressed against his hazmat suits visor as his eyelids flickered.
122.1 - Eigenvalues
We cant just stay here! Rayph said.
Please, not now. Jules groaned.
What do you mean, not now?
Your pastime is getting your nose into other peoples business, she explained. When you die, your tombstones gonna say, Died from sticking his nose into other peoples business one too many times.
Rayph frowned. Its not sticking, its detective-ing.
Thats not a word, Jules replied, in a huff.
Not with that attitude, it isnt! Rayph said.
She glared at the runt. Im going to remember this, and one day, you will, too. Jules shook her head and groaned. Cant we just stay in this room and play Puzzle & Dinosaurs on our consoles until we die? she suggested.
Why not Nabla? Rayph said. Thats a much better game.
Jules felt side-scrolling shooters like NablaRayphs old favorite were just too damn stressful.
Id rather have Mom take me to the ThreeRiver store, Jules quipped. And I hate the ThreeRiver store.
You dont need to remind me, Rayph said.
The Munine companys menagerie of mascotsGoodbye Shrew, Anxious Toad, TAKOCHAN., Peter Puffin, Your Harmony, Bearaclaw, and so many otherswere beloved the world over as ambassadors of friendship, magic, goodwill, and the uniquely Munine aesthetic of kawaii the joy of cutenessand my daughter hated it to the core. It was so patronizing and belittling to her.
Rayph frowned again, this time out of genuine concern. Whats wrong? he asked. Youre even grumpier than usual. Back when we were at the house and playing Orimon Carnivale, you were the one who couldnt focus on the game. And its only gotten worse since then.
Jules rolled her eyes, sighing so intensely, she almost thought her back would give out in the process. She shook her head in dismay. Oh, I dont know, maybe its because of the plague and the Norms and the zombies and Dad and
Jules shook her arms fretfully. She swallowed hard, fighting back tears, but then just decided to turn around.
She was not going to let the twerp see her cry.
Before the zombies and Verune, I wanted to believe there was a rational explanation for all this, but now she shook her head, now, Im no longer sure.
Well, thats why we should go and look around! Rayph countered. He got up from the rug and pushed up his sleeves. There might be something!
Jules turned to face him. Why do you have to get your hopes up? she said. Dont you know how much it hurts when those hopes fall and come apart? She looked around the room. I mean, look at this room! Its such a nice room. Why leave it? Why not just stay here and live out our last days in peace?
And the room was nicereally, really nice.
Apparently, it had belonged to the late secretary of the equally late Lassedite: Lassedite Bishop, so there were some cracks on the ceiling around the central light fixture where the secretary had hung himself, but other than thatand the constant feelings of dread and doom hanging over you like the Angels own judgmenteverything was just excellent. Itwas very clean, and sumptuously furnished. Everything was a Second Empire original, and I had talked far too much at length about such things for Jules to ever forget to notice them on her own.
The dark, varnished wood of the rooms shelves, cabinets, bookcases, and floor greatly enhanced the overall heavy, dark-red color palette. Even the rugs were rich and lush: green vines and pale yellow flowers patterned over a dark magenta background, patterned with. The fibers touch was so soft and comforting that Jules had to fight the urge to leave her cross-legged position and lay down.
It was hard for her not to wonder what other historical snippets I might have had to say about the place, but that thought made Jules sad, and she was tired of being sad.
Well Id rather do something, Rayph said.
Youll get yourself killed at this rate, Jules said, and me with you. She shook her head again. What could you possibly hope to do?
Maybe we can get one of the wyrms to help us, he suggested.
Jules scoffed. Keep dreaming.
Her brother nodded. I will.
And then he walked toward the door.
Wait, Jules hissed. Rayph! Rayph!?
She got up and went after him, but he darted out the door before she could catch him.
Jules stomach dropped like it had just leapt to its death. Oh, fuck me, she muttered.
Too afraid of the attention she might draw from yelling, Jules dashed over to the desk by one of the rooms casement windows and picked one of the consoles next to her mothers purse before following her brother out the door. She hoped her mother would at least try to contact them via console before proceeding to panic.
Following the sound of her brothers bad idea, Jules turned to the left, away from the Great Nave. Not seeing him, she went around the corner. The sconces on the walls gleamed like candlelight, casting shadows onto the arched ceiling.
Damn his little legs.
He couldnt have gotten far.
But then, just like that, she found him, halfway down the hallway.
Rayph! she hissed. Rayph!
He turned to her. Im not going back, he said, not until
Just hold on, she said. Im coming. Im coming! She walked up alongside him.
And Rayph smiled.
Seeing that, Jules muttered under her breath: Note to self: if time permits, exact revenge.
What? Rayph asked.
Nothing, Jules replied.
As they walked down the hall, Jules was mollified, somewhat, by the revelation that Rayph absolutely needed her help, like really, totally, majorly needed it.
Stopping in her tracks, she crossed her arms and tapped him on the shoulder. Rayph yelped softly as he turned around to face her.
Rayph, she said, as patiently as her impatience would allow, theres no point in snooping if youre going to do it so noisily that people can hear you coming from a mile away.
But my feet make noises when they touch the floor.
Jules rolled her eyes. Thats why you should go more slowly, and walk on the carpet whenever you can.
Rayph blinked.
Thats a good idea, he whispered.
Rayph followed his sister in movement and habit, quieting his footsteps alongside hers and slowing his advance. The slower pace made it easier for both of them to listen to and sort through the loose morass of sounds reverberating through the Melted Palaces halls. The distant voices of transforming wyrms in Great Nave warbled distortedly, like a funeral band trudging beneath the sea.
Fortunately, the noises the wyrms made as they slithered through the halls were easy enough to detect.
Jules held out her arm to stop Rayph as a wyrm slithered by somewhere up ahead. She held her breath until the sound faded into the background.
That was close, Rayph muttered.
You can say that again, Jules thought.
So, she asked, in a hushed voice, did you just want to go out for a walk, or do you actually have a plansomeone or something to look for? A place to go?Stolen story; please report.
We For a moment, Rayph lowered his head, looking more serious than Jules could ever recall. We need to get out of here, he said, barely above a whisper. He looked up at her. Its not safe. I can feel it.
Jules nodded. No shit. But how does what were doing here help with that?
Rayph stared down the grand hallway. I keep thinking about what Dad told us about this place. All those special entrances and secret tunnels. There has to be something.
Jules sighed. Rayph, this isnt some fantasy story. The secret tunnels havent been secret for centuries! By now, theyre probably filled with dead people She gulped as her mind ran wild. or worse.
Whats worse than dead people? he asked.
Im not gonna answer that! Jules hissed.
Out of nowhere, a faint scream cut through the Nave wyrms dim, caliginous polyphony. Sharp, but faint.
A human scream.
What was that? Tingles ran down Jules spine.
I think its this way! Rayph said, pointing a finger.
Up ahead, the hall branched in a T-shaped junction, continuing straight ahead, but also moving off to the right. Then Rayph made things worse by going that way. Trying to stop him by grabbing him by the back of his shirt, Jules lunged forward, but her fingers just barely missed as he dartedaround the corner at the right, in the direction the sound had come from.
Neither of these were good things.
Jules wished she could scream in safety, but she couldnt, and so she settled for following her brother and getting him away from whatever danger had caused the scream, but almost as quickly as Jules set off, she skidded to a stop, her shoes soles softly screeching on the hallways marble floor.
Shed passed through something, and the something had whisked across her skin like a curtain of spiderwebs, rustling her clothes, her hair, and her resolve with their delicate, almost imperceptible touch.
Stopping, she looked this way and that, certain that something was about to leap out and eat her.
But nothing did.
A couple of seconds later, her brain started working, and she realized what had happened: shed stepped through a wall of sound.
One moment, the only noises she could hear were the distant ones coming from the wyrms in the Nave, but the instant she passed through the invisible sound wall, the sonic landscape changed. The old sounds vanished, and new ones took their place. It was like one side was a glacier, and the other, a volcano. Even the air itself felt different, the direction of its flow changing from on one side of the sound wall to the other.
It was as if someone had put up a wall to block the flow of sound.
Rayph stood at her side, equally gobsmackedand not just by the sound barrier.
Up ahead, the T branch had let out onto the second floor of an atrium. The wall was directly behind her and her brother, halfway between the atrium and the T branch. But as bad as the Nave had been, this place was far, far worse. There were screams bouncing off the ceiling, and they made Jules blood run cold.
The rectangular atrium was small by the Melted Palaces standards, though to anyone else, it was as big as two good-sized living rooms. The atrium had two stories, with a walk-around galleria on the upper floor giving an impressive view of the black and white checkered pattern of the marble on the lower floor. A statue of the Holy Angel stood in the middle of the room, bearing the Sword aloft. One of the Melted Palaces side entrances was at the far end of the chamber: a set of double doors opened wide. But most of all, what Jules saw were the feasting changelings down below, and the people they were having for lunch.
No! Stop! The victim yelled, as powerless to escape as the several people floating mid-air, bound in place.
Jules recognized the voice as the one theyd heard out in the hall. Sto
Their skull splatte with a sickening crunch. Jules had to clench her jaws shut to keep herself from screaming.
Out of the corner of her eye, Jules saw Rayph opening his mouth. She nipped it in the bud, putting her hand on his face masks translucent fabric.
Quiet, she said, in a trembling breath. She could barely hear her own words.
There had to be half a dozen changelings down in the atrium. Several of the Last Churchs human goons stood by the entrance, dragging people inside.
Jules gasped.
Not zombies. People. Living, breathing people. Yeah, a few looked really sick, but, others
No! What the fuck did it matter? The changelings were equal-opportunity eaters!
Even now, they were changing before Jules eyes.
One of the more developed changelings was coiled near the Angel statue, human above the waist, big and snakey below. He extended his body, overlooking the other changelings, scrutinizing them. He brought his forepart over to the changeling who had bitten through the screaming mans head.
Slow down!
Why? the eater asked.
Youre being sloppy, thats why. He spared a reverent glance toward the statue. Sloppy miracles shame the Angels grace. You need more practice. You should be able to muffle your foods sounds. I could hear that scream, and I shouldnt have, because if I can hear it, he pointed a claw down a corridor, then the unworthy can hear it, and know what judgment awaits them.
Oh shit, Jules thought.
He was training them.
The newbie flicked his hand at the half-wyrm. His neck cracked and popped as it lengthened, freshly eaten biomass crawling under his skin.
Yeah yeah, he said, judgment smudgement.
The elder wyrm sneered in disapproval. This is no laughing matter. Were the last bastion of moral order in the world. Its our duty to make sure none of the damned ever make it to paradise.
Well, youre marking the big sound barrier, right, to keep from scaring the newbies? Doesnt that cover it?
Its the principle of the thing! the half-wyrm replied. Not only that, I cant keep the barrier up forever; Im starving. I want to go eat, and I cant do that if you cant pick up the slack! He licked his lips, glancing over the others with a look of derision on his face. If you all hurried up and did your exercises properly, Id be able to get my share and keep going.
The flippant changeling snorted at his superior. Hey, bub, youre not the only one whos hungry here. Ive been waiting forever. Id have one of the zombies, but theyre all reserved for the newbies. Were stuck eating them before they get ripe. They dont even taste that great!
The half-wyrm unfurled his coiled body. Theyre ripe enough. If they werent sinners, they wouldnt have gotten sick. That much is obvious.
Honestly, I dont give a shit, the changeling replied. I came here for a meal, and Im still waiting to get mine. He crossed his arms. I dont get why we have to do this off to the side.
Some divine beasts arent comfortable with eating them before Hell claims them. We have to introduce it slowly.
Yeah, well, thats stupid, the changeling said.
Jules heart dropped into her stomach.
Jules Rayph muttered.
It Jules shuddered. It looks like you were right about wanting to leave, she whispered. She clenched her fists. On the count of three, she said, were walking out of here.
Rayph nodded.
Jules mouthed the countdown in silence and then slowlyslowlycrept away, with Rayph on her tail, only to stop in her tracks.
Yet again, she took all of her strength not to yelp in surprise, and she hated that, though not as much as the living shit-stain that had just crossed their path: Mr. John Henrichy.
She mouthed in silence. What the fuck
It looked like hed been eavesdropping on the wyrms and cultists below, crouching down low to avoid detection. His face was pale, and he coughed softly.
Jules pinched her masks nosepiece, tightening its hold.
John flicked his hand. Get out of here, he said, mouthing the words.
Jules pointed at him, and then at the entryway leading back to the T-shaped intersection. You first, she mouthed.
Rayph just stared.
John stuck out his hands and shook them, as if trying to strangle someone.
Huffing in aggravation, Jules looked over her shoulder back at Rayph, and motioned him to follow her. She was not about to let this smarmy, cryptofascist piece of shit tell her and her brother what to do.
Going back through the sound wall was only slightly less disconcerting than the first time through. Knowing it was coming didnt make it feel any less strange.
Mr. Henrichy came out a moment later, following behind them, walking in a squat, hissing, What the fuck are you doing? He coughed.
Jules crossed her arms. I was about to ask you the same thing.
Im a journalist, kid, I dont need to justify where Im going or where Ive been.
Jules scoffed at that.
The TV personas face tensed in anger. In case you havent noticed, he said, pointing a trembling finger at the sound atrium behind them, theyre eating people in there!
Uh yeah, we noticed, Jules said. She smirked. What Im more interested in knowing, though, is why you seem to be so surprised about it, she added, not afraid to look smug. Also, it was easier for her to look smug than admit her abject terror. And it definitely distracted from how she was fighting to keep her knees from shaking.
John pressed his thumb against his chest, compressing the fabric of his luxury blazer. I signed up for this shit because it was supposed to keep me alive, and in Verunes good graces!
W-Well, dont get them angry, then, Rayph said.
Can it, kid! John snapped. You dont get it.
Jules crossed her arms. It was a great way to seem superior to John while also holding herself to keep herself from crying. T-Try us, she said.
Mr. Henrichys eyebrows flattened like two dead caterpillars. You wanna know what I was doing? Fine. There were still some priests locked up in their rooms we arrived, and Id heard rumors that some of them had gone missing. So, one thing led to another, and, what do ya know, I discover that whats going on out front is a literal front.
What do you mean? Jules asked.
Verune he shook his head, he has some sort of effect on the Norms.
Wyrms, Rayph said, pointedly. Or sneople.
It doesnt fucking matter, you little shits! John clenched his fists and shook his arms. What does matter is that while the wyrms in the Nave are eating zombies, everywhere else, theyre eating anyone they dont like.
She put her arms at her hips, making her elbows as pointy as she could manage. Dude, theyre a cult, dude, she said, what did you expect? Theyve got their savior, they worship him, and people suffer and die as a result.
In that moment, Jules made it her personal mission to at least live long enough to see John Henrichy get gobbled up by a wyrm. Bonus points if it was Margaret or Verune who did the deed.
Dont you see? John continued. If theyre just eating whoever, it means what Verune was saying was a load of shit!
Jules blinked in mock astonishment. You dont say? she said, oozing sardonicism by the metric ton. Why, its almost like the people in poweror money, not that theres a differenceare knowingly pulling stuff out of their ass just to keep the rest of us in line.
Johns eyes bugged out of his skull.
Why you
What are you gonna do about it? Jules asked. About the wyrms, I mean, she added, with a smile.
Theyll eat us if we try to leave, he replied.
Rayph warbled nervously. Really?
Believe whatever you want, John replied. I saw it with my own two eyes. These monsters can immobilize you with their powers. They can lift you off the ground!
Jules gulped. I know, she said, quietly.
You do? John snapped. Then why the fuck are you still here?
Maybe it was just because the fungus was starting to melt through Mr. Henrichys upper respiratory tract, but his hoarse, whispering voice was really starting to grate on her.
You dont need to tell us twice, she replied, storming off. Cmon Rayph, she whispered.
He followed.
As soon as they were around the corner and out of sight, Jules let go of the breath shed been secretly holding.
she muttered.
122.2 - Eigenvalues
Despite Margarets assertion that she was the atheist hellspawn of the closeted faggot that fooled Pel into marriage, Jules had, in fact, always been open to the possibility that god might exist, just like she had always been open to the possibility that throwing salt over ones shoulder might ward off bad luck, or that ending the legal separation of the business activities of commercial and investment banks might not have caused the Great Economic Crash of 1906. Like these other possibilities, Jules openness to god was very much real, to be sure, albeit small. Very small. Like, amoebas-bunghole small. But it was there: a little hole. To rule out the abstract theoretical possibility (not probability, just possibility) would be a totally irrational rejection of empiricism itself. It was just like shed told Margaret: Just cut someones head off in front of me, crush their skull to a pulp, and then have the Angel miraculously restore them to life within five seconds, and then Ill totally believe that the basket of formerly state-mandated mental disorders you call a religion isnt complete bullshit.
So, firmly grounded in reality and reason, yes, but still open to new evidence.
But not anymore.
The latest revelation had pushed her past the point of no return.
On her and Rayphs way back to the room, theyd crossed paths withand were nearly discovered bya half-wyrm, though Jules quick thinking and her brothers good eyes had found them a table to hide beneath. It had been harrowing from beginning to end, Jules, with her body pinned between her brothers and the wall, both of them trembling in fear, desperately yearning for fate to deal her a hand better than becoming wyrm chow. Jules couldnt believe theyd managed to avoid getting seen, just like she couldnt believe what her mother had to show her when she and Rayph finally got back to the room.
Pel had been waiting for them, console in hand.
Jules stared at the video paused on the screen as if the console was a newborn hellspawn.
Youve got to be kidding me she groaned.
Jessica. Fucking. Eigenhat.
Is that really her? Rayph asked.
Thats Jessica Eigenhat, Jules said, flatly.
Granted, she looked like shit, and was turning into worse-than-shit, but there was no doubt about it. That tiny, tiny possibility of god (that had never stood a chance in the first place)? It was dead, now and forever. Even if it turned out there was a god, Jules would stand against itor whatever pronouns it wanted to use for itself. It was one thing to allow for the Green Death. Was it unspeakably evil and awful? Yes. But, at least it was even-handed. But now, that bully Jessica Eigenhat was turning into one of the wyrms, and for Jules, that was just a step too far. It was like a bad joke, and she wanted nothing to do with it.
Julette Dana Howle had to draw the line somewhere.
You have to talk to her, her mother said.
Jules looked up and gave her mother her patented are-you-nuts?!? face. Did you not hear anything I told you? Theyre eating people!
I know! Pel said, closing her eyes and shaking her head. I saw it myself!
You saw them eat zombies, Mom, Jules said. Zombies dont beg for their lives. And they werent just eating, they were training, too. They were using those powers of theirs to play with their food, like a cat with a mouse.
Keep playing the video, Pel said.
Begrudgingly, Jules complied. Rayph skittered up behind her on the carpet, raising his head over her shoulder to get a look.
They watched the footage.
There, Pel said, there! Listen!
Fuck you! Jessica said. I already went through this bullshit once before! I know whats real, and what isnt!
Im showing you the truth, Verune said.
No, youre not! Jessica thrashed against her progressing transformation. Youre fucking hallucinating, she said, and I should know, it happened to me! She locked eyes with the other changelings. Listen to me, I thought I was going crazy, but then I realized: it wasnt fucking real! It was all in my head! Our thoughts have power, damn it! They make us see what isnt there! Jessica pointed a claw at her face. This is real! This is what we are, and it isnt changing!
Jules watched in astonishment as Verune ordered his half-wyrms to take Jessica away. They bound her with their invisible ties, hovering her through the air as they took her out.
Verune views her as a threat. Pel said. You should
Mom, we just went out now, and we barely made it back. And if theyve taken Jessica away and locked her up, what do you think theyll do to us if they find us?
Jules, dont you see? Pel said, as if it was obvious.
No, I dont, Jules replied, because it wasnt.
Think about what weve found! Pel said. Verune says they eat the zombies because the zombies are demons and the changelings are becoming divine beasts.
I think theyre all nuts, Jules said.
I agree with Jules, Rayph chimed
Well, I dont! Pel said, only to pale, and then lower her head in shame. I mean I didnt. Her shoulders fell.
She coughed.
Mom? Jules asked.
Honey, I dont know what to think anymore.
Jules could tell her mother was genuinely scared, and that was the most terrifying part of all.
Im not like your father, Jules. Pels voice broke. I I need something to plant my feet on, otherwise I what am I supposed to do, what am I supposed to be, how am I to know whats right and whats wrong?! Oh, Angel She wept. I need to know whats true, Jules, it matters to me. I dont know whos right anymore, Scripture, Verune, your father Pel interwove her fingers. Oh Hallowed Beast, give me strength, Im not strong enough to step into the dark. I need a guardian, someone to look to, an ideal to chase. She shook her fists. And I dont have one anymore, and Im not okay with that! Its not okay! I need to know, Jules, I need it. As your mother, I need to know what to do, so that I can do it. Without that Im nothing. Her voice died in a whimper.
Jules cried. Fuck scripture! Mom, youre the strongest person I know.You dont need ideals, you just need to be you. You already have it in you. I have faith in that. I have faith in you! In who you are!
Me too! Rayph said.
And Pel smiled. It was a broken smilethe smile of a lost soulbut it was still a smile, and as a smile, it was the most beautiful smile Jules had ever seen.
I wish your father was here, to see what a wonderful person youve become.
There was a long pause. Rayph looked especially pensive.
Maybe Jessica will want to help, Rayph suggested. Maybe she can help us get out.
Both Pel and Jules turned to stare at him.
Jules sighed. I hate it when he has ideas, she grumbled, only to add, in a half-hearted mumble, especially when theyre good ones.
Like most good ideas, Rayphs suggestion turned out to be easier said than done. It had been a while since their mother had recorded the video of Jessica getting taken away, which meant that when it came to tracking down where the wyrms had taken little miss Eigenhat, there was no obvious trail for Jules to follow.
Jules spent the first few minutes of the search prowling stealthily through the halls around the Great Naves second and third floor, trying to figure out where the hell Jessica had been taken.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
It wasnt going well.
As usual, Jules blamed her grandmother. Margaret turned out to be responsible for enough shit that it was a safe bet that she would be behind even the most seemingly unrelated nonsenseanti-vaccine nonsense, racist nonsense, sexy blackmail nonsensebut in this case, her involvement was as direct and as it was blatant. Had Margaret not been entrapping her mother in conversationor whatever-the-fuckery it washer mother might have been able to follow the wyrms that had taken Jessica and would have therefore had a better idea of where she was. Unfortunately, all Jules had to go on was the tail end of the video, which showed Jessica being carried down the corridor to the left of the Moon Door.
This meant my daughter had really only one available option: process of elimination.
The everymans algorithm.
Jules crept up to the next door down the hall. All the other rooms here had been clerical quarters, so this next one was probably just more of the same, but she wanted to be sure.
Taking ginger steps across the carpet, Jules reached for the cold bronze doorknob and turned it ever so slowly, pulling just enough to crack the door open by a hair.
She peered through.
Jules bit her lip, trying not to scream. It seemed one of the wyrms had decided to eat their meals in private.
Jules released her grip on the doorknob and darted away with a shudder.
Well, fuck.
Shed gone up and down the hallway, but no luck. This meant Jessica wasnt being held nearby, and that meant only one thing: Jessica was being confined somewhere in the Melted Palaces labyrinthine depths.
Jules readied herself to explorthe inner reachesa pair of solos emerge from the ambient polyphonyparks r down her spine
scales brushing against marble. And w getting louder.
Shit shit shit
In this life-or-death moment, Jules decided to try her luck campering down the hall turnclamber up to the landing at thewhere the rse to the floor.
Snakes cant go up stairs, right?
sunset It was a beautiful sightThe windows depicted the Lass translation into aradise, flanked below by chasms rent into Southmarch plain, and above by a flock of hummingbirdsiridescent in red magenta and emerald green.
For a moment, she felt at peace. But then the sound of the approaching wyrms speaking jolted her back to reality. Pursuing her lips tight, andedwhile
Please dont climb stairs. Please dont climb stairs
The metal dug through her samue, pressing cold against her forearm, shoulder, and back.
he wyrms slitherhe hallway. peered through the gaps in the railings twisted iron barstheir shadows mov
And then one of them spoke.
So, what was up with the girl you took down to the wine cellar? the wyrm said.
Jules doubly, to make sense of their words, and to ignore pulse at her temples.
Girl?
She really, really hoped they meant Jessica.
I heard Verune did something neat with water from the fountains
Oh yeah, it was really impressive, the other replied. I hope someone will teach me how to do that.
The wyrms stopped. The first one spoke up again.
But I heard she was ranting and raving.
Yeah, the second replied, it wasnt very becoming for a divine beast.
Jules bit her lip.
Holy fucking shit. It was Jessica! They were talking about Jessica!
Wine cellar, the wine cellar. Thats where she was.
Now, all she needed to do was get there without becoming wyrm chow.
There was a pause.
I dont know whats wrong with her
Maybe Hell corrupted her? the one said.
Nah, I bet it was just a really bad zombie. Maybe an atheist, or an apostate, Ive heard they dont taste as good as more traditional sinners. But Ive yet to try any myself, so, who knows?
But, what if
No, I trust his Holiness. time-traveler. Guardians of Time; when someone travels through time, you listen to them.
You read too much sci-fi, the said.
Guardians is a TV show, the first answered. And its one of the best.
, arguing about what made for good television. It was only as their argument started to get noisy that Jules finally. Sheed, and coughed a little. Her legs ached as she . Maybe, she even felt a little feverish.
Or is it just in my head? she wondered.
Clenching her fists, , muttering to herself,.
Then she darted down the staircase, bound for the wine cellar.
By one of those coincidences that made the world go round, already knew where the wine cellar was. That was my personal contribution to this .
It was effectively mandatory that every elementary school class in the greater Elpeck area would, at some point, go on a field trip to the Melted Palace, and my kids were no exception. As Jules trip was the first time our firstborn child would ever go on such a major event, Pel and I made quite a big deal about it (Pel for the religious aspects, me for the historical aspects). Wed both done all the legwork needed to ensure that I would tag along on the educational adventure as a and teach them a thing or two about the history of our great cityNow, as Jules would forever point out to me after the fact, oingwhole tour. Jules and the rest of the students got the experience of a lifetime. I showed them werent on the tour, and gave their budding minds as many anecdotes as they could carry
And you know what one of those parts was?
he wine cellar.
Ill never forget the way Jules hid at the back of the group, cringing every time I said her name.
Ahh parenting.
The point is, my daughterthat particular indiscretion of mineshe hadnt forgotten it, either, no matter how much she might have wanted to.
Like most jaunty episodes of childhood trauma, Julesto the wine cellar ; it Melted Palaces, down beneath the crust of two millennia of history. The route was a bit more meandering than usual, on account of having duck in cover several times on the way there
uch to dismay, the sickly sweet stench thickened the closer she got. Even through her face mask, she could almost taste it. At one point, shethe spores capering in the halls lambent light. The sight her in her tracks he dust off her skirt and blouse, terrified spores had gotten stuck to the cloth.
She fought a nascent panic attack.
Maybe she wasnt as ready to die as she thought.
Unfortunately, she still had a ways to go before she got to the wine cellar. Continuing her descent, Jules sighed with relief as she reached the basement, evident by the sudden change in the walls themselves. ough thehad been built at the height of the late 18th century stood upon a thousand years ago,now on the ground floorhad beenancient , pitched atop a hill overlooking the days of yoreThough the city and the land in the intervening years. The smooth, fine walls of the upper floors , brickwork
The wine cellar was all the way down in the second basement. Modern stairs corrugated metal an alternative to the ancient original. The old staircase carved by hand. Depressions marred the middle of the stepsas if they were made of wax, and that wax had partially meltedbut, as Jules knew, that was just sign of its age. Footsteps eroded rock as surely as water ould.
Jules took care not to clomp her feet on the metal steps. The squeaks, clank, and groans that issued forth from her every step spiked her pulse.
She couldnt help but pictures changelings around every corridorpredators, waiting for a victim to come stumbling their way.
he second basements nakedflesh-toned halls barely a foot of clearance over Jules head claustrophobi. The stones in the hallways arched vaulting were blockyalmost cubic. Black cables rn along the floor and walls, providing electricity to depths, powering everything from the LEDs mounted on the walls and ceiling to the climate-controlling air conditioning humm in the background through the metal tubes that along the ceilings metal paved the floorve visitors something to walk on that wasnt age-old stone.
Ever since her first encounter with them on that misbegotten field trip, Jules couldnt shake the thought that walls that had been It was eerie enough that you had to fight the urge not to want to touch them. The staff had long since picked up on this, and conservation workers had put sup on the walls at regular intervals, bearing warningsing
ver the air conditioning, Jules heard someone muttering in the distance
Following the path and her memories, Jules turn left at intersection.he hall ended in a entryway dug into the walltopped a broad, protruding lintel stone. The entrance let down into the far corner of the cellar. Jules could see all the cellars contents spread out before her.
Jules stuck her head just as I had done when Id told wine cellars history.
Just as Ill now tell you.
122.3 - Eigenvalues
The core of Trenton landswere arranged in a horseshoe shape around Golden , which stuck up into the eastern half of the continent like a hitchhikers thumb. Inlets on the east side formed the Elpeck Bay and its environs. Southmarch stretched down along the west flank. Elpecks peninsula stuck out into the , and the city itself was built at the point where the east and west coasts were . Pekt had grown richferracross the . The riches of Daxons north lands funneled through the city, forming the trading network that gave the Trenton people their identity.
withs, penetrating deeper and deeper into the continent, west to east stored w, in the south, where it was , and nothing less than perfection would do, for the wine represented the Angels blood, and was anointed on newbornss heads as part of the ceremony, when infants were baptized in and pledgedSuns holy
People never failed to be surprised by just how big truly was. All the surrounding ancient hallways seemed so small to us modernsand, indeed, people were shorter back then, on account of poorer nutrition and healthcarewhich always made the expansive wine cellar come as something of a shock. The cellarhalf as big asand the Nave was the single largest contiguous internal space in all of LassedicyThe bulk of the wine supply was stored in massive casks that filled the deep hollows that lined the cellars stone walls
Ancient, ancient wood.
But most importantly: , along a handful of mushrooming,. At the far end of the cellar, s. The casks were overgrown with fungus, which covered them like streaks of scorched ivy.
lseemedsomebodyt. A smart plan, though it would have been smarter if theyd done it before theyd become infected with Insteadwhoever they weretheyd brought the plague with them into the depths, and spores and mold kibble acrosscellarand . The fungus had grown heartily, its greedy branches theT either punctured by the fungus branches, or clean acidicThe seemed where they spread out along the pools of spilled wineMore bodies had been brought to the cellar some time later, almost certainly by the wyrms, considering the way they were neatlyleft-most , in rackswall
And, as for Jessica? She well, she did not look goodso much so that, for a moment, Jules almost felt bad for the erstwhile bully, but only for a moment. had piled so much flak and petty bullshit on Jules back that it was difficult for my daughter to feel sympathy for herdifficult, but not impossible. And the more she looked and listened, the less impossible it got.
Jessica looked even worse than she had in the video. Her legs dead-ended in the middle of her thighs jutt out from where her torso melted into her tail reminded Jules of the vestigial claspers that some pythons had on their underbellies. Jessica sat against one of the casks in the wallher head hanging low on her neck. Her head was half transformed, with a distended lower jaw and a budding snout. Her hair was mostly gone, leaving clumps strands hanging here and there, like a witchs locks. Jessica talking in a low voice, but to whom, Jules couldnt tell.
It wasnt like anyone else , at least until now.
I recognize Jessicas personality type I saw her, during open house. was the early bloomer. She was pretty popular in every sense of the term: popular. She was transactional and manipulativea merchant of renownIn the shadow of presence, girls groupies or wallflowers, and never the twain would meet. er parents put on a good front, I could sense dysfunction off them
It was sad, yes, but hardly surprising. After all, bk
and bitchy pics and messages the girl sprayed over my daughters Socialife profileseeing Jessica nowseeing what she had become couldnt help buteher
Jules was mature enough of a young woman to be able to feel sympathy with her enemies, even as she sampled the discomforting smugness of seeing her tormentor laid miserable and low.
It wasnt like any of Jessicas groupies were ever her real friends, but now? Gosh, t, and to add insult to injury, h seemed to be
Jules couldnt so much as look at Jessica now-head without fingher
t wasnt safe here.hatever information Jessica might have had, was long gone now.
wanted to cry, but she didnt dare, not with a mad monster just around the bend.ensonly to slip forward and fall as she put her weight nto her foot the edge of step immediately behind her. to flash before her eyeshe smacked face-first into an invisible wall.butt-first on the stairs
Ow! Jules yelled. Fuck!
Jessica head in response to the noise. Is someone there?
Her voice sounded off. Stretched.
Jules froze in terrorhe changeling crawl toward the steps along the wall that led up to the entryway.essica onto the base of the stairsher tail lolling behind her.
. She was she bobbed her pulled her For a moment, she just stared, her changing eyes locked onto Jules face.
What the fuck? H-Howle?
Jules was stunned. Though thcreature certainly didnt look like Jessica, it was acting like her.
J-Jessica? Jules asked. She honestly didnt know who was more startled here, her or Jessica.
Yes? the changeling replied.
Are you still Jessica?
The wyrm-in-progress glanced . she said, though o
Jules exhal sharply.
Fuck
It seemed Jessica was still Jessica.
This is a lot to take in, you know, Jules said, quietly.
Jessica raised a mutated hand and shook it left and right, causing the two broken fingers that werent sweeping into gruesome claws to wave like dicks in the wind. she said, me whats a lot. Im the one turning into a freaking snake. Now, cmon, tell me why youre here, or, Ill Ill eat you, or something.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
She tried to growl, but the sound came out more like me testing out a new clarinet reed.
Jules chuckled softly.
Yeah, this s Jessica, alright.
, Jessica continued. Someone will be coming to csoonIf, theyll eat you. Like, actually eat you.
Jules rose to her feet, rubbing her aching tailbone. she.
t was a bluff, but Jessica didnt need to know that.
Jules put her hand on the invisible barrier. It like the push of two opposite magnet poles, only her body was one of the magnets.
Jules shook her head.
Was this the sound walls better-looking cousin, or something?
Jules got onto her knees, pleating her skirt over her legs. She leaned into the force field, plastering her hands over it.
Tso many things she could have told Jessica at that moment. Figuring out which one to pick was almost overwhelming. In the end, to go the least likely to get the two oftrying to rip each others throats out (again). with that
y family is stuck here, and we want to escape.
Fat chance of that happening did her best to sit down on the lower steps.
What makes you so sure? Jules asked.
Jessica pointed at the entryway. Claw tips were beginning to emerge from the remaining three fingers.
It looked really painful.
However much you think you hate these cultists, I hate them even more. So, if theres anyone who was going to mount an escape from this fucking madhouse, it would be me, and look how well thats turned out. She gestured at the barrier with her misshapen hand. That barrier youre leaning on, the other Norms made it. How the hell am I supposed to escape if I cant even get through that? And, girl, if I cant do it, what chance do you think you have?
Jules tried to push into the barrier, but it resisted, responding with equal and opposite force.
As much as Jules was loath to admit it, Jessica seemed to have a point here.
If they made the barrier, cant you, well un-make it?
Jessica at the corpses piled further down the aisle. Thats why they sealed me in here with thse bodies. Once I eat them, Ill change enough hat I undo the barrier.
Jules was about to say, Then why havent you? when she realized that sounded too confrontational o she tactic.
My grandma Margaret is one of , she said. My moms mom.
Revenel? Jessica asked.
Jules nodded. Yeah, Margaret Revenel. She had my mother out in the Nave with her, watching as the others fed. She Jules looked Jessica in the eyes. She was there when you got taken away. Mom even made a video of it, on her console. I I saw it.
Jessica grimaced. Is that why youre here, Howle? To gloat? Here to tell me that your shrink ad was right, and that Im an early bloomer, and this is my comeuppance?
No, Jules said.
No? Jessica voice curled up at the end like an apostrophe. The sound bounced off the wine cellars gently arched ceiling. Then why are you here?
Jules bit her lip to think of a good answer.
Becausemy Moms a mess and my brothers a . Like, the biggest .
Is your Mom one of the cultists? Has she Verunes shtick? Or Jessicas expression darkened. Has she
Jules shook her head and sniffled, trying not to cry. My Mom doesnt know what to believe anymore. Its kinda funny, actually. My Dads always been like that, but she shes los ts broken her. She shes damned my brother and I to hell. And my brother he Jules twiddled her fingers e thinks we should get one of the good sneople to help us escape.
Sneople? Jessica shoulders in confusion.
On the inside, she died a little as she said the words aloud.
Oh fuck, Jessica repliedhe really is a
Yeah. Jules breathed in deep. Her mask her hot wet against her face. Jessica what happened? Why did you act up like that? Why are you here?
Whats it to you?
My Mom doesnt know what to believeScriptur Verune othing at all
Huh Jessica said. But you havent ever had a problem believing in nothing, right?
You got that right, Jules said.
Then you should be able to get her out of her funk. Right?
I I trying to get her out of it, but
Oh, Jessica said.
ts not working. But She heard you say that Verune and the Last Church were crazy and deluded, and shes clinging to that, as if its the one thing that could convince her that Verune and Grandma are just that fucking awful.
There was a pause.
Its not that theyre nuts, Jessica said. Its She let out a spore-wisped sigh. These changes, they mess with our heads. They let us imagine things into being.
Imagine? Jules asked.
lowered her head. When I was little, I wanted a pet tiger. A white tiger. Then, one morning, I wke up feeling dead, and theres a white tiger on the floor, in front of my bed like Id always dreamed.
Holy shit, Jules said. So, if you think it, you can make it real?
Yepbut it took me a while to figure it out.
What happened?
Well, Jessica explained, at first, I was pretty excited. I or somethingbutthe tigerFor a while after that, I thought I was just crazy or something, but, eventually, I figured it out: Its just like you said: if Onc understood thatgave me like so much clarity! It made such a difference!
That sounds pretty wild, Jules said, softly.
Verune, Jessica said, hes doing something. Hes I think hes making the others see what he thinks he sees. The songs you hear the Norms sing theyre messages. The more I change, the more I understand them. Its like theyre sharing their thoughts. I think Verune is doinge might not even be aware it. But I was.
You saw the video, hen he did the thing with the waterfountain?
Yeah
When he did that, I could feel his imaginationtouching me, but on the inside. For I saw myself as what hes convinced I must look like. t was beautiful. Silver and gold, with radiant hair. Angel I really did look like a divine beast. She wept. But it not real. Verune has gaslit himself, and now hes gaslighting all the others. She looked bodies. Thats why I dont want to eat. Ill change if I do.
Are you scared of changing? Jules asked.
Hell no, Jessica said. Im still me. Im still fabulous, she paused, after a fashion.
Jules snorted.
Laugh all you want, Howle. I know what real fear is.
Oh yeah? Jules said.
Yeah, Jessica replied. She nodded, then lowered her head. Im not half as scared of myself as I am of the others. I dont want them to put their thoughts into my head. And if holding off the changes will do that, then thats what Im gonna do.
Wait, Jules asked, why arent you concerned about losing your sense of self? How do you know youll still be you?
Ive seen shite, Jessica replied. Ive seen fully Norms digging graves for the dead. hey even made the Bond-sign. would do that if they werent themselves Jessica turned her head away. art of me wishes I would lose my mind.
Why? Jules asked.
My ads dead, Jules. I I ate him. But, you know what? Hes still here. Hes still here. They all . The dead havent gone away; theyve just moved inside us, now. I Hotel Eigenhat . My dad was first guest, and Im pretty sure hes stuck with me forever. I dont know whether to laugh or scream.
Im s
You dont need to apologize for anything. Its none of your business, anyhow. Jessica raised her head. Tell your family the Last Church is full of shit. The plague might kill people, but it doesnt make them disappear. The Norms arent mirrors to the soul or whatever-the-fuck Verune says they are. They want to think theyre holy, but theyre man-eating monsters that gobble up souls to put them inside our heads. Everything else is just bullshit people have come up with to explain the unexplainable.
What the fuck? Jules muttered.
You heard me, Jessica replied. You die, then you get uploaded into a Norm. heres a zoo inside each and every one of us. We can do whatever we want with you guys, and youll get no say.
Shit Jules muttered.
Yeah Jessica nodd in agreement. the best thing you can do is to find a nice Norm to die around, someone youll be okay spending the rest of the eternity with. Shop around. Make sure its some you trust. You have to tell your family, Jules. Your Mom, your Dad, that twerpy little brother of yours. Tell everyone. At this point, its a public service.
Dad Jules thought.
Her expression fell. My Dads
But at that moment, somewhere deep in Jules mind, one of her thought-gears advanced by the turn of a single tooth. A new synapse formed as the last piece of the puzzle in place, and gazed upon the awful truth that Jessicas words had just detonated inside her soul.
Jules shuddered.
Dad she said, croak, tears beginning to pool in her eyes. Scowling, Jules slapped the back of her head. Stupid! Im so stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!
Was it something I said? Jessica asked.
Jules shook her head. You dont understand. My Dad hes one of you. Hes changing into a wyrm. Angels breath es still him. Hell still be his same, dorky, goody-two-shoes self, wyrm or not. We shouldnt we shouldnt have
The only reason had taken them to her grandmothers place was because she thought her husband lost to Hell.
Jules started to cry. Shed missed me so much, but that pain had been held at bay by her belief that I was lost to her forever. But now she knew the truth, and it refused to let her
Then, from somewhere behind herover her weepingJules heard the ancient hallways fill with the sound of an approaching wyrm.
123.1 - Icihi-go Ichi-e
Karl wanted to die. He didnt want to have to be any longer. It was too much, and he was tired of it. Hed done what hed set out to do. Hed stopped the Norm that had killed his friends with its fatal breath. Howle had stopped the zombies. Everything was done. He wasnt needed anymorenot that he was ever needed by anyone other than Finkbut he no longer had any use for his monstrous new body. He was done, and he wanted to go.
He didnt want to cause any more trouble.
It wasnt the first time Karl felt this way, though it had been yearsmany yearssince hed last felt this way. That was before hed met Fink.
Before hed met Geoffrey.
Almost lazily, Karl dragged a claw across one of the patches of human skin still on his throat. The flesh split open like a carcass. Within seconds, he felt the tickling feeling again, the tickle that told him the wound was knitting itself shut, like the two other self-inflicted claw-wounds beneath it. Just like his previous attempts, the wound grew minute, forest-green scales as it healed, and as sharp as his claws were, they had a great deal of trouble slicing through the scaleshis, or anyone elses.
Even with Bevers blood on his hands, it wasnt until after the battle that the situations true horror had dawned on Karl. It had come to him after the infecteds screams had quieted.
It was like everything had just fallen apart.
Time had never been kind to Karl, but now, it was outright cruel. Without his emotions raging in his veins and battle-frenzy sparking in his nerves, Karl could fully inhabit his monstrous new body. Rage had carried him through his fight with the fungus horrors, but now that rage was gone. Without the strength of those feelings, Karl felt empty and alone.
He tried to pray. His mother would have wanted him to pray. But what was the point in that now?
What was the point in anything, anymore?
The Angel no longer comforted him. Maybe He never had, and it was only now that Karl was seeing it.
Karls father would have boxed him on the ears had he known he was thinking such wicked thoughts.
Karl tightened his body around the stone pillar. Hed curled around the broad thing, brushing his green scales back and forth against the edges of its tiles. Hed hoped it might have scraped some of the scales off, but instead, the motion only drizzled bits of abraded tile onto the floor.
Behind him, he heard a voice. It was probably speaking to him.
Karl groaned, not wanting to hear it.
He felt like he couldnt get the images of the battle out of his head. A moment later, they did just that, leaping into being around him. It made Karl shut his eyes and moan. It was just another way hed fouled everything up.
Even my memories are useless troublemakers, he thought.
Something had broken inside him. He didnt know if he believed in God anymore. Could a demon even believe in God? Would the Angel extend His hand to save them?
Karl was sure Geoffrey would have known the answer. Geoffrey had an answer for everything, and Morgan knew the rest. With Lord Athelmarchs guidance, and his comrades example, Karl had been able to do something he never thought possible.
Hed found a reason to be proud of himselfof who he was, warts and all.
Hed found purpose.
He could ride in on Fink and lob a smoke bomb, providing cover for a retreat. He could hide on rooftops or in grimy alleys, with his rifle in hand, ready to fire when one of the commanders gave word. He could even help make porridges and stews for the soldiers when they made camp. He knew his vegetables well.
When the war is over, you should prentice yourself with a cook, Karl, Bever had told him. Geoffreys right. You have talent, boy. You just need to open your eyes and see it.
Karl peeked his eyes open
My eyes are wide open, now, Bever, he thought.
At least the battle-memories were gone. Gone like Bever, and Geoffrey, and
Karl shuddered.
Karl didnt understand why he was turning into a Norm.
Did I do something wrong?
He got no answer. Or maybe, that was just because the answer was all around him.
Why worry about doing something wrong when you could never do anything right?
He was a failure of a son. A failure of a man. A failure of a soldier.
Failure. Failure. Failure.
Even now, when the other Norms were using their powers to help clean up the carnage, he was stuck here, useless.
How can I do anything when I cant even move!?
Karl bit his lip.
His legs werent legs anymore. Instead, theyd been replaced by a long, sinuous, muscular limb that seemed to do everything except what he wanted it to do. He tried to think back to what hed done in the heat of battle, to try and retrace his steps, but he couldnt.
After the battle, hed been stuck on the lawn, useless and huge. Then the soldiers in black came. Karl had worried they were going to try shooting him again, but instead they told him he had to go to the garage where the other Norms were being kept; something about needing to keep watch over the bad Norms, as if demons could be anything other than evil.
And things had gotten worse.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
Whats a garage? hed asked, in a quiet, sonorous voice.
He didnt know what a garage was, nor where it was, nor how to get there.
The soldiers had been very confused by that, and their reactions had only made Karl feel worse. In the end, Karl had to drag himself to the garage, pulling himself by his claws, sinking their tips into the streets stony pavement, prying up the setts as he moved forward like a dying slug. He had managed to figure out how to use his underbelly to push himself forward, but it wasnt very much, and it was anything but natural.
One of the demon sorcerersstill human-like and leggedhad laughed at him as hed passed by. Some of the other Norms had offered to help, but Karl had shrunk away from them, staying as quiet as he could. It didnt matter that they were the good ones who had fought against the evil. He didnt want their help.
He was scared of it.
Dr. Howle had lied and manipulated him, and it had cost lives.
When Karl had asked them if he could see Morgans boy, theyd just shaken their heads. But they had the gall to say theyd wanted to help him.
What kind of help didnt help?
With a shudder, Karl let out a soft moan and squeezed his body a little more tightly around the stone pillar. He was too miserable to cry. His tears were unnatural. They had a sweet stink, and they burned where they trickled down his human skin. It made Karl force himself to not cry, if only to keep himself from feeling any more hurt than he already did, which was already more hurt than he could bear.
Even though there was activity all around him, Karl kept perfectly still. He couldnt move even if he triedand he had tried. The journey to the garage was as long as it was short, and as difficult as it was simple. It would have been a minutes walk if hed still had legs. But he didnt, and so it wasnt.
The garage was in ruins. Broken glass covered the ground like melting snow. Yet, even in ruins, it still fascinated him. Hed never seen so many tiles in one place! They depicted the sea, with all its living treasures. He saw things hed only seen dredged up on the beach or in one of the books of curiosities in his fathers library. He suspected there was even more to be seen in the structures lower levels, but the military was blocking off access with troops and more the black fencing.
Karl had asked about it, only to be told that they wantrf to keep the Norms in one place.
The cloud of deadly green Norm breath had melted scars and holes into so many different marvels. Just looking made Karl feel melancholy. The horseless carriagescarslittering the place were marvels to look at. Not even an Archluminers carriage was as commanding or colorful as the horseless carriagesthe carsmoored in the garage. A few had been riven all the way through, exposing the metal of their inner workings.
From where Karl rested curled against his stone pillar, he got a view of quite a few of the vivisected future-vehicles. He stared at them, wondering how anyone could figure out how to make something so complicated. Making hopeless guesses as to what the different parts did helped distract him, but only for a little while. He couldnt do it for long before he lost the will to raise his head and look around. When that happened, hed close his eyes for a while and rest in silence, focusing on the not-uncomfortable pressure the column was exerting on his mane of slender, flexible spines.
He waited patiently, waiting for the evil to claim him and turn his eyes silver for good.
Maybe that will be enough to kill me, he thought.
Or at least, it would keep him from ever having to wake up again.
But try as he might, Karl couldnt relax. Closing his eyes didnt quiet his thoughts like it used to. His memories were like etchings, now. They captured every little detail, even ones he shouldnt have noticed. Even with his eyes closed, he could rattle off the other Norms appearances down to the last detail. He knew exactly where they were, and what they were doing. He knew the words theyd whispered to one another.
Suddenly, the garage echoed with a dissonant shout. It shattered Karls bogus calm. His back spines stiffened, scraping against the columns tiles.
His eyes shot open.
The soldiers were up in arms, like an anthill provoked. Black armored troops got into their war machines. Bullets spat overhead, mixed with the white soldiers fire-beams.
The voice shouted again. This time, Karl paid attention.
Youre not going to keep me here! it yelled.
Karl pushed off a nearby car, revolving himself around his column. What he saw made him shiver with dread.
No he muttered.
Not another fight
One of the sorcerers had used his powers to pluck up one of the white-armored soldiers and swing the helpless man around the room.
It was the sorcerer who had mocked him.
But he wasnt alone.
Another, far more monstrous Norm had stuck out their arms. It was like
The soldier screamed mid-air.
Theyre dueling for control, Karl thought.
Screw you! the sorcerer yelled, suddenly releasing his powers grip.
No! Karl yelled, looking up.
His coils loosened.
The other Norm had kept on pulling, and without the sorcerers power to pull back, there was nothing stopping the man from getting slammed into the wall near the ceiling on the other side of the garage. He hit the tiles with a sickening crunch.
Karl wasnt the only one to look up in horror. Startled, the other Norms werent able to react quickly enough when the sorcerer turned his magic on them. He repulsed them with a wave of force that staggered some and sent soldiers and the smaller demons skidding across the ground, along with several nearby cars, creating an opening which the sorcerer seized. He hurled himself through the air in a long archalf flight, half leap. He landed on the other side of the garage, next to the white-armored soldiers broken corpse, only a couple yards away from Karl and his column.
The bodys scent hit Karls nose, making his nostrils twitch. The urge to feed made him freeze in terror, only to watch in horrorand then rageas the sorcerer started gorging himself on the dead soldier. Bullets pelted him from behind, shattering the windows of the nearby cars. A strafing fire-beam ignited the sorcerers clothes. But the monster was unfazed. Suddenly, the metal rounds bounced off an invisible forcefield and clattered to the floor. The barrier didnt stop the red beam, not that the ray had much effect as the sorcerers body grew and grew. His lengthening, thickening tail tore open his flaming pants. Sparks and ash floated around him like butterflies on the wind.
Other Norms roared and shouted. They slithered toward the sorcerer. Some even threw themselves at him, desperate to stop the transforming demon.
Two of the armys war machines rolled into the garage, down a ramp off to the side.
The demon moved to intercept them.
For Karl, it was like watching Bever get consumed all over again. It kindled his rage.
For the longest time, Karl had been angry. Hed resented his life. He hated being weak and lonely and feckless.
And just when his life was starting to turn around, he lost everythingeven his humanity.
On any other day, Karl would have gone on a ride with Fink, galloping through the marshes and the moors. Hed find connections with the living world, and as he raced with the herds of wild horses as they streamed across the hills, hed forget that he was pudgy, and lowly, and nothing. Only God could know the true splendor of the world. Compared to that, who wasnt pudgy, lowly, and nothing?
But now, even that was taken from him.
The world was rotting. Burning and rotting.
Without thinking, Karl uncoiled from the column. He slithered toward the still-growing Norm and then leapt onto him, flinging himself forward with powers he felt more than controlled.
The others skidded to a stop.
The man-eater was even worse than the silver-eyed Norm. The silver-eye hadnt been in his right mind. He hadnt chosen to do what hed done.
But not this monster.
Binding the man-eater in his coils, Karl ripped into the sorcerer with vicious strikes of his claws. In his pain and rage, Karl wrapped bundles of force around his claws. He couldnt see them, but he could feel them pulse in his head, and the air around him quivered as he squeezed his anger into them and roared. The energy sparked. A tingle shot down Karls spine.
Faint cyclones whipped around Karls claws, digging into the man-eaters body like a masons drill, but at furious speed. The drilling whirls burred pasty holes into the sorcerers body. With Karls every slash, more and more of the sorcerers flesh was splattered across the garages tiled floor. Even when the fiend stopped moving, Karl kept clawing into him. The rain of bullets stopped, but Karl dug and slashed and tore. A whorl of blue and green hissed up from the floor as Karls claws struck the tile, their fine ceramic shards rasping against his hide.
Enough! someone bellowed.
The words broke through. Karl stopped. He flicked away the mutilated sorcerer with a wave of pain, and then broke down and sobbed, his sweet tears burning as they ran down his cheeks.
123.2 - Ichi-go ichi-e
Karl was scared of himself. He kept on imagining what Fink would think. Fink was the bravest stallion Karl had ever known, but, had the horse been there, he knew even Fink would have galloped away in terror.
Karl sat at his column, hardly even coiled. He didnt speak or move, and did not respond to anyone who tried to get him to do either. He spent a while wondering whether Fink had made it to Paradise, only to realize he didnt know if animals were allowed to attain salvation.
Salvation was only for man, the jewel of the Angels creations.
Only man had a soul.
Maybe that was one upside to being a demon. Hed be able to see his friend again.
But what kind of friend hopes to see their friend in Hell?
Karl wiped his caustic tears on his turgid arms, and then he heard the sound of scales scraping against tile.
Karl closed his eyes.
There was a loud harrumph, and then a voice spoke.
This time, it said, Im not leaving.
Sighing, Karl opened his eyes.
I guess hes back again, he thought.
Karl was face to face with one of the larger Norms. He recognized this one. It was one of the Norms that had helped in the battle, and later, had tried to help Karl get to the garage.
The Norm crossed his arms. I mean it, he said. Im not leaving until you
What do you want? Karl asked, in a soft, fearful voice.
Okay, this is progress, the Norm replied. He clenched his claws into a fist and pulled close what remained of his devastated white coat. Ahem. He cleared his throat, hawking up a gob of spores.
It landed on one of the cars. The gob fizzed as it ate through the paint, down to the metal underneath.
The Norm placed a claw on his chestwell, the part of his tubular body where his chest should have been.
Hello, he said. My name is Dr. Ibrahim Rathpalla. Im a psychiatrist.
Karl recognized the word enough to scowl at it. Like Dr. Howle? he asked.
You know Genneth? the doctor replied.
Hes a liar and a demon, Karl muttered.
The Norm rolled his eyes. Hes not that bad.
Karl glared at him.
Dr. Rathpalla neatly coiled his tail around him.
To answer your question, he said, Dr. Howle and I have similar responsibilities. Similar, but different. Genneth also does neurology and neuropharmacology. Me, though? Im just a psychiatrist. Full stop.
I dont know what those words mean, Karl mumbled. Im not from this time. He lowered himself onto his belly, resting his head on his crossed arms. Looking at his arms, he felt like a pea, lost in a mountain.
There was a tension in his chest. It felt like its shape was slowly changing. His shoulders ached, too. Like someone was pushing his arms down, to either side of his body.
The doctors mouth opened slightly in shock, showing off how his jaw was becoming a snout. Oh snap youre him, he said. In his excitement, Dr. Rathpallas tail swept across the floor. Youre the time-traveler. Well, he tilted his head, the other time-traveler.
Karl raised his head. There are others?
The two Munine samurai your friends killed when you arrived in our time, Dr. Rathpalla said.
Karl lowered his head back onto his arms. Oh
Dr. Rathpalla wiggled a little closer. I see youre having a rough time, son.
Karl glared at him. Im not your son. He closed his eyes. Im hardly even my fathers son.
Well, Dr. Rathpalla said, I dont know what to call you He gyrated one of his claws. So?
Karl didnt respond.
Dr. Rathpalla reared up his forepart. He supported himself with his powersKarl could sense them blossom in his minds eyeand with his legs, which wobbled uselessly at the psychiatrists flanks as he put his weight onto them. The bones in Dr. Rathpallas darkened, shriveled legs crunched like bitten crackers, making Karl wince.
Dr. Rathpalla crossed his arms, letting his claws dangle over his elbows. You can give me the cold shoulder from here till eternity, but I meant what I said. Im not budging from this spot until you start talking to me, son.
Karl noticed he was emphasizing that last word.
Please dont call me that, Karl said, even softer than before.
Why not? Dr. Rathpalla asked.
Karl raised his head. Im centuries older than you. Dont they teach people to honor their elders in this era?
His fathers words passed through his mind.
Karl, you dishonor me by what you do. You are shapeless and impotent. I cannot waste time doting on you; I have too many concerns. If you cannot fend for yourself, you will die. All will be as the Angel wills.
No, Dr. Rathpalla said. Not until you stop acting like youre the only wyrm on the face of the earth.
Karl let out a long, tired sigh. Sweetness burned his lips as faint green wisps rippled out of his throat and hung over the garages tiled floor.
What do you want from me? he asked.
A psychiatrist is a doctor of minds and moods, Rathpalla explained. Youre clearly in a terrible mood, and Id wager your mind isnt doing too well, either.
Is this all you do? Karl quipped.
It was the kind of thing Morgan would say.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Bever used to joke that, even in Paradise, Morgan would manage to find the thorns.
Not by a long shot, Dr. Rathpalla replied. Now, Im not a history buff like Genneth is. I dont even know if you people had ways for dealing with mental health back in your day, but, Ill have you know that in this time period, he stabbed a claw toward the ground, depression is recognized as a legitimate mental illness. He pointed at Karl. And you are clearly suffering from it. The psychiatry Norm tapped himself with a thumb-claw. That makes it my job to treat you.
My name is Karl Prestingham, Karl said, after a lengthy pause. He spoke without passion or sentiment. My father was a merchant of great renown. My brothers are talented and successful. Im not. My only friend was a horse, and hes dead, as are the only people who ever made me feel that my life had any value at all. He paused again. And now Im turning into a demon. And Karls tail twitched.
His body rubbed and scraped against itself in ways that shouldnt have been possible, but were.
I cant walk.
There was a kink in his neck, which was feeling odd. It was probably getting longer, becoming more like Dr. Rathpallas.
More inhuman.
Karl rested his claws on a mosaic of seaweed, half-eaten by dribbled spores.
I cant do anything, he said. I want to die, he added, in a sporey whisper.
You certainly pured that transformee, Dr. Rathpalla said, with a gumptious nod.
I dealt with a monster, Karl said. Monsters can fight each other.
The psychiatrist clicked his tongue. Not really.
What? Karl asked.
Dr. Rathpalla craned his neck over his shoulders, like a dragon surveying his lair. His body is slowly crawling back together.
Karl stared, wide-eyed.
Rathpalla nodded again. Yeah, its disgusting. Also, it probably hurts like a mother.
What? Karl raised an eyebrow.
Point is, Rathpalla continued, hell be back in action in an hour or two. Or three. Well, whenever he comes around I can assure you, he will not be in a good mood.
Then make sure he cant hurt anyone else, Karl said.
Whyd you tear him to ribbons? Dr. Rathpalla asked. That was a tremendous amount of anger you showed back there. He pointed with the tip of his tail. Keeping those kinds of emotions bottled up inside isnt healthy.
Geoffrey and the others are deadkilled by monstersand its all my fault.
Wait Dr. Rathpallas eyes narrowed. You dont know about the ghosts?
Karl raised his head. What ghosts?
Smiling, the psychiatrist slithered over, reached out and grabbed Karls hand. Karl tried to pull away, but, to his horror, his body was sticking to the Norms wherever they touched. A feeling like worms wriggling through the skin spreading across the point of contact. The sensation spread along Karls tail as their bodies intertwined.
Then everything went black.
Karl didnt know what to believe anymore. All he knew was that his friend was back, as good as ever.
Here you go, boy, he said, eat up. You deserve it.
Karl stroked one hand along Finks head. He held his other hand by the horses mouth, holding fresh corn in his outstretched palm.
The Finks lips tickled as ate the sweet, scrumptious kernels.
Then the horse lifted his head back and spoke. Its my favorite, Karl! he said, whinnying with pleasure. His tail swished behind him.
Karl pulled his hand away and covered his mouth. He didnt want either Fink or Dr. Rathpalla to see him crying.
Stepping around to the side, Karl closed his eyes and gently pressed his forehead against Finks cheek. He let himself dissolve in the moment, feeling Finks breaths rumble through his head.
Im so sorry, my friend, Karl said. I couldnt protect you.
Just like everyone else, he thought.
Fink pulled his head away and nuzzled Karl shoulder and neck
Youve always made me happy, Karl, he said. Im so lucky to have had you around.
Taking a deep breath, Karl stepped back. He gestured at the cornfield beside them. He smiled. Here you go, Fink. Have as much corn as you want! Youll never have to worry about stomach-aches ever again!
Doing as Dr. Rathpalla had told himclenching his fist for extra focusKarl visualized how he wanted the world to change. The world responded, a path opening in the great, gold cornfield. The path trickled into the fields depths and then blossomed into a large circular clearing littered with piles of freshly shucked corn.
Fink nickered in excitement. Oh boy he said. Oh boy oh boy oh boy! He stomped his hooves on the ground and galloped down the path and into the clearing where he began to feast.
Watching Finks unbridled joy made Karl go misty-eyed again. The young man sniffled, wiping his tears on his sleeve. He would have asked for paper and a quill and ink to try his hand at drawing itas it turned out, Karl and Dr. Rathpalla shared a fondness for drawingbut it wasnt quite the same as it once was, knowing that he could will the picture into being with just a moments thought. Karl almost asked Dr. Rathpalla about itdid he still draw, as a wyrm?but he decided to hold his tongue. He didnt want to trouble the man with something as unimportant as that. Just the thought of being a burden made Karl feel uncomfortable, and really didnt like being uncomfortable.
Besides, drawing was one of the habits that had troubled Karls father. Hed called it a waste of time. That, too, had made Karl uncomfortable.
Truth be told, Karl preferred comfort to formality. Accordingly, he was wearing simple clothesand for once, his father wasnt there to berate him for his preferences. He wore a laced-up green jerkin atop a brown tunic, with slender breeches and cozy stockings.With the exception of the jerkinwhich was made of fine cottonyou would have thought Karl looked like a well-dressed servant boy. The cloth was liberally stained with dirt, spit and grass, and smelled like fresh Sunlight.
Karl dared to smile as he turned to face Dr. Rathpalla. Raw corn was always Finks favorite treat. But if he ate too much, it would give him stomach troublesand he loved eating a lot of itso he could only ever have a little bit at a time.
Like Karl, Dr. Rathpalla was human again. The psychiatrist was dressed in the white coat that the futures physicians seemed to prefer. Dr. Rathpallas swarthy skin confirmed what Karl had suspected: the man hailed from the far side of the world on the other end of the sea.
The psychiatrist averted his gaze, trying to hide some tears of his own.
By now, Karl had learned to stop questioning his circumstances. The world had gone mad, pure and simple. Dr. Rathpalla had explained it to him twice, now, but it still sounded like folly.
Crafting worlds inside the mind, like some pagan god of old? Building Paradise for the souls of the dead? Walking through others minds? It was madness. But, in a way, it made sense that it was madness. A world without God could only be a place of madness, as this era was. Whether or not the Angel had ever been here, Karl didnt know. But He was not here now. There was no Light in this future, no hope, no justice; only demons and horrors.
You waste your time with follies, boy! his father would say. You will not survive if you live like a savage!
Karl had never been brave enough to openly defy his father. But now, he would not ever have to worry about that ever again.
He was free.
If only it hadnt come at such a cost.
No, Karl muttered, clenching his fists again. He shook his head.
He didnt want to think bad thoughts anymore. He didnt want to have to think of pain and guilt and loss.
So what if it might not have been real?
Reality was rarely kind to him.
As Dr. Rathpalla had explained to him, as a transformee, he was now in possession of incredible powers. With these powers came the responsibility to use them properly, to protect souls from Hells corrupting influence. Dr. Rathpalla psychiatrist had shown Karl how to create realms within his mind and shape them to his liking.
It involved something called Wyrmware, which made windows of light appear in the air, filled with text and commands.
Think of a place you want to be, Dr. Rathpalla had said. Any place. Real, imaginary; anything at all.
And so he had. Karl had thought of the cornfields at the edge of his familys summer estate, out in the countryside, where they would go to escape the coasts dreary wet season. The cornfields Karl imagined into being looked just like they did in his dreams: sprawling and golden, caressed by sunshine and a happy breeze. A barn, stables, and granaries loomed at his back, behind Dr. Rathpalla, along with a cozy stone farmhouse, with dormer windows peeking out from its roof. Rows of cypresses grew at the opposite end of the cornfield, to keep the wind from ravaging the crops. Further, beyond the tree walls, the earth rose into forested hillsides, beneath a cloud-dashed sky that stretched on for ever and ever.
If this is Paradise, Karl had asked, where is Fink?
So far, it doesnt seem like animals have souls, Dr. Rathpalla had explained, though Genneth says he will try to ask Andalon about it.
Genneth. Dr. Howle.
The good doctor was troubled to hear what Karl had to say about his colleague, but he insisted Karl share all that he had to tell. The conversation was long and painful.
Im furious at them. Dr. Howle. Andalon. They lied. They
Hed trembled with emotion, as any broken-hearted soul would.
Karl liked Dr. Rathpalla. Dr. Howle might have seemed kind, but he lied, and his lies had hurt so many people. So very, very many.
At the risk of sounding presumptuous, Dr. Rathpalla had said, you should be more forgiving toward him. He means well.
And Karl knew that Rathpalla was rightthat was why he felt so hurt by what Id donepretending to be one of the Blessd.
If he meant well, Karl explained, why did he make things worse?
No one is perfect, Karl, Rathpalla answered, not me, not Genneth Howle, not even god itself. But you dont need to be perfect to do good. Here, let me show you.
And so, he had.
123.3 - Ichi-go Ichi-e
Ibrahim shared with Karl what Id shared with him, instructing the young man in how to recreate Fink in this unreal world. Karl didnt believe it would work, and yet it did.
Hed never been happier to have been wrong.
Karl wept into Finks flank as soon as the horse had appeared, and his heart skipped a beat when Fink had opened his mouth and spoke.
Of course, Fink wasnt talking now, not with all the corn in his mouth. The horse trotted gaily around the piled corn, shaking his mane in delight.
I dont care if he isnt real, Karl told himself.
Seeing Fink happy meant the world to him.
Dr. Rathpalla stood beside Karl quietly, watching him watch Fink. Eventually, he spoke.
You really care for that horse, dont you?
Karl nodded. Its like I said. Hes my friend, and he always will be.
And yet, watching Fink prance about was unarguably bittersweet. In his heart of hearts, Karl knew this wasnt real, but it brought him happiness, and he desperately, desperately needed that happiness. If that came at the cost of giving up the truth, so be it. Without someone to share them with, even the greatest truths were hollow and valueless, like broken stones or grub-eaten leaves.
Pausing, Karl closed his eyes, letting himself feel the winds gentle touch. He felt his will from the tips of his toes to the end of his nose.
But it wasnt real. Just like Fink, his body here wasnt real. Yet desperately, desperately wanted it to be.
Karl opened his eyes.
Why are you doing this? Karl asked.
I learned it from Dr. Howle, Dr. Rathpalla answered.
Karl shook his head. No, thats not what I meant. He wanted to glare at the man, but he didnt have enough anger in him. He frowned. Why are you tempting me? he asked, in a quiet, needful voice.
What? the psychiatrist asked. He leaned back, seemingly caught off guard by the question.
Dr. Rathpalla, Karl said, you tell me the wyrms are agents of God, meant to fight the forces of Hell. But then, you come and show me all of this, he added, gesturing at their surroundings.
Turning around, Karls breath got caught in his throat as he saw Fink trot across the clearing.
If I understood you correctly, I can do anything in here.
Dr. Rathpalla nodded. Pretty much.
Then whats to stop me from staying here for the rest of my days? Karl asked. It doesnt seem right to me, he said, lowering his head. Such a gift I dont deserve it. Maybe Geoffrey would, but not me.
The dry earth crunched beneath Karls boots as he turned in place.
You can do both, the psychiatrist answered. You see, we have an ability to
But then, out in the clearing, Fink reared up on his hind legs, squealing and roaring. The sound cut Karls heart. Looking up, Karl saw the horses head crest over the top of the corn, his mane blowing in the wind. He shook his head, hooves clawing at the air.
Fink was terrified.
Dr. Rathpallas eyes widened in alarm. Karl, whats
Somethings wrong! Karl yelled.
Karl set off in a sprint without a second thought. Corn rows flicked past him as he ran. Flattened stalks and shucked husks crunched beneath his boots. Arriving in the clearing, he skidded to a stop, kicking up dirt.
Who is that!?
A stranger had appeared; a violent one. He was a young man, maybe a couple years Karls senior. He had raven-black hair, and war the clothes of a Mewnee warrior: a dark howree, bell-like trousers, socks on wooden sandals. The stranger was armed and dangerous, his weapon drawna katana, long and brilliantly sharp. Its curved edge glinted in the Sunlight, reflecting the spacious skies.
Fink staggered back, rearing up in terror, his hooves churning the air.
The Mewnee looked surprised and confused. He was startled by the horse, but his face was flush with worries that went beyond that. Stepping away from Fink, the stranger looked around, shouting a name Karl that didnt recognize.
Lord Uramaru! he yelled. Lord Uramaru!? He held his sword out, ready to strike at any moment.
Help! Fink cried.
Karl stuck out his hands, palms bared. Fink, calm down! he yelled. Get away from him!
The Mewnees eyes went saucer-wide. A talking horse!?
Corn kernels bounced off the dirt as Fink landed back on all fours. Nodding his head, the horse hurried over to Karls side, flicking up kernels and corn husks with his hooves.
The Mewnee lunged as Fink galloped off, and struck, slicing into the horses flank with a wide slash of his katana.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
Fink neighed in pain. Help!
What sorcery is this? the Mewnee demanded. He pointed his sword at Karl. What have you done? Explain yourself, now!
Dammit! Dr. Rathpalla said.
Looking over his shoulder, Karl saw Rathpalla had run into the clearing. He now stood close behind him.
What is it? Karl asked.
The Mewnee pointed his sword at the psychiatrist.
Who are you, brown man?
Dr. Rathpalla pointed. Whoever he is, hes your ghost, not mine. I cant dismiss him. Wyrms have to manage their own ghosts.
I dont know what to do! Karl said.
Fight! Rathpalla said, with a wave of his arm. Shoot! Kill! Use your imagination, Karl. This isnt a game!
If its a fight you want, the Mewnee said, its a fight youll get!
Then he charged at them.
Spreading his arms, Rathpalla thrusted his palms toward the stalks of corn at either side of the clearing, and then brought his hand back together. The plants grew before Karls eyes, their leaves and husks crackling, turning vivid green. Like whips, the corn plants lashed at the Mewnee. They coiled tight around his feet. Corn seedlings burst up from the soil underfoot, twining up the warriors legs, binding them together. They spread onto his arms and bound them, as well, holding them stiff, and forcing the katana to stick out to the side.
The Mewnees scowl deepened. His brows were falling cliffs. Release me! he yelled. He struggled against his bindings, muscles twitching, but the corn stalks held him in place.
Karl gawked at Dr. Rathpalla. D-Did you do that?
He nodded.Yes. But make no mistake, these restraints wont hold him forever. And they certainly wont protect him from being corrupted by Hell. Thats your responsibility, Karl. This isnt just a gift, its a duty.
Karl flicked his gaze back and forth between Dr. Rathpalla and the Mewnee.
Wait he said, filled with realization.
Ive seen him before, Karl thought.
Karl, please, Fink pleaded. He stood behind him, nuzzling Karls shoulder. Im scared, he said. My side hurts. We need to get away.
Turning partially, Karl ran his hand on Finks flank, trying to calm the horse, but without taking his eyes off the Mewnee.
It was you, he said, pointing at the bound warrior. You and the samurai. You were there when we arrived in this era. We fought. He looked the Mewnee in the eyes. Your Lord Uramaru fell at Geoffreys hands.
As the corn bindings tightened, the scowl on the Mewnees face contorted with shock and recognition.
You he said, limbs slackening with shock.
The Mewnee lifted his gaze to the sky and muttered, Forgive me, and then looked down again, hatred burning in his face as he locked eyes with Karl. I will kill you, he said, trembling with anger. I will kill you and your comrades. Not even the earth itself will drink your blood. The man you killed was greater than us all. I will avenge him. I swear it.
Karl stood his ground, gripping tightly to Finks saddle. Even if it wasnt the real Fink, the horses presence still made Karl feel like he wasnt alone, and with that feeling came the tiniest spark of confidence. Karls anger was the kindling. In a moment, it exploded in flames.
Y-You, Karl stuttered, youre monsters! The people youve killed. Tortured! Its all your fault! Youre the ones that wanted to take our land.
Just like Geoffrey would have said.
The late Count Athelmarchs words played in Karls ears.
The Mewnees are monsters through and through. They persecute believers. They execute priests. Priests! Wherever they go, they command all to bow before them. Those who refuse to bend will be broken. They are remorseless, they take without recompense, and they leave only ashes in their wake. Their leaders take demons counsel. They champion false prophets. Theirs is a world of nightmares and monsters; red-skinned devils; four-armed gods.
And then he remembered the words that made every heart stir.
But we will not bend, and we will not break. This land is Trenton land. This holy earth is our home, and by the Suns Light, we will be free!
Even Karl felt pride when he heard Geoffreys words. The man was a legend.
And now he was gone.
Karl didnt bother fighting back tears. He lashed out and roared. Give Geoffrey back! he yelled. Bring back his brother! Bring them all back, all the mothers and fathers; all the daughters and sons!
The words made the Mewnees face redden with rage. To Karls horror, the color thickened and intensified. It ran up the warriors face and down his neck, trickling onto his body like spilled paint.
Dr. Rathpalla went flush with worry. Karl, you need to get him under control! Now!
W-What?
Look at him! he pointed.
The Mewnee warrior screamed. His voice deepened as he continued to change.
If he gives into that anger, hell become a demon, for sure, The psychiatrist gasped. No its already starting.
Dr. Rathpalla stepped back as the Mewnees shadow rose.
The young man grew taller and bulkier. His limbs burgeoned with muscle. The corn bindings snapped from the strain, one by one, unable to contain him.
Karl! Fink yelled. He stomped on the ground, bouncing in place. Karl!
Karl turned to Dr. Rathpalla. What do I do?
Use the Wyrmware! It can manage your
Screams and blades cut the air. With a great yell, the Mewnee flicked his wrist, sweeping out his swordhis range of movement greatly expanded. A second pair of arms burst out right beneath the first, along with a set of horns on his forehead. The horns curled backward as they rose. His hair inverted from black to white.
It was the face of one of the red-demons, like the masks the Mewnees wore during their festivals, when they paraded through the streets.
The Mewnee widened his stance as he grew. His shadow grew with them, cast long by the Sun. He loomed tall, over seven feet. His howree broke at the seams.
Then, with a snarl, he charged, sprinting forward like a gale, scattering shredded corn husks with his speed. His mouth bore fangs, as white as snow.
His blade ignited in blue flame.
Fink and Dr. Rathpalla screamed. They rushed in front of Karl, to protect him from the demons wrath. In a heartbeat, the psychiatrist grew, gaining size until he was large enough to push Fink out of the way with his hand.
Karl staggered forward. The hems of the doctors coat dangled overhead.
But before Rathpalla could strike, the demon cut into him with his flaming sword in a fierce downstroke that ignited the husks, raining them down onto the clearing.
Dr. Rathpalla let out an agonized scream. The flaming sword sliced through his shoulder. For a moment, his body flickered, and then he vanished altogether.
No!
Dr. Rathpalla! Karl yelled.
Just like Geoffrey. Just like Bever and Morgan.
Just like Fink, he thought.
Everyone who helped him suffered for it.
Even Dr. Howle.
Karl ran. The demon chased. Fink ran across the clearing, yelling, Get on!
Grabbing the saddle, Karl pulled, tugging himself up just like he had a thousand times before. He leaned forward as Fink settled into a gallop, charging past the demon, who staggered back in surprise.
The corn blurred as Fink ran. Wind whipped through Karls curly hair.
Get back here! the demon yelled. Coward!
Karl looked back.
The demon was chasing them, running impossibly fast.
No
He was catching up to them!
Hes gaining on us! Karl said.
Oh no! Fink thrashed his head. No no no!
Cornstalks smacked Karls sides as Fink galloped through the field.
Karl! Fink said. You need to get off!
W-What?
Hes gonna catch us! Fink said. You have to get off. Hide! Run away! Ill lure him away from you.
Karl tightened his grip on Finks neck and mane. No, you cant! IveIve just gotten you back!
Ill always be with you, Karl, Fink said. Always.
Fink reared up tall. He rollicked and buckled like a wild bull.
Fink! Karl yelled. No! What are you
But Karl lost his grip and fell, and by the time he got to his feet, the sound of hooves was fading into the distance, disappearing into the amber waves of grain.
123.4 - Ichi-go ichi-e
Karls heart raced in his chest as he crept through the endless corn.
His heart broke as he heard Fink whinny in agony. A moment later, from somewhere in the fields, the oni let out a roar of rage, and a spout of fire geysered up in the distance.
Karl ran faster.
He kept trying to do as Dr. Rathpalla had said, but he couldnt figure out how. He couldnt remember the words to make the windows of light appear. In his panic, he could remember everything else, but not that. He was accosted by details, first in his head, then in the corn.
Soldiers of the future, firing beams of fiery light from their incomprehensible guns.
Abominations of warped flesh.
Running zombees.
Geoffreys death throes. His screams. The sounds of his crawling flesh.
The crunch of Bevers bones as they melted into his body.
Hyperphantasia, Dr. Rathpalla had called it. The apparitions werent real, just like everything else in this impossible place. But they didnt need to be real to scare Karl out of his mind.
Up ahead, the silver-eyed Norm reared up. Crowning over the corn, it breathed out its clouds of green death. The corn blackened and crumbled. Karl scrambled backward and screamed, cowering in terror.
But then the silver-eyed Norm screamed. A cataclysmic sound. It rose up, like a Mewnee priests staff, twisting and twining, raking its claws through the air.
Karl looked up just in time to see the four-armed demons blazing katana curve around the Norms body as it sliced upward. The Norms arms fell away.
The red demon leapt up, bare chested. Running up the Norms back, he jumped at its head, swinging his sword with all four of his arms.
The Norms silver eyes lost their light as its head toppled over and fell, severed from its neck. Tongues of blue flame lapped at the edge of the wound.
The red demon whirled around as he landed. He swept his katana in a wide circle, slicing the corn away from around Karl, leaving Karl totally exposed.
Behind the demon, the Norms headless body crashed to the ground with a mighty thud, crushing its silhouette into the corn.
Karl fell to his knees and pressed his head onto the ground, pleading for his life as the Mewnee did.
Please, dont kill me! he cried.
Karl still didnt feel he was worthy of life. But Fink was.
And if my life can give Fink back his, then thats something worth protecting.
Friends helped one another, and Karl was forever in the horses debt.
Daring to raise his head, Karl looked up to see the demons two-toed feet stepping toward him. His socks were as black as Night.
What have you done to me? the demon yelled.
Karl lowered his head again. Please dont kill me!
The sliced corn stalks crunched beneath the demons feet. Answer me! he yelled.
Karl looked up.
The demon loomed over him, four-armed, skin blood-red skin, his lips curled back in a fierce, fanged snarl. Blue sparks crackled along the length of his sword, as if the weapon was about to erupt in flame.
What have you done to me? the demon said. What is this? Where am I? He pointed his blade at Karl.
I-I thought you said you were going to kill m-me, Karl whimpered.
Answer me! the demon yelled. His sword trembled as it pressed against Karls neck.
Karl stuck out his hands, pressing them onto the dirt. I dont know! I dont know!
Stomping his foot by Karls head, the demon snarled. Liar!
Its not a a lie! Karl pleaded. If its my fault, I dont know how I did it! I dont!
Narrowing his eyes, the red-skinned demon bared his fangs. You made me into a monster! Reaching up, he curled his fingers around one of his horns. You turned me into an oni.
Karl lifted his head. D-Dr. Rathpalla told me I I control what happens here, Karl explained. This place is shaped by my thoughts.
And so you thought me into a monster? the demon asked.
Karl stammered. W-Well he gulped. You are! You Mewnees have done awful things. Awful awful things!
The demon clenched his lower pair of fists. A soldier without inner calm is nothing more than a brute with a weapon. Lord Uramaru taught me that. His sword-arm trembled. And he taught me to be better than that.
He sighed.
There is a difference between killing and murder, but your peopleyou Tsurentu savages in your Holy Angels name, you murder women and children. You seed our homes with plague. He nudged his sword toward Karl. I saw you in soldiers clothes. What crimes have your hands been stained with, I wonder?
P-Plague? Karl said.
A day ago, Karl would have risen to the Angels defense in response to these accusations. But, now? He didnt even know if there was an Angel left to defend.
Hed failed his family, hed failed his comrades, hed failed Fink, and Dr. Rathpalla, and Fink again, and had dared to hope he could hide away from the creature he was becoming by living in falsehoods inside his head.
Karl sunk his hands into the dirt, feeling the grains beneath his nails. Youre right he said.
He felt misery building in his gut.
I am a monster. Im turning into one, even as we speak. Karl rose up to his knees. This, he looked at his hands, this is just a lie.
He pictured what he looked like, out in the real world. What he saw made him shudder.
Why did you flee? the demon asked.
But Karl wasnt paying attention to that. Instead, he was focusing on the feelings coming from his body.
He groaned. No no
Karl wrapped his arms around his stomach.
The wooden struts underneath of the demons sandals scraped along the dirt as the demon stepped back.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Karls body was changing. He couldnt see it happening, but he could feel it. He felt his legs shrivel and his torso lengthen. Muscles bulged in his arms and hands as his fingers merged, growing talons that sank into the soil with their panicked flexions. Spines burst from his back, ripped through his clothes as they
Y-You! the demon yelled. What are you!? Monster!!
Karl fumbled with his tail, thrashing in the dirt, knocking down corn, unable to make it stop.
Just like with everything else.
And then he broke down and wept.
Wanting a place to sitboth for himself and Ichigoee-chee-gothe four-armed red oniKarl managed to conjure up an exceedingly large log to fill that need. Unfortunately, sitting on it proved to be far more difficult than Karl would have anticipated. He blamed it on his half-Norm bodys lack of hips. After slipping off and scraping himself multiple times, Karl gave up and simply wrapped himself around the edge of the log, in a horseshoe shape, laying down with his chest and crossed arms pressing down on the log.
For someone whod transformed into a wrathful oni, Ichigo turned out to be a surprisingly good listener.
Karl tried to return Ichigo to normal, but without much luck. He tried doing what Dr. Rathpalla had saidhe tried visualizing what Ichigo had looked like beforeand he had no trouble recalling Ichigos human appearance in perfect detail. Whenever he did, Ichigos body would flicker and twitch, giving Karl a glimpse of Ichigos human form, only to settle back into the four-armed oni form.
When Ichigo asked him why this kept happening, all Karl could say was that sometimes his thoughts had more control of him than he of theyand that this, unfortunately, was one of those times.
For what it was worth, after Karl had explained the situation to Ichigo to the best of his ability, Ichigo had become more temperate.
Lord Uramaru would tell me at length about the importance of accepting that which was beyond my control, hed said, only to turn to Karl with a flick of his bone-white hair and say, and I would counsel you to do the same.
Having already begun opening up to Dr. Rathpalla, it was relatively easy for Karl to continue sharing his experiences with Ichigo.
It was nice to have someone to listen to him, Mewnee or not.
Karl sighed. And thats why Ive always preferred animals company to peoples. There are more kind animals than there are kind people.
Ichigo crossed his upper pair of arms. How can an animal be kind?
He sat with his dark, bell-shaped trousers pressed against the log. His katana lay against the log, with its hilt in the air and his blade on the ground.
Kindness is easy, Karl explained. Anyone can do it, even an animal. It is cruelty that is difficult. He looked down at the ground. In the summer, there are wasps that will sting beetles. Ive seen them. The mother wasp stings the beetleor maybe a big spider, or a fat caterpillarand then buries it in the ground. Days later, the wasp-maggots hatch and feast on its flesh. The beetle isnt dead, just immobilized. I I dug one up once. The wasp-maggots ate it from the inside out.
Ichigo grimaced. Thats awful
Karl nodded. Yes it is. But it isnt cruel.
Yes it is, Ichigo said.
Karl shook his head. No it isnt.
He tried not to start crying again.
As much as it shamed Karl to admit it, being a crybaby had saved him. For all his wrath, Ichigo was not comfortable cutting down a weeping foe
Even an inhuman monster like me, Karl thought.
After the initial awkwardness, Ichigo had introduced himself, and then one thing had led to another, and theyd struck up a conversation.
Karl cleared his throat as he explained his reasoning about the wasps lack of cruelty. The mother wasp doesnt bear her victim any malice, he said. She never takes more than what she needs, and she always uses everything she takes. New life comes from the creatures she stings. Always.
Karl looked at their surroundings.
The cypress trees were nearby, though one had burned down under Ichigos flame. Finks corpse lay somewhere in the fields beyond, fallen where Ichigo had killed him.
The log sat in the middle of the small clearing that Ichigo had made when he killed the Norm. The serpents pieces lay off to the side, strewn across the cornfield, steaming with sweetness and warmth.
Ichigo stared at him, a white fang protruding from his upper lip. How is that kind? he asked, referring to the wasp.
She leaves all the other critters alone, Karl answered. Think of all the pain she could bring, but doesnt. He shuddered. Once, I had a nightmare where she laid eggs in my chest. The wasp-maggots ate my heart and then burst out of my skin and took flight. The rest of my body lay there, useless and dead.
Ichigo grimaced.
Imagine if the mother wasp did that to you. That would be horribly cruel. Karl smiled softly. But she doesnt. She could, but she doesnt. I think that makes her very kind.
The oni lowered his head. I I see
Karl nodded. Animals are simple in that way. Give them what they need, and they will be happy. And as long as you are kind to them, they will be kind to you, except for the ones that are never kind to anybody. Thats why I like them. I have, since I was little.
Karl lowered his head.
My best friend, Fink, was a horse, he said. You saw him when we arrived in this era.
Ichigo nodded. It was a fine animal.
Karl stared at him. Yes, and now hes dead.
I Suddenly, Ichigos eyes widened with realization. Oh he said. He let head hang low. I Im sorry. I would not have slain him had I known.
You dont think its unbecoming for a young man to have a horse as his only friend?
Ichigo shook his head. Better a horse than no one at all.
Much to Karls astonishment, Ichigo was being as sincere as could be. There was no pity in his eyes.
Th-thank you, he said. His voice broke as he lowered his speech to a whisper. When I was little, I wished I could be a horse, rather than a person.
Why? Ichigo asked. He looked genuinely concerned.
At least, as a beast of burden, I would have value, Karl explained. My father thought better of the horses in his stables than he ever did of me. The horses didnt get boxed in the ears for being shy or clumsy.
Ichigo shook his head. I dont understand.
What? Karl asked.
You arent a warrior, Ichigo said, are you? When you suddenly appeared, you stood with Tsurento warriors.
Ive trained, Karl said. I can fight.
Kudos, Ichigo said, with a scoff, but training does not make a man a warrior. He narrowed his eyes. Least of all a man like you.
G-Geoffrey showed me how! Karl said.
Geoff ree? Ichigo said, tilting his head in confusion.
Of House Athelmarch, Karl explained. He helped guide me when no one else would. Geoffrey, Bever, Morgan, Duncan, Geren, Will, Eylon. They all did. And now theyre gone, and its all my fault.
How is it your fault? Ichigo asked.
Karl bit his lip. Though hed told Dr. Rathpalla that he blamed himself, he hadnt told him why.
Fink ran ahead into the portal that brought us into the future, and I chased after him. Geoffrey chased after me, and the others followed. That stranded us in the future. Now, only I am left.
Admitting that broke Karls heart all over again. I failed them. Did I truly learn anything from Geoffrey and the others at all if Im so hapless without them? Look at me, he said. Even here, where I have the powers of God, all I can do is run and hide. He stared at his claws.
Skill at arms is only half of a battle, Ichigo said. A warrior needs a keen mind and clear spirit. But, most of all he paused, he must know the ties that bind.
The ties that bind?
Ichigo nodded slowly, crossing his lower pair of arms. The comity of his allies. The passions of his foes. Lord Uramaru explained it to me thusly. A fighter is a lone wolf, but a warrior is a hound in a pack. A warrior knows his role, and trusts his comrades. He sees himself in relation to others, and he values those ties to the fullest. Lifting his gaze to Karl, Ichigo sighed. In a way, Tsurento-jin, you are how I was, before Lord Uramaru showed me the errors of my ways.
What? Karl asked. His tail rustled across the fallen corn stalks.
Do you have any elder brothers? Ichigo asked.
Yes, Karl said, nodding glumly. Theyre my fathers pride and joy.
As were mine, Ichigo said.
I mean, Karl said, they were. He shook his head. Theyre long gone, now.
I was always in the shadow of my fathers regard, Ichigo said. Clenching his fist, he stuck one of his arms up in the air. To earn praise, I had to soar like an eagle.
He let his fist hang there for a moment before lowering his arm and shaking his head. Anything less, and I fell beneath my lord fathers notice. Ichigo scowled. I learned to trust no one, and expect no favors. I had to rely on myself, and myself alone. I wanted to make myself into the greatest warrior the land would ever know. Instead, I made myself weak. Stretched thin and overspent, as Lord Uramaru told me.
What does that have to do with me? Karl asked, touching a claw tip to his chest.
You are thick and underspent, Ichigo said, with white-fanged grin. But the end result is the same. Like I was, you are alone. But where I was alone because of my foolishness, you are alone because of your cowardice.
Karl bristled at that. He felt the spines on his back stiffen. I am not a coward! he said, raising his forepart.
Ichigo had to look up at him, white hair dangling down.
Your best friend is a horse, the oni said. You fear closeness with others because you do not want to be hurt, just as Gulping, Ichigo lowered his head.
Karl lowered himself back to the log.
just as I had, Ichigo said. He cleared his throat. You are with others of your kind, correct? he asked. Other Norms?
Yes, Karl said, nodding, out in the Thick World, as Dr. Rathpalla explained to me.
Then make them your companions. Speak to them. As a much wiser man than I once told me: you have nothing to lose, but everything to gain.
Im not worthy of their companionship, Karl said. Im not like Geoffrey. Im not a great man. Im not even a good one.
You are far better than your other countrymen, who used darkpox to kill Mu-jin they could not best in battle.
Karl stared at him. W-What?
Ichigo grimaced in confusion. Your people used the plague against us. You One of his eyebrows raised. You didn''t know that?
The next thing Karl knew, he was back in the garage, in the flesh, screaming for someone to hand him a console.
124.1 - Tears in the rain
Brand had fallen to the floor, twitching like a dead rat hooked on electrodes.
Brand! I yelled. Brand!
Sweeping myself up with my powers, I lowered myself onto the floor, belly first, my fake legs stretching out behind me.
Brand was seizing.
Defaulting to my training, I turned Brands body to the side, putting him into the recovery position, keeping his head tilted downward to ensure any fluid in his mouth would drain out of it, rather than into his lungs. When someone was having a seizure, posture could make the difference between living to see another day and choking to death on your own saliva.
On instinct, I reached for my console, pulling it out from where Id stowed it in my suits stomach pouch, only to pause. Seeing Brand in danger had made me panic, but now, that panic was melting into bitter dreadthe proverbial sinking feeling.
Brand had no history of seizure disorders, nor did his familyand I should know, I was the mans (neuro)psychiatrist. Thats how wed met. Years ago, hed come in for a psychiatric consult for chronic depression. It still struck him, every now and then, but that was just depression for you. It doesnt go away, but the right prescription can make the pain less burdensome to endure.
Especially when that prescription was a friendship.
I checked my wyrmsight.
Break the Tablets I whispered.
Violet. Ultramarine. Those were the colors I saw. The runic lacework was spreading across Brands body right before my eyes, weaving through him like a second nervous system, tattooing his skin with its fractal language.
There was no purpose in waiting for him to wake up, nor in calling E Wards nurses to help. I wasnt going to let them lock him up in the garage.
Picking up my console from where Id set it on the floor, I texted Dr. Horosha.
Suisei, its an emergency. Its Brand Nowston. Were in 1Ba318. Please, hurry. Bring a stretcher, and some help.
Gently, I placed my hand atop Brands.
Im here, I said, Im not leaving you. I shuddered. Because thats what friends do.
I hoped he could hear me.
I did as I said, waiting through the tumultuous minutes it took for Dr. Horosha to arrive on the scene.
For all that he done for me and other transformees so far, I had to admit, Id still been harboring some doubts toward Suisei. Not ill will, just doubts. He was a literal international man of mystery. His skill and professionalism were not in question, I just didnt feel comfortable with our current relationship: he knew nearly all my secrets, yet I knew barely any of his. And my psychiatric instincts told me that Suiseis secrets were vast and deep.
But any qualms I still had with the man were banished by the lightning speed with which he arrived at 1Ba318. He came with a nurse, sharing the duty of pushing a rolling bed down the hall. I didnt know where theyd gotten the bed from, nor did I want to.
The mattress was stained with black, oily splotches that were dusted over in green like powdered sugar on evil chocolate. I felt awkward and powerless as the nurse lifted Brand onto the bed using her psychokinesis more quickly than I could respond.
She didnt look that transformed at all, so seeing her use her powers out of the blue like that definitely startled me.
Even after all that had happened, I was still getting used to the fact that magic powers were real.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.
Fortunately, I kept myself busy, explaining to Horosha and the nurse everything that had happened, up to and including Lt. Colonel Kaplans grisly fate.
I omitted the multiple Angels thing, though. Unlike with Brandfor whom there was no such thing as too much informationI was worried about starting an argument with them over it.
Suisei stared at me when I described the set-up Brand and I had rigged up for my hazmat suit.
I didnt know whether he was disturbed or impressed.
Probably both.
You put on quite a show for General Marteneiss back there, Suisei said.
I scoffed. Im glad you approve.
My gaze flicked over to Brands bed as the nurse secured him in place, putting the restraints around his arms.
Make sure to keep him in the recovery position, I saidand forcefully so. Hes having a seizure.
The nurse nodded at me. Yes, Doctor, I know.
Sorry, sorry, I muttered, Im just scared.
The nurse tensed up. We all are.
I looked at them both. You cant let him get put into the garage. The violent transformees there will tear him to pieces if they get a chance.
The nurse looked surprised. Youre certain hes a
Yes, I said, interrupting her, I
But Dr. Horosha cut me off. I trust Dr. Howles judgment, he said. And even if I did not He stared at Brands unconscious body. I can sense it within himthe weft of the change.
Brand was going to be a wyrm. That
Andalon appeared suddenly, hovering at the foot of Brands bed. She clasped a hand around the footboard, and then looked over her shoulder at me.
Hes gonna be wyrmeh! she said, with a smile.
I was about to yell at her, but I stopped myself.
Yelling at Andalon only made things worse.
Hissing out breath, filling my brand new hazmat helmet with spore stench, I clenched my fist. Please, Andalon, I said, quietly.
Her expression fell. Oh I She lowered her head. Im sorry, Mr. Genneth.
Dr. Howle? the nurse asked, staring at me.
Its alright, I said, with a shake of my head.
I smiled bitterly, looking at her and Andalon at the same time. Its kinda funny, actually, I said. I think Brand might actually be happier this way.
Angel, I thought, what a weird feeling.
I was bittersweetand I hated bittersweet, like any sweet tooth would. I was aching for my friend, knowing the perilous journey he was about to embark on, and knowing that he was about to lose his humanity. And yet
I swallowed hard
Id meant what I said. Circumstances always seemed to conspire to hold Brand back, be it through his race, his sexuality, or the sheer inexactitude of his fleshy vessel. With a wyrms mental capacity, Brand would thrive in a way that would put the rest of us to shame.
Even Greg.
And yet
I still worried for him. I could think of no worse outcome than the fungus getting its tendrils into Brands mind. For all Dr. Nowstons brilliance, he was flighty and absentminded. If any of us had to be worried about going silver-eyed, it was Brand. He was easily influenced; easily distracted.
And spirit-management? By the Godhead, that was going to be a nightmarefor him, as much as for his ghosts.
I could picture it now: the spirit of a dead mother, grieving the son she might never see again, and then Brand goes and show her detailed recreations of lithified fetuses, complete with cross sectionsslice, by slice, by slice.
It was a disaster waiting to happen. Even Andalon looked distraughtthough that was probably just her responding to all the bad vibes these thoughts were making me put out.
In the middle of my time-slowing worries, Suisei reached out to me and of my distress.
Everything will be alright, Genneth, he said. We will take care of him.
You should be out in Ward E, Suisei said. You have already been away for too long.
He went to the opposite side of Brands bed and joined the nurse in wheeling Brand away.
Wait I said.
The two of them stopped and turned back to face me. What is it? the nurse asked.
What are you going to do with him? I asked.
Once he awakes, the nurse said, were going to do our usual protocol. We feed him enough to get some wyrmflesh to appear, then we establish a physical link in order to explain to him what he needs to know, and get him up and running with Gregs Wyrmware.
Her words gave me an idea.
I stared at all three of themthe nurse, Suisei, and Andalonand then started undoing one of the suits gauntlets. I made sure to hold the gloves with their bottom upright, so as to not spill the filler in the fingers.
What are you doing? Suisei asked.
I extended my clawed hand to the nurse. Take off your glove, I said. I want to link with you. Theres something I need to share with you, so that you can share it with Brand.
O-Okay, the nurse said. She took off one of her gloves.
We clasped hands. It took a few seconds for me to initiate the link. Mere physical contact wasnt enough to get the wyrm link started. A least one wyrm had to actively will the link to form.
Fortunately, Id gotten plenty of practice the other day.
I nodded at the nurse as I felt our flesh begin to squirm and intermingle.
What are you sharing? Suisei asked.
A mystery called Lantor, I said.
If anyone could figure out what the heck was going on with the incursion, it was Brand Nowston.
I recentered my consciousness into a mental realm as the connection took hold.
File sharing: there really is nothing quite like it.
124.2 - Tears in the rain
Mrs. Miyalis Broliguezs body convulsed one final time before going still. She was so covered with fungal growths that, from a distance, youd think a burn victim. The readout on the ECG at her bedside warbled and yawed like a dying bee. Her husband had died about twenty minutes before. The Broliguezs eldest son, Quatmo, was flatlining, only Jonan was too busy helping Ani with Mrs. Broliguez to dart back and shut off the young mans ECG.
No! Ani yelled, beating her fist onto Miyalis stomach. No! No! No!
The portly corpse wobbled a bit from the force of her blows. Black ooze dribbled up from the impact sites, staining Mrs. Broliguezs hospital gown. Though Jonan couldnt see the womans skin, from the sound of it, her entire torso was breaking down, like a moldy blueberrymush and hyphae.
Mush and hype.
Ani, please, Jonan said, get a hold of yourself! Reaching out, he grabbed Ani by the arm and held her back. Anis arm trembled in his grasp for a moment, but then she turned her head to look him eye to eye then broke down and wept, sinking to her knees.
She pressed the helmet of her color hazmat suit against the edge of Mrs. Broliguezs bed.
No! Ani said. No!
Ani
Jonan couldnt bear to see her like this. Her pain was his pain, and he would do anything to make it stop, even if that meant fucking manhandling her.
Sometimes, a person just needed to be hugged.
Bending over, Jonan pulled Ani onto her feet and then wrapped his arms around her the best that he could.
Im here for you, he said. Im
But to Jonans shock, Ani writhed in his grasp. She turned halfway around and then pushed him away.
Outside the Broliguezs room, the custom emergency sounds Jonan had rigged for Ward Es many rooms were all going off.
It was a replay of the earlier death wavesdozens of people passing away in one fell swoop, felled by the plague. Only here, the tragedy was doubled. Yesterday, many of the dying had been sitting up and talking, the Green Deaths advance held at bay by Dr. Skorbkinas mycophage treatment.
But, over the past hour or so, all of that had fallen apart. As early as that morning, mycophage recipients had begun to take ill once more. As evening dawned, theyd been dropping like flies.
Just like everything else.
Its over, Jonan, Ani said, broken and defeated. The bangs of her long, dark hair were miserably matted against her forehead.
Jonan had never seen her like this before, and he never wanted to see her like it ever again.
She shook her lowered head, letting her arms go slack at her sides. The darkness is everywhere, now. The Lights all gone. Was it even there to begin with? I I dont know. O, my Holy Angel, I dont know! I dont know.
Jonan felt miserableand not just because the love of his life was having a crisis of faith. His face was clammy, flushed with heat that Jonan wanted to blame solely on the PPE. He could feel his hair-gel dissolving in his sweat, taking all the bounce out of his hair.
Both their cheeks were sunken beneath their eyes, shadowed by circles of exhaustion.
Its only the first waves of mycophage recipients that are dying off, Jonan said. The military is still administering the mycophage to people as we speak. He tried putting on a smile to hide his tears. Maybe
No, Jonan, Ani said, looking him askance. She turned her head slightly, staring past him, rather than at him. No more. No more maybes. She looked at him. The mycophage isnt working. I dont know why the fuck it even seemed to work to begin with, but, I doubt Ill learn the answer to that mystery before the reaper comes to me. Her voice cracked. Ive been an idiot. My Queens mercy, my mother was right. This is the end. This is how the world ends, she whispered, alone and afraid.
Jonan reached out to her. Ani
No, she said. Stop, Jonan. She pushed his arm away, rebuffing him. Please. Stop.
Jonan swallowed hard. Alright, then, he said. Ill stop, just please, he begged, tell me: what can I do for you?
She stared at him for a while. She smiled, oncedearly, deeplybut didnt say anything until long after that smile had withered and died, like the Broliguez familys corpses.
Could you check on my Mom, please, she said, barely above a whisper.
Jonan bit his lip. We can o it together, he offered.
But Ani shook her head. No. I Tears pooled atop her cheeks. I cant. Im too scared. I dont want to go in and see her just lying there.
Sheshe might still be a
My own father failed to recognize me, Jonan. I dont understand how I went through that and came out of it walking and talking when I should have been a blubbering wreck like I am now. She looked him in the eyes. I dont wanna see my Mom look at me like Im a stranger.
Slowly, Jonan nodded. Okay, Ill Ill go take a look. But, Ani? He stared back at her. If shes still there, I want you to be there with her, okay? Either way, Ill send you a text.
Ani nodded silently.
And look on the bright side, babe, he added, feeling terribly self-conscious, the mycophage was able to slow the progression of the disease, at least for a little while. You Moms probably still got most of her marbles.
Ani stared at him in silence, neither smiling or frowning.
Her eyes said, Please. They begged him.
Jonan nodded.
Even though it went against his every instinct, Jonan obeyed Anis request. And as he turned around and stepped away, he heard footsteps pitter-patter behind him before Ani threw her arms around him.
He stood in place, letting her hold him for as long as she needed.
I love you, she whispered.
I love you more, he said, without turning around to face her.
He didnt want to see more of her tears.
But then he did so anyway.
Now, if youll excuse me, Jonan said, Ive gotta do what my girlfriend told me to do. And for the briefest instant, she smiled. But Jonan knew that smile died the instant he left the room and stepped out of view.
But he kept his word, leaving her to her tears, while desperately hoping that hed be able to give her the gift of one last talk with her mom.
Hinoka Lokanoks room wasnt that far from the Broliguezes, though it would be a harrowing journey. Alarms were going off all around, and fewer and fewer staff were bothering to deal with them, because so many of WeElMeds doctors and nurses had already died, and those that hadt were pretty much all wishing that they had.
Dr. Marteneiss had been going around with volunteers to gather up any electronics, plastics, or pieces of metal that could be given up and fed to the matter printers to replace their nearly expended medical supplies. Ventilators, in particular, were in high demand, and not just because the Green Death was eroding everyones lungs. The black ooze was caustic, enough that it took only a few repeated uses before ventilators, intubation tubes, laryngoscopes and the like cracked into pieces. The staff had been taking to washing equipment with ethyl alcohol to cancel out the acidity, but theyd run out of rubbing alcohol last night, and it seemed NFP-20 had completely spoiled the yeast supplies WeElMed used for alcohol production down in the basement vats.
One of the military scientists had mentioned the spores corrosion was due to the acidic coating around the fungus sporessomething about fluorine compounds gone mad. It was unlike anything anyone had ever seen before.
Just like everything else.
Out in the hallway, there was a ruckus as a nurse and a soldier fought over a gun. The patients on the floor or the benches were too zoned out and in too much pain to react in fear or surprise as the gun went off, firing into the roof.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Another soldier moved to intercept the nurse, but she managed to rip the gun out of the first soldiers hands, and before anyone could stop her, the nurse shot herself in the head. Splotches of black ooze intermingled with the bits of brain, bone, and blood her suicide splattered on an adjacent glass wall.
The soldier whod been wrestling with the nurse coughed hideously, panting for breath. What the fuck!? he moaned.
Jonan locked eyes with him. If they want to die, let them die, he said, softly. Dont be a dick about it. Not now.
I the soldier coughed again, I thought you people valued life! How how can you be okay with this?
Just shut up and stop making things worse, Jonan muttered. He coughed.
Ugh, my head hurts, he thought.
It was probably just the fungus, eating through his brain.
What do you expect us to do, then? the second soldier asked.
Noticing the mans arm was twitching, Jonan briefly mused over which of them would be more likely to die first.
The worst part about the apocalypse, other than everything else? It took all the fun out of gambling. What was the point of making a bet when everything was melting away?
Its fucking bullshit, Jonan thought, thats what.
Jonan cleared his throat and answered the soldiers question.
Rhetorical questions were oxymorons, and they were one of the few things that Jonan was happy to see go.
For one thing, you can help dispose of the bodies, he said, much to the soldiers surprise. They tend to start growing if you leave them be.
It was something hed noticed over the past day or so. As the hospitals homeostasis fell apart, ordinary duties and upkeep had fallen by the wayside. The fungus had shown signs of frightful postmortem activity in some of the corpses of patients that had been carted out of the hospital and loaded into dump trucks as part of the big post-battle clean-up. Even just an hour or two of a dead Type One lying in place was enough for the fungus to start growing out from the victims body, extending eerily root-like structures across the patients bed, or sprouting fungal clubs.
Here, Jonan said, Ill show you.
The soldiers stared as Dr. Derric walked into nearby patient rooms and turned off their whining ECGs.
Get in here and help clean house, he said.
I thought we already did that, a soldier answered.
Macrophage duty is a life-long responsibility, Jonan replied, flinging open the doors as he stepped out of a room.
The soldiers stared at him in confusion.
Whats a macrophage? one of them asked.
Jonan decided to be gracious and attribute that to the mind-eating fungus that was likely chowing down on the soldiers memories right this second.
Now, if youll excuse me, I made my girlfriend a promise, he said, and I intend to keep it.
The soldiers left Jonan alone as he walked down the hall. Turning at the corner, he was halfway to Anis mothers room when he passed by Larks door, which had been left ajar. Within, the ECG was screeching rapidly.
Tachycardia.
Fuck, Jonan thought.
Jonans view of the hallway blurred as he rushed through the plastic tunnel in front of the door and stepped into the room.
Lark was seizing, frothing at the mouth. He shook in bed, rattling the frame. One of his IV lines came unplugged. The stand toppled, crashing onto the vinyl floor.
Nurse! Jonan yelled. Hes
But then Dr. Derric stopped himself.
Everyone was so overtaxed. It was folly to expect the staff to respond to things like usual.
It was a frenetic scene.
Glancing at the readouts on the bedside machines, Larks SpO2 was in the shitter. Jonan shot his eyes around, looking for a laryngoscope or an intubation tube, but not finding any.
He checked the cabinets.
Fuck! he cursed.
They were empty. All empty.
With a cough and a groan, Jonan ran out of the room and into the one on the opposite side of the hall. The patient inside was very dead, with a bloated mass like a giant puffball emerging from a crack in their skull. By a twist of good fortune, an intubation tube was conveniently located in the corpses throat, with the attached squeeze-pump sticking out from the bodys mouth like an empty soda bottle. A scalpel lay on their chest, near a gaping wound that had been cut into the patients throatlikely a last-ditch effort to clear the patients airway.
Grabbing the squeeze-pump, Jonan pulled the intubation tube out of the corpses throat. The tube was covered in slime, spores, and other unmentionable horrors. Jonan darted over to the sink to wash it off, only for the pipes in the wall to snap and groan as he turned on the water. A moment later, a fibrous, tar-like wad of black ooze splattered out from the faucet, along with a puff of green spores that instantly began eating away at the sinks metal basin.
Fuck, Jonan cursed.
Walking up to the corpse, he grabbed the edge of their gown, lifted it up, and wiped down the tube. The caked-on ooze cracked and squished as he rubbed it off, revealing an intubation tube that looked like it was on its last legs.
But it was good enough.
Jonan turned his head down the hallway and yelled clean up in Room 112!the rooms numberas he ran out of one quarantine tunnel and into another.
Jonan felt like his ribs were dripping lava.
Rushing into Larks room, Dr. Derric wrapped one arm around Larks head, holding it steady in the crook of his arm, and then used his other arm to unceremoniously jab the intubation tube down the singers talented throat. He felt resistance.
Something was blocking the airway!
Lark responded by making some involuntary choking noises.
This was good. There wasnt much Jonan could do for organ failure, but choking?
That, I can fix!, he thought.
Grabbing the pump, Jonan pulled the tube out slightly, then squeezed the pump hard and rammed the tube back into Larks throatbut gently, of course.
And then he let go.
Dr. Derric flinched as the suction pulled a glob-mass of black ooze and worse out of Larks throat and into the intubation pumps innards. Beneath his elbow, Jonan could feel Larks diaphragm spasming, so he stepped back and pulled the now-useless intubation unit out of the singers throat and tossed it in the general direction of the sink.
To Jonans relief, Lark keeled over the side of his bed and wretched, hawking up the stuff of nightmares. The motion snapped off the ECGs electrodes, but just by looking and listening, Jonan could tell that Lark was breathing again. Yes, his breaths were ragged and each one made the singers face contort in pain, but at least they were breaths.
Running around to the other side of the bed, Jonan helped Lark lay back down. Larks body was emaciated and frail. A glance at the singers legs showed more fungal hyphae than muscle in between his skin and bones.
Larks breaths were shallow and rasping. His eye twitched. Cyanosis and deathly pallor fought for dominance of his skin tone.
He needed a ventilator.
Jonan ran up to the door and yelled. I need a ventilator!
But no one came.
Bending over to pick up the intubatorwhich had landed on the floorJonan hurried over to the sink, praying to all the gods that didnt exist that the sink would work.
He turned on the faucet.
Beasts teeth! he hissed.
It worked!
Jonan started washing out the tube and pump. The wash water turned black, stinking of sweetness and death and earth. But then Lark spoke, and Jonan dropped everything.
D-Doc please, Lark panted. Cmere.
Jonan ran up to Larks bedside. Im going to intubate you again, he said. Ill keep you breathing until
The singer just barely managed to lift his arm to contravene Jonan.
I c-cant talk with a fucking tube in my throat.
Larks blackspot eyes rolled over to look at Jonan.
I gotta get this off my chest, he rasped.
that moment, Jonan realized he was breaking one of his rules for medicine: dont get attached to the patients.
Time and again over these past few days, Ani had shared with Jonan her concern that he was numb to the death and horror in their midst. She was worried he was holding it all in, and that he was setting himself up for a major emotional breakdown.
Obviously, Ani was right on the money, but he couldnt just open up and admit that to her. Jonan wanted to be strong for Ani, for her sake, and if that made him guilty of toxic masculinity, it was a distinction hed bear with pride.
Jonan had to fight to keep his hands from trembling.
It wasnt just that he was upset that his favorite singer was not long for this world. Larks impending death was but the final straw in a litany of failures unlike anything Jonan had ever experienced.
Jonan was terrified of failure, and only sheer stubbornness had kept him from drowning in it over the past week. But, like WeElMeds supplies of ventilator, Jonans endurance had run out.
The deaths of the patients hurt him, obviously. Death was bad, especially when it brought about the end of the world. But, to Jonan, the hustle and bustle of the city and wilderness unvarnished glories were just ornamentationdiversions to distract and entertain.
Ani was his world. Hed lived most of his life chasing after profit and creature comforts, but then little miss Lokanok had come around and given him something to really live for.
And Ive failed her.
He let her hope die. Was it unreasonable to expect himself to single-handedly keep Anis sunshine smiling? Absolutely. But she was worth it, and if Jonan Derric could do everything else, he should have been able to do this, too!
Jonan wept.
Hed failed her, just like hed failed Lark.
Fuck He breathed through his teeth, clenching his fists tight.
He looked down at Lark.
At that moment, Jonan remembered my earlier words: the transformees can interact with the spirits of the dead.
He wondered if they could help him; if they could help Lark.
I suppose you know youre dying, right? asked.
Lark nodded. The singer coughed horribly. Blood and ooze dribbled over his lips.
Ive got my last words, Lark said.
Theres he shuddered as he coughed. Oh God his arms trembled. Tears twinkled at the edges of his still-bright eyes. I he gasped. I made a recording of me singing opera.
Jonans eyes widened. Holy shit he muttered. Do you have it on you? he asked.
Lark tried to nod, but simply clenched his eyes shut in pain. In me. My chip.
Here, Jonan saw something he could doa way he could give fate the finger as the fungus dragged the world into the fuming pits of oblivion.
Its not too late, Jonan said. You can still be heard. You have an incredible voice, Zongman. I could play the recording on the PA. Everyone in the hospital would hear it. You dont have to take this secret to your grave.
Lark barely shook his head. It wouldnt matter. Wouldnt be me, he said, softly.
Jonan furrowed his brow. What? What are you talking about?
I could give it to you he said, but I wont. Its hidden its got to stay hid ts wings are broken ts not gonna fly. His lips puckered. Not me. Not what I want. Not me.
W-What? Jonan sputtered. Lark! Zongman! Please! Jonan coughed. Dont fucking do this to me! Give this one win, please! Please! Your music means the world to me. It gave me a reason to keep on living when I thought there was nothing left for me. Let me repay for that. Please! Dont give up. Dont give up!
Larks body shuddered. His head tilted back, shriveled muscles straining one last time.
M-Music school Lark said, Didnt flunk out. I quit.
Wait, what? Jonan said.
Larks mouth opened wide, gasping for breath that wouldnt come.
I should have been born a woman, he muttered. Then his eyes and lips fluttered, ooze, spores, and spit frothing from the singers mouth as he fell into another grand mal seizure.
Dr. Derric refused to let his favorite singers last words be a cliffhanger. He spent the next few minutes battling against Zongman Larks failing body. He got out the defibrillator, then intubated him and pumped and pumped and pumped, yanking out his console and yelling a text message at Dr. Marteneiss to bring him a ventilator come hell or high water.
Miraculously, Dr. Marteneiss arrived a couple of minutes later, and with a ventilator to boot.
Get him stable, for the love of God, Jonan said.
Where are you going? Heggy asked.
Ive got boyfriend shit to do! hed said, walking off in a huff.
125.1 - Wenn der Kummer naht
Well, Nurse Exeter blw her brains out. From what I heard after arriving on the scene, I would have tried to find Dr. Derric to chastise him for having been so callously indifferent to human life, but no one whod witnessed the suicide seemed to have any complaints about it.
Everyone was just worn down to the bone.
Hell didnt even begin to describe it.
equal parts physical and spiritual. It was as much a state of being as it was a place, a cesspit for the aftermath of the uncreated Chaos from which the world was wrought. Were it not for mankinds hubris, the darkness would have stayed buried. But our disobedience planted a terrible seed down in that darkness, one whichas legends foretoldwould flower, bringing about the Last Days.
In did not. For that alone, faithful Lassediles praised s a Angelits that the Godheaddid not want in Paradise, in eternal communion with the divine. Though the Angel wept for every soul that failed to reach paradise, the Godhead would not violate our free will by forcing us to be where we did not wish to be.
The Lassedites taught that our sake. For all its pleasures, Paradises was said to be an unbearable torment for those unrepentant souls who had not bound themselves to the Light and accepted the Angel as their savior. The presence of pure goodness would burn them in unending agony. In this way, Hell was a kindness. Whether through depravity or temperament, even the most recalcitrant souls would be able to find refuge in Hell, in a place more suited to However, because God was goodness, the heads presence did not touch, . Hell was bereft of these things, and it was proper that it be that way. The eternal suffering of the souls in Hell was Gods justice.
Or so I was told.
According to legend, every had to be done, because Hell could not exist since As the Old Believers taught, the dreams of pagan witches and foreign seers were the reverberations of the Beasts daily journey, misinterpreted by the ancients as the words of their false gods. Racing through Hell, the holy light would stream off the Beasts hide, boiling the souls of the damned as it crushed their corpses beneath its feet
But the Beast could stay in Hell in perpetuity, because that would harm the souls that resided there. When dawn came, twould ave Hells depths, and go to sleep in sacred places across the world, basking in the Suns holy light. Meanwhile, the souls below would sHells, freezing againingwaiting to be broken on the Beasts next return
And so it would be, for all eternity.
, I wondered if Hell was even half as horrid as what I saw in WeElMed.
Bodies littered the floor, scattered here there in clumps, leaning against a wall. The boundary between life and death surprise by twitching like dying flies Infectious black ooze curdled on lips still moist with lipstick.
I wondered: how many of them still remembered another d?
After seeing how Andalon reacted to all the bodies, I asked her to stay in the not-here-place.
I didnt want to see her cry.
Soldiers had to pry bodies apart where the fungus had begun to grow out and fuse them.
I had to keep my wyrmsight thinned, otherwise Id have gone blind. The halls were so thick with spirits, it almost looked like the hospital was being swallowed by fog. Voices whispered at the edges of my awareness as the constant stream of spirits uploaded into my mind.
I also kept my distance from the corpses, terrified Id get peckish.
I Ani and Jonan spending spare moment disposrespectful discretion as they could manage, just to give the patients the crowded lobb a more comfortable breathe their last.
Nearly everyone was coughing, even among the staff.
We were dropping like flies.
I kept vacillating with my emotions. Should I try to be stoic, or would it be unbecoming of me to let myself become ?
I didnt know.
chaos calloused minds. design flaws. Half the time, our minds efforts to help us only made things worse. shoved repeated trauma into the dark corners of our memories. shock and horror more concerned with protecting our psyche than with he capacity to make emotionally informed in times of crisis. Victims of rape and other sexual abuse often unable to fight backunable to cry out, scream or runbecause the age-old tonic immobility reflex let muscle control go AWOLpredator we were dead and no longer worth the trouble.
Suddenly, a shout from Dr. Derric pulled me out of my daze.
Doc! e ran past the now-unstaffed reception desk. Fuck! yelled. Room , Nurse Kaylin
Thats mine! My patient is
Someone screamed
Jonan and I rushed toward the sound. Two nurses were in a tug of war over a bag of IV fluid. Dosed with the mycophage, no doubt, by the way the fluid shimmered in the light.
Fighting over a false cure. Had we really sunk so low?
Wait! I yelled Stop!
But it was too late. The bag , splashing all over the nurses gunk-stained scrubs and the floor underfoot.
familiar howl ripped through the hallwayGET THE DEFIBRILLATOR!
Nurse Kaylin.
Id barely turned around whendtoI had to slow my perception of time for a couple seconds, just to process what the thing was.
DHed given me the defibrillator.
The thing was beige on top, gray on the bottom, and had the texture of something extruded from a first-generation 3D-printerall pitted and pockmarked. electrodes were attached by way of two helical plastic cables.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
I sworeFudge, this thing is probably older than my mother-in-law
The spores, the green stuff, Jonan said, its corroded a shit-ton of our equipment.
Im well aware, I said.
I was about to run off to help Nurse Kaylin when I realized something was missing. heres the conducting gel?
Gone Same goes for our reserve stores of antibiotics and antimycotics.
HES FUCKING CODING!! Kaylin swore
, pushing me forward.
I had to summon a plexal chestpiece to keep me from falling onto my belly.
I lumbered over to the disaster as quickly as I could.
Angels breath, I hissed.
Dr. Mistelann Skorbinkna lay on the bed. He was shirtless, though the lower half of his body was still covered in his work clothes. His skin was an almost greenish gray. Ulcerous crevasses dug his body. Fungal filaments gathered beneath his skin like hair trapthe fluorescent lights. The ECG screamed and warbled, flopping irregularly. And his O2 perfusion was
No, I thought, shaking my head.
The readouts on the machines by Mistelanns bed indicated he was Angel-knew.
Kaylin flailed as she tried to wrap blue rubber wet-suit around Mistelanns body. She had to fling herself onto body to make up for her limited reach.
Whats going on? I asked.
, coughing like mad I saw gobs of black ooze crusted on the inner surface of her translucent F-99 face mask. The thing was positively dripping.
I cant fucking put on the NASG and defibrillate!
Whats
NASG! ! she gasped. AHer sentences came out in laconic spurts as she struggled to breathe.
Jess, stop! I yelled. Youre going to kill yourself! I turned my head toward the doorway and screamed: Jonan!
Coming! Jonan yelled.
He stormed in a moment later. His eyes bulged in his sockets as he coughed. Holy shit! he said, upon seeing Nurse Kaylin. Get that woman off her feet now.
Jess glared daggers at both of us. Cant stop. Wont remember. Gotta keep going. Gotta keep going!
Jess! Jonan and I yelled.
She toppled onto me. A wall of psychokinesis at my back kept me from tumbling with her.
I pushed her onto her feet.
She winced in pain as she coughed. W-
! Jonan said.
batted me away with hand stead herself by grabbing onto Mistelanns beder glove fingers the sheets and the mattress.
gel substituteEven through her rebreather, breaths were ragged and crinkly, like bubble wrap popping.
Gaggingeyes rollingshe ripped off her mask and spewed black ooze over the foot of Mistelanns bed.
Shit! Jonan cursed.
What can we use? I asked.
Jess stammered. I I Her usual tack-like sharpness was nowhere to be seen. rebreather,
Did she even have any blood vessels anymore?
Then, as if by magic, my marvelous memory pulled something useful out from the depths of my mind.
Chasing Zebras, one of the better hospital medical dramas filled on the premises. I flashed back to, hyperphantasizing its cold open right in front of me, in the middle of a moment of slowed time.
an unseasonably hot autumn afternoon, the brilliant, audaciously misanthropic Dr. Jerald Homestead in line at a local electronics store to pay money to the shopkeeper, Jack personal psilocybin supplierunder the pretense of purchasing a decorative LED bulb uddenlythe customer arguing with Jack into cardiac arrest. Homestead grab capacitors off a shelf, rip them from thepackaging, and use them as a makeshift defibrillator
Youre gonna defibrillate him? Jack asked.
No shit, Homestead replied, lifting the capacitors up to his forehead and wiping them on his skin to pick up the sweat.
What the hell are you doing? Jack asked.
Sa, Homestead replied, it conducts !
Mistelanns fever-burning body was wet with .
We dont need it! I said. Sweat conducts electricity, and hes covered in it.
F, thats good, Jonan said.
Jess o the electrodes , in between coughs.
I set the between Mistelanns legs. rabb the electrodes by their handles smeared their surfaces over the mycologists drenched chest, lubricating them with his sweat.
Jonan ran up to the machine and pulled Jess out of the way.
Lift them up! Im setting the voltage
I did.
Cleargo!
Jess fell to her knees. She kept reaching toward Mistelann.
I pressed the electrodes onto Dr. Skorbinknas chest. lectric charge coursed through him. His legs clonked against the defibrillators plastic
The ECG sputtered.
Come on, Mistelann! I begged.
Again! Kaylin yelled.
darted around me to the other side of the bed to secure the remaining velcro straps to bind the rubber NASG body.
I pressed the electrodes to Dr. Skorbinknas chest once .
His heart leapt. The ECG showed a steady pulse:
55 bpm
Weak, but better than nothing.
Weve got a pulse! yelled.
s Jess, though Jonan responded.
Late stage cases bleed internallyIts like their bodies are being broken down from the inside out.
You think I dont know that!? I said.
Were out of transfusion The NASG squeezes you, pushing blood to the heart, lungs, and brain where its most needed.
Mistelanns body sputtered. His eyes fluttered open.
Where where He spoke in a drawl suggest possible temporal lobe damagehough that was the least of his problems.
His head lolled on his sweat-matted pillow.
Dr. Skorbinkna? I asked.
He turned to me. Brand?glistened . is sideburns
Im Dr. Howle, Mistelann, I said. Genneth Howle.
Fr Friend of Brand? jaw hung open. He tried to move, but his limbs wouldnt obey him.
He didnt remember me.
Flibbertigibbet
Dr. Skorbinka bed my; a breeze could have knocked him away. His hands and fingers , unable to stay still.
is nervous system cm apart at the seams.
Where is Brand? Where? He squeezed my arm pitifully. I I
He wants Dr. Nowston? .
I glanced at , looking back over my shoulder. Brand is indisposed right now.
Brand! Mistelann cried. Brand! Brand! He wept. Blood mixed with the tears.
No, no. Itll Itll be alright, Mistelann. We have the mycophage, I said, desperate. We
Jess coughed. Genneth, the myc
Dr. Skobrikna curled his head and chest upward. Mycophage?
ven as neck muscles spasmed and gave out on him flash of recognition in eyes. He started coughing after that, but it wasnt like the other coughs. It took a second for me to match the exhausted grimace and the tears in his eyes with what I knew of his sardonic personality before I put two and two together.
was laughing.
grim mirth tore open the skin on his cheeksfollow the paths of the dark filaments underneath.
No hope. No chance. There was no chance. e gurgledoomed from tart.
He wept. Meaningless. All eaningless.
Suddenly, a strange, almost cherubic light crept into his eyes. mouth saggragged tear.
Friend of BrandPlease. Give my kisses. All my kisses.
I nodded. I will, Mistelann. I gently squeezed his hand. I promise I will.
A wisp of a smile graced the dying mans face. Keep bright and warm, he whispered. But then smile faded. It is cold, he said, drawing his arms around himself, shivering. So cold. His body shuddered. Dark. DarkMistelanns limbs twitched, toecurling. Please, friend tell him I wanted but
The breath went out of his chest. Dr. Skorbinknas body gave one last, gentle rattle, and then, he fell still.
I shouted over the EGs pure tone. Mistelann!
I reached for the defibrillators paddles, but stilled my hands, grabbing me by the arm.
Hes hes gone, .e looked me in the eyes.
A moment later, a quiet groan came from , followed by a slap and a crack
Jonan and I looked down to see Jess on her belly, face down.
Jonan got to his knees and shook her. Jess! Jess!
Pushing, he rolled her onto her back.
I gasped. No
Rolling Nurse Kaylin revealed a trail of black ooze on the ground, trickling out from a crack in her skull. Little bits of blood intermingled with the darkness.
Like I said: Hell didnt even begin to describe it.
125.2 - Wenn der Kummer naht
Much to my displeasure, I couldnt help tak out the corpses. was d try to chow down on one, there was no way I could have helped lift the or push the beds without making my extremely precarious hazmat suit arrangement come apart at the seams. I had to constantly tweak the weaves I was using to keep myself upright uch to my frustration, even with dopplgenneths at my side, while also delicate maneuvers ed to create the impression that I was lifting bodies and bearing their weight to be more than I could handle.
Andalon insist it would get easier if I changed more, and while I didnt doubt her, a General (and his sister) had ordered me not to do that
I was stuck between a rock and a hard place.
But I was getting used to that.
I was less used to Jonan Ani after her mother fell into a coma. Apparently, Dr. Derric Ani one conversation with her mother
If only fractured spirit easy as the spirits m.
Speaking of which
specifically, Third Me. Though myin was always growing, the battle had sent them into me by the hundreds. B and byYuta had approached Third Me with a question, ingrather than
I tried to tell him that I am also you, but that didnt work out.
apologized to , as I/We had tried to explain to Yuta thatmore like than true copies. Not only was at least, most of the timewas predominantly responsible for what they said and did. Unfortunately, all to say was for feeling that way
Its not like a guide to the wyrm consciousness etiquette, and I could understand how off-putting would be to someone who hadnt experienced .cting through Third Me, Id offered Yuta a demonstration of what that simultaneity was like, but he tly declined.
So, I recentered myself, putting Second Me in my bodys driver seat, leaving First Me behind my desk in my mind-office, with Yuta in the chair on the other side. Id offered a change of more modern butagainhe decline. I also couldnt get him to put his katana in the safety cubby.
So yeah.
las my hands together, interwv my fingersesting my arms top my desk
Gosh, my spinny chair was comfy.
So, Yuta, I said, what can I do for you?
He narrowed his eyes me. This is you, correct? Not one of puppets
Instead of getting frustrated with his continued doubts, I just fidgeted with my bowtie.
Thankfully, Andalon was there to back me upfloating beside my chair
Yup yup, she said. This is the Mr. Genneth that made alls the other Mr. Gennetheths.
I nodded. What she said.
Yuta stared at for a moment, but then withdrew his suspicion. Good, he said
I trilled my fingers on the desktop. Sohat seems to be the matter?
I feel useless, said, in a soft voice.
If it hadnt been for you, I dont think Id have made it out of the lab with my humanity intact if it wasnt for you.
I looked him in the eyes.
And he looked back.
Dr. Howle squeezed his fist. You dont understand. I came to this future of yours with all its wonders, yet the same old horrors continue to play out. stop at nothing to get what they want. make would rather destroy themselves than accept defeat. It makes Mus cult of honor seem tame by comparison.
Belief is a powerful thing, Lord Uramaru, I said. For Mu, the Trenton colonies were just another geopolitical adventure. But for Geoffrey and his ilk, it was an affront to eternity. I sighed. Theres a saying: if the Church falls, the world falls with it. To this day, there are Lassediles who genuinely. Theres a passage from scripture.
I recited it from memory:
The Beast holds us over the pit of hell, much as one holds a spider or some loathsome insect over the fire. It abhors us, and is dreadfully provoked. Its wrath toward us burns like fire. The Moon looks upon us as worthy of nothing else but to be cast into unending winter. In the Angels eyes, we are ten thousand times more abominable than the most hateful serpent is in ours. Mankind is a pestilence upon the good earth. In but a moment, the Godhead could wipe us all away. It is only our submission to the Bond and our obedience of the Law which stay the Angels hand.
Mr. Genneth, Andalon look at me with wide eyesthat sounds very mean and scary and bad.
I nodded. Lassedite Harold II was not known for warm-hearted, I said. He was the first to Lassedi Athelmarchs demise. Harold was terrified that mankinds sins would bring about the end of the world. If Athelmarchs sins had brought Darkpox into the world, imagine what horrors if we angered the Angel again. When the threat of failure is divine annihilation, a man will stop at nothing to succeed.
Even killing children? Yuta said.
I nodded. Even killing children.
He shook his head. I feel powerless. You rescu the captives prevent horrors, t
What? I asked.
Yuta shook his head. By all accounts I would not call the battle that followed a success, and, for all their cruelty, were ultimately for naughtYou might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
I turned morose. I I mean
But he was right.
I let my head hang low.
Have you learnt anything about the rift? Yuta asked.
y head even oe. NoI learned the knights dont know what stars are.
What does that mean? Andalon asked.
Im not really sure. Could one different from Yutas, I mean.should I expect them not to know, because well, I really dont like not knowing. Especially that.
I traveled in time, Yuta said. I cant remember the details
What? I asked.
You have gone through my memories before, Yuta said. Why not try again? Pould
I nodded vigorously. Yes, I can look deeper. Ive been meaning to do it, I just lost track of time.
You have literal dozens of yourself. How can you lose track of time?
Thats what I keep trying to tell you, I said, theyre all the same me. Many heads, one mind.I sighed One easily distract mind.
Then enter my memories, before something elsdistract you.
I turned to Andalon. Cmon Andalon, Ill need you there, too.
Why? she asked, cutely.
I want to know what you have to say about it.
The little waif immediately perked up at that. She wiped her face on her arm. Youyou want my help? I can be helpful?
Well, I said, its what Im hoping for.
Here we go again
Something was different this time around. The landing was much bumpier, for lack of a better word. But, I soon found myself elsewhen once more. It was nearly the same elsewhen as the Observatory. The biggest difference was the point of view.
Before, standing outside the Observatory, Id seen a large, impressively fortified compound further down the hillside, within reach of the Trenton village nestled in the foothills. Now, things had changed places. Turning to my left, I saw the Observatory at the top of the hill, glimmering in the torchlight
So, we were in the compound, now.
Not just a compound, I thought. An estate. I shook my head.
This must be the Urumaru Estate, I said.
Whats that mean? Andalon asked.
Well, were about to find out.
As Yuta had told us, Uramaru manor was one of the perks that came with the peerage Sakuragi had gifted him, and it definitely had the look of someone whod earned Sakuragis favor. The building was a shapeshifter, inside and out, with walls and screensplain, or paneledthat could be slid from side to side to reconfigure the space at a moments notice. Paper lanterns hung beneath the long verandas, shaped like stylized heads.
Cats, foxes, ravens, four-horned demon.
The lanterns flames burned bright in the paper creatures eyes, casting shadows on the walls. Above, the canopy of stars twinkled in greeting.
The gardens were poetry in stillness. A mix of forest, swamp, and marsh had been cultivated in the fortifications stony confines, thoughin usual Munine stylethe architects had kept the landscape wild and untamed. Flowers pinks and blues peeked out like roosting spirits from underneath the shadows and in between the boughs of trees. The lanterns light danced on scattered ponds, following the cylindrical stepping stones across the waters stillness, beneath arching bridges, creeping up to the verandas edges.
Andalon floated along that pathover the pond and beneath the bridgeher feet drifting just above the water. Landing on the veranda, she sat down in a squat, her nightgown spilling over her legs and feet. She was lost in excitement, pointing out the koi as they ambled through the water. The lantern light winked like fireflies on the kois bold scales.
Look, they got mustly-stashes! she said, squeing in delight.
Then I heard gunshots. The sound sent a shock down my spine.
Andalon reacted like a startled deer, raising her head, her eyes wide and spooked.
Whats happening?
She looked around this way and that, as if boogeymen were about to leap from the shadows and pounce on her.
The gunfire was far enough in the distance that I had to look for it. There was a sliver of space in between the top of the fortifying stone wall and the start of the starry sky. Through it, I caught a glimpse of the town down below. Its buildings uncurved pitched rooftops couldnt have contrasted more strongly with Yutas manor.
I heard more gunshots. Andalon flinched, lifting her arms to shelter her head.
Gunsmoke spewed in the distance. The wind blew the smoke, spreading it over the town like a veil of fog.
Thats probably the soldiers of the Third Crusade, doing their thing, I said.
Huh? Andalon asked, looking at me in terror.
But where was Yuta?
Its
The gunfire picked up in intensity. It was getting closer.
Cmon, Andalon, I said, lets move! I beckoned her with a wave of my hand.
I ran down the veranda of the nearest building, turning around the corner to bring the other half of the manorthe front endinto view, only to step headfirst into a wave of something foul.
It was a smell of blood, pus, rot, and death, choked in fumes of burning flesh. My eyes watered.
Andalon shut her eyes and crushed her palms against her ears.
Make it stop, Mr. Genneth, she pleaded, lowering her head. Make it stop!
I gasped in shock. Andalon!?
I they no, no She looked up at me. They hurt me. They want to hurt me!
Who wants to hurt you? I asked.
She opened her eyes. Her pale cheeks were red with fresh tears.
Ibut I cut myself off. Cmon, lets go inside. I motioned my head toward the center building. We need to find Yuta, I said.
She nodded in agreement.
We just needed to find an entrance.
I hoped the smell wouldnt bother Andalon as much as the sounds of war. I started to walk off down the veranda, when Andalon grabbed the back of my coat.
Turning, I saw her sticking out her hand at me, silently begging me to hold her hand. Looking her in the eyes, I gently clasped her hand in mine.
She nodded with relief.
Lets go, I said.
Crossing the main courtyard, we soon reached an opening in the paper walls. Warm light streamed out from the opening, accompanied by miasmas and other things too horrible to name. I did myself a favor and stole a look inside a second or two before Andalon could, just in case it turned out that things inside the building were as bad as I thought they were.
It was one of the wisest decisions I ever made.
I staggered back, dry heaving. Andalon tried to look around the corner to peer through the opening, but I pulled her away.
It took several deep breaths before my stomach settled.
The opening paper door led into a spacious room floored of mats of tightly woven rice straw. The only trace of life or beauty was the sizable bonsai cypress in a pot in the corner of the room. Dozens of futons had been laid out on the floor in a grid. A fresh or fledgling corpse lay atop each and every one. Every one of them was Munine, every one of them had Darkpox. There was blood and worse pooled on the floor, most of it still relatively fresh. A few of the victims moved, pleading for release. Their eyes were bloodshot. Subcutaneous hemorrhages bled ugly, blurry-edged bruises beneath their skin. Black necrosis turned fingers, noses, and toes into mummy-flesh, gangrenous and contorted.
I imagined the bodies in the room belonged to estate servants, high ranking colonists, and various supplicants.
Ugh, it was like my childhood nightmares all over again.
In those days when I needed Danas comfort to keep the darkness at bay, Id dream of victims of Darkpox, horrifically disfigured by the disease, courtesy of the nightmares a certain historical documentary had planted into my young, ever-so-impressionable brain.
Even though it was some four hundred years in the past, to this day, there were parts of the country that refused to accept that Trentoners had taken blankets, rags, and undergarments used by Trenton children sickened with the inevitable darkpox infections of childhood and had used them against the upper echelons of the Munine occupation.
Suddenly, I stopped cold in my tracks.
Neurophysiologically speaking, memory and recall are not the same thing. Memory is the capacity to remember, and the stores of information contained therein. Recall, meanwhile, is the ability to dredge facts up from that storage.
Even though my memory was now and forever photographic to the extreme, my recall was still more or less what it had been when Id been human. As the self-help group had taught me, I could have adjusted that if Id wanted to, but Id been wary of doing so, simply because it made me feel very weird, like encyclopedia entries were playing out whenever I looked at anythinganything at all. Id been hoping to ease my way into it.
I guess I should have put that on an accelerated schedule.
Oh fudge I muttered.
Whats wrong? Andalon asked.
I sighed, staring blankly. Oh Geoffrey. Geoffrey, Geoffrey, Geoffrey.
Athelmarch showed great promise and a brilliant tactical mind. He is generally credited with being the first to darkpox against the Munine during the Third Crusade, giving him the dubious honor of being the first known user of biological warfare in Trenton history.
What does that mean? Andalon asked.
It means we need to keep Geoffrey and Yuta as faaaaar apart as possible, I said.
Geoffreys consciousness had fully loaded in my Main Menu, but I hadnt taken him out yet, and, given what Id just remembered, I probably wouldnt be taking him out anytime soon.
I hope.
Uramaru must have been targeted in the biological attacks.
So that was how Yuta and his family had gotten infected.
I turned to Andalon.
Were gonna go inside, and youre gonna follow me, I told her. Im going to hold your hand, and I promise not to let go, but in exchange, I need you to keep your eyes closed, okay? And dont open your eyes until I tell you. Can you do that? I asked.
She nodded uncertain. Andalon will try, she said.
I nodded. It wont take long, I said, adding a softly muttered I hope under my breath. Lets go.
125.3 - Wenn der Kummer naht
Andalon closed her eyes as we crossed the room. Id loaded NFP-20 corpses into a dump truck with my own two hands, and yet I couldnt keep myself from gagging as we passed over the bodies of the dead and the dying.
For a moment, I paused, and considered something wild.
Even though this was, technically, one of Yutas memories, it was alsoand just as technicallyplaying out within a mind-world of my own. In theory, I should have had editorial control. With that thought in mind, I tried to will the poor victims on the floor to be healthy and cured, or even to come back to life, but that arguably only made things worse.
Their bodies immediately returned to perfect healthand, mercifully, the fluids and worse on the floor all vanished into thin airbut the sick did not get up and start living their lives once again. Instead, they kept to their futons, perfectly motionless, save for the rise and fall of their breath in their chests, and the occasional mechanical blinks.
I should have expected this. The only reason people in spirits memories seemed to be real was because that was how the spirit remembered them. The moment you wanted them to do something that went against what the spirits memories had scripted, it was like designing an NPC from scratch: difficult, and damnably so.
Can Andalon open Andalons eyes now? she asked.
No, not yet, I said.
Sighing in defeat, I led Andalon the rest of the way across to the other side of the room. I slid the wood-and-paper screen-wall-door out of the way and stepped into the next room.
The room was unexpectedly beautiful. Painted, calligraphic scrolls hung from the walls, depicting vistas of mountains and seas. The walls wooden panels were engraved with snarling tigers and portraits of men-at-arms. The panels covered the passages to other rooms.
But, lovely though it was, it would have been far more beautiful had it been happy.
Id found the Uramarus.
Ichigo sat cross-legged in the corner, next to a bowl filled with many small, dark, river-worn pebbles. Sticks of incense jutted out from the pebbles, burning with a pungent odor. The raven-haired retainers eyes were closed in meditation, even as hemorrhages had begun to break out on his exposed arms. Yuta and his family were being tended to by two servants who hadnt yet passed out from their fevers. Yuta knelt beside his wife and children.
Sukuna, the graceful noblewoman. Shed been an icy Munine beauty, at first, resentful of being married off to a half-breed of vulgar lineage. But Yuta had only ever shown her kindness, and through the years, the womans frost had melted, giving way to an enduring warmth. Like Uz, Sukuna had a penchant for metaphysics and mysticism. Discussing The Lengthiness Roads riddles with her had reminded Yuta of his lost firstborn son.
It was one of the first moments hed shared a genuine connection with her. At the time, he never would have expected hed be as he was now, bending over her flagging body, clutching her hand, desperate to keep her in the land of the living.
Hed already raised one child without their mother. Yuta refused to let that happen again, not to Genta and Hoshi. It would dishonor Uzs memory.
I shook my head. The emotions coming off Yuta were so strong, my awareness was starting to dissolve into them, and would continue to do so if I didnt proactively keep myself grounded.
One of the servants crawled over to Ichigo and offered aid, but the retainer rebuffed her.
Care for Lord Uramaru, first, he told her.
His Lordship told me to tend to you, she replied.
Turning to the bowl of water beside their futons, Yuta dipped the bloody rags back into the bowl and slicked it across his wife and two childrens burning foreheads.
I wiped the tears from my face.
Andalon stared at the scene wordlessly, transfixed by the sight of the distraught father fighting to save the people he loved.
Her sea-blue eyes tightened with an unvoiceable longing.
Outside, a cannon boomed, making Andalon flinch.
I need to get Yutas attention, and fast.
I didnt just need his help, I wanted it.
Walking up to Yuta, I knelt down and gently put my hand on his shoulder. The instant I touched him, he froze.
Then, he split in two.
The Yuta of the memory kept tending to his dying loved one, while the fullness of Yutas consciousness stepped away from himself like the ghost he really was. He looked at the scene for what felt like a long time.
Were inside your memories, I said.
I know, he said, lowering his head and turning to face me.
When does the time-travel happen? I asked.
Not for a
But then he looked up.
Oh no, he said. Please, no.
Outside, there was a terrible crash. A hideous stench drifted into the building.
Walking toward the room wed entered through, I looked out the open screen-wall to see a mass of flaming rubbish that had splattered across the garden. Branches, leaves and placid statues were covered in burning gobs that quickly set them ablaze. More and more burning rained down from above, giving off dark, repulsive smoke.
Ichigo rose in a fright, letting out a scream of rage. Scrambling over to Memory-Yuta, he grabbed his lord by the shoulders and shook him.
Lord Uramaru, he yelled, we cant stay here! We have to leave!
I was ready to follow them when Ghost-Yuta grabbed me by the arm.
He shook his head. I dont want to see it burn, he said. I dont want to hear their screams. Not again. Not again.
There were tears in his eyes as he watched the rising flames.
I paused for a moment, and then nearly smiledbut I couldnt bring myself to do it.
I can help with that, I told him. Its the least I can do.
With a single thought, I fast-forwarded us through the memory.
The three of us yelped in surprise as things happened exactly as I thought they wouldliterally. Space itself shuddered and spasmed as time rushed forward. Everything moved. It was like fast-forwarding through a commercial on a television recording, only we were the recording.
I spoke a silent apology to every entity Id ever fast-forwarded through.
It was not pleasant. It lasted maybe ten seconds, and I regretted not keeping my eyes closed for more of it. Just looking at all the herky-jerky over-cranked movements left me feeling nauseous.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
Yuta merged back into his memories. Andalon and I saw him, Ichigo, and several other members of his household in a desperate scramble to leave the estate. Servants, loyal to the end, helped carry Yutas wife and children to a carriage next to the stables on the lower rung of the manors two-tiered fortifying stone wall.
It was a daring escape.
The whole village was under siege, the army of the Third Crusade fighting against Munine colonists and their Trenton sycophants. The crusaders had breached the wooden palisade at the base of the hill, freeing a gaggle of Trenton militia-men to charge up the hill as the manors gates opened in the lower tier wall.
I let time run true in the memory once more, and I almost instantly regretted it.
Drums and shouts pulled my view westward.
I gasped.
Battalions of Munine soldiers were closing in, dispatched from the barracks atop the next hill over. Their forces split in two, with one half heading toward the manor and the other making their way into town. But the Munine struggled to move. Their fighting forces had been crippled by Darkpox.
Infected townsfolk fled like rats, and the Trenton forces cut them down without mercy. Not even Munine livestock were spared.
The result was an open-air madhouse. Regulars and irregulars clashed on the hill and in town. Flaming crossbow bolts speared holes in passing rifle smoke. Bodies fell on the road. Billowing fires pumped the air full of ash which blew like snow as it got caught in the nights wind.
Yutas carriage sped along the road down the hillside. It hopped and jostled as it ran over fallen bodies. Two tides broke on the hillside as the carriage rode away: one of rebels, the other of the bodies felled in their wake.
Andalon and I stood atop the carriage, our feet resting comfortably on an invisible surface. Yuta, meanwhile, was nowhere in sight. On a hunch, I phased down through the carriages ceiling, where I found him merged with his memory-self once more. He sat cross-legged on the floor, once again at his wife and childrens side. His body swayed over theirs. Blood was trickling out of his nostrils, percolating through his hairy, sweat-drenched cheeks.
Grabbing him by the shoulder, I rose up and pulled, tugging Lord Uramarus spirit free from his body once more.
I was literally pulling him out of his memories, fighting to keep him from drowning in them. He got onto his knees as I set him down on the roof of the carriage.
Yuta stared at his hands in shock, and then at me.
What happened? he asked.
I skipped ahead through your memories, I said. Apparently, your memories dragged you back in.
Tensing, he closed his eyes. Its as if I am living through it all over again. It is difficult, Dr. Howle. Terribly, terribly difficult.
I nodded. I know. I lowered my head in solemnity. Im so sorry for your loss.
I couldnt think of his family without thinking of my own. I chuckled bitterly.
I wonder which one of us will end up suffering the most, I said, before glancing up at the sky.
Yutas face softened. Do not say such things, not even in jest.
Mr. Genneth whats whats happening? Andalon asked, afraid. She pointed at the sky.
I looked up, beyond the silhouetting flames burning in the distance.
Not even carnage could dim the stars beauty. They blossomed in the spaces between the treetops, paving Yutas Night in a twinkling cobblestone. And yet
I stared.
Fricassee me, I thought. What is that? I asked.
Pieces of the sky were missing, replaced by swaths of static, ripped from a dead television channel. The swaths swept across the sky, spilling onto the land. Trees, rocks, hills, and roads were muddied by the interference.
I thought of Yuta as he would have been, back when this memory was still reality.
I think its like with Ileene and her lobotomy, I said. I turned to Yuta. You were passing into unconsciousness; thats probably why everythings turning to static.
Andalon was listening intently, but Yuta didnt seem to have heard me. Instead, he looked off in the distance, eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar.
There, he said, the moon He pointed up at it.
The lunar disk hung overhead, swaddled in the encroaching static. Though it was hard to tell, it looked like the Moon had just come out from behind a cloud-drift.
I remember, Yuta said. I remember the brightness of the moon peeking out from behind the clouds. The the time-travel happened moments later.
Then, out of nowhere, I got the worst headache of my life.
Screaming, I fell to my knees, clutching my head.
Dr. Howle! Yuta yelled.
I heard Andalons screams over my own.
Yuta looked up. Whatwhats going on!?
I tried to raise my head, only to get bombarded by blue flames. They poured out of thin air, swirling around us like a mad zoetrope. The pine trees danced in their shadows, like lights at a rave.
With each impact, my headache lessened. One by one, the flames merged with us, leaving me tingling all over.
I felt a tug on my shoulder.
Turning, I saw Andalon on her hands and knees, across from me, near the edge of the carriages roof. I Im remembering. Mr. Genneth, I
She let out a terrified yelp. Her mouth closed tight as her eyes went wide, burning with a cerulean light.
She started to tremble.
She was petrified.
It was like the world was closing in on her.
Crawling, I reached out to her. Andalon! Andalon!
I grabbed her shoulder. What have you remembered!?
The darkness, she said. It made the stars go away. It it ate them! she shouted. It ate them! It eats everything!
QuietlystunnedI looked up at the resplendence of Yutas starry night, comparing it to the unfathomable emptiness of my own.
My upper lip twitched. My shoulders tingled, like my skin was a vise, tightening upon itself.
Exhaling, I collapsed butt-first onto the invisible surface just above the roof of the carriage. My thoughts raced.
My thoughts raced faster than the carriage.
Words sprung from my memory.
My words, and Suiseis.
Whats your endgame? Id asked.
To survive, and help others do the same, hed said, while doing what good I can, when I can. And, perhaps, to understand why your night sky has no stars.
What is it? Yuta asked me.
I looked him in the eyes.
Its SuiseiDr. Horosha, I said. He knows about stars, even though there arent any in our skies. And not only that he wanted to understand why.
Yuta nodded. Y-Yes, he told me as much.
What? I asked, eyes widening.
Yuta shook his head. He said something about Cranter Pit being a crater of a dozen million years age, and about the expansion of the universe and space ripping itself apart.
I blanched.
Obviously, I needed to have a talk with Suisei, pronto.
The fungus it eats peoples memories, I said. Maybe it ate all the stars, long, long ago, and then made us all forget.
If we cannot trust our own memories, we cannot know anything! Yuta said.
You think I dont know that? I replied.
I closed my eyes and shuddered.
How are we supposed to fight something like this? I muttered. I opened my eyes again, brow furrowing. Couldcould Suisei somehow be responsible for this? For all of this?
Angel, I thought, forgive me for wanting a man dead.
Yuta shook his head. He did not strike me as that kind of man. From what he told me, he was as troubled by the stars absence from your nights as you are.
Wait a minute I said.
I turned to Andalon.
Shiny Guys.
One Angel. One Sun.
Many Angels. Many Suns.
A shiver trickled down my spine. Even though my mental self had no tail, I could still feel it twitching with my fright.
Mr. Genneth? Mr. Genneth? Andalon asked.
She was freaking out.
Join the club, I thought.
Could there be a connection? I said, staring at her. Could there really, truly be a connection between the Angelthe Angels!and the stars?
Suddenly, puzzle pieces fell into place.
One of Lassedicys foundational teachings was that, to redeem mankind, the Angel had sacrificed Himself, transfiguring His Face into the Sun. It was the sign of our covenant with Him.
Just as the Sun and its Holy Light keeps Night at bay, so too does the Bond keep us free from Hells icy depths.
I looked both Yuta in the eyes. The Angel became the Sun. Now, I know the Sun is a star, one of many, I turned my gaze to Andalon, just as I know that there is more than one Angel.
The carriage rollicked beneath us, trees and static skies rushing past as I made a wild leap of faith.
Andalon are the other stars are they the other Angels? Were they?
Perhaps, long ago, there had been many, many Angelsmany starsbut now, only the oneour Sunwas left?
I didnt know whether to be mystified or terrified, so I just went with both.
Suddenly, Andalon let out another shriek, even louder than before. She stared straight ahead, stabbing her finger at an approaching bend in the road.
STOP! STOP! NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!
I would have turned to look, but she flung herself on me, tugging at my clothes, screaming like she was being eaten alive.
Tears streamed down her cheeks.
HELP! HELP! HELP! she screamed. WE HAVE TO GET AWAY! HAVE TO GET AWAY. NO, MR. GENNETH, GET BACK! GET AWAY!
Andalon! I screamed. I grabbed her. Get a hold of yourself!
I tried to pry her off me, but she just wouldnt let go. My mind-world powers refused to obey me. I felt my connection to Yutas memory grow tenuous, as if I was being pulled away.
STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP! NOT SAFE! NOT SAFE! LEAVE NOW! LEAVE NOW!!
L-Leave? I stammered, but
MR. GENNETH, WE GOTTA GO! she sobbed.
Yuta, however, wasnt looking at her. He was looking in the direction in which she was pointing.
What is that? he said.
I could barely hear it above Andalons screams. But I did.
Turning, I looked ahead, and through the static, I saw something like stretch marks, only on air instead of skin.
Or, maybe claw marks.
Suddenly, I looked forward again. Andalon was kicking like mad, trying to get away from me, and in doing so, shed struck me in the belly.
Andalon! I yelled.
She flopped onto her back, pointing ahead with a trembling hand and eyes as wide as plates.
I DONT WANNA LOSE YOU! I DONT WANNA LOSE YOU!
Dr. Howle! Yuta yelled.
I turned once more, back to the claw marks in the air. I thought I might have seen light coming out of them, or maybe the sheen of something like a mirror. Its particolored edge faintly glowed.
I thought of Duncans description of the rift that had brought him and his comrades into the future:
There were many colors, hed said. They were quite faint, and at the rifts edge.
It was a perfect match to what I saw here.
Behind me, Andalon shrieked.
NO!!
Her voice shook the world.
She lit up like a torch. Her eyes turned to cerulean suns. Her hair undulated like blue fire. Her skin was the brightness of the moon crashing into the world.
Blue fire streamed from her hands, engulfing everything in an instant.
126.1 - Departures
The next thing I knew, I found myself back in Ward E, my consciousness recentered in my body, recoupled against my will.
I was alone.
Getting yanked back into my body like that was horribly disorienting, particularly now that I could feel enough of my transformed body to be painfully aware of how truly inhuman it had become.
But the body horror could wait.
What the fudge just happened?
I stood in the middle of a hallway, watching a procession of hospital beds rolling by, bearing corpses out into the Garden Court.
Andalon? I called, speaking her name softly. Andalon, please, where are you?
But I got no response.
I sighed, which only made the insides of my helmet that much more unbearable.
Andalon!? I said, nearly yelling.
This time, there was a responsebut not a verbal one. It was a feeling, a powerful, all-encompassing feeling.
I felt fear, worry beyond belief, and tragic anger.
Flibbertigibbet I muttered.
She was upset with me. Andalon was upset that I hadnt pulled out of the memory.
Andalon, please, were so close to the answer, I said. I can feel it. You just need t
Suddenly, I staggered in place, as if Id been punched. My body felt numb. I would have toppled onto the floor if I hadnt used my psychokinesis to stop my fall.
Andalon please, dont do this. I know it scared you, but youyou have to be brave. I cant do it for you! I
And then her voice filled my every pore.
I DONT WANT YOU TO DIE!!
Ill be fine, I said.
NO YOU WONT!!
Then, just as suddenly, I felt her presence retreat, like a child giving their parents the cold shoulder.
My lips pursed as my heart broke.
Angel Andalon was mad at me because she was scared for me.
When shed first appeared to me, her one goal was to save the world from the fungus. But now had she grown so attached to me that shed be willing to sabotage our mission just to keep from losing me?
Beasts teeth, I muttered.
I got choked up.
Andalon, I Im sorry. I didnt know I meant that much to you. I
Its hard to put into words how much it hurt to have a child terrified Id be taken from her. It was like an inversion of the loss I felt for Rale. It was like my dead child had come back from the grave, only for me to be the one to put them at risk of losing the one they loved.
Me.
Please, we have to talk about this. You cant just
But she wasnt listening. I could tell.
I could feel it.
Andalon? Are you okay?
But I got no response.
What about Yuta?
I focused, imagining Yuta standing before me. It helped that I genuinely wanted to keep talking things over with him. I wanted to access his memories of what Suisei had told him, to probe them deeper in preparation for confronting Dr. Horosha himself. Because, darn it, this time, I was going to get answers from our resident international man of mystery!
But Yutas spirit didnt appear.
I had a dopplegenneth check on his soul crystal in my main menu. It was still filled with the light of his soul, but there was a barrier wrapped around it, like a luminous web. I couldnt get it out of the way.
I tried summoning Lord Uramarus spirit once more, only to feel something like a hand clenched tight around Yutas consciousness. And the hand wouldnt let go. It got to the point where I was grimacing and squeezing my fists from the mental effort I was putting into prying Yutas soul out of Andalons grasp.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.
Because of course it was Andalon.
In the end, all I got was a headache.
Fine, Andalon I muttered, lowering my head, Ill figure it out on my own.
Sometimes, a person just had to let someone help them, even if they didnt want that help.
Next stop? The self-help group. Suiseis secrets were gonna get blown wide open, so help me.
I set off in a defiant, heartbroken marchor as much of a march as one could do without functioning legsonly to get sidelined by a buzz from my console.
As much as I hate to say it, at that moment, I actually resented my medical duties. I finally had a leadstars, time, and Angelsand I wasnt going to let myself get pulled away from it. Not this time.
Still, out of sheer force of habit, I couldnt stow my PortaCon back into my hazmat suits belly pocket without taking a glance at the latest message.
Pulling it out, I read a deceptively simple text message:
Dr. Howle to Room E9.
And, just like that, everything changed.
E9 was Mr. Himichis room.
Isnt it wild, how a couple of words can transfigure your emotions in the blink of an eye.
I made my way to E9 as fast as I could. On the way over, I nearly fell flat on my face.
There was a reception desk in the middle of the hallway outside of Room E9. A dead nurse sat behind the desk, lying face down in a puddle of her own fungus-tainted fluids.
Deborah, I thought, recalling her name.
There was a row of metal chairs up against the wall. Two dead patients were laid on top of one another there, left to lean against a section of the wall that extruded in a square support column. A male nurse sat across from the bodies, slumped over, coughing like a dying fountain. There was a console in his hand.
He looked up at me with blackshot eyes.
It was Marv, the nurse Id gotten into a scuffle with the first time Id come here.
He was asking for the bow-tie man, Marv explained.
I bit my lip.
Angel, I thought, he must mean Mr. Himichi
The Marv coughed again, spewing flecks of blackthe fluid aphasia came and went. So quickly. Hes just crashed.
Once more, I felt a fear Id come to hate: the fear of knowing. But I bid myself onward. I had to see him.
As I stepped into Room E9, no one noticed how I had to stoop to get through the doorway. I wonder: if they had, would they have even cared?
Tie-bow, Mr. Himichi said. Boko-non.
He lay on his bed. The sight of him made my lips pucker. I had to fight back tears.
Fungal lobes had begun to emerge from the sides of his head, like freakish sideburns. What was left of his skin were patches and valleys between stains and plaques of vulgar colors. The stool Id pulled out to sit on during my first visit was exactly where Id left it.
Tachi-ta goni.
Mr. Himichis native tongue was his last refuge.
His winter had finally come. Sheets of drawings covered him like blood-dripped snow, unmelted beneath the ceilings harsh, fluorescent lights. He tried to move, to reach for something, but his hand refused to obey him. It bent to the side, forcing his wrist to do the pushing.
Something like a bird slid off the edge of the bed. It hit the vinyl floor with paper wings spread wide. I didnt bother trying to reach down to get it, instead letting my powers take care of it.
Mr. Himichi let out a frightened moan, staring at me, half-comprehending.
The bird in my hands was actually a booklet. It seemed Mr. Himichi had ripped the paper into thirds and made the booklet by stabbing it through with paper-clips to form a spine to hold it all together. I sat down on the stool, splaying myself side-saddle. It was an uncomfortable position, but I was too focused on the drawings on the pages to care.
Himichi rambled, as if in a dream. Story tail, Mr. Himichi said, ramblingas if in a dream. Poniki. Riri. Riri
The booklet trembled in my hands.
This is what hed fought for, I told myself. This was his hill.
I gently turned the pages, guided only by my memories of its authors words. At first glance, it looked like unformed chaos, just lines and cross-hatchings, colored all the same. Here a helix, there a corner or curve. But then I saw it for what it was. It crystallized.
Wind danced down a boulevard, over a sea of busy heads. There were mountains in the backdrop, like wires, threading through the narrow spaces between the skyscrapers. Two figures were tucked away in the lower-left corner, a head shorter than the rest, barely larger than letters. But there was no mistaking who they were.
I played Mr. Himichis words in my mind.
In a city where the skyscrapers press up against the mountains and the sea, you might be forgiven for thinking magic had gone awaybut you would be wrong.
I turned the page. I saw a pond, a fishing rod, and two children, sitting on a pier on the water, beside a moon bridge over reeds.
The tea gardens in Noyoko are the things of fairy tales. Sitting there, over the water, watching the koi among the lily pads, the sounds of the twenty-million footsteps melts away, until all you can hear are swan-wings beating on the water as time itself breathes.
I turned the page. Each page was harder to pass than the last. The sights began to blur. The work steadily degraded with every page.
I turned and turned, again and again.
And then I stopped, faced by a kiss, beautiful and clear. The faces seemed to hold one another, locked in an embrace. The lines were thick and dark. You could barely notice all the shadows of erased marks.
She was the girl with hair like the sun. I was the boy with hair like the night. We fell in love, her and I. We fell in love a thousand times over. They were halcyon days, the kind that make life worth living.
Riri
I looked up. Mr. Himichi was watching, his head on its side, his eyes glassy gaze limpid with tears.
With my powers, I scooted the stool close to the bedside. I reached for him, my hands a-quiver with more mercy than they could hold. I clasped his frigid fingers in my gauntleted hands.
The dream-forgers. The makers of worlds.
With my other hand, I flipped back to the first page. He looked at me and the pages, knowing both, but remembering neither.
I took a deep breath. Hed said hed loved story-telling. I was honored to oblige him.
I held the booklet up to the light, over his eyes. He looked up to see.
I paused time for a moment, to dream up a tale. It didnt need to be good; it just needed to do justice. I had all the pieces before me; I only needed to weave them together.
Long, long ago, I said, in a forest of steel and stone, there lived a boy. The boy had been born broken, and all throughout the land, no one knew how to fix him.
I told the tale as best I could. I stayed by his side, wishing him sweet dreams for ever and ever until his eyes closed shut and he breathed no more, dying with an image of love etched into the light of his eyes.
Thank you, Mr. Himichi, I said, lowering my head in grief.
I set the booklet on his bed.
Thank you, and good night.
126.2 - Departures
I left E9 quietly, weeping.
Out in the hallway, I walked off.
I could multitask now. I could grieve while making my way over to the self-help group.
I owed it to Mr. Himichi to unravel the mystery behind the fungus that had murdered himthat had murdered everyone.
My idol was dead. My idol. My god.
I kept wondering if I did enough. Had I eased his passing? Had I kept despair at bay, even if only for the littlest bit?
All my life, hed never known who I was. I was just one fan among the millions. It was me who depended on him, not the other way around. I mean, it was because of Mr. Himichi that I had something to look forward to, even in the darkest of times. But now I think I might have gotten it all wrong. Mr. Himichi needed usthose who loved himfar more than we ever needed him. He needed our compassion, our devotion, and our forgiveness.
I just hope Id been able to do enough. Id helped him make those final drawings, and with them, that final bedtime story. I hoped he didnt feel alone in the end.
And, as crazy as it was, I found myself praying that Id have the honor of housing his noble, noble soul.
The walk to the self-help groups headquarters in the [name] building was the shortest longest journey Id ever made. I drew many facesand even more snoutsas I entered through the half-refurbished Wards safety-tape-covered double doors.
The self-help group was even livelier than before, no doubt due to the militarys crack-down on closeted transformees hiding among the staff. Though I suppose lively wasnt quite the right word to use. Ghosts phased in and out of existence, turning the ward into the weirdest cocktail party Id ever seen.
By now, you would have thought Id seen all there was to see: angels, time travel, turning myself into a half-pangolin whatever.
Youd be wrong.
I made a mental note to never think that I could no longer be surprised.
The surprises lurked at the fringes of the ghostly crowd, often with half or more of their bodies tucked away inside one the Wards patient roomsThey being the wyrms. Not transformees, no, but fully formed wyrms.
As seen on TV.
My mind played a dreadful guessing game as I took in the view, wondering which wyrms had once been humans that Id personally known. The wyrms were similar and yet different; alien and individual. Their body plans were identical, but varied greatly when it came to the detailslength, color, ornamentation.
I saw one dark brown wyrm tightly coiled around a support column, their body studded at regular intervals by squat flanges resembling shelf fungus or trapezoidal ailerons. A console levitated in front of them, which they used by pecking at it with delicate taps of a single claw-tip.
Another wyrm had decided to hide all but the front five feet of their length inside a patients room, leaving their fully transformed head sticking out into the main hall, crowned in cauliflower agglomerations that erupted in two recurved, trumpet-like horns.
A third wyrmbarely ten-foot-long wyrmhung from the ceiling, upside-down, held aloft by a psychokinetic cocoon of blues and golds. Thinning my wyrmsight brought the wyrms scales into view: so black, they were almost blue. An almost grassy mane ran from the back of the ceiling-wyrms head to the tip of their tail. The manes fibrous hairs brushed against the ceiling as the wyrm slithered and swerved.
Particularly mesmerizing were the sight of the wyrms heads. In person, Id only seen bits and pieces of a fully transformed wyrms head, never the whole thingexcept for the silver-eyed wyrm, and he/she had not made it easy to gander at them.
But now, it was like a trip to the dinosaur zoo. It was terrible and wondrous, truly otherworldly.
The wyrms heads were symphonies of pizzicato motions. The many pores on their mouthless snouts twitched and snorted. Sometimes, the contractions were like rain falling on pavement, other times, the motions swept across their snouts pores in synchronized ripples as they sang their ethereal song, stilling only when the wyrm had nothing more to say. They had six eyes, lined up in rows of three on either side of their head. The eyelids for those glistening golden orbs were an odd mix of different poses and emotions: wide open, half-shut, horizon-thin, irregularly blinking.
Several transformees came up to me, eager to shake my hands, but I rebuffed them.
Im sorry, not now, I said. I need to speak with Dr. Horosha.
One of the transformees pointed me toward him.
I bowed graciously as I stepped away from the crowd. I walked down the main hall, waving my hand as I passed the cauliflower-horned wyrm. The wyrm curved their neck, following me with their head, their pores rippling with contractions. Wisps of green swirled in their breath, in vortices and helices that seemed to make the wyrms excited toots come to life.
Rearing up their head and raising their arms, the wyrm pointed at themself, made a heart with their thumb and fore-claws, and then pointed at me.
Apparently, I now had a fan-base.
I bowed respectfully and walked off. I was nearly there when a voice caught me by surprise.
Gennef? Wha are you oing here?
I almost didnt recognize it, due to the almost burlesque lisp. I turned toward the sound.
In addition to (metaphorically) gutting Suisei and laying his secrets out in plain view, Id also been planning on checking up on Brand. It had been the better part of two hours since Suisei had wheeled him over to the self-help group, and I wanted to see how he was doing. Apparently, Brand must have read my mind because, while Id been looking for Suisei, Dr. Nowston had been looking for me.
As much as it shames me to say it, part of me wished Brand hadnt. It was like Cassius and Merritt, all over again, just more upbeat. Brand clearly had little interest in stalling his changes. Very, very little interest. It was honestly frightening, and I refrained from asking what (or whom) hed eaten to get so far in such a short span of time.
Dr. Nowston had cannibalized his slacks into a loincloth. His tail, though slender, was already near four feet long. Splotches of necrosis were encroaching his legs. His toes had gone AWOL, leaving cross-sectioned stumps on his shriveled, blackened feet. The last three fingers of his left hand had merged together into ten inches of burnt-red wyrm finger and two inches of curved, obsidian claw.
But the worst parts were above the belt. I had to remind myself that, despite his appearance, Brand was still Brand. It was like all those years of squicky conversation topics had finally caught up with him.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Brand was turning into a creepy crawly, like the ones he knew and loved. He no longer had any teeth. His mouth was all tongue and gums. A small golden wyrm eye blinked at the center of his right ear, with the rest of his external human ear surrounding it like a rind. I spied fungal antlers poking out from the back of his balding head. They were colored red and white, almost like a candy cane.
Any difficulties I had with seeing my friend like this were washed away when I realized that there was no stronger proof that Brand Nowston was still himselfheart and soulthan the eager zeal radiating from his person. Only Brand would be stoked that he was turning into a wyrm. I mean, this was the person who felt that the micro- and macroscopic and structural changes in human bowel movements caused by various protistan or helminthic infections made for a pleasant, and perfectly ordinary conversation topic for a chopped chicken salad lunch.
If fomefing wrong? he said.
But my relief deflated like a sad balloon as I remembered what Mistelann had asked me: Please. Give Brand my kisses. All my kisses.
Angel
How could I tell Brand that his colleague was dead, andnot only thatbut that the mycologist had been secretly in love with him. That Mistelann had been too afraid to say it out loud while he was still alive? If I could have gotten Brand close enough to Mistelanns corpse, the mycologists spirit probably would have been uploaded into him, and then Dr. Skorbinka could tell Brand how he felt face to face. Tragically, there was no chance of that happening now. With his current looks, Brand would either be fired upon or worse if General Marteneiss troops caught him snooping around.
Gennef? he said.
I shook my head, letting it hang in dejection. Nurse Kaylin is but my voice trailed off.
Yef?
I sighed. Its just awful. Everything. Its Hell. Its Angels. Its Stars and Time-travel. Briefly closing my eyes, I fidgeted with my lucky bow tie before rubbing an aching shoulder.
This costume of mine was not going to hold out much longer. It was already straining against my bulk. Any more changes and the whole thing would split wide open.
Looking Brand in the eyesear-eye notwithstandingI let out an ineffectual shrug. Its the end of the world, and Ive come here for answers. I looked over his shoulder, down the hall. I was hoping to talk to
Answers? Brand asked, eyes brightening. Daff perfeck!
My slouching posture worsened. Brand, I
Dake off your helmed, quick.
What? I started to step back.
Waving a hand, Brand shook his head. Ill do id. No drouble ad all.
Bicolored threads of psychokinetic force spindled out from Brand and raked across my neck, slicing through my hazmat suits self-repairing green plastic. The threads swarmed around the suits headpiece like snakes, levitating it over my head.
Brand stared at the lone wyrm claw on his hand for a moment, but then seemed to think better of it. Then, before I understood what was happening, he leaned forward and kissed me.
On the lips.
I was still staggering back in shockmy arms flailing at my sidesas my lips began to tingle, and not just from the sporey saliva at the edges of Brands mouth. Digital snow swept across my vision, and then everything went black.
For a split second, I was lost in yet another void of perfect darkness, only for that void to quickly give way to a familiar sight. Water splished softly beneath my feet as I beheld my reflection on the floor, as ordinary and human as Id been the day Merritt had come to ask me to kill her.
We were in my Main Menu. It was as transcendent as ever. The sphere of soul crystals rotated slowly overhead, beneath the world-cubes above it, and the cloud-drift and the dome of unblemished sky.
Yes, we.
I hope I wasnt too malapropos back there, Brand said.
I whipped around to see him standing behind me. Like me, Brand was perfectly human again, right down to his sponge-curl-styled hair, andthankfullywith a nice pair of slacks, instead of the loincloth hed made of them back in the Thick World.
I stamped my foot, venting a terribly confusing mix of emotions, absolutely none of which were sensual or pleasant.
You kissed me! I said.
My stomp sent ripples across the film of water over the floor. Id never thought Id need to give Brand the personal space talk twice in one day.
But, I guess theres a first time for everything.
Brand winked at me. This is Brand 2.0. Im done being inhibited. Im becoming a wyrm, damn-it, and Im loving it! he said.
I had a feeling you would, I replied.
Besides, he said, would you rather have had me stick my hand in your mouth?
I shuddered at that.
Brand waggled his eyebrows. Exactly my point.
At the risk of being rude, I said, Im kind of having a slow-motion panic attack right now. The things Ive learned. II need to have answers, and now, or think Im going to lose my mind.
He pointed at me. Then have I got some good news for you!
I narrowed my eyes. Dr. Brand Nowston, I said, if this is some kind of teasing or practical joke, I swear, by the Moonlight itself, I will lose it.
Brand stuck out his arms in a defensive posture. No no, this is legit. A lot has happened.
Youre telling me! I said. Whats gotten into you?
Time, and a new kind of freedom, he replied.
Time?
He nodded. Out there in the Thick World, its been, what, a day since you brought me to the self-help group?
More like two hours, I said, though everythings been kind of a blur lately.
Brands eyes bulged. Two hours? He whistled, shaking his hand, smiling like the dog that caught the bus. Turning into a wyrm is the best thing that has ever happened to me.
I hope you havent been sharing this with others, I said. I dont think theyll see it the way you do.
Blinking, I furrowed my brow. Wait a minute, did you just say the Thick World? Groaning softly, I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose, taking care to mind my glasses. Youve been talking to Greg, havent you? I should have expected this, I muttered.
Brand beamed. His teeth were pearly and perfect. I swear, they had a glint that winked at me.
Guilty as charged, he said. It might have been two hours for you, but, from my reference frame, its been days since we last saw each other.
I couldnt begin to imagine the wonders that a Brand Nowston uninhibited by hunger, sleep, or bodily needs would unearth.
Brand, I said, and Im saying this not just as your friend, but as a mental health professional are you okay?
Brands smile flattened out a little. His expression turned wistful. Yeah, Genneth. He took a deep breath. Yes. He nodded. For the first time, I think I really am okay.
Taking several steps into the void, Brand raised his gaze to stare into an unseen horizon. I feel free, he said, spreading his arms like a bird. Its like Ive been living my whole life inside a single room, and Ive finally stepped outside, into the world that was always there waiting for me.
I smiled slightly. I still didnt feel the least bit okay, and had a strong desire to wring Suiseis neck, but seeing my friend so at peace with himself definitely helped with my mood.
Im glad someone got something good out of this whole mess, I said.
So much of my professional life got spent inside labsnot that I didnt enjoy being in the lab, but Gazing at his hand, he curled his fingers, marveling at their movements. It felt limiting, I guess?
Even though I knew Brand was thrilled by his newfound wyrmhood, Id be lying if I said I was completely at peace with it. The happiness I felt for him came with inward worries about my own fading humanity. Seeing how welland how quicklyBrand was adapting to the changes, it made me wonder if my fighting to preserve myself and my life had been for nothing.
Did being human mean so little to you? Are you that keen on letting go of it all? I asked.
I could have chosen to appear to you as a grizzled, car-sized shiba inu in golden plate armor, but I didnt. Brand gestured at himself. I chose to look like this.
You could have done it for my benefit, I said.
Brand smirked. When was the last time I did something that I didnt really want to do?
I sighed. Fair point. I paused. But what about your body? What about mine? What about our lives? What about trying to find a way to fix all this? What about Andalon? W
Genneth: its not that I dont care about the Thick World or that I dont want to save it. Its that I know that I cant save it. We tried, but we failed. The world is ending. Brand pursed his lips. Ive spent the past few months making peace with that. He looked up at the endless sky. Im tired, Genneth. Im tired of all the pain and suffering. Im tired of chasing dragons. For once, I want to tackle a problem that I know I can solve. He looked me in the eye. Newsflash, Dr. Howle: youre not the only person in the world who wants to be helpful.
So what are you going to do? I asked.
Smugly, Brand let his hands slip into his coat-pockets. Ill do what I want.
Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law? I said. Really?
I pursed my lips and lowered my head.
Brand smiled gently. People come in all kinds. What works for one person might not work for anotherand thats a feature, not a bug. Thats why its so beautiful when two people find something they both value. It gives them a chance to understand each other. And if we can understand each other, maybe we wont have to be alone.
Brand that was beautiful, I said, softly.
He grinned. Thanks, I spent a long time practicing it.
So, you said you had good news for me, I said. I could really use that right now.
126.3 - Departures
Brand flicked his wrist, and, suddenly, we were in a conference room, with an elliptic table surrounded by sleek, roller-footed swivel chairs. Potted ornamental plants sat on the floor atop wall-to-wall beige carpeting. A projector had snaked out from the ceiling, casting a console Home screen on the walla screensaver of a kelp forest beneath the waves.
Brand turned to face me. I did what you asked, he said. Nurse Stewart gave me your data about the Lantor Incursion. Ive been examining the fuck out of it.
With a glance at the projector, the kelp forest vanished as the projector display played recordings of Andalon and me previewing the regions within the Lantor Incursion.
Id like to focus on this one, he said.
The recording paused, focusing on a single setting. I immediately recognized it as the ammonia-stricken disaster zone Andalon and I had explored with Kreston.
Because you were actually in that environment, Brand explained, even if only partially, the records you gave me came with sensory information in them. I spent part of the past few days of me-time boning up on my chemistry knowledge. And its been interesting, to say the least.
So, what have you found? I asked.
He turned to face me. You said you thought Catamander Brave might have some connection to all this?
Yes. I nodded.
Thats the story with the Worlds Beyond the Night, right?
Yeah, I said. So?
What if its some kind of prophecy? Brand said.
Ive considered that, but theres not really enough evidence to
Brand grinned. Thats where youre wrong.
He waved his hand again, and the images in the paused recording flowed out of the wall and became real.
Have you ever heard of theoretical biochemistry? he asked.
No.
Brand clapped his hands together. Its delightfully useless. A bunch of chemists with overactive imaginations decided to imagine alternative forms of biochemistry. We know how life works: photosynthesis, rubisco, electron transport chains, cytochromes, adenosine triphosphate, lipids, and nuclei and amino acids, as far as the eye can see.
Andalon would have been so lost if she was here. As for me, my knowledge of non-neurology-adjacent molecular biology pretty much began and ended with cellular respiration is the reverse of photosynthesis,not that I was going to admit that in front of Brand.
But, he continued. What if you had to do it differently? Could you do it with silicon? What about using sulfur as an electron acceptor, rather than oxygen? Perhaps arsenic-based life? The list goes on and on.
Is there any point to these questions?
Brand grinned. It is very useful for writing weird science fiction. Aside from that, though, nope, no applications whatsoever. Its right up there with theoretical underwater basket-weaving. I had to spend quite some time sifting through the digital library to find the pertinent research papers.
I crossed my arms. Where are you going with this, Dr. Nowston?
He gestured to the Incursion-stuff floating around usfauna and flora plucked from nightmares and dreamscapes.
Genneth, Brand asked, what do you think this stuff is? Like, what do you think you and Andalon were seeing inside the Incursion? Nightmares? Daydreams? Memories?
I cupped my hand at my chin. You know I never really thought about that.
Well I have, Brand replied.
He raised a single finger. This stuff? Its not a daydream. It cant be. Its statistically impossible. I even did a Chi-squared test. Brand pointed at one of the headless lily-crowned elephant-things.
Genneth: this is ammonia-based life.
I stared. What?
With both hands, Brand grabbed the top of one of the chairs.
The cold. The hydrocarbon hazegaseous methane and ethane. His arms trembled with his excitement. Clouds of polymerized cyanide soot. The explosive reaction of methane and liquid ammonia meeting water and oxygen. All of it checks out!
I stammered in panic. C-Cyanide!?
Yes! Brand said. Whirling the chair around, he sat down at the desk, conjuring animated 3D science models, graphs, and other nifty demonstrations.
At sufficiently low temperatures, he explained, ammonia would be in a liquid state, and could take the role of water in an alternative form of biochemistry.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
Clusters of stubby tetrahedral ammonia atoms floated above the table.
Photosynthesis would have ammonia as the photon acceptor, and use that energy to split methane into carbon and hydrogen, and then hydrogen gas would be expelled as a waste product.
Squiggly animations of photons wriggled out from the walls and bombarded with the methane molecules that drifted into view. Stoichiometric equations floated midair, giving me traumatizing flashbacks to my college organic chemistry course.
This parallels how our plants use water to split carbon dioxide into carbon and oxygen and expel oxygen as the waste product.
Brand made a point to emphasize the word oxygen.
Conversely, he continued, cellular respiration would take oxygen-free hydrocarbons to harvest the hydrogen to power their biochemistry, and theyd breathe out methane as a waste product.
Colored arrows appeared on some of the ammonia-creatures and ammonia-plants, indicating the uptake and output of the various chemical compounds.
It all works! he said, nodding triumphantly. I even went inside to poke around, myself.
I stepped back in shock.
You what!?
But Brand just waved his hand dismissively and spun around in his chair. Its alright, he said, I was under an invisibility spell and a perceptive gloaming. I was in and out, and nobody was the wiser. I was even able to take samples and bring them back for analysis.
Bring them back? I asked. To where?
To my mind, I mean. From yours to mind.
And what did you discover? I asked.
I had no illusions that I was going to understand a word of the answer.
The ammonia lakes and oceans of this Incursion world had a high concentration of dissolved metal ions, Brand explained. You know what that means?
Not a clue.
Brand raised his finger. Bio-organic circuitry! Look, you can even see it in the filamentous structures on these organisms here. He pointed at the lily-like structure on so many of the creatures. I wonder if they can communicate in radio waves
Brand, BrandIm glad that youre so excited about this, I said, fidgeting with my bow-tie, but I dont see how
He grinned again. This is another world, Genneth. Remember how I said the Green Death is not of our world? Well, lo and behold: our world is not the only one out there! Kosuke Himchi was: there are worlds beyond the Night, Genneth.
My jaw went slack. I muttered under my breath, almost inaudibly: Holy forking shirtballs" I swallowed hard, my heart racing. Then, the Incursion
Brand nodded. Its exactly that: its other worlds. Well, memories of them, I suppose. Memories of lost worlds, taken by the fungus. Somehowand I still have fricking clue how this part workssomeone or somethingor multiple somethingsknows about this ammonia life world, not to mention Angel-knows how many other places, and that consciousness or consciousnesseswhatever it is, wherever it isis and/or are hooked up with yours the way our minds are linked right now.
As calmly as I could, I walked over to the other side of the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down. My mind was swimming with possibilities. Colorful disturbances thrummed in the air around me.
Other than a plague of apocalyptic proportions, the biggest challenge we faced in defeating the Green Death was the fungus sheer otherworldliness. We needed a context for it, a way to understand it. Without that, we might as well have been grasping at straws.
Up until now, I said, Id thought scripture would be the key. But My voice trailed off.
It might still be, Brand said, swiveling around to face me. Right now, were just getting a more complete picture of whats going on. One moment, it feels like fantasy; the next, like science-fiction. But the answer might very well lie in between. Whos to say both cant be true?
So, it wasnt just Suisei who might have answers. Lantor might hold them, as wellperhaps the secrets hidden in Andalons missing memories.
What about the Scary-Shinies, as Andalon called them? I asked. She was petrified of them. Were you able to figure out anything about them?
Yes and no, Brand replied.
What do you mean?
Pursing his lips, Brand rested his head in his hand, propping his arm on the table with his elbow, his sponge-curled hair as vivacious as ever.
I dont know if it was the Scary-Shinies, he said, or something else, but, when I tried to approach them, well I got attacked by fungus monsters. Id set up a teleportation spell beforehand, so I was able to port out of there after Id stunned the first wave.
You didnt try again?
Brand nodded. You bet your ass I did. But then he sighed. But the same thing happened each time. He sat up straight. Still, I managed to reach some tentative conclusions.
Tell me.
Gladly, he said. You said you think the fungus might be trying to attack us across time.
Possibly across different timelines, too, I said.
Noted, Brand replied.
What do you mean, noted? Ive been freaking out about this!
It synergizes with my ideas so far. You see what if the fungus isnt just attacking us, be it at one or many times? If Catamander Brave is right, and there are worlds beyond the Night, and we already know the fungus isnt from our world, so it must have come here from somewhere else. That means the fungus can travel between worlds.
I stared at him, fully cognizant of the implications. Fudge, I muttered.
Brand looked me in the eye. Andalons wyrms archive souls, and with all those souls come memories, right?
Yes.
And Hell wants souls? he asked.
Also right, I said.
Genneth, I think the ammonia beings were fighting the Scary-Shinies.
What about the hummingbirds? I asked, recalling the people-shaped hummingbirds Id seen in Lantor.
I dont know about the theological implications, but I think its safe to say they were fighting the Scary-Shinies, too. Indeed, there were no signs of the fungus on any of the Scary-Shinies, and considering Andalon is afraid of both the Scary-Shinies and the fungus, it stands to reason that the two are related somehow.
Really? I asked.
Brand nodded. I think the Scary-Shinies are in cahoots with the fungus, and the images were seeing are the memories of the souls that the fungus has devoured.
Souls from other worlds?
He nodded again. Souls from other worlds. Perhaps even wyrms from other worlds. Youve somehow gotten in touch with them. Their thoughts are reaching out to yours.
I slouched, slumping further down into my chair. Angel this this is a lot to take in. Time-travel. Zombies. Wyrms. Angels. Stars. And now, other worlds. I looked my friend in the eye. This is incredible work, Brand.
Dr. Nowston bowed his head. Youre welcome. But
Oh God, theres more?
Yeah. I found something: a tunnel. It goes from the edge of the safe zone you made to the heart of the Incursion zone.
What are you getting at? I asked.
Well Ive tried getting through on my own, and I cant. So Brand shot me a sheepish look. I was hoping you could help me out.
My back went stiff. Oh I said, my mouth hanging slightly ajar.
Think of it as an adventure, Brand suggested.
There was a long pause, during which the only sound was the quiet rustling of my fingers fidgeting with my lucky bow-tie.
Were going on a quest, arent we? I said, softly.
Yes, Brand nodded, yes we are.
127.1 - Roll for Initiative!
The next few hours of my life were the strangest yet. In giving Lantor to Brand by way of Nurse Stewart, Id unwittingly made my game-world into a multiplayer server for twothree, if you counted Stewart, not that she was with us. Brand and I were fire and water. He was having the time of his life. I, meanwhile, was barely holding myself together.
Depression is weird. Its there even when its not, like an undercurrent or a persistent itch. Sometimes, it storms over you, drowning you in its shadow. Other times, it quietly percolates, staining your experiences with its murk, ripping your thoughts away from what you want to do and who you want to be.
Brand, not being the most socially aware person out there, didnt notice it. He was lost in his own jaunty mood, confident that it was as infectious as it seemed. As far as he could tell, Id fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker, but the truth was muddier, and far more complicated. I tried not to let it show, and for the most part, I think I succeeded.
For the most part.
There was a lot Brand had left out of his explanations. For one thing, hed done more than just poke around; hed combined creations of his own with Gregs Wyrmware to flesh out quite a bit of the half-completed projects Id been working on in my spare time.
Apparently, in sharing the world with Nurse Stewart, Id also shared administrator privileges.
At first, Id felt a little resentful toward Brand for meddling with my personal project and, more generally, for continuing to push me out of my comfort zone. But, that resentment quickly faded when I saw what hed done.
Most importantly, hed taken my beachhead plan and run with it. That plan, recall, was to set up a buffer zone between my mind-world and the parts of Lantor that had come under the influence of the otherworldly minds (wyrm or otherwise) whose memoriesas per Brands theorywere behind the Incursion.
Hed made a mighty mountain rangeHoduulseparated from the rest of Lantor by a vast, merciless desertthe Forgotten Sands. The mountains had no peaks. They stretched up and up, piercing the clouds. Precursor constructions jutted from the rock, glassy and glistening. The Hoduul Mountains walled off the Incursion, establishing a clear boundary between it and Lantor. Beyond the mountains, the alien memories took over, robbing Brand and I of our administrative privileges, just like it had in my misadventure with Kreston.
Winding caverns in the mountains depths allowed for passage between the two zones.
Wed stocked up on supplies and prepared for the worst.
In hindsight, we probably should have gotten more scrolls.
You can never have too many scrolls.
Fudge! My swear echoed through the damp cavern.
A sizzling green laser beam had just grazed my left forearm, singing my keratin scales. I swore not because of the painthere wasnt anybut because of the unexpectedly large dent the laser had made in my precious HP. Worse still, for a couple of seconds, my body refused to do anything other than gently twitch.
The lasers had a chance of inflicting a minor paralysis effect, and, unfortunately, I was getting hammered on my metaphorical dice rolls.
We crawled through a dungeon dark and dreary. A cave system, to be precise. A cave system filled with goblins. Goblins with laser rifles; expies from Gregworld, courtesy of Brand.
I kept trying to raise my arms until they finally responded. I shook off the paralysis and yelled.
!
A stream of light trickled down from overhead, surrounding Brand and I in a dome of swirling motes. Laser beams that struck the barrier dissipated harmlessly.
Those lasers did a lot more damage than I thought they would, I said, feeling more than a little bit nervous.
And that wasnt even a direct hit! Brand said, speaking with what I feared was glee.
At the moment, he was a robot; meanwhile, I was my Half-Pangol cleric character.
I had to keep my arms raised, otherwise the protective veil of divine energies would fall and expose us to harm.
Why did you bring the laser goblins here? I yelled. They gave me a bit of trouble when I was a pangolin dragon.
The paralysis effect keeps things at bay, Brand answered. They also reproduce like you wouldnt believe.
I groaned. Lovely.
The game mechanics were fully operational. Brand told me that Gregs settingcurrently named Gregworldwas doing much the same, and if the latest version of Gregs laser goblins were any indication, hed finally gotten around to fixing the graphics.
The red laser goblins were far more intimidating than their voxel predecessors. They were fiends, through and through. Three-quarters as tall as a man, they sported serrated teeth stained in plaque and blood. Their eyes were pure voids of inky black that glared at us from between their piercing noses and jutting chins. Their wiry bodies seemed more bone than flesh, yet they moved with startling speed.
It was hard to know where to aim when the cave systems gloom echoed with the pitter-patter of the goblins taloned toes and the brush-rush of their moldy fur clothes. It felt like we were surrounded, andas far as I knewwe were.
Another round of laser fire bombarded the shield of my spell. The beams lit up the stone further down the twisting, slime-slicked tunnel, giving me glimpses of the goblinstheir cracked, psoriatic skin; their vicious, cackling grins.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
I cant keep this up forever! I said.
I glanced over my shoulder at my robot companion..
All things considered, Brands robot-self looked pretty sweet. His body was made of two smooth-edged chrome cubestorso and hips, respectivelyconnected by a short pipe, in a shape reminiscent of a dumbbell. Though inhuman, he was decidedly humanoid, with pipe-like arms and legs jutting out in the appropriate places. His head was sleek and elongated, like the elite white troopers helmets, but with a pair of signal antennae in back, and with a black display screen in front. The screen rendered Brands face in electric green LEDstylized smiley.
But Brand wasnt just a robot. He was a sorcerer, too.
Brand raised his staff of polished petrified wood, waving his hand over the massive emerald on its head. Brands ragged, dark green cloak fluttered behind him as the gem began to glow.
Intcion he whispered. The word came out tinny from the speakers in his chest.
I clutched my crossbow to my chest.
In but a second, Brands spell was cast.
.
A flash cracked from his staffs emerald, sending a whirling cyan flare hissing forward, shattering my shield. The cyan bolts ricocheted of the tunnels walls, transmuting the cold stone into glass. The struck the goblins reconnaissance squad like a blast of chain lightning. It leapt from goblin to goblin, suffusing them in a blue-green glow bright enough to illuminate the passageway. The goblins bodies creaked and snapping as they turned to glass. Those whod been struck in the head or chest died instantly as their brains and hearts vitrified. Others could only scream in terror as their limbs crystallized right before their eyes. In a couple seconds, the goblins were reduced to a handful of glass sculpture.
Nice shot! I said.
Their hostility did not compute, Brand said.
The glow in his staff smoldered and vanished.
I took the moment to use my prehensile tail to pluck a fresh bolt from the quiver at my belt and reload my crossbow.
Prehensile tails were stupidly useful.
Brand walked up beside me. This isnt good, he said. Theyre likely aware of us now. He turned his LED-display face toward me. We should expect significant resistance.
For better and for worse, I tried not to voice my deeper feelings. Beneath my superficial engagement of what should have been fun, I was agloom with foreboding. A bad feeling had taken root in my stomach the moment wed set foot in Lantor. It was equal parts premonition and presentiment. As curious-worried as I was about discovering the truth of the Incursion, I couldnt take my mind off Suisei and the stars.
I was standing on a precipice. Discoveries lay on the horizon, ripe for the picking, but I couldnt shake the feeling that these discoveries were forbidden fruits.
What if Brand was right? Could there really be other worlds? Not just worlds in my head, but the genuine article: places with space and time and earth and sky? And what would that mean if it was true?
What lay beyond the Night? And what would happen to me once I knew?
But that was what journeys were for: to quest in search of an answer.
The caves were incredible. They were filled with fever dreams of lost worlds. Though the Hoduul Mountains had cut off the Incursions advance, whatever force was behind it showed no signs of giving up. If anything, it had redoubled its efforts, seeding the Forgotten Sands with swaths of alien vistas that, even now, were slowly spreading across the land.
Thankfully, while wed still had editorial control over Lantor, Brand had cursed the great desert to be forever plagued by storms of pure vacuum. Blobs and funnels of rasping voids hurtled through the desert like murmurations of birds, tearing through the glitched-up intrusions of otherworldly memories, felling silver trees and orange air; cutting up glassy plains and molten rivers. The vacuum packets interfered with the violent chemical interactions playing out between the worlds incompatible skies, biting back at their advance.
Within the cave, the Incursions influence was even stronger. Wed hopped along a maze of hovering skipping stones to cross a bottomless ravine that had opened up in the darkness. Wed passed walls eaten away by nooks and chasms that opened onto impossible vistas. I saw violet skies overlooking a massive orb circled by glorious rings; I saw a fog-bound swamp, thick with crooked trees and mossy curtains; I saw a castle in the mountains, glorious and grand, built from blocks of faint blue stone, its towers roofed in golden spirals. Static glitched across the vistas; entire views flickered in or out of existence with no rhyme or reason.
How much further do we need to go, do you think? I asked.
Brand looked down over the edge of the curving tunnel. A familiar frigid, ammoniac stink wafted up from the depths.
First we gotta get to the bottom, Brand said. He raised his head. Then we go up.
Are we going to encounter one of those half-mile long, diamond-studded grubs of yours? I asked.
No, Brand said. They died eons ago.
Lucky us, I muttered.
Because Brand never gave less than 100%, hed taken the liberty of devising lore for the tunnels. The way he told it, they were most likely formed eons ago by the Precursors slaves, polymorphed into monstrous forms; acid-drooling centipedes, those half-mile grubs; sapient clouds of neurogenic plasmicand so much more.
terrorworms!
The terrorworms were a bunch of mobs wed encountered while traversing the Forgotten Sands. As Brand had explained, forsaken by the gods, the Sands were plagued by the heat of a never-ending midday. Even when night fell, the sand still radiated warmth, as if the sun was still in the sky. It would have been unbearable without the help of the portable winters wed purchased at a village on the deserts outskirts. The winters were eyeball-sized marbles of white-swept blue. Speak the magic words and, a couple seconds later, a seasons worth of wintery weather exploded out from the marbleice, snow, chilling cold. The marbles chill and the Sands insufferable heat averaged out to form a pleasant experience.
The strategy to which Brand was referring was based around my giant pangolin beast shape. In that form, I made for a very effective tank, capable of occupying enemies up close while Brand used his magic to blast them from a distance. I could also use my sticky, absurdly long tongue to pull in foes from afar. Given the dangers Id faced when Id ventured into the Incursion with Kreston, Brand and I had prepared buffs in advance to make pangolin-me as resilient as possible. We had potions, scrolls, and spells galore.
It never hurt to be prepared.
127.2 - Roll for Initiative!
Do you think were ready? Brand asked.
The Incursion was still negating our wyrmly god-modding abilities. Brand had personally confirmed it during his own expeditions beyond the mountains. As a result, we had to acquire abilities and equipment the long way, playing the game, as it were, stocking up on supplies for our adventure. The way my mind-world powers had fizzled out as wed entered the tunnel at the edge of the Forgotten Sands was truly uncanny, leaving me feeling hapless and insecureand even more than usual.
You could say it was the Incursion bidding us hello.
I patted the Backpack of Holding strapped to my back. I think were good.
If push came to shove, I could go pangolin and give Brand a ride, and hed have easy access to all of our dangerous consumables.
We descended further into the cave. The deeps air was moist and cool. Water pooled in plateaus upon the rock, trickling down from dripstones like dragons spit. Brand let power flow into his staff, filling the emerald with a gentle radiance that pushed back at the darkness of the cave.
As we descended, Brands metal feet should have been making a minor racket from clanking on the caverns stone floor, but thanks to the muffling charm on his ankle bracelet, they didnt.
So, do you know where this tunnel leads? I asked.
Nope, Brand replied. We cant know where any of the tunnels will lead until weve traveled through to the other side.
During my two-hours long absence, Brand had been systematically exploring the various tunnels the Incursion had made in the Hoduul Mountains. Each one led to a different section of the Incursion.
As we pressed onward, I let my thoughts drift.
Despite all the stress and pressure that I was under, the three days wed so far spent on our (mis)adventure had still somehow managed to be fun. I was enjoying myself, despite myselfand that just didnt sit right with me. I felt I didnt deserve it. Not when the world was ending all around us.
Not when there was so much at stake.
While I was stopped in place, lost in thought, Brand had continued on down the bend. My thoughts held on to me just long enough for a glob of cave slime to drop from the ceiling and fall onto my shoulder. Mercifully, it was not the living kind of cave slime, just the disgusting kind.
Ugh! I groaned, loudly. The sound echoed.
Brand whipped around.
Are you alright? he asked.
Y-Yeah, I said, dismissively, using the back of my hand to wipe the slime off my armor. I just got slimed, thats all.
I was wearing a lightweight chainmail hauberk beneath my dark, long-backed overcoat, with boots and leggings atop my tail-friendly undergarments. The chainmail clinked as I walkedy pangolin scales brushed against my undershirt.
Yet all I could think about were the people Id failed. Id killed a man and eaten him. Id lied to my colleagues and patients by pretending I wasnt infected. My desperation for answers had led me to push Andalon to the breaking point. Id driven her away, just like Id driven my family away. Just like I drove my mother away.
Say what you will about postpartum depression. Say it wasnt the childs fault if their birth drove their mother to suicide. Now, try to tell that to me with a straight face. Raising me in my mothers absence and my fathers mostly-absence had taken its toll on Dana, and her schizophrenia was the price, and years of therapy and a career in neuropsychiatry had done little to help convince me otherwise.
Our feelings didnt care about facts.
Brand narrowed his green LED eyes at me.
Youve been lagging behind a lot, Genneth.
Fudge, he deserved an award for noticing that.
To anyone except Brand Nowston, my behavior and body language should have made it obvious that something wasnt sitting well with me. But he was mostly unaware of it. At first, Id actually been somewhat thankful for that, because I feared I wouldnt have been able to hold things back if he stopped to ask me what was amiss.
But now?
I
I started to speak, but I was cut off by a ping from Brands built-in proximity sensors. The antennae at the back of his head whirred, their motors wiggling them up and down. Brands face vanished, giving way to the circling sweep of a radar display.
Sensors indicate hostiles ahead, he said.
There was a cluster of red dots in the distance. They werent heading toward the two green dots in the middle of Brands screen that represented us, but it was only a matter of time.
Great I muttered, with a flick of my tail.
I was expecting this, Brand said, his face staying in radar mode. This should be the halfway point. Once we clear this last area, the rest of the way should be clear, at least until we exit the caverns.
I know, I said, with a nod.
Are you
Yes, I am, I said, grabbing my Backpack of Holdings stretchy strap. Pulling the bag off my back, I rummaged through it and took out some potions.
Though our Giant-Pangolin-Damage-Sponge strategy worked pretty well, it had one downside: my character level wasnt high enough to give me access the perk. Without that, I couldnt cast any spells when I was in . That meant I had to put our defenses in place now, and hope they would be enough.
I cast , , , and a couple other buffsall for both of us. In addition to defensive spells, I downed a Potion of Physical Might and a Potion of Woodhide. It helped that the potions magical components were dissolved in more than just a little bit of quality ethyl alcohol.
At the rate I was going, I was starting to worry Id need to go to an adventurers sobriety society.
Dont forget your crossbow, Brand said.
I wont, I said, as I strapped the backpack back on.
After peeking ahead to see whether or not the tunnel kept winding or had actually, finally, flattened outand noticing the latter to be the caseI cast right as I activated . My bones creaked as my body grew. I repositioned my legs as my posture changed, quietly lowering myself to all fours.
In a matter of seconds, the pangolin was back in town. My armored plates were as large as two human hands spread wide, and nearly twice as thick. I felt a burning sensation at the tip of my tailthat would be the taking effect. My crossbow fused with the tip of my tail, leaving me with something like a scorpions sting, only with a ballista instead of a stinger. The ammunition was unlimited, magicked directly from my body.
I turned to Brand. Keep to my right. Ill do my best to protect you from incoming fire.
Stepping forward, the cavern was just large enough for me to pass through and wiggle around. I could easily obstruct the passage by turning to the side, keeping foes at bay with my keratin plates.
Because of how narrow and winding the caves had been, this would be my first time going up against the rifle goblins as a giant pangolin. I didnt know if my scaly armor would protect me against the laser beams paralyzing effects, but I was going to find out soon enough.
Alright, Brand said, lets do this.
My blessings had surrounded him in halos and protective numina. The protections light glinted off his robot bodys satiny polish.
Like any ground pangolin, I could walk forward on my hind legs, tucking my forelimbs underneath my chest like I was some mad scientists timid minion.
Turning down the caves broad curve, the tunnel opened up into a long, wide passage with a mouth-shaped cross-section. Further down, the tunnel opened into a large cavern with a tall ceiling. Tribal totems stood against the walls, alongside crude tents of bone, horn, hide, and skin. Bonfires burned, casting a lurid, flickering light on the goblins and their frenzied squabbles.
I wrinkled my nose as their awful goblin-stink.
No doubt, the goblins were preparing for our arrival.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
Had we not had the run-in with the goblins reconnaissance party, we would have had the advantage of surprise, but it was too late for that. Still, there was one way we could game the system.
The first rule of enemy encounters? Lob nasty area-of-effect spells at them before battle starts. The soft chanting from the speakers in Brands chest and the cyan light now swirling about him indicated he was doing just that, his face still on radar display.
Underneath the goblin-scents, however, I smelled something newmetallic, yet delicious.
Delicious?, I thought.
Brand, I whispered, I think I smell bugs.
I flicked my slimy tongues tip out of my snout.
No, I said, correcting myself. Ants. I smell ants.
I heard them, too. I heard the clicking, clacking tick-tock-tick an egg-timer might make, only the sound was far larger and deeper than any egg-timer. But I had no time to process it, because, with a vicious yell, a squad of goblins charged down the tunnel, tribal laser rifles at the ready.
Genneth! Brand said.
On it, I said.
Tension bristled down my scaly back as I lumbered forward on all fours. Halfway to the goblins caverns, I dug my claws into the stone underfoot and turned on the spot, barricading the tunnel with my body. My claws raked sparks from the stone as I skidded to a standstill.
The goblins cackled as they fired. Their laser rifles green beams blasted into my energy shield, sending waves of heat and pressure rippling across the forcefield.
Raising my crossbow-tipped tail, I bobbed it about, launching bolts at the goblins at regular intervals. My bolts hit the goblins in their eyes and bellies, making them shriek. The downed goblins lost their grip on their rifles, making the laser beams fly out of control in a wayward rave. The green beams sliced through flesh and seared the cavern walls and floor, leaving the stone red hot. I managed to down five goblinsand injure twice that numberbefore the energy shield began to flicker, having taken heavy damage from the lasers.
But by then, it had already served its purpose.
Intcion! Brand yelled, his spell complete.
Lowering my tail, I crouched down on all fours as Brand launched a pulsing, swirling mass of cyan ball-lightning from his staff and outstretched robot hand. The spell lit up the tunnel as it hurtled by.
The tick-tock noises grew horridly loud. Metal clamped against metal. I smelled ozone and iron filings.
As the rammed into the amassed goblin, the spell was suddenly diverted in several directions. The energy came apart, flying off in little lightning-globs, as if being lapped up by hungry tongues.
I fired off more crossbow bolts.
The goblins dispersed, backing into their cavern, out of our way.
Brand! I bellowed. Weve got a problem!
As I said that, the problem rushed forward through the opening in the goblins ranks.
A Clockwork anta mechanical insect. Hinges and gears folded and spun as the ants savage, serrated mandibles snapped at the air. The clockwork ant was half and again as large as a full grown man, with a body of gears and springs. It crawled low to the ground on the pitter-patter of six steel legs.
The cyan energy of Brands sparked along the ants metal plated armor. The ant glowed briefly as the spell dissipated.
It didnt affect it in the slightest. Worse, there had to be more of them; the spell had split into multiple pieces, after all.
Jagged gaps were starting to appear in my energy shield. If we didnt counter the ants soon, I was going to be looking at a brutal mle.
Several more ants followed right behind it, the cyan glow fading from their body. The lights from the bonfires behind them flickered on their abdomen plates.
The goblins stepped back into view as the ants entered the tunnel. We only had a couple seconds before the ants leapt on us and rent us to pieces. On the plus side, at least the ants metallic bodies were deflecting the goblins laser fire, vastly reducing the number of beams that hit me and my nearly depleted energy shield.
I fired a couple more bolts from my tail. The bolts either bounced off the parts of the ants covered by their steel-plate exoskeletons or passed in between the sparse exoskeletal plating and got crushed by the ants internal machinery.
Brand! I yelled.
Wait for it!
The radar display on Brands face gave way to expanding green waves rippling across his screen.
He was them. It was one of the racial perks of being a robot: on-the-spot status information on anything and everything.
It just took a little time to do its thing.
Fortunately, I could buy him time.
Three times per day, I could use my magical crossbows ability.
I still had two uses left.
Tensing my tail, I activated the , firing an orb of churning silver that hit one of the onrushing ants. Exploding, the orb launched expanding waves of silver flames in every direction. The flame-waves acted like walls, sweeping up everything in their path. I was close enough to the epicenter of the blast that it took about a third of my hitpoints with it. More sparks spilled onto the cavern floor as I dug my claws in to hold my ground.
Fortunately, the clockwork ants bore the brunt of the blast. The lead ant crumpled under the force of the expanding silver waves. The ants behind it were thrown back, their frames and exoskeletons battered by the impact. Behind them, the goblins got knocked down like bowling pins.
Brand stepped back. Shit! Clockwork Ant absorbs and neutralizes all targeted, ray-based spells!
The ants limbs twitched as they righted themselves. The goblins helped each other to their feet.
Recommendation? I said. Whats the recommendation?
always came with recommended tactics.
Melee attacks, contact magic, and any spell that doesnt have a target! Brand said.
Glad to hear they arent too overpowered, I thought.
Taking advantage of the chaos, I fired bolts at as many goblins as I could.
Feed the baby! Brand yelled.
Ugh.
I hated that meme.
But, at least I knew what would happen next.
A gust of light rushed up from the ground in the middle of the tunnel as a pit opened up beneath our fallen enemies, right where the tunnel opened up in the larger chamber. Brand stood off to the side with his arms in the air, fading magic swirling around his hands.
Three goblins managed to jump out of the way, but the rest and all but one of the ants plummeted some forty feet down as they failed to escape the opening pit.
Turning forward, I galloped at the four stragglers that had jumped to safety. Slapping my tail on the tunnel floor sent me toppling forward, a big, scaly battering ram that knocked my foes into the pit. One of the three goblins died instantly, his skull cracked by the force of my impact, and then crushed as it smacked scalp-first onto pits jagged walls.
I scrabbled my limbs over the rough stone underfoot to slow myself down, skidding to a stop at the pits edge, nearly falling in. My tail and one of my hind legs went over the edge, but I had no trouble extricating myself; pangolins were excellent climbers.
Unfortunately, so were the clockwork ants.
They easily climbed up the pits sides. They dug into me with their metallic mandibles right after Id gotten all of myself back onto sturdy ground. They targeted the narrow gaps between my plate-scales, using their absurd strength to tear my scales right out of my skin. Id have been deeply wounded had the Woodhide potion not been doing its thing. Beneath my scales, my actual skin had grown a layer of protective bark.
I would have countered by swatting them with my tongue, but the thought of them cutting it down the middle with their mandible stopped me cold.
Brand! I yelled.
Helping! he replied. Watch out!
I barely had time to look up before a bunch of angular boulders appeared overhead and plunged to the ground. They pounded at my back, and at the ants.
Yelping in pain, I pounced forward, away from the clockwork ants. I turned around in a half-stumbled spin, thrashing my tail. I curled the front of my body to bring the ants in range of my massive claws, though this did little to faze my attackers.
A couple of the ants lay at the bottom of the pit, smashed to pieces by Brands boulders, but the rest were climbing up the pits walls once more, venting steam.
Fudge!
Brand! I yelled. Do you have anything else!?
I fired bolt after bolt from my tail, but it did little to stop them.
Keep them away! Brand said.
It wasnt like I wasnt already trying!
With a roar, I lunged at the ants as they climbed out of the pit. Screeches echoed through the cavern as I raked my claws against the ants plate-metal exoskeletons. The noise made me wince.
I did manage to shatter their compound eyes. The gleaming, faceted gemstones fractured after one or two blows.
But that only made them angrier. They swarmed me. Each one had to be as big as one of my limbs!
Bran I bellowed, only to lose myself in an agonized scream as one of the ants plunged its mandibles into my tail. The ant ran its jaws along my tail, from the midpoint to the base, against the grain, ripping them off like corn from a cob.
I countered with several bloody kicks, rolling away from the pit to shake them off. Brand dropped another handful of magically-summoned boulders on top of us. I rolled out of the way of all but one, but the ants dodged most of them.
Having to climb over the boulders gave me just the opening I needed to strike with my claws. One of my talons caught onto the metal ribbing where an ants body wasnt covered by its exoskeletons. My claws long curves gave me enough purchase to clasp those frames and use them like handles to tear the ants off me and fling them into the pit one by one.
Heavily damaged and bleeding out, I staggered toward Brand. Behind me, I could already hear the angry snaps of metal mandibles.
They were climbing back up again!
Brand!! I screamed.
White light swirled around him, lashing out at the surrounding ground, billowing his green cloak.
He raised his arms and yelled. Code Corusca PX-12!
The light around him ignited in electric fury. Brightness torched the cavern, making my vision flash black. Static ricocheted inside my head, screaming through my ears. My legs and tail tingled in alternating waves of numbness and paresthesia.
I blinked and blinked until my vision returned, moments of clarity flashing in the dark. I glimpsed bolts of electricity leaping all over the lifeless clockwork ants crumpled behind me. The light in their eyes had left; their tick-tock gears were finally silenced.
Unfortunately, it was a mixed blessing.
I walked up to Brand, looking over his body in shock.
Brand was on his knees. Electricity ran amok through his circuitry, making his body spasm and twitch. Green static and other random patterns sputtered across his black LED screen face.
What had he done? It looked like an energy attack, but it couldnt have been, because the ants would have absorbed it.
And then, brushing aside his cloak, I saw it. His back had exploded, leaving an open compartment whose frayed and charred circuitry sparked like a box full of stars.
My blood ran cold as I realized what hed done.
No! I yelled. No!
Hed made his reactor go critical. It wasnt a spell, just a massive explosion. Hed dealt them a mortal blow with his own internal power source.
Suddenly, I became aware of the pain encroaching on my every limb. Looking over my arms and back, I saw as much blood and burn marks as I did pangolin scales.
It would have killed me too, were it not for my natural minor electric resistanceanother win for Team Pangolin.
Without a second thought, I canceled my that was my last use of the ability for the dayand rushed over to my friend, nearly tripping over my own two feet in the process. Everything ached.
I smel like burnt pangolin.
Kneeling beside him, I started converting my unused spell slots into their healing spell equivalents, casting heals again and again, alternating between Brand and myself. The healing lights radiance grew fainter as I expended my higher-level spells and moved to channeling my lower-level ones. The process was terribly frustrating. It wasnt safe for us to rest, so I needed to be very careful about which of my higher-level spells to convert into healing.
After several agonizing minutes, the graphics on Brands LED screen face reappeared and stabilized as my magic finished regenerating his reactor. Id also regrown most of the scales on my tail, though the thing still ached dully. It also itched fiercely.
Did we win? Brand asked.
Yeah, I said, smiling weakly. Yeah we did.
127.3 - Roll for Initiative!
I was shaken, to say the least. Id barely managed to bring Brand back to life. Had I used one or two more spells, I wouldnt have had enough slots left to convert into healing magic to bring Brand back from the brink. I spent twenty minutes cleaning off the char marks and chemical stains on his back. The metal plate that covered Brands reactor lay crumpled on the ground several feet away, and I had to hammer it back into shape before I could stick it back on Brands back where it belonged.
I ached all over by the time we were finished. Id barely sat down before passing out from the exhaustion.
When push comes to shove, it turns out those goblin totems were pretty comfortable to lean against, all things considered.
I woke up several hours later to find that Brand had set up camp in the goblins settlement. The stone stank of rotten meat and goblin musk. I skittered away in shock at the sight of the goblins totems, whose gruesome details I only just noticed.
The things were misbegotten and macabre, made from bones, stone, sinew, and the exoskeletons of giant arthropods. Their sinister shadows danced by the light of our campfire, which Brand had appropriated while Id slept.
Yes, the goblins were cretins and degenerates, but they sure knew how to prepare a hearth. Theyd stuck sharpened bones into the flames, on which theyd speared the meat, to be roasted for dinner. One of the spits had a goblin head on it, charred to a crisp.
Look whos up, Brand said.
I dusted myself off, removing bits of crumbled insect wings that had gotten snagged on my scales.
Wh-What happened? I asked.
You slept a little, then I slept a little, too, Brand replied. Weve restored our lower-level spells and some HP. Currently, Im at two-thirds of my maximum HP. The rippling circles crossed his facethe sign that he was scanning. Youre at three-quarters max health.
Should we rest some more? I asked.
I wouldnt risk it, Brand said, shaking his head. We lucked out this time. Wed probably get attacked if we tried again. Fortunately, he added, Ive got my recharged and theyre not targeted attacks, so they should be good if we come across any more of those mechanical ants.
Walking up to the campfire, I sat down cross-legged with my tail curled around me. Brand joined me, his hydraulic joints softly hissing as he sat down at my right.
Are you hungry? Brand asked.
I shook my head. No, not yet. You? I asked.
Though, as a robot, Brand didnt eat food, he did need to consume charge every now and then, be it electrical or arcane.
Nope, he replied, with an LED grin. Its one of the perks of being mechanical: healing takes care of my energy needs.
I wish youd told me what you were going to do, I said. The self-detonation, I mean. I I tucked my legs against my chest. You really scared me back there, I said. I was worried you werent going to make it.
Brand tilted his head. I would have told you if Id thought of it earlier, he said, but it was a spur-of-the-moment thing.
Lowering my head, I sighed.
I dont know whether or not dying in here will kill us in real life, and I dont want to find out. We have to be more careful. I I swept my tail to the side, scratching my scales along the rock. I dont thik Id be able to forgive myself if dragging you in here caused me to lose you forever.
Excuse me? he said. Im the one who pulled you into this. If theres any blame to shoulder, its mine, not yours. Besides, if you want to pull out, we can always use my spell. Its set up to instantly take us out of the Incursion and send us back to the part of Lantor where you and I have joint control over absolutely everything.
I flicked my tail from side to side, trying to fill the silence. But the silence ran its hands over me and tugged at my neck. Emotions Id been suppressing for the past few days bubbled to the surface.
would be my fault; depression can do that to a guy.
I shook my head. You dont get it, Brand, I said, my voice breaking. You you dont.
Alright, that does it, Brand said, crossing his arms in frustration. For a while now, Ive had a feeling that somethings been off with you. So, spill it. Whats going on?
I told him about Yuta, about the fungus devouring the stars, about Andalons anger with me, and the time rifts, and Suiseis secrets.
I told him about Mr. Himichis death.
And then
I took an especially deep breath. Brand Mistelann Skorbinka is dead.
The robots LED face froze, then twitched. What?This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
I looked him in the eyes. He loved you, you know. He wanted me to tell you that. Trembling, I glanced downward. He asked me to, with his dying breath. He wanted to kiss you, Brand. He wanted you to have all of his kisses.
Brands green LED eyes dropped.
Fuck.
There was a long quiet.
Is that all? Brand asked.
I wish. I said.
You wanna talk about it? he asked.
That opened the floodgates. Im scared, Brand, I said, with a shudder. Im petrified. I dont know whats going to happen next. I thought I could predict it, but I cant and that terrifies me. I shook my head. I have this sinking feeling that something awful is about to happen, and the fact that I dont know what it is makes it almost unbearable.
Something more awful than the fungal apocalypse? Brand asked.
Yes! I groaned, staring him in the face.
Genneth he sighed. We have plenty of time. Time doesnt flow in here at the same speed as it does out in the Thick World.
That would be more helpful if we werent up against an evil that attacks across time, I said. The rift I saw in Yutas memories matched the knights descriptions of the rift that brought them forward into our era. I think the fungus created the rift time, maybe even with the intention of bringing the knights to our time period. It probably brought Verune to the future, too. How can we fight something like that? I asked. Whats the point of making plans against an enemy that can strike us from the past?
Ignorance wont get us anywhere, Brand replied.
Ignorance isnt the same thing as the inability to know, I said. You cant understand what cant be understood. I sighed. Part of the reason Ive been to keep hold of my sanity is because of my hope that, eventually, the mysteries will unravel and all of this will finally make sense. But what if never does? What if we cant ever understand it? How can reason be my guide if it doesnt give me all the answers?
What do you mean? Brand asked.
Well for instance, how do I know that the crud Mordwell Verune spewed from the Melted Churchs balcony isnt the Angels honest truth?
Brand stared at me for a silent moment. His green LED lips had shrunk down to a little blot on his face-screen.
Why do there have to be answers? he said, quietly.
I stammered. W-What?
Categories are a convenience, not an absolute.
I stared at him.
Again, Brand sighed. He waved his hand at me dismissively. Alright, alright, how about this: how do we know when someone has died? he asked. Im not talkin about definitions for legal or medical purposes. Im talkin about the end-all, be-all, this is the fundamental meaning of what death is definition.
What does that have to do with anything? I asked, spreading my arms.
Everything, Brand replied.
Well I bit my lip. Youre dead when youre dead, I said.
Really? Brand said, his LED eyebrows flattening at me. Mr. Neurotheology has nothing to say about the ultimate nature of death? I cant believe it.
I lowered my gaze. I dont like thinking about death, Brand, I said. You should know that. Heck, Ive been spending the better part of a decade writing a clarinet sonata just to avoid having to talk about the deaths of my loved ones.
Brand nodded. Well, speaking as a pathologist, death is a beasteaten mess. Some say you die when your pulse stops. Others say you die when consciousness ends, but thats not much better. How can we say we know when and where consciousness ends when we still dont yet know what consciousness truly is yet. Is it when brain signals stop, and if so, what counts as stopped? Wheres the cut-off? Is it when theres a certain amount of hypoxia or hypoglycemia? Is it when the brains frontal cortex is no longer producing detectable levels of electrical activity?
I think thats reasonable enough, I said.
Brand shook his head. Not a chance. What if the brains higher functions are still in working order and the body is perfectly fine? Is that death? And what if you train a computer to perfectly simulate someones consciousness? He pointed his finger at his head, as if to volunteer himself. Has the person come back to life, or are they still dead?
Whats your point? I asked.
The more we learn about death, the more we appreciate just how much we still dont understand. Thats true for most things, not just death. Yet most of us go about our lives without ever thinking about that. At the risk of sounding like you, he added, its a matter of hubris. You take it for granted that there should be categories, classifications, and answers, and that we should be able to figure them out. But you know what? The truth is, its a miracle that we know anything at all, and another miracle that what we know turns out to be usefully applicable. Compared to the people that came before us, we probably seem like gods. We can cure disease. We can control the weather. We can fly. Yet, in the grand scheme of things, were still ants.
I frowned. I dont like being an ant, I said.
Well, I do, Brand said. At least most of the time. He tamped his staff nto the ground. Knowing the way people get, Id be worried if we really were the big fish in the pond. Its good that there are still mysteries: I wouldnt want to live in a world where there were no mysteries left to unravel.
But you just said it was hubris to believe that the mysteries even had answers.
Yes, Brand said. Its hubris to expect it. So dont. He shrugged happily. Dont expect to find answers, but never stop looking for them. Stop beating yourself up for what you dont know or cant do, and focus on what you can do, one step at a time. And if youre lucky, youll discover that you were wrong.
Lucky? I said, gawking at him. How can you say that? At this point, Im the last person Id trust. I briefly closed my eyes. Id been meaning to tell you about Mistelanns death all this time, but I couldnt work up the courage to do it because I saw you were happy, and I didnt want to take that from you. I started to rant, slowly at first, then faster and louder, though I never rose to a yell.
I was spiraling.
Just like I couldnt work up the courage to come clean about my transformation until it was too late, just like I couldnt tell the truth to my family until it was too late, just like I couldnt save Nina until it was too late, just like I scared away Andalon again, just like I couldnt work up the courage to listen to my son tell me everything was fine and instead insisted he get the surgery, only to die on the operating table, just
Brand leaned over and kissed me, digital lips puckering on his LED screen-face. This wasnt like the previous kiss. This was slow. Deliberate.
He pulled away reluctantly.
Ive always loved you, Genneth, he said, softly.
Pixlated tears trickled down his screen.
Brand?
He stared at me aslant.
Thank you for telling me about Mistelann, he whispered. A tear twinkled in his eye. It mustnt have been easy to carry that burden.
I I dont deserve
Stop saying that! Brand rebutted. Of course you deserve my thanks. And not just for that. His LED face smiled. Thank you for being who you are, Genneth Howle. Sniffles rasped from his speakers. Dont ever change. But if you must then make sure you change for the better.
The silence returned, but, like our bodies, it too had been transfigured. I might still have felt broken, but at least I wasnt alone.
128.1 - Break the Tablets
Karl was uncoiled and did not know how to put himself back together again. Hed lain his torso on the side of one of the metal cars, letting his tail-body trail around and behind it. The vehicles front half had been completely melted away by the silver-eyed Norms spore breath. The garages mosaic floor was slippery beneath Karls underbelly, but Karl hardly noticed that; his attention was on the console between his claws, resting on the cars roof as if the half-melted vehicle was a desk.
Using the console was frustrating and delicate. His arms, hands, and fingers were much, much bigger than what the console had been designed for, and that was before Karl even counted his claws. Dr. Rathpalla and some of the others had tried to calm him down or offer to help, but Karl had angrily lashed out at them, only to be frightened by the plumes of spores that spewed out alongside his words.
Progress with the console was agonizingly slow. He had to take great care not to push too hard with the tip of the single claw he was using to tap tap tap on the consoles screen. Karl had already made that mistake twice before, as seen in the two ruined consoles on the ground beside him.
How much longer till you break your fifth, I wonder? Ichigo said, with a bitter smirk.
Karl huffed, spewing a little puff of spores over the edge of the cars roof. He was starting to regret his decision to let Ichigo out into the real world.
The ghost sat cross-legged on the cars roof, and was still in his oni form: red-skinned, white-haired, and clothed in black. At the moment, Karl was waiting for the console to load the next article.
You dont need to be so mean, Karl said.
Ichigo squeezed one pair of hands around his ankles and another around his thighs. And you should stop and think more about what you are doing.
Youre one to talk, Karl replied.
Somewhat to his surprise, Ichigo nodded. Youre right. But if Lord Uramarus lessons were good enough for me, they should be good enough for you.
Karl sighed. The spores he produced sizzled against the cars roof, eating away more of the blue paint. What do you want from me?
You have mighty powers, Ichigo said, crossing one pair of arms. Use them.
I did! Thats how I broke the first two!
Karl wasnt at all used to controlling the magical powers that came with the loss of his humanity, and his attempts to use them to manipulate the console had ended in explosive failure. The whole process was complicated and dispiriting enough that Karl had decided to use his claws, figuring that it was at least closer to what he already knew what to do with the human fingers that he no longer had.
Console number three broke because Karl had sliced his claw through the screen in an attempt to scroll down the page. Because of this, Karl couldnt simply flick his fingertip across the screen to move the text up and down. Instead, he could only get it to move in small spurts, which he accomplished by gently rubbing the back of one of his fingers against the screen in a downward motion. It was agonizingly slow compared to what he could have done if hed still had human fingers, but it was better than nothing. Unfortunately, it was really hard to be patient when the words he wanted to see were from the article about the use of darkpox in the Third Crusade.
As for console number four, it had met its end when Karl had been scrolling through the list of individuals known or suspected to have been involved in biological warfare. Hed spotted Geoffreys name on the list. As hed already figured out in his brief stay as a human in this strange new future world, the fact that the letters of Geoffreys name appeared on the screen with a special light blue coloring meant that the console would take him to an article about Geoffrey with just a tap of those colored letters. In urgency, Karl had pressed the tip of his claw against the screen with so much force that hed split the console in two.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Have you considered trying again? Ichigo asked.
And mess up all over again? Karl lowered his head in shame. No thank you.
Then send me back into your mind, Ichigo said. I dont want to sit here and watch you mope, and its not like Im helping you by being here.
Karl didnt want to admit that he valued Ichigos company. Unlike everyone else, the Mewnee didnt go out of his way to be kind, helpful, or understanding. He was angry, too, and worried about his master, Lord Uramaru. Ichigo didnt honey his words; he didnt try to convince Karl that things would get better, and in that respect, he definitely was helping.
Of course, it would be nice if Ichigo and the other spirits could have done more than just
Wait a moment, Karl muttered.
What is it?
I Karl blinked. I think I have an idea.
Ichigo raised a single eyebrow.
Im having trouble staying focused, Karl said. Theres just so much going on inside my mind, now. I can focus on you; Im having any trouble keeping you here, Ichigo, but when it comes to my powers
You said you had an idea, Ichigo replied. Whats this big idea of yours?
Maybe you can use the console. He pointed at Ichigos hands. Other than their color and number, Ichigos oni-hands were no different from a mans, and that made them perfectly suited for using the console.
Ichigo gave Karl a specious look, and then leaned forward and waved one of his hands back and forth through the console and the roof of the car.
Then he crossed all four of his arms.
You were saying?
I meant, what if you could use the console? Karl said.
How? Ichigo asked.
Like this
Clenching his fists, Karl focused on Ichigos hands. It was much easier for Karl to do that then to make his powers operate out of nothing. Even if Ichigo wasnt actually there, he was more real than anything else that crept out of Karls imagination. Still, Karl had to imagine threads of power coming into being around Ichigos hands in order to actually put the damn things there.
Ichigo stared at the strange, luminous mittens Karl had given him, lifting his hands and turning them side to side. Are these supposed to be gloves?
No. Theyre what Im using to try to make your hands solid again, Karl answered. Dr. Howle had done something similar with one of his spirit companions when we went into the General Labs building. This let the spirit attack the soldiers as if it was there, even though it was invisible.
Ichigo narrowed his eyes in alarm. This isnt going to blow anything up, will it?
Uh I hope so? Karl replied.
Huh, Ichigo said, so this is what it feels like.
What what feels like? Karl asked.
Ichigo looked off in the distance. In my country, of the greatest martial arts a nobleman can hope to attain is skill at horseback archery.
Archery on horseback? Karl said. Oh! Like Old King Krogs hussars, you mean?
I dont know who that is, but sure, Ichigo said. He looked up at the ceiling. I asked Lord Uramaru to instruct me in that noble art, but well, he wasnt exactly thrilled by the idea.
Why not?
He told me the risk of failure is high and that he wasnt really comfortable with me injuring myself, or the horse or the trees. I didnt see the problem at the time. But he said that, one day, Id understand how he felt. Now Ichigo turned his hands over. I think that day has come.
So did he end up teaching you? Karl asked.
Yes, Ichigo said.
Did you injure yourself?
Ichigo just scowled.
Alright, so that means yes, Karl thought.
Ichigo glowered at him. I can hear that, you know.
S-Sorry, Karl said, meekly.
There was a pause.
Can you can you try to see if what I did if it
Ichigo rolled his eyes. Fine, fine. Hopping off the roof, Ichigo landed on the ground beside the car. Then, turning to face it, he reached out and slapped his hand on the side.
To both boys surprise, the metal made a definite thud.
It it worked! Ichigo said, wide-eyed.
Then, with a groan, the side of the car hed hit fell forward and onto the garages floor with a nasty din. Ichigo leapt back to dodgeeven though there was nothing to worry aboutwhich sent him hurtling into the car behind him and shattering its windows as his body phased through its exterior and pulled his hands through the glass.
In shock, Karl had surged forward, only to knock the console off the roof, cracking its screen as it hit the tiled floor.
Ichigo scratched his head as he got up off the ground.
Quite a few transformees were staring at both of them.
Aw shit, Ichigo muttered.
128.2 - Break the Tablets
Karl managed to get the other transformees to leave him alone by telling them about whatd he done with Ichigo. The others were excited by the possibility of giving their spirits the power to interact with the real world, and went off to experiment on their own, leaving Karl alone to continue his research.
Even better, Ichigo had gotten a sixth console for Karl and was serving as Karls fingers. Things were progressing at much more quickly this way, though Karl had had to give Ichigo the ability to read Trenton script, and that had taken a while to figure out.
As long as I dont mess anything else up, Karl said, we shouldnt need any more.
Lets hope youre right, Ichigo said.
The oni sat cross-legged atop the cars roof, with the console laid out in front of him and Karl leaning in from the side to watch.
There, Karl said, tap Geoffreys name.
I know, I know.
It took a long time for the article about Geoffrey to appear. Karl figured it was because the world was ending, and Ichigo had agreed.
This stuff worked more quickly when Lord Uramaru and I were alive, Ichigo said.
For Karl, reading the article about the biological warfare had been equal parts sobering and painful. He couldnt believe his countrymen would do something so awful, and he simply refused to believe that Geoffrey, of all people, could have been involved.
It cant be true, Karl said, muttering aloud. We wouldnt do that. Darkpox is unholy. To use it to kill so many people He shuddered. Thats insane! Part of the story has to be missing. He turned to Ichigo. How can you be so sure Trentoners used darkpox against you as a weapon of war?
You doubt their Flying Cloud? Ichigo asked. From what Lord Uramaru saw, it holds all the worlds truths.
It mortified Karl that he couldnt say, yes, no matter how much he wanted to.
And he really, really wanted to.
I want to know more. Karl pointed at Ichigo. You were there, but the people who wrote this history werent. He motioned toward the console with one of his elbows.
Ichigo scoffed. We lived it. That plague came to Lord Uramarus estate, and Lord Uramaru told me hed received words from Sakuragis agents that the Trentoners were to blame.
Nighttouched Sakuragi? The Butcher? Karl asked.
Ichigo nodded. Yes, I agree, the man was a monsterand so were his agentsbut they never failed to get the truth. According to their report, rebel partisans had been planting darkpox in nobles estates across the colonies. The disease might be a force of nature, but the outbreak was man-made.
Ichigo glanced at the console The article! he said, suddenly startled. Its appeared!
Karl craned his neck over to look. Then, slowly, he began to read. He should have felt his heart racing in his chest, but he no longer had one, or so Dr. Rathpalla had told him. He was barely a few lines in when he came across a passage that made him stop cold in his tracks and hold his breath in his chest.
Karl read the text aloud, barely above a whisper.
Athelmarch showed great promise and a brilliant tactical mind. He was the first to propose the use of darkpox against the Munine during the Third Crusade, giving him the dubious honor of being known in Trenton history as the father of biological warfare.
Karl stared at the words blankly.
No, he muttered. No. It cant be. It cant
Any trace of pride in Ichigos face instantly vanished. The onis eyebrows drooped; his lips fell over his white fangs.
He he what?
Karl stared at the text on the screen. You heard it. He wasnt just involved with the use of darkpox. It was his idea. Karl wept. This this cant be true. There has to be some kind of mistake!
Why? Ichigo asked.
Because Karl said, weeping softly. Thats just not who Geoffrey was!
How can you be so sure?
I just am! Karl said, angered by Ichigos doubts. Scroll through the article, he said.
Ichigo complied.
Not so quickly!
Ichigo slowed down.
There, Karl said. He thumped his hand on the cars roof, punching a hole in the metal in the process. Stop.
Ichigo did, and then read aloud.
Both as a soldier and later as a commander, Athelmarch excelled on the battlefield. He commanded fierce loyalty from his troops, most famously in a controversy with the Archluminer of Lightsbreath, who attempted to have Athelmarch stripped of his rank out of fear that Athelmarches cursed bloodline risked stoking divine retribution against the Crusaders. Athelmarchs men fended off templar guards brought by the Archluminer to have Athelmarch arrested for crimes against the faith.
I remember that Karl said, tears trickling from Karls eyes. I was there.
Karls memory of the day Archluminer Fawkes came for Geoffrey was more vivid than ever before. He remembered the cold winter mornings air, the heat and pressure from all the armored soldiers standing alongside one another in solidarity with their leader.
Now, as then, the moment warmed Karls chest.
Archluminer Fawkes was such a dastard, he said.
Ive never met one of your priests who wasnt, Ichigo added.
No, Karl rebutted, you dont understand. The charges Fawkes brought Geoffrey were ridiculous. Bever said the worries about divine retribution was just superstitious bullshit meant to give Fawkes an excuse to act against Geoffrey. The Count of Lightsbreath had a grudge against Geoffrey, ever since Geoffrey earned command of the Second Legion instead of him
How does the future know this happened? Ichigo asked.
Karl turned back to the console and continued reading.
One of Athelmarchs soldiers, Geren of Pinesbroke; scroll down.
Ichigo did.
One of Athelmarchs soldiers, Karl said, starting again, Geren of Pinesbroke recorded in his diary how the soldiers of the Second Legion of the Third Crusade would bear neither umbrage nor accusation against the man with whom they broke bread.
Karl paused. Geren He smiled faintly. Who would have thought those diaries of his would have survived for all this time?
You knew this Geren? Ichigo asked.
Karl nodded. He was with us when we arrived in this era. He Karl looked away. He died instantly.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
Was it?
Karl shook his head. No, it wasnt your fault, nor your masters.
Out of the corner of his eye, Karl noticed Dr. Rathpalla was watching the two of them with interest.
Karl continued reading.
Historian Helen Margrave argues that Geoffrey owed his success as much to the camaraderie he forged with his soldiers as he did to his inborn tactical ingenuity. Because his heritage made him a pariah among his aristocratic contemporaries, Athelmarch had few compunctions toward associating with the rabble. In contrast to the norms of the time, Athelmarch treated his soldiers as his equals, regardless of their status or origin, a remarkably progressive attitude for that day and age.
Karl swallowed hard and nodded.
He turned to Ichigo and pointed at the console with a claw. Thats who Count Geoffrey Athelmarch was, Ichigo. He had integrity!
Life is not black and white, Ichigo said. Scoundrels can be honorable; men of integrity can still do terrible deeds. It doesnt make them good or evil, it just makes them human. Lord Uramaru taught me that.
No, Karl yelled, Geoffrey was good! He he has to be!
Why? Ichigo asked.
Karl stammered. Because he He smacked his lips, trying to form the words. But then what little confidence Karl felt crumbled and took his composure down with it. He broke down and sobbed.
Ichigo grimaced.
Slipping down the side of the car, Karl flopped onto his tail-body, slunk off toward a support column and wrapped himself around it before sobbing his guts out onto the floor, sending spore-sweetened tears trickling down his scales.
Alright, Dr. Rathpalla yelled, that does it!
The doctor is coming, Ichigo said.
Karl just cried.
Dr. Rathpalla waddled around to the back of the car and the column behind it. Kid! he yelled. Karl! He looked down through the gap between the car and the structural column. Cmon, buddy, talk to me! He clapped his hands. Talk to me!
Groaning and gagging, with clenched fists, Karl lifted his head. You wouldnt understand, he said.
It wasnt just that Geoffrey was the most honorable person Karl had ever known. It wasnt just that Geoffrey was kind and compassionate, and humble despite his infamy. No.
Suddenly, Karls memories took a life of their own as a third of the garage in Karls field of view was replaced by a vision of his past. It was as if he was watching players act out his life, only instead of happening on a stage, he experienced the moment of recreated time as if he was living it all over again, seeing it again through his own eyes.
Ichigo rose up off his knees and stared. Whats this? he asked.
A view of the city of Lightsbreath beneath a midday sky interrupted the cars and the wall of the garage. The bivouac the Crusaders had set up just outside of the city lay in the background. An ugly smog hung overhead, staining the bright blue skies where it billowed up from all the fires.
Lightsbreath was burning.
I I was watching the fires, Karl said, in the now.
The soldiers had erected a simple defensive palisade around the bivouac using the nearby trees, the stumps of which huddled in the palisades shadow. Geoffrey sat on one of the stumps, hunched over in grief, watching as the city burned.
Karl watched as, within the memory, Geoffrey turned to face him.
Oh Karl, Geoffrey said. What are you doing here?
The men are celebrating, sir, Karl replied. Bever set up a vat of boiling oil. Hes frying dumplings. They want to give you a toast.
No, thank you, Geoffrey said. He turned back to the city.
The flames were from pyres that had been set up to burn the corpses of the plagues victims. Most of the fires were concentrated in the Mewnee quarter of the city, an extension the invaders had built to for themselves, alone, from which they could oversee the Trenton-folk. Outbreaks of darkpox were spreading up and down the coast, killing Mewnees left and right as it ravaged the cities and the countryside, leaving the enemys forces in disarray.
Its like an act of the Angel Himself, sir, Karl muttered.
Geoffrey glared at him. Youd call darkpox a miracle?
Unsure of himself, Karl lowered his head. People say the sickness is an evil meant to punish us for our sins. But, I think if it helps drive the Mewnees back, maybe it really could be a miracle. Looking up, he dared to smile. As priests like to say, the Angel works in mysterious ways.
Geoffrey frowned. Children are burning, Karl. Or were you not aware of it?
Again, Karl lowered his head. I I saw the bodies, sir.
Memories of those horrors lingered at the edge of the vision, barely visible. Even so, it was more than enough to make Ichigo stare in shock with his arms limp at his sides.
More than anything else, Karl remembered their eyes. All those eyes, searching for a salvation that never came. The eyes of the darkpox victims were so thickly crusted with blood that it seemed as if theyd burned or melted away, only to boil and burst when they met the heat of the purging flames.
Sear that sight into your mind, Karl, Geoffrey said. This is not a miracle, it is the cost of victory. He looked away. A miracle would be if the prize is worth the cost.
Karl had tried to press Geoffrey more on the matter, but the Count refused to elaborate.
It worries me when you keep your sadness hidden, he said. It makes me feel like theres nothing I can do to help.
Some pain deserves to be kept hidden, Geoffrey repliedand hed kept going on like that. Even as the army of the Third Crusade won victory after victory, it would never be enough to dispel Count Athelmarchs gloom. At the time, Karl had thought it was simply Geoffreys heart aching at the sight of so many dead innocents, as any honorable soul would.
Even if the Mewnees were invaders, Karl imagined you would have to have a heart of coal to be able to look at all the death and call it good.
But no, it wasnt sympathy, was it? It was guilt.
Thats why he didnt want to talk about it, Karl said, in the now. Hed been too ashamed.
Karl felt like he was going to be sick. This was devastating; there was no way around it.
Every life is sacred, Karl, Geoffrey had told him. I think mans greatest folly is that we do not truly appreciate life for what it is until its ripped away from us, and from those we love.
This, from the same man whose plans had caused so much death.
Was all Geoffreys wisdom lies?
Karl wanted to be disgusted with the feeling of his chest, arms, and claws rubbing against his back, even though the part of his back they touched was almost two yards after his arms, but he couldnt. What was losing your humanity compared to losing your sense of right and wrong?
Oh Fink Karl muttered.
He wanted to grab the horses bridle and ride into the sunset, far away from all these awful people.
All these liars.
Dr. Howle. Geoffrey.
Liars liars liars.
But I learned from a liar, Karl thought, so I must be a liar, too.
Ichigo leapt off the car and onto the tiled floor. Please please dont start crying again, he said, sounding genuinely nervous.
How wonderful Karl muttered. Im just a baby, arent I? Just a helpless little foal.
Geoffrey really was as bad as everyone said. If Norms were real, then, surely, House Athelmarchs curse was real, too.
Suddenly, a painful pressure pressed down on the tip of Karls tail. It was just enough to hurt, and it was more than enough to shake Karl out of his thoughts, banishing the resurrected memory from view.
Karl yelped. Ow! He flexed his tail, crushing the car from the side. Everyone winced at the sound of the crumpling metal.
Karl felt worse than ever before.
Looking to the left, he saw Dr. Rathpalla curl around the back of the car.
Did you?
Dr. Rathpalla nodded.
Why? Karl moaned. Wh-what was that for?
For being evasive, the psychiatrist replied.
What do you want from me?! Karl yelled, pressing his back against the windows on the cars side. Havent I lost enough already?
I want you to talk to me about what happened, Dr. Rathpalla said. You were opening up before, but now
I dont want to talk about it. I
Karl could hear his father yelling at him: You damn fool! You know nothing!
The word echoed in his mind: nothing, nothing, nothing
His fathers cruel words often cropped up in his mind, but ever since turning into a Norm, Karl heard them as if the man himself was standing right next to him, yelling into his ears.
Karl had thought hed hit rock bottom, but it turned out there was still plenty further left to fall. His anger evaporated, leaving him lost and despairing.
Father was right, he said, I am a fool
I mean, thats not the best place to start, Dr. Rathpalla said, but, if thats whats bothering you, I suppose we can start there.
The car groaned as Dr. Rathpalla settled down against it. He took care to mind his tail as he sat down on Karls.
Nothings bothering me, doctor, Karl said. My father was right, thats all. He gasped. All my life, I wanted to believe he was wrong. All these times Ive gotten so close to giving up and accepting his cruel judgments. But I kept finding hope. First with nature, then with Fink. Then with Geoffrey. Then even with Dr. Howle. I wanted to think that if people could be strong and good like that, then maybe there was hope for me yet. Maybe I could be like that, too. But no, everything is houses built on sand. Look at me! Karl said, pointing at himself. I was worried when Geoffrey kept his pain to himself, and now Im doing the same thing! Thats how much of a fool I am. I keep believing in liars, and Im too much of a dunce to know any better.
He cried.
Ichigo palmed his face and groaned. This is painful.
The oni walked off behind the nearby structural column.
I wish the others were here, Karl said. I wish Fink was here. I wish Bever was here. I wish
You damn fool! his fathers voice said. You know nothing!
My father was right! Karl said. I know nothing! Im just a wishing fool! Wishes dont do anything.
He lowered his head in shame. Wish in one hand, shit in the other; see which one fills up first, he said, quoting his father once more.
That disturbed even Dr. Rathpalla.
Karl
No, Im too old to believe in fairy tales! Karl said. I should have known better, just like I should have known better than to expect people to be good! But I keep doing it. I keep doing it! He looked Dr. Rathpalla in the eyes. Tell me, Dr. Rathpalla, can you fix that? He looked away and shook his head. I dont think so. I dont think s
Kar Karl? Kid, what what happened to you?
Karl jerked his head up and stared straight ahead.
There, right beside the tiled column, stood Sir Bever the Brave. The axeman was clad in full armor, with a look of terrified concern written loudly all over his face.
128.3 - Break the Tablets
Karl found a brand new reason to hate being miserable: as strong as misery was, it could do nothing to stop embarrassment. The shame was salt in Karls wounds, as was the fear hed seen in Bevers eyes; as was the face-full of grout and tile Karl had gotten when, in his foolishness, hed reached out to hug the burly axeman.
That really hurt.
Karl didnt know how to feel about the fact that hed been so hapless and clumsy that Bevers fear had melted away in an instant.
So, he just defaulted to feeling miserable about it.
Was he really that hopeless?
Karl was too scared to answer the question. He already knew the answer to that question, and didnt want to dwell on it any longer.
Bever kept trying to help him up, only to swear in frustration as his arms phased through Karls body.
Damn it! he yelled. Whats happened to me!?
Karl, Dr. Rathpalla said, reaching out with a helping claw, what happened?
Karl pushed himself off the floor with his arms. Shards of broken tile had found their way into his mouth, where theyd opened up cuts, though, by the time Karl spat out the gritty stuffor tried totheyd already been dissolved in his spit, and his wounds had stitched themselves shut from within.
He looked to Dr. Rathpalla. Another spirit has appeared. Slowly, Karl turned his gaze back to Bever.
Spirit? the axeman asked. Am I
Shoulders slumping, Bever held out an arm and looked at his hand. His face turned grave.
It wasnt a dream? he asked, barely above a whisper. I he struggled to form the words. Did I die?
Biting his lip, Karl nodded.
For once, Karl decided not to be a fool; he turned to Dr. Rathpalla for help.
What am I supposed to do?
Did you take care of that spirit who attacked us in your mind? Dr. Rathpalla asked.
Karl nodded.
Then do what you did there. Its the same conversation, just with a different recipient.
But this is different. Karl looked Bever in the eyes. Its someone I know.
Dr. Rathpalla lowered his head and sighed. Can the spirit he closed his eyes for a moment, Bever. Can Bever hear me? he asked.
I can, Bever replied.
He says he can, Karl said.
Alright then, Bever, Rathpalla said, heres what you need to know. He glanced at Karl. And, for Karls sake, I hope you pay attention.
Karl was too upset to feel mortified.
Things got worse before they got better, especially when Ichigo decided to introduce himself to Bever. Karl hadnt heard that much screaming outside of Markus office, when his father berated delivery men for failing to transport goods on time. The tension quickly spiked, leading Karl to lose control of his emotions altogether and sliced the half-ruined car down the middle with a blade of psychokinetic force. Though Karl was embarrassed to admit itit made him look like such an idiot!things might have gotten violent, were it not for Dr. Rathpallas quick thinking.
The psychiatrist had wrapped his arms around Karl in a hug that was more than just a hug, and without any warning or announcement at all. It happened so suddenly that Karl hadnt realized anything else was afoot until the odd, slightly ticklish sensations of his and Dr. Rathpallas bodies plunging tiny fibrils into one another told him that a link was being initiated. The next thing Karl knew, he was in a small, well-furnished future-room. And he wasnt alone. Then, one thing led to another, and well
Karl let his head hang glumly between his shoulders. I dont understand my life anymore. Maybe I never did
And if you didnt, thats okay, Dr. Rathpalla said. Its the rare person who does feel like they understand their life. Its perfectly normal to feel lost, Karl. Depression is not uncommon.
Well... I dont like it, Karl said.
Nobody does, Ichigo said, crossing all four of his arms.
The group of fourKarl, Ichigo, Bever, and Dr. Rathpallasat in their chairs, one at each corner of the compass, atop a sumptuously patterned Dalusian rug that stood between the door and Dr. Rathpallas wooden desk, which was of lovely craftsmanship. There was a large, comforting chair behind the desk, and behind that, a window which gave a sunny view of Elpeck Bay. A glass-covered frame on the wall held a board pinned up with dozens of small pieces of cloth or paper, each covered with brusque ink drawings. The walls also had images of Dr. Rathpallas travels around the world, along with some of the relics hed brought back with him. Karl was astonished to see some of the places the psychiatrist had traveled, from the jungles of the Costranaks to the mountains of the lands far across the sea, things hed only ever heard of in sailors tales.
While Karl and Dr. Rathpalla had returned to their human forms inside Rathpallas mind-office, as he called itwith Karl wearing his favorite vest, breeches, and tunic, plucked straight from his memoriesIchigo had kept his oni form.
Its strange, Dr. Rathpalla said.
What do you mean? Ichigo asked.
When you first transformed into an oni, the psychiatrist explained, well when I saw it, I swear, it was exactly like what Genneth told us would happen if and when the spirits in our care became corrupted by Hell and turned into demons. No offense, but you certainly look like youve turned into a demon.
Bever raised one of his fingers. I second that.
Ichigo sighed in slight bemusement. Munine demons are better than Trenton demons, anyway. My family kept hold of my great-grandfathers shoes, and as a kid, I was fucking terrified of them. I was sure theyd kill me in my sleep.
Karl didnt know what to say in response to that.
Still, Dr. Rathpalla continued, its interesting that youre still completely yourself, Ichigo, despite your appearance.
Ichigo flexed his lower pair of arms. I happen to enjoy this form. Im stronger, nimbler, and more capable than I ever was before.
Dr. Rathpalla glanced at Karl. Karl thinking back to when Ichigo first transformed, I wonder if you might have triggered it subconsciously.
Subconsciously? Bever asked. What does that mean?
Hmm, I suppose you wouldnt have had the concept back in your day, Dr. Rathpalla said. Though, he chuckled, Id have to ask Genneth to be sure.
What is this sub-conscious of which you speak? Ichigo asked.
The psychiatrist launched into an explanation by way of a story. Once, I had a patient who would get nauseous whenever he smelled cherry pie.
Why? Karl asked.
As it turned out, when he was a young man, he and his family were on a trip across the country when they stopped for food and had some cherry pie. Though they hadnt realized it at the time, the pie was spoiled, and they soon became horribly sick. While my patient had forgotten this story, one of his siblings remembered, and told us about it.
I could understand why he would feel sick at smelling the thing if he remembered eating the pie, Ichigo said, but if he didnt, why would it bother him at all?
Dr. Rathpalla nodded. Because of his subconscious mind. Even though my patient wasnt actively aware of it, his body and mind remembered the incident, which was why he reacted to cherry pies the way that he did. Thats the subconscious. Its what your body and brain think about and remember without you being actively aware of it.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
Like a battle instinct? Bever asked.
Dr. Rathpalla nodded again. Yes, a lot like that.
But what would that have to do with me and Ichigo? Karl asked.
Karl, would you say you saw Ichigoor, his people, in generalas demons? Were they things to be feared?
Bever slapped his thigh and laughed. Of course! Everyone doeserm, did. The damn Mewnees were all foreign devils. Uh The axeman glanced at Ichigo. present company excluded, of course.
Ichigo crossed his arms and frowned.
Karl nodded. I think you might be onto something, Dr. Rathpalla.
Interesting, the psychiatrist said. We already knew that ghosts forms could be affected by how they thought about themselves, especially if their wyrm had yet to master their mind-powers. But if the wyrms subconscious can also affect the process, that would hmm
What is it? Karl asked.
Ill just have to ask GennethDr. Howleabout it when I next see him, Dr. Rathpalla said.
From there, it was a simple matter of getting Bever and Ichigo to agree to let Dr. Rathpalla take the lead, for Karls sake. To Karls discomfort, they changed the topic to him.
Bever, do you have anything to say about this? Dr. Rathpalla asked, after having made several observations.
Bever crossed his arms. His axe stood on the floor, leaning against one of his wooden chairs legs. You mean about how Karl doesnt like being miserable? How can I blame him for that?
A bit earlier, Dr. Rathpalla had proclaimed the axeman remarkably well-adjusted. On the one hand, of course Sir Bever would be well-adjusted. He was a remarkable person, as strong in body and character as the blue plate armor he preferred to wear. On the other hand, having the psychiatrist point that out only reminded Karl of just how weak he was compared to Bever, not just as a soldier, but as a person.
I wouldnt put it so bluntly, Dr. Rathpalla replied, but yes.
I well. Bever stumbled over his words. No one likes being melancholy, but Karls a special case.
Why? Ichigo asked.
Karl was somewhat surprised to see the Mewnee taking such interest in this.
I dont think I can remember any time Id have said Karl looked truly happy. Bever looked Karl in the eyes. Youre like the fog, kid, you know that? You just hang around. He turned back to Dr. Rathpalla. Karls troubles have never surprised me. It cant be easy dealing with sorrow when you can hardly ever feel the sunshine yourself.
Karl blushed like mad. This was so embarrassing! He didnt know which was worse: that Fink wasnt here to support him, or his worries that the horse would have thought less of him if he had been.
Dr. Rathpalla, Karl said, I dont agree. Why do you keep trying to make this about me?
Ichigo stared, grinning wryly. Thats the stupidest question Ive ever heard.
No, it just isnt!
Why not, Karl? Dr. Rathpalla asked.
Because its not about me, he said. Its His voice broke. Its about Geoffrey. Damn me! Look at me, all this time, Ive been trying to make myself more like Geoffrey! Im so stupid! Why would I want to do that? Geoffrey is a monster! Look at what he did!
Bever looked down in dismay. You dont need to bring the console out again, lad. Knowing what Geoffrey devised, its no wonder the man was so gloomy all the time. His schemes might have ultimately brought us victory, but I cant say I envy him.
But Karl brought the console out anyway, materializing it in his hands.
Leaning forward, Dr. Rathpalla put his hand on top of Karls, exerting just enough pressure to keep Karl from lifting the console up. Karl, I think Bever is right. You need to stop.
Me? What? Dr. Rathpalla, why do I need to stop? Geoffrey is the one who needs to stop! He he
Karl started crying again, and hated himself for doing so.
Ichigo crossed his arms. And this, Karl Prestingham, is why you are a coward.
Dr. Rathpalla glared at the oni. Why would you say that?
Ichigo scoffed and grimaced. Maybe Im more of an oni than I thought
Sighing, Dr. Rathpalla shook his head, only for Karl to speak up. No, Ichigos right. I am a coward.
The psychiatrist slapped the arm of his wooden chair in frustration. Listen to me, Karl. Look at me. He pointed two fingers at his eyes.
Karl begrudgingly complied.
Youre right, Karl, the psychiatrist said. What Geoffrey did was monstrous. But hes not here right now; you are.
Karl sniffled.
You care a great deal about Geoffrey.
Karl nodded. He was showing me how to be a man. How I could rise above my fathers disapproval. Before I met Fink, he said, I had no reason to be happy. Before I met Geoffrey, I had no reason to like myself.
Why not? Bever said.
Because Im nothing. Karl shook his head. Certainly nothing that anyone else would want to be.
How did Geoffrey change that? Dr. Rathpalla asked.
He was a Light I could follow, Karl muttered. But that Light was just a lie, so now, Im back to having nothing. Being nothing.
Thats not true, Dr. Rathpalla said. If you had nothing, how could you know that what Geoffrey did was wrong? If you had nothingif you were nothingwhy would it hurt you to learn Geoffreys dirty secret?
I
Dr. Rathpalla turned to Bever. Bever, how do you feel about Geoffrey, knowing what you do now?
The axemans expression fell. His cheeks drooped. I wish Id known. He shook his head. Damn it! I had a gut feeling darkpox striking where it had, right where we needed it, was too good to be true, but everyone kept calling it an act of providence.
We were lying to ourselves, Karl said. Geoffrey knew it, and did nothing to stop it. As my father liked to say, hiding sin is no better than the sin being hid, Karl added, lowering his head in shame.
Not to defend the man, Bever said, but what else could he have done? Darkpox is unholy. People think House Athelmarch is unholy; thats why Archluminer Fawkes tried to get Geoffrey stripped of his military rank, remember.
I remember, Karl said.
Good, now imagine what those same soldiers would have done when they learned our great leader was doing a Norms work, dabbling in plague and death!
What would you have done? Karl asked.
I Bever paused to think. Well, I would have given him a good whopping, thats for sure! There was no mirth in his words, only bitterness and resentment.
Karl, Dr. Rathpalla said, the fact that you feel hurt by Geoffreys actions shows that youre not nothing. It shows you still have a sense of right and wrong! Yes, Geoffrey taught you much, but he also helped awaken convictions that were already there inside you, waiting to come out.
Karls voice became terribly quiet. But He wept. This was the hardest part. Then why do I still miss him? His actions have killed so many people, but I still miss him! He cried. Thats Karl wiped his tears on his sleeve. Thats how I know Im broken. A decent person would want nothing to do with a man as evil as that, but I
Karl lowered his head in defeat. Curse me, I give up.
Karl Dr. Rathpalla sighed.
To Karls surprise, Bever sniffled. Youre not broken, boyand I should know!
Karl looked Bever in the eyes. Bever?
The axeman nodded. Ive seen you grow. You hardly talked to anyone when you first enlisted. For Lass sake, you ate your meals all alone! Youd flinch when anyone so much as touched you. But you grew. His lips trembled into a wet-eyed smile. You got to know the boys. You helped me make meals at the mess hall, and even made a few of your own. And you learned how to muster a gun.
Karl, hes right, Dr. Rathpalla said.
But
We might not get to choose how we feel, the psychiatrist said, but we do get to choose what we do with those feelings. Geoffrey was your hero, the first positive male role model in your life. Its natural youd look up to him, just like it is natural that youd both feel hurt by his betrayal, but want to repair that wound, regardless. Youve got no reason to keep berating yourself. This is just how people are. And you youve done more than most. A lot more. You traveled through time, and youre in the process of becoming something other than human. Even so, youve made something of yourself, and youre still doing so. Your story hasnt been written yet; its still being told. So dont let it pass you by. Add to it, Karl! Make it your own. Take what you learned from Geoffrey and use that to be better than he was.
Ichigo, who had been quiet for a while, finally spoke up.
I There was barely any of his usual verve. He was sunken and doleful. Ive felt the same way, he said. Before Lord Uramaru took me under his wing, I wanted nothing more than to make my father and brothers proud. I wanted to be like them; I wanted to be strong, and Id do anything to reach their heights. But Lord Uramaru showed me their dishonor. Truthfully, my family was nothing more than a kennel of lapdogs, waiting to dole out violence at Sakuragis beck and call.
The oni wept.
You speak with great wisdom, Dr. Rathpalla. Lord Uramaru gave me nearly the same advice you just gave Karl. I I miss him terribly, Ichigo said. I will never be able to repay him for his kindness and wisdom, nor will I ever be able to atone for my failure to protect him. I worry I failed him as a retainer, and that I have regressed in his absence. He shook his head. I have so many unbecoming habits. But however angry he might be with me now, he would be far angrier if I gave up. Giving up is the one thing you must not do.
He bowed his head in shame, first to Karl, then to Dr. Rathpalla. I should not have called you a coward, Karl, he said. And, to you, Dr. Rathpalla, I should have never raised my sword.
Th-thank you, Karl stammered. He looked Ichigo in the eyes. Lord Uramaru, Karl said, letting his voice trail off. He was the older man with you when we first arrived in this time period, wasnt he?
Ichigo nodded. One of your comrades cut him down.
Karl shook his head. Im sorry.
Bever bowed his head as well. Myself, as well. When we arrived, wed just come from a battle at Lightsbreath. We did not know where we were, nor what had happened to us, and there you stood, looking like demons fresh out of Cranter Pit.
Ichigo pressed one of his arms on the armrest. It pains me that Lord Uramaru will never hear this. It it would have pleased him greatly.
They might still be out there, you know, Rathpalla said. Geoffrey, and Lord Uramaru.
Ichigo bolted up from his seat. What?
Dr. Rathpalla nodded. Yes. With any luck, a wyrm has picked up their souls and kept them safe.
Does that mean I might be able to see Lord Uramaru again? Ichigo asked, eyes wide.
Look at us now, Dr. Rathpalla said, gesturing at the scene, you certainly arent one of my spirits, but, linked to Karl as I am, you and I can interact with each other as if you were one of the spirits in my care. Granted, if you want to talk to somebody, youll first have to find the wyrm housing their soul but, beyond that, he pressed his palms together, its entirely within the realm of possibility.
What about Geoffrey? Karl asked. How could I ever see him again? His soul must have been taken away to Hell.
Dr. Rathpalla leaned forward in his chair. What makes you say that?
The creature that absorbed Count Athelmarch and the others I absorbed it, but, the boy glanced at Bever, other than Bever, none of them are with me.
Geoffrey was in the fungal creature? Dr. Rathpalla asked.
Karl nodded.
You should have told me that earlier! Rubbing his fingers over his eyes, the psychiatrist sighed.
Why? Bever asked.
Genneth told me hed gotten Ninas soul from that creature. Its not a stretch to assume that any missing souls that should have been in it have, in fact, already been transferred to Dr. Howle.
Karls eyes narrowed with determination. Then thats what the next chapter of my story will be. Ill find Dr. Howle. Ill see Geoffrey again; I have to.
Youre barely in control of your body, Karl, Dr. Rathpalla said. First, youd
Then teach me, Karl said.
Both Ichigo and Bever were pleasantly surprised by Karls newfound resolve.
Meanwhile, Dr. Rathpalla grinned. This is why I love my job, he said.
128.4 - Break the Tablets
Vernon was making Heggy nervous. It was something of a specialty of his, and had been, ever since they were kids.
Vern, she said to him, at the risk of bein rude, you really shouldnt be here.
Sis, I kind of have to be.
Why? she asked. This sort of drudgery is high above your pay grade, Vernon.
The two Marteneiss were working on clean-up duty. At the moment, they were lifting a corpse off the ground.
Watch your step, Vernon said, as they carried the body across the hallway and dumped it in the wheeled clothes-hampertheir third. The hamper was four walls of fabric in a wood and plastic frame, and it looked as old as it smelled.
As for your question, General Marteneiss said, Im here because I have to show you guys that my men and I are no different from you.
Yeah, well, how many of your guys have gone to medical school, or a fuckin nursing program? Heggy asked.
Vernon rolled his bloodshot eyes. No, Heggy, I mean that were no different from you in the sense that were all in this together.
Shit. We must really be deep in it if youve resorted to platitudes like that. She tried to smirk, but was overwhelmed by a coughing fit. Even though Vernon was still in his black, military-grade hazmat suitseemingly safe from the Green DeathHeggy still felt the need to turn away as she bent over and coughed.
Angel, her chest hurt.
Heggy figured she was getting feverish. All things considered, it spoke to how frickin effective masks and PPE were at spreading airborne contagions that even a nightmarish plague of fuckin supernatural or outright divine origin had had some trouble overcoming them. Had this been an earthly disease, good public health measures and sensible decision-making might have stopped the plague in its tracks.
In other words, it would have still been a beasteaten shit-show.
Dr. Marteneiss cleared her throat as she went behind the hamper and pushed it forward down the hall.
The mess was never-ending.
Vern, she said, I hope you realize the only reason folks arent burnin you at the stake is because theyre just too sick to do it?
The spores would also explode, Vernon said.
Speakin of explosions Heggy thought.
Vern? she said.
Yeah?
She stared her brother in the eyes, to let him know she meant business.
What is it? he asked.
What about the nukes? she asked.
Vernons expression turned grave. His lips quivered as they vacillated between a smile and a sob. The next words out of his mouth were soft and delicate. The answer is that there is no answer, he said, and there might never be one.
What? Heggy said.
Central Command hasnt been responding to our comms, Vernon said. Sure, theres always a chance a voice might call out from the wilderness, right now, were operating under the assumption that everyone at Central Command is dead, or worse.
Heggy stopped in her tracks. The wheels of the corpse-filled clothes-hamper squeaked as they ground to a halt on the vinyl floor.
What in the Angels name could be worse?
Some psychopath mounted a coup, and succeeded, Vernon said.
Heggy quietly groaned. Why are people so fuckin stupid? she asked.
He sighed. Theres a chance the orders to nuke Elpeck have already gone through.
If that happens, is there anythin we can do? Heggy asked.
Yeah, Vernon answered, pray that they didnt put a computer in charge of the delivery.
Fuck, Heggy said, with quiet finality.
I can either be here and be useful, or I can dwell on the Sword that may or may not be hangin over our heads, Vernon said.
Alright, alright, Dr. Marteneiss said, I get it, and then the two of them returned to their work, gathering a few more bodies, until the hamper was nearly full.
Stepping away from it, Heggy raised her voice and called out. Any other recent deaths? she asked.
But there was no response, aside from ambient sobbing and moans.
Heggy had come to terms with the fact that her job as a doctor was finished, not just because her body was hosting a developing Type One NFP-20 infection, but because doctors werent really needed anymore. That bein said, it was certainly one hell of a time to be a mortician.
Ward Es medium-sized lobby and reception area looked like Crownsleep International Airport at the height of the winter blizzard season. The place was a human dump. There were as many people sprawled on the floor or up against the walls as there were in the benches and the seats. The reception counters at the front of the room were all unmanned, on a count of their receptionists having died. A couple had been taken away, but a few had to be left in place, because the fungus in their bodies had started to grow out along on the counter and the wall, and it was too difficult to pull it or them away, and everyone was just too damn scared to try. Finally, there was Betty, who was now in the garage with the other transformees.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Lifting the bodies into the hamper was hell, especially if they werent quite dead yet. You also had to check beneath the corpses, in case theyd piled on top of one another.
There were just so many bodies. Heggy had never seen anything like it, not even in her worst PTSD-induced nightmares.
Nearly everyone on the staff who wasnt either dead or wyrmy was now on corpse duty, helping to dump the dead onto one of the rapidly growing piles out in Garden Court.
Dr. Jordan? Heggy said, calling out one of her colleagues names. Has anyone seen Mortimer?
Did he have a tie? a nurse asked.
I dont fuckin remember, Heggy said.
The nurse pointed. Theres a pile of bodies with ties over in that corner. Maybe hes there.
Wonderful, Heggy muttered.
If sarcasm could kill
A nurse came in with a new hamper, rolling it in through the lobbys double doors.
Go on, Heggy, Vernon said, you can take the bodies out. You could use the fresh air. He gave her a wistful stare. I just dont want you to work yourself to death, he added.
Heggy didnt know if it was supposed to be a joke, but whether it was or it wasnt, she really wished Vernon hadnt made it, because it made her laugh, and that laughter quickly sputtered out of control into a coughing fit that ripped what little breath she could catch right out of her lungs.
Dr. Marteneiss let out a hoarse sigh. You and your damn jokes, she muttered.
Trying to clear her throat as best as she could, Heggy got behind the filled hamper and wheeled it out of the lobby.
To expedite corpse-removal, the maze of cordons and plastic barriers that had been set up around the entrances to WeElMeds various wards had been moved out of the way, leaving the path out of Ward E unobstructed as Heggy rolled the hamper around the corner and onto the broad, interward hallway. The interward hallway was a shaft through the hospitals Central Wing that opened up at the back of the Hall of Echoes with an almost anatomical directness. A strip of glass along the wall gave Heggy a view inside Ward Es reception lobby.
While her eyes had been lingering on the far end of the glass strip, Heggy noticed a mountain of a manbald peak and allsitting in a chair in the corner of the room. It was a bit difficult to make out the details, what with all the furniture, corpses, and corpses-in-training that were in the way. Maybe that was what made her stop for a moment and focus, just to see what was there to be seen.
And see, she did. It took a few seconds for Heggy to process what she saw, and once she had, she came to a standstill, except for her heart, which was pounding in her chest like dancers around a bonfire.
The mountain of a man slumped against the wall and the glass was worse than dead. A reticulated blister rose from his collar up to his neck like the head of a giant slug. Swollen growths in the shape of upside-down raindrops snaked out through a chasm in his skull. Fungal filaments grew out from the body and pressed up against the glass, making Heggy think she was looking at an overgrown aquarium. More of the upside-down raindrop structures rose from the growths, ripe, plump, and ready to pop.
Adrenaline flooded Heggys veins. Her combat training kicked. She looked left and right, searching for the nearest exits.
The Hall of Echoes was too far, as were the doors to Ward E, and the doors were closed, so yelling wouldnt help.
Heggy reached into her PPE pocket, to pull out her console, only to realize it wasnt there. A moment later, she remembered, and then cursed.
Fuck.
Shed left it on the reception desk before joining Vernon in the lobby.
Ward D, she thought.
The entrance was right at her left. She could go in, commandeer a PA, and notify everyone about the corpse. And maybe, just maybe, they could get it out before something awful happened.
Abandoning the hamper, Heggy ran into D Ward. Right as she burst through the double doors into D Wards lobby, however, she heard a muffled scream.
Heggy turned around just in time to see that one of the upside-down raindrops had popped, letting loose a green ghost. Several pops followed in quick succession as the other fruiting bodies ruptured, spewing out their sporey loads. Gobs of blood and other pigments splattered the glass, which immediately began to bubble and fizz as the corrosion got to work.
So many things happened in that moment.
The skeleton crew on duty in Ward Ds lobby raced toward Heggy, only to stop cold and look up.
Then, stepping back, Heggy joined them.
The big, wall-mounted consoles in D Wards lobby displayed footage from the lobbies of the other nearby Wards.
Everyone was looking at the one for Ward E.
More than one set of hands made the Bond-sign.
Through the camera, Heggy saw people running to the doors. There were stampedes in every direction. Ear-splitting warning sirens blared as metal plates rose up from the sills above and below the lobbys doorways, inside and out, creating a double-layered seal. One such seal blocked off the double doors Heggy had just walked through.
In the chaos, someone must have triggered the emergency quarantine lockdown protocol.
People near Heggy gasped at the sight of nurses, doctors, and desperate infected batting hands and fists on the doors as the barriers rose to entomb them. The pounding was incessant and frantic.
Not wasting a moment, Heggy ran past D Wards reception desk, taking the long way to the Hall of Echoes. Passing through the Hall, she took the grand staircase up to the second floor and then trekked back toward Ward E, pressing elevator button after elevator button until she finally found one that the quarantine protocol hadnt locked out of Ward E.
She rode it down, and then made her way to the main reception desk, at the back end of the lobby.
Youd think being at deaths doorstep would be enough to stifle any displays of fear or grief, but youd be wrong. The onlookers were heartbroken and horrified. Heggy spent a minute standing there, utterly helpless, darkly spellbound by the bangs of fists on metal.
The plangent noises slowly petered out, only for a fresh wave of muffled screams to break out inside the lobby wall.
The alarm started up again, this time to signal that the metal quarantine barriers had begun to recede.
Break the Tablets Heggy thought.
Someones flicked the switch from the inside! someone yelled.
And everything happened all over again.
Chaos turned to violence as half of those gathered on Heggys side rushed to the doorway, ready to throw open the doors as soon as they could. The double doors reinforced glass window panes jostled in place from the force of all the people trying to break free.
No! What are you doing? a soldier yelled. Stop!
As the barriers opened, Heggy beheld a vision of Hell. Anguish was as thick as the green haze of spores. A small wall of people gathered against the walls of their glass prison. People knelt down in prayer. Staff in PPE stood like divers on the barrens at the bottom of the sea. And, behind it all, the burst corpses fluids painted the surrounding, fungus-touched walls like a demons sigil.
From where she stood, Heggy could tell who had triggered the emergency lockdown. Vernon stood at the far end of the room, behind the desperate infected huddled by the door. His hands were still on the wall-mounted console.
A soldier stood at his side, fending off people who wanted to beat the General to a pulp.
Heggy saw her brothers lips move. Hed been staring right at her, and though she couldnt make out his words over the screams, she knew Vern well enough to read the expression on his face.
Without a moments delay, Heggy turned around and ran over to the console at the central reception desk, behind her, spinning its swivel-mount around to face her.
She scanned her chip, tapped here and there, and then pushed the big red button.
One last wave of screams belted out from the lobby as the metal quarantine barriers half-open jaws reversed their course and closed once more, quashing the glass doors violent tremors, trapping everyone inside.
Fuck Heggy muttered.
She bashed her fist into the wall and yelled, tears trickling behind her PPE visor.
Fuck!
129.1 - Unbezwinglich unser Mut
I have to admit, getting an unexpected kiss from my best friend was quite an unexpected shock, and the aftermath was as awkward as heck. It took about five seconds for Brands sense of propriety to kick in, after which he immediately became flustered, and over the next few minutes, if either of us tried to bring up what had just happened, our attempt at communication sloughed away like autumn leaves. I knew I was lucky that Id never had doubts or misgivings about my sexuality. Obviously, the same was not true of Brand. I could tell he knew I wouldnt reciprocate, and that our feelings for one another were not of the same kind.
If I could change anything about myself, he said, Id make myself less gay and less intelligent.
What!?
Being smart isnt really all that its cracked up to be, he said, with a shake of his head. Intelligence comes with a nasty catch: you get to spend your life painfully aware of how little anyone actually knowsespecially yourself. Also, accomplishments that would have the average Joe whooping for joy just feel meh. It takes a fuckin miracle to find something really worth celebrating.
Brand I said.
If Id been just a little dumber, Dr. Nowston continued, just a little, my life would have been so much easier.
To heck with it: I leaned forward and hugged him. A moment later, I stepped away and put my clawed hands on his shoulders.
Dont you even dare consider that, Dr. Brandley Eric Nowston, I said, unloading the weight of his full name. That would be a change for the worse, and, I smirked. Im pretty confident you just told me not to do that.
A pixelated tear trickled down from his LED face.
Th-thanks, I Brands screen briefly glitched. I needed that.
When we had entered the Thin World, it had been me who was down in the doldrums. Now, the tables had turned, and I was the one trying to raise Brands spirits.
Ironic, wasnt it?
I knew Brand had been itching to further explore the game mechanics, so, I figured, why not carry that torch for him?
Wed be less broken working together than we would be if we were apart.
I turned to the mouth of the tunnel. We should get moving, I said, whatevers waiting for us on the other end of this tunnel is not going to explore itself.
But what about your worries? Brand said.
Theyll just come along for the ride, as they alway do. Yeah, I still feel lost as heck, but at least Im not alone. Having someone by your side can give you that extra bit of strength you need to take a couple steps forward.
He nodded. Alright.
The tunnel continued in the wall opposite the entrance to the goblins camp, rising upward at a gentle slope. Not far around the bend, we came face to face with truly ancient door that blocked the path. It was clearly of Precursor make, with two, square, cross-hatched columns of glittering blue metal flanking either side of the actual door itself, which was made from the same material.
Distressingly, the middle of the bottom of the door was crumpled and rose up and out in a decent sized hole where something had forced its way through.
Now that looks kind of ominous, dont you think? I said.
Brand nodded. How much you wanna bet thats how the clockwork ants got in?
They broke through, I said.
Brand had started walking up to the hole, likely intent on crawling through itor, perhaps, blasting it open with his magicwhen I grabbed him by the shoulder and stopped him.
My nostrils flared.
Ive got a feeling there will be more of those clockwork ants up ahead, I said. And, by feeling, I mean I can smell them.
That makes sense, Brand said. Greg was telling me how hed set the underlying wyrmware to modify the monster spawn registry based on players builds and party compositions, especially in the lead up to boss fights.
Given the strengths of our two-man party, the clockwork ants struck me as exactly that: an enemy designed to challenge us.
I was pretty sure I could hear their gears and motors ticking in the distance.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
I pointed down the short tunnel, toward the goblin camp chamber behind us. Would you mind if we returned to the camp? I eyed the door warily. I dont like being so close to that hole.
Brand nodded, and we walked back into the settlement and seated down by our campfire.
Its like I told you, he said. You should have specialized in melee combat.
And like I told you, I rebutted, it wouldnt have mattered. Ive tried using different character builds, but whenever I enter the Incursion, it snaps me back to this form, I said, pointing at myself. Its as if its remembering how I was during our first contact.
Damn, Brand replied.
I furrowed my brow. Have you considered using a different character class?
Brand shook his head haughtily. Genneth, Im an INT-based sorcerer whos alsorobot. Thats clearly the best of all possible characters.
I would work even better if we had a bigger party, I said.
I know, I know, Brand said, but, here, he pointed at me with a stubborn metal finger, as Ive told you, the more people we have, the more likely the fungus notices us. Did I tell you about how I tried crossing the Forgotten Sands with a small army of NPC mercenaries?
No, I said. What happened?
This four-legged floating fungus-island thing rose up from the sands. It was huge; we didnt stand a chance.
My eyes bugged out. What?
Brand waved his hand. I can show you when we get back.
Ill pass, I said.
So, he asked, other than that, are you ready to go?
We should save, first.
What? Brand asked.
I looked him in the face-screen. Greg didnt give you a goodie bag along with your copy of Wyrmsoft 2.0?
Oh, that, Brand waved his hand. I havent looked through it yet. He shook his head.
Taking off my Backpack of Holding, I opened it up and pulled a violet crystal out after a moment of rummaging. It was big enough that I could only just barely wrap my hand around it.
Whats that? Brand asked.
If youd opened your goodie bag, youd know that its a portable save point. It lets you make a save point to respawn to.
Brands pixelated eyes blinked in curiosity. Yeah, that He sighed. Damn, that would have been really useful.
I keep telling you to be more patient, I said.
He waved his hand. I know, I know.
I was thinking of saving it for later, I said, rolling the crystal in my grip, but I have a feeling something nasty is waiting for us. So Id rather be safe than sorry.
Is this the only one you have? Or do you have others?
Unfortunately, its my only one, I said. I used the others on previous attempts to explore the Incursion on my own.
You didnt ask Greg for more?
I did. He said he was out of stock.
Brand made such a face at that. W-What? How?
I raied my hands defensively. I didnt want to push the issue. It looked like he was working on something, and was already getting pretty annoyed.
I I see, brand said.
Anywho, I asked, you said thered be a big fight before we emerge onto the other side of the mountain? I asked.
That was the case in all my previous expeditions.
Good, I said. So, I figured we lay down the save now, rather than risk losing everything in the boss fightassuming there is one.
Brand nodded. I guess now is as good of a time as any.
I tossed the crystal into the fire. The flames tinged with violet wisps and particle effects.
A blue window suddenly appeared above the campfire, bearing text:
I stared. Party management?
I thought you said youve used these things before? Brand asked.
I glanced at him over my shoulder. I have, but I never saw this. Hmm I flicked a claw across my scale-flecked chin. maybe its because I wasnt in a party when I used it.
Well, check it out, he said.
I selected it with a tap of my finger. The window changed.
|
Party Management
Switch
Recruit
Dismiss
|
Brand pointed at the middle option with his staff. ?
I glanced at him and then pressed . A wave of dizziness struck me as words suddenly swept all across the window. It took a second for me to realize that I could control them with my thoughts, and another second to realize what they were.
Focusing ordered them into a list.
They were names, and not just any names.
What are these? Brand asked.
I leaned toward the window. Theyre the names of the spirits Im housing.
But then a certain name scrolled by, and I froze the list in place.
Yuta Uramaru.
A message appeared beside the name:
| Local player, requesting to join. |
Brands LED-display-eyes narrowed.
Yuta. Isnt that
I nodded. Yeah, hes the one Andalon wont let me talk to.
Did you consider that you might be able to talk to him in here? Brand asked.
I shook my head. I hadnt.
Well, Brand said, its worth a shot.
That it was.
I tapped Yutas name.
Three things happened after that in quick succession.
One: Yuta appeared before us, standing next the fire.
Two: He took one look at us and then calmly drew his katana.
Three: A character creation menu popped into being.
I guess we had our work cut out for us.
129.2 - Unbezwinglich unser Mut
As usual, Brand was right on the money: Andalon couldnt interfere with me in here, and not for a want of trying. I surmised that because my consciousness wasnt entirely inside my body at the moment, whatever control she had over my ghosts had diminished accordingly. It seemed the best she could do was to make Yutas body flicker occasionally, but that was little more than an aesthetic glitch.
It was strange: as Id reached out to select Yutas name, I sensed other spirits fidgeting within me, desperate to break free. Their emotions were all over the place. Some were youngsters whod been watching us through me, keen on lending a hand. Others were mournful or vindictive spirits who yearned to vent their grief and fury. I sensed Ninas presence, solemn and brokenhearted, still reeling from the news of her parents passing. Most of all, I sensed Geoffreys soul. It was like an ember-studded thorn jabbed into my side, pulsing with anger and pain. I knew I would have to confront him eventually, but this only made me that much more wary of it.
But I couldand would have todeal with that later.
As much as I would have enjoyed discussing Yutas memories with him, I had a bigger problem to deal with. We could be attacked at any moment, even while we were working in the character creation menu. As such, Brand and I prioritized summarizing the situation to bring Yuta up to speed.
Youd expect there to be difficulties explaining RPG mechanics to a Munine nobleman who was some four-hundred years behind the times, and you would be right. The hardest part was convincing Yuta that the Brand wasnt a threat. This required me having to take several points of slashing damage from while inserting myself between the two of them and setting the wheels of diplomacy in motion. Fortunately, I was able to quickly parley a ceasefire, after which it was just a matter of explaining the pertinent concepts to Lord Uramaru. It also both hurt and helped that Brand had frozen Yuta in place with a frost cantrip.
I ended up using my claws to break through the ice.
So, Yuta said, dusting himself off, this is a game? He chose his words with care. Entertainment?
Did you ever play make-believe as a child? I asked him. Did your children?
He furrowed his brow. What child doesnt?
Its basically make-believe, I said, gesturing at the goblins totems and tents, but with much better production values
And with rigid rules, grounded in chance and arithmetic, Brand interjected.
And why are you? Yuta motioned at my pangolinly form with a gyre of his hand.
A pangolin-man? Well I shrugged. Why not?
To think Sighing, Yuta shook his head. The world has made a daydream game out of war. He looked up at the caverns ceiling. What I wouldnt have given to have lived in such a world.
You played your part in history, I said. For better and for worse, your contributions helped make our world into what it became.
Yuta stared at me, narrowing his eyes in silent judgment. So, he asked, what is it you need me to do?
Brand and I glanced at one another and grinned.
If youve played any RPGs, youll know that character creation is a sacred ritual. In it, the player and the game pledge a kind of oath toward one another, a promise of what the playthrough will become. We created Yutas character on his behalf, with that (slightly silly) solemnity in mind.
Unlike Brand, whose character bore no resemblance to his real-life appearances, or mine, which sort of did, we let Yuta keep his appearance. Also, he was rather attached to it, and sternly opposed the idea of changing species.
You said this was serious, he said, and so, I am taking it seriously. Shouldnt you be doing the same?
I got locked into this form, I told him. Its a long story.
Yuta exhaled in frustration.
After a bit of discussion which Yuta tried his best to take seriously, we succeeded in improvising a tanky melee build meant to address our two-man crews shortcomings: a
. This was a nimble character class designed to dodge, duck, and leap while dishing out massive amounts of damage, with strong base stats to make up for the equipment restrictions.
The
s titular Pact was a contract the character made with a powerful spirit in exchange for a magical weapon to which they would be bonded, and whose abilities would grow alongside them.
I am making a pact? Yuta asked.
Yes, with a god or demon or whatever, Brand said. Of your choice, obviously.
Yuta narrowed his eyes in consternation, though he did smirk in amusement as he noticed the weapon that came with the pact with a spirit of calligraphy: a katana made of Munine katakana script.
A kanakatana.
The weapons inky blade was formed by multiple glyphs (kana) fused together, end to end. Strange though the weapon was, Yuta was definitely pleased with how it handled. Much to his surprise, when swung, the sword sent out trails of ink which Yuta quickly discovered he could move and shape at will He could send arcs of sharpened ink slicing through the air, or solidify an upward cuts black splash into a crystalline outcrop that jutted up from the ground.
Think of what I could have done, had I possessed such a weapon in life, Yuta said. The kanakatanas fluid aura glittered in his eyes.
And then, the ink from one of his practice swings curved into the tunnel up ahead and, for the sound of things, struck the ancient door.
Brand and I looked at Yuta in unison.
You shouldnt have done that.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
I wagged my tail in agitation.
Brand stepped back and held out his staff. Green light swirled around the emerald at its tip as he built up power. Theyre coming, he said, changing his face display back to radar mode.
Yuta narrowed his eyes. What is that? he asked, pointing at Brands changed face.
Were the green dots, I said. The red dots are the enemy.
Yutas face blanched as the familiar pitter-patter of clockwork ant-legs pistoned in the tunnel up ahead. It rapidly got louder.
I turned to Yuta as I cast low-level defenses on the three of us. I hope you are a quick learner.
Steadying his weapon, Yuta rapped his fingers along its sable hilt. Dr. Howle, he said, with a smirk, for once, let me surprise you.
The approaching ants footsteps now sounded like an oncoming rockslide. Oddly, above the sound of my racing heart, I noticed an acrid, ozonic stench.
Alrighty, then, Brand said. Genneth? He glanced at me.
I nodded.
Brand and I ran to the back of the caveas far away from the door as we could getletting Yuta take up position in front of us in the middle of the cave, near the campfire. Then, my robot companion and I got to work doing a time honored spellcaster specialty: casting buffs right before battle. Brand cast while I spammed through my shortlist of low-level blessings and defensive orisons.
From down the cavern, there was a series of awful thuds, and the ancient Precursor door flew into sight, smashing into the wall. The clockwork ants came spilling out of the tunnel.
There had to be a dozen or more.
Brand! I yelled.
On it! he said. His cloak billowed as red wisps began to swirl around him. The flames coalesced in front of him, pouring into an orb that grew and grew, like a miniature Sun.
Was this what stars looked like up close?, I wondered.
Meanwhile, I steepled my claws together and began to praybut not to the Angel. I was intoning my most powerful blessing: the . It could only be cast during combat, and the time it took for me to cast it left me open to attack, but the results spoke for themselves, like they had in our fight with the mother terrorworm.
Brand lobbed his fireball with a wide sweep of his arm. The tumid orb hit the ground right in front of the front row of ants. Lacking a specified target, the ants arcane magnetism was powerless to stop it. The explosions blast wave scattered the ants like billiards, slamming them into the tunnel walls. The ants plate-metal exoskeletons clanged as they clattered against one another and crashed onto and scraped along the surrounding stone. The explosion ignited nearby tents and totems, turning the front half of the cavern into a forest of flame.
Holy Shit! Yuta yelled, awed.
The ants scrambled, legs flailing as they righted themselves. Several of the automatons had had their legs crushed or snapped off. Plate-metal and structural frames rubesced from the heat. Brands spell bought us a couple of seconds, as well as precious breathing room.
I heard Yuta yell again as he struck the oncoming ants. Looking up from my claws and the golden aura that was rising all around me, I saw Yuta moving against the fiery backdrop like a living silhouette. Metal clanged as he struck, lopping off more of the ants legs. Slashing his kanakatana loosed arcs of ink that sliced through the air. The arcs hissed as they hit the ants superheated bodies. The ink burned on contact, giving off black, acrid smoke.
In the thick of combat, Yuta was more impressive than I could have ever imagined. He cleaved at groups of ants with wide sweeps of his character blade. His attack took out the front wave, only for the rear guard to charge forward with a vengeance. Red-hot mandibles crushed his left arm, tearing through his dark blue haori. Yuta yelled in pain as the metal seared into his skin, though there was a look of surprise in his eyes.
The pain must have been far less than whatever hed been expecting.
He smacked his weapons hilt into one of the glowing jewel-eyes of the metal insect that had lunged at him. Electricity sparked as the eye shattered, leaving the ant stunned, unable to react quickly to what came next.
Leaping back, Yuta cut through the air in a horizontal slash that sliced off the ants antennae and shattered the eyes of two more ants that were clambering forward just behind it. Ink streamed off the kanakatana in a fan-like blot and smacked into the head of the ant in front, knocking the automaton back.
I noticed the sites where Yuta ink attack had hit the ants had both darkened and cooled.
Heating and cooling made metal brittle, right?
I wanted to yell it out, but I couldnt say anything without losing the , which I was nearly finished casting.
Fortunately, Brand said what I couldnt.
The ink cools the metal! It makes it
Brittle! Yuta shouted.
Seeing several more ants coming our waymoving off to the side, trying to attack Brand and I from our left flankBrand dropped several more clusters of summoned stones, but this time ahead of where the ants were, to cut off the ants path of approach, which it accomplished splendidly. Legs and antennae flicked side to side where they stuck up over the top layer of boulders.
Three ants skittered between two goblins tents, coming around to strike us from the right.
I guess they were hoping theyd succeed where the others had failed.
To the right! Brand yelled. The right!
Yuta ran toward the ants, but then dashed to the side and aimed for the totem next to the tents. He struck the totem with a concentrated stream of ink that sliced through the totems wood and bone like a water cutter, toppling it to the ground, crushing the three ants. The impact opened cracks on their bodies between the various ink-cooled spots.
With the rocks at our left and the fallen totem at our right, if the ants wanted to attack either Brand and me, theyd have to clamber over the blockage or go through the opening up ahead where Yuta was standing guard.
Finally, I belted out the last words of the .
Yuta yelped in surprise, and then in glee as his body lit up with a transparent, spectral aura, like a plume of white flame. The burn wound on his arm vanished. Blue light streamed from his eyes.
The blessing doubled the warriors already speed. Yuta seemed to teleport about as he moved, flickering from place to place, slicing trails of ink along the clockwork ants bodies. He doubled back, clanging their carapaces with his kanakatanas hilt. The ants metal carapaces cracked like ceramic, exposing their inner machinery. Yuta manipulated his ink slashes to flow through the openings in the ants armor, where it then bit and bashed at the ants delicate internal mechanisms. Three ants skidded across the ground in quick succession, their eyes flickering dark as their gear-work came to a stop.
Brand and I yelled in triumph, pumping our fists, only to gasp and stagger back as a fresh wave of ants seethed out of the tunnel, clambering over the crumpled Precursor door. They poured into the goblins camp, surrounding Yuta on all sides.
So many of the ants were piling up against our improvised barriers that the next waves of ants to enter were able to climb over their brethren and over the rocks and the totem and flank Brand and I.
Back! I yelled. Pull back! I shot several crossbow bolts to distract the ants.
Yuta seemingly flickered from place to place as he returned to our side and joined us in our retreat. We gathered at the mouth of the camps entrance tunnel.
Genneth! Brand said. Ive got one more Fireball left. You should use one of the
with it!
Brilliant! I yelled.
What? Yuta said.
He was busy knocking ants back with strikes of ink fans.
Youll see! I said.
There was a look of disgust on Yutas face as I extended my pangol tongue and snaked it into my Backpack of Holding. I didnt bear him any umbrage for that.
Pangolins were weird. Weird, adorable, and heck awesome!
I knew Id found the
when an icy chill pressed against my tongue.
With a soft yelp, I retracted my tongue, whipping out the
and plopping it into my hand. My sticky saliva kept me from dropping the golf-ball-sized blue and white orb onto the ground.
After this one, I had only one more left to use, so I couldnt afford to miss.
Yutas speed was enough for him to keep the ants at bay, but not for much longer. He wasnt holding them back so much as he was slowing their advance, and the ants metal bodies had cooled enough that his ink-strikes no longer brittled them.
Worse, I noticed the amount of ink he was conjuring was decreasing with every swing.
Hurry! he yelled.
He must have noticed it, too.
Im already on it! Brand said.
I could see Brands burgeoning fireball reflected in the clockwork ants jeweled eyes.
Yuta! Brand yelled. Get back!
129.3 - Unbezwinglich unser Mut
Lord Uramar flung himself backward with a nimble leap. The clockwork ants didnt waste a moment. A half dozen of them clambered over their fallen brethrens bodies as they spilled through the gap between the rocks and the totem and barreled toward us. Behind them, I could swear I saw fog rolling in in between the patches of smoldering flames, though I lost sight of it once Brand lobbed his fireball.
The explosion was even more terrific than its predecessor. The totem and the rocks acted like a basin, trapping the flame, which lapped at the basins rim in a fiery tide as it slammed the ants into the obstacles. Bits of molten metal and crystal hissed through the air as they rained down onto the ground.
Brand turned to me. Now, Genneth!
I spoke the activating words and threw the
with all my might. The blue-white sphere started its rapid expansion before it even hit the ground. Icy gales whipped out from the explosions core, pelting us in frost and snow. The magicked ice dueled against the fading heat of Brands fireball, sending up clouds of steam and rain that froze back into rime and hoarfrost as they fell to the floor. Glowing eyes and twitching antennae waved through the clouds.
The metal bodies of the advancing swarm of clockwork ants started to crack, crunch, and groan. The ants movements were becoming spastic and stilted. I could hear the gear shafts breaking. The jeweled eyes flickered as their machinery began to slow.
Attack! I yelled.
We all joined in. Brand ran forward, swinging his staff, and Yuta went alongside him, with his kanakatana looking like a club, the way it was sheathed in a layer of hardened ink. Brand flicked repeated cantrips in between strikes of his staff, pushing away swaths of steam and snow to give me a clear shot with my crossbow.
I fired bolt after bolt.
The result was something like a Maikokan pi?ata party, only with bits of metal instead of candy.
In a moment, everything went still. Pools of water and melting ice were scattered across the floor, making the chamber humid and lukewarm. The dankness smoldered the remaining flames on the goblins tents and totems as. Fallen clouds sunk low, hovering at the periphery.
The humidity was really oppressive. My scales and skin were slicked with moisture. Little water droplets condensed on the short fur on my stomach and chest beneath my undergarments and my chainmail hauberk.
Yuta and Brand stood back to back, surrounded by a wreckage of ants. Springs and gears popped out and rolled to a stop as the last lights died in the robot insects jeweled eyes.
The two of them turned to face me.
That was pretty intense, wasnt it? Brand asked.
But then, my nose twitched.
Over the smell of machine oil, the stench of ozone Id noticed before had grown thicker. A lot thicker. Looking past my friends, I saw that the clouds and fog hanging low to the ground hadnt dispersed. If anything, theyd thickened, too.
A tide of fog was coming in.
Brand? I asked.
I stepped forward, to get a better look.
My companions watched me with trepidation.
Suddenly, the cavern shook. It wasnt drastic, but it was certainly startling.
Something crashed in the distance.
What was that? Yuta asked.
Then, the approaching fog moved, lunging toward the gap between the pile of boulders and the now-charred totem.
Fudge I muttered.
I loaded a fresh bolt into my crossbow. Guys!
Brand and Yuta drew close to me.
The floor! Yuta yelled.
The fog trickled in, pooling around our feet. It hung low to the ground, like something youd see out in Elpeck Bays marshes in the early hours of the morning, only this fog, with its ozonic stink and its pale, rosy hue was anything but natural. I felt an electric sting where the fog touched my toe-claws where they jutted out from the holes in my boots.
A couple seconds later, the fog had already risen up to our knees.
Ive got a bad feeling about this I said.
Speak of the Norm, as soon as I said that, I spotted crystalline cubes flowing through the fog, bobbing about like leaves in water. Each cube bore a single, inhuman eye.
Brand and I looked each other face to face.
Boss fight, we muttered.
Yuta was about to ask what that meant when one of the cubes rushed up at us. It spun as it rose up from the fog, carrying the fog with it, which then condensed it into a pseudopodial tentacle that stretched tall, and snapped down and across in a wide, grasping sweep.
We started to run, but then stopped ourselves almost as quickly.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
More of the cubes were rising up from the fog, shaping the clouds around them into tentacles of their own. They snapped as they struck.
Yuta managed to dodge the blow, but Brand wasnt so nimble; one of the tentacles wrapped around him. More and more fog flowed into the tentacle, revealing some the cavern floor. In a moment, the translucent tentacle seemed almost protoplasmic.
Brand screamed as the tentacle constricted him. Bolts of purple electricity flowed out his body and into the protoplasm. Brand tried blasting it with simple cantrips, but every one of his spells sputtered out without effect.
Flibbertigibbet! I yelled. Yuta, its draining him!
What do we do? the warrior ask.
Get the eyes!
When something ha very eye, you shot for the eye. That wasaming 101.
The eye-cube bored up and down in the translucent limb. Aiming for the crystal cube, I fired, only for the darn thing to dodge by deftly flowing down the tentacle at just the right moment. As if to add further insult, the tentacles protoplasm dissolved back into gas and then re-solidified once my crossbow bolt passed through it harmlessly.
Yuta! I yelled.
I ran from a foggy tentacle, leaping off the floor to avoid getting caught by the living plasma. I darted behind one of the totems.
Purple bolts crackled through the fog. The big tentacle curled tighter and tighter around Brand.
The eye-cubes plunged back toward the floor, the protoplasmic tentacles following them about as the cubes roved through the chamber. The cubes spun about, sweeping left and right in wide arcs, trying to suss me out.
Yuta responded with broad slashes from his kanakatana, both with ink and without it. He was able to impale an eye with an upward strike that sent a small inkcicle spearing up from the ground. The cube shattered, freeing the eye, which he quickly cleaved in half with a second slash, after which the eye dissolved into nothing.
From where I was, safely hidden behind the totem, I stuck out and fired a pair of distracting shots at a tentacle that still had its eye. Seeingand hearingtentacles rising up behind me, I toward another totem, my tail scales scraping against the stone as I pushed my back against the caverns wall.
Yuta was able to shatter two more eyesboth of which had been zooming about in the fog over the floorbefore his ink ran dry. A moment later, an eye rose up in a tentacle behind him, which then wrapped around him and bore him high.
The warrior screamed.
You would have thought the monster would just throw us against the wall, but no. This thing was smart. It was keeping my companions immobilized, trapping them like flies on flypaper.
Three tentacles swarmed toward me, one from each direction: up ahead, from the left, and from the right.
What to do? What to do?
My crossbow!
I still had one shot left.
By the Angel, I hoped this worked.
Muttering an incantation under my breath, I stuck out my claws at Brand, whose robot body glowed as the low-level spell infused him with precious extra HP.
I fir my third and final silver-flame blast of the day.
The explosive wave of silver fire scattered the fog, launching eye-cubes in every direction, shattering them against the caverns walls. Brand fell to the ground with heavy thud, as did the eyes, which dove into the fog and swerved about, desperate to avoid getting shot now that their protections were gone.
Brand! I yelled.
Glancing at him, I saw digital snow hissing across his LED display face, matching the staticky, crackling noises that poured from his speakers.
I ran around like a maniac, firing more bolts. Attack the eyes! I yelled. Wisps of silver flame faded from the groundthe last remnants of my enchanted bolt.
Using my crossbow shots, I worked to corral the eyes, following up with liberal applications of my orison, hounding the eyes with its blue magic bolts whenever I had to reload my crossbow.
Now! I yelled.
Yuta pounced on the eyes, slicing through them with nearly inkless strikes. Wed nearly gotten them all when the fog rolled back in, coalescing around the surviving, scattered eyes like a kings mantle.
The stuff was already rising up to form new tentacles! I would have used another enchanted crossbow bolt to scatter it and finish this monster for good, but I was out of my daily supply of magic ammo.
Fudge!
G-Genneth!
I turned. Brands stylized face was just barely visible through the static on his display.
Cold, he mumbled. Use cold. Like from desert crossing. Condensation
Brand passed into unconsciousness. Green static once again dominated his LED display.
I lashed out my tongue as I ran, dodging a sweep of the tentacles. I stuck my tongue in my backpack and fumbled through my inventory.
There!
I pulled out my last
. Wispy, almost fibrous, white vapors swirled within its blue depths.
I spoke the magic words, and then chucked the
at the eyes and their fog. Once again, blizzarding cold whipped out from the impact site as the orb expanded. The effect was instantaneous: the pink fog condensed, its movements slowing as it took on the consistency of an airy gelatin.
The eyes trembled in place, unable to move.
They were afraid.
Darn right, they should be!
Yuta, now! I yelled.
Right!
It took only five seconds for us to destroy them all. The gelatin began to shrink away the instant the last eye dissolved into nothingness.
You you did it Brand muttered.
Unfortunately, the entity seemed to have one more trick up its sleeve. Purple lightning crackled through its now-eyeless body.
Oh fudge I muttered.
Fresh pink fog billowed out from the dissolving gelatin as a swarm of eyes suddenly winked back into existence.
What!? Yuta yelled.
My blood ran cold.
Its channeling the energy it stole from Brand!
The eyes crested up in tentacles, shrugging off the last bit of the gelatinizing cold.
Brand tried to push himself up off the ground. Use the save! he said. Use the
But then the cavern rumbled again, and I caught a scent that shook me to my core. I knew what it meant.
Terrorworm! I yelled.
Even the eyes darted about in fear.
Yuta stared at me. What?
Grab Brand! I yelled.
He ran over to the downed sorcerer with preternatural speed, snatched him off the ground and slung him over his shoulder.
To me! I called. I might not have known exactly where the approaching annelid was, but I could certainly smell where it wasnt; I ran toward that wasnt like heck.
The fog followed us, with it tentacles tilted forward, ready to swipe us up. But just as I ran into the tunnel, the cavern wall at my right exploded as a gigantic terrorworm plowed through the goblin camp. Its mouth was a cone of death, studded with drill-like fangs that spun at high speed, filling the tunnels with the sound of ten thousand chainsaws.
The thing had to be as wide as a bus.
Jump! I yelled.
I leapt forward, Yuta did too, using Brand as a cushion to brace his fall.
As we skidded along the rock of the tunnel floor, I looked over my shoulder just in time to see the fogs eyes stare in final terror before they were obliterated by the terrorworm''s maw.
Man, what a way to go
As the saying goes, theres always a bigger fish (or, in this case, worm).
The terrorworm merrily continued on its way, storming rock fragments across as it burrowed into the opposite wall.
For a minute or so, everything shook. We didnt dare reenter the chamber until the sound and feeling of the terrorworms digging had receded into the distance and the rubble that had fallen and filled in the gaping holes finally settled. The only light was the soft green radiance from Brands staff, still clutched in his hand.
Well, I said, looking over all the carnage, I guess that works.
Yuta gave me such a look.
130.1 - The City at the Edge of the Sky
As you could tell from the finely-pulverized layer of everything covering the floorsharded metal, chips of wood and bone, and some scraps of animal skinsthe goblins cavern was thoroughly wrecked. Were it not for the handful of goblin hovels squashed against the walls that had only just managed to avoid getting ground to a pulp by the terrorworm queen, you would have thought that nothing but refuse had ever been here at all.
With the Precursor door now a ruin crumpled against the wall and unable to obstruct us any further, we carefully and quietly continued through the tunnel, with Brand having used a cantrip to summon a comforting ball of radiance to shine the way forward.
Past the broken doorway lay the eye monsters lair. Though the place was by no means empty, it was difficult for me to have much interest in it, given that I was still panting with exhaustion from all the spells Id expended to heal us after the battle. Brand and no trouble going into sleep mode, and Yuta and I soon followed. It wasnt until we awoke several hours laterfully restedthat any of us were able to take stock of what had happened or where we really were.
As Id drifted off to sleep, Id been wondering if the eye monster was a creation of Wyrmsoft 2.0s procedural generation algorithms, or if it was a piece of an alien memory brought in by the Incursion. Once we were up and about, answering that question was a piece of cake. As it turned out were right there in the fiends lair; all it took was a little exploring on our part, the results were rather amusing, to say the least.
Using his ability, Brand confirmed that everything around us was, in fact, procedurally generated. As a particularly fun (or, if you prefer, terrifying) detail, he noted that the procedural generation hadnt worked properly, in all likelihood as a result of the Incursions interference. This made for a strangely incomplete gaming scenario.
The Plasmic Eyes, as we learned the monster was called, was a relic of the Precursor era; a mental collective of slave laborers the Precursors had transmogrified into a bunch of eyes floating among neurogenic plasma. Unsurprisingly, this was a very unpleasant form of existence, and over the many millennia the Plasmic Eyes spent wandering these caves, pain and hate drove it mad. Plasmic Eyes plan had been to use the goblins to abduct the nearby townsfolk and subject them to gruesome experiments, in the hopes of finding a way to reverse-engineer what the Precursors had done to it. All-in-all, though it was a really nice story with a sympathetic monster antagonist, it suffered from two fatal flaws: the Plasmic Eyes knew that the transmogrification was irreversible, and the nearest towns(folk) were on the other side of the desert, forever out of its reach.
Honestly, I felt bad for them; Id give them an A for effort.
The lair itself was a really grizzly place, filled with the bodies of the Eyes victimsvillagers, abducted from non-existent villages. In its attempts to recreate the Precursors magics, the Eyes had warped the abductees into bloated, hyper-ocularized monstrosities. The corpses aortas grew out from their chests like trees. Colored fog fumed from the branches where they reached up to the ceiling. Live, pumping hearts hung from the aorta trees like fruits, and, by the looks of the half-made clockwork ants we found on the workstations, the Eyes had been using the hearts as power sources for the ants, and for the many other clockwork creations it had been developing. We saw mantises, centipedes, velvet worms, and many others, though I guess, so far, only the ants had made it out the prototype phase.
Honestly, though, once we saw what was there we got out of there as quickly as we could. To this day, the fact that I slept there still leaves me feeling unclean.
As we left the Eyes lair through a still-operational Precursor door, I found myself wondering what sort of settings Brand or I had unwittingly put in place to get the wyrmware to fill Lantor with such awful, awful things. As I thought about it, another possibility occurred to me: the macabre details might have been the product of another wyrms psyche, or even my own subconscious, leaching into my mind-world. Andalon had said that wyrms could communicate to one another through their songs, and there was certainly a lot of wyrmsong going on, both inside the self-help group and in the outside world.
The exit opened onto another nondescript tunnel, indistinguishable from any of the others wed used so far, but for one exception: unlike all the others, this tunnel angled up.
Wed all gotten Level Up prompts after the battle, Yuta getting the most .After leaving the Plasmic Eyes lair, we sat down on the tunnel and took care of the necessary micromanagement. We helped Yuta with his level-up choices before dealing with our own. Brand chose a very impressive-sounding spell: . He said it would be his new trump card.
As for me, I finally unlocked the perk; Giant Pangolin Genneth could now cast spells.
Brand used his staff as a walking stick, planting its petrified wood in the rocky rise as we hiked up the path.
How long do you think it will take for us to reach the surface, I asked him.
At the moment, Yuta was atop a person-sized ledge ahead of us, bent over as he helped pull me up with his arms. I managed to get the rest of the way up, myself, pushing off the tunnel wall behind me with my tail.
Yuta and I worked together to help Brand up.
Honestly, Brand replied, after hed climbed up and dusted himself off, I have no idea. The standard deviation of the lengths of these trips has been massive.
Well, at least were making progress, I said.
I felt something bubble up inside me as we walked along the tunnels rising path, like a fist rapping at a door. It was only after wed stopped to catch our breath that it crystallized in my mind.
Wait, I said.
Youve figured it out? Brand asked.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Id asked for a breather in part because Id wanted to understand the feeling and what it meant.
This feeling of mine, I said, glancing at Yuta, it matches what I felt when I was searching my spirits for someone to join us.
What is it? Yuta asked.
Hmmm I ran a claw-tip along my scaly chin. I wonder
Yes? Brand asked.
Would you mind for any nearby enemies? I said.
No problem.. A moment later, his face was a radar display once more. There were just three green dots on the screenthe three of us.
Zoom out, I said.
Out-zooming.
The three green dots shrank toward the central point as the view expanded, but no red dots appeared.
For the time being, Brand said, were in the clear.
Good. I nodded and then closed my eyes. I want to try something.
Yuta haoris sleeves drooped in front of Brands orb of as he crossed his arms, casting shadows on the tunnel wall.
I focused and then spoke the words:
. Opening my eyes, I nodded in approval at the sight of a familiar-looking window:
|
Party Management
Switch
Recruit
Dismiss
|
I smirked. I was right!
About? Yuta asked.
In most of the games that Greg used as a basis for his Wyrmsoft RPG system, I explained, you could manage your party at any time, except during combat and certain special events or encounters. I hadnt thought of using Party Management until Id seen it on the save point menu. I scratched the back of my neck. I guess we could have gotten your help earlier, Yuta.
The bubbling feeling inside me got stronger the more I focused on the Recruit option. It was like there was a little Norm on my shoulder, egging me on to select it.
Then, insight struck me like lightning, and I sighed.
Its Geoffrey, I said
The knight? Yuta asked.
I nodded. The one and only. He wants to come out. Hes I chuckled nervously. definitely angry with me, and well, I looked Yuta in the eyes, Yuta, hes none too pleased to see you, either.
Yutas expression turned dour. The feeling is mutual.
The tunnel got steeper as we pressed on.
But then, Yuta stepped forward and pointed ahead.
Look, light.
He was right. A pale radiance trickled down from around the tunnels next bend.
The possibility of an exit put a spring in my step. I rushed around the bend.
For a second, it looked like the Moon hung mid-air, surrounded by the tunnels depths. But it wasnt the Moon: it was opening to the surface, giving us a view of a platinum sky. Moisture particles wafted down from the opening.
We made it, I said.
Brand and Yuta came up behind me a moment later. We shared looks and then ran up the slope and out of the tunnel.
The platinum color wasnt sky, it was mist.
Moss and fine-haired grass furred the moist earth.
Brand planted the tip of petrified wood staff onto the ground. Well, he said, this is unexpected.
The winding caverns opened onto a forest shrouded in mist. Steep cliffs bordered the forest, trapping the mist in a valley, beneath an overcast sky. And though the clouds in that sky looked like any other, the forest below them did not.
Yuta took a step forward. What is this place?
Memories of another world, I said.
There werent names for the things I saw. The things I would have called trees were more like giant herbs: thick, fleshy, green-trunked plants whose long, reed-like leaves towered over us, casting shadows on the mist where they drooped away from the stem. The plants were topped with spectacular inflorescences that branched out into trees of flowers, like irises crossed with foxgloves, with petals as red as blood. Strange shells grew on the branches and stems like barnacles, and were held in place by tangles of fine, orange threads. Slender tendrils stuck out from the shells, tipped with blue, bioluminescent bulbs that bobbed in the air.
Smaller, tree-like plants and shrubs grew around the red-crowned giants. Clusters of woody nodules rose off from the ground like chains of oak galls. Thin, green leaves grew in from the clusters amorphous, bumpy branches in dewy sprigs. Everywhere I looked, the ground blossomed with ornate flowers with shapes unlike anything Id ever seen before.
Its beautiful Brand said.
It was the kind of place that made you whisper. It was also deathly quiet.
Come on, I said, in a soft voice.
We made our way through the alien flora, winding around the giant stalks.
Theres a clearing up ahead, Yuta said.
We followed him and, soon enough, we stepped out of the forest.
I made the Bond-sign. Angels breath.
Brand just looked up and stared.
The forest gave way to clearing that funneled into a narrow canyon. Above the canyons cliffs, I could see structures sticking up through the fog, like haunted masts in a graveyard at sea. Their tops were rounded shapes, like mushrooms.
I spent a moment leaning against the canyon wall, panting heavily as I caught my breath.
Cmon! Brand said, beckoning us with a wave of his hand.
He walked into the narrow canyon, and we followed him, taking a curving path that, perhaps a minute later, emerged into an expansive, mossy plain. Forest flanked the plain on either side, and the moss dreamed beneath the misty tides.
Shapes in the fog hinted at buildings and roads.
We walked away from the canyon and the woods.
Brand, is there anything you can do about the fog?
He paused for a moment, and then nodded. Good idea. Yes, I have a cantrip for that. He raised a hand and muttered an incantation.
Ventume ghran.
A wind soughed through the alien trees to our west, fluttering my overcoat, Yutas sleeves, and Brands emerald cloak. The breeze carved wispy-edged pathways into the fog, and then scattered the surrounding mist, revealing a city.
At least, thats what I thought it was.
We stood on a road of solid stone that curled around austere, manicured gardens as it wove to and around buildings of uncanny designand there were a lot of them. The gardens bore trees with turquoise bubbles for leaves, surrounded by small bunches of flowers, among which I recognized miniature versions of the forests giant herbs. With the fog cleared, I could see that the pale green somethings covering the ground werent grass or moss, but rather something in between.
The cantrip continued to work as we stepped forward. More and more of the city came into view with each passing moment.
And the buildings
Incredible Yuta muttered.
The buildings were wider than they were tall, shaped like cups half a skyscraper high, planted bottoms-up on the face of the earth. I recognized their domed roofs as the mushroom-like things Id seen peeking out over the canyons and the fog. Egg-shaped structures encrusted the buildings sides, along with ramps and winding platforms. The eggs had windows in them, and at least one of their entrances seemed to be located atop their glass and metal ceilings.
Were they some kind of housing units?
Brands cantrip blew its last breaths. Figures emerged from the mist.
Yuta tensed at the sight, adopting a defensive posture. He immediately reached for his kanakatana.
What I saw made my tail stick out stiff. I muttered in confusion: Hummingbirds?
130.2 - The City at the Edge of the Sky
It was the hummingbird people all over again, the ones Id seen on my first encounter with the Incursion, only there was a key difference: they were made of stone.
Down to the last, each and every one was made of stone.
What kind of statues are these? Yuta asked.
More statues emerged from the fog as we approached. First one, then three, then a dozen, then a hundred. Then thousandsand still, more.
No sculptor could have made these I thought, as my jaw went slack.
The detail was heinous. The depth of the renderings really only began to hit me when we approached the cluster nearest to us. Every feather was perfectly articulated. You could see where the individual strands had been stirred by movement and wind. They were beautiful and adorable, clothed in breeches, some with robes, others in vestsboth, high-necked, some even topped with frilly neck ruffswith gaps at the back for their short wings. Their shoes were like slippers, shaped to fit around their bird-toed feet, with holes for claws.
And their faces
I I dont think these are statues, Brand said, whispering in shock. I think whatever beings these were, they were turned to stone.
What could do such a thing? Yuta said, aghast.
I saw what could only be a parent with their child. The adult was perhaps three feet tall, the child half that. They held each other, hand in hand, running with their wings spread at their backs, ready to take flight. Their beaks were slightly ajar, as if frozen in a scream.
I wonder what they might have sounded like.
I think Im going to be sick, I muttered.
Compassion knows no bounds. It can strike us when we least expect it, but when it hits, there is no doubt as to what has transpired. We see anothers suffering, and ache for them, wishing it could have been different.
I ached for these beings. I did not need to know them to see their pain and feel it as my own.
We stood in a garden of terror. Every statue was wide-eyed with panic. Some knelt down, looking up at the sky. Others lay face down on the moss-like grass, their bodies trapped in the middle of motion, fleeing from a horror theyd never escape. Others looked over their shoulder, staring their death in the face. Some werent even whole; they lay broken, here a shard of beak, there a piece of wing, or a broken heart.
I saw the hummingbirds holding hands. I saw lovers embrace one another with their wings. I saw figures prostrated on the ground, their beaks tucked between their legs and their wings covering their heads.
They hadnt wanted to die.
I saw parents with their arms wrapped around their children, holding them close to their chests, desperate to protect them. But the looks of horror on their faces told the truth: they had no chance.
They were powerless.
It was terrifying seeing the sacred bird in this way, in a human-like form, corrupted into lifeless stone. It was yet another sobering reminder of just how much we didnt know.
My mind ran wild.
Was this merely another world, or was it something more? Was it our Angels creation, or anothers? What connection was there between this world and mine? Why had these hummingbird-people been turned to stone? Was it the work of Hell? Was it an act of Goda divine punishment? Or was it something else? Something eldritch and nameless; unknown and unknowable.
What happened here? Yuta said, in a whisper, speaking the question that was loudest in my own mind.
Q-Quiet, I said, barely audible. My voice was stuck in my throat.
It didnt feel safe to talk. I felt like even the slightest whisper would shatter this accursd place, and call up the evil that had brought it its doom. Every sound seemed intensified.
And then I realized. Theres no sound here, I said.
And it was true. My words hardly carried at all. The fog seemed to leach them right out of the air. The sound barely carried at all.
Unlike my first encounter with the hummingbird-people, there wasnt a trace of the fungus, nor of the Scary-Shinies, or the frigid ammonia wilds that had hissed and burst.
The Geoffrey-feeling in my chest stirred, making me close my eyes and flinch. I groaned softly.
Genneth? Brand asked.
I stuck out my arm and shook my head. No, its just Geof
But then I stopped and opened my eyes.
No. Its its more than that. I
My breath joined my voice, stuck in my throat.
I tingled with dread.
Somethings here, I muttered, jaw slack, looking up at the buildings. Somethings watching us. Something ancient and unknown. I looked Brand in the face. I think the fog is more than just fog.
What? Yuta asked.
I shook my head. I didnt know, it it just is. I can feel it.
Genneth, Brand whispered, you feel it, too?
Feel what? Yuta asked.
The fog Brand said.
You too, robot? Yuta said.
He nodded.
I stepped forward. My footsteps were hardly audible, yet they sounded unbearably loud to my ears.
The fog its a symbol, I said. It was like someone else was standing just out of reach, putting the words in my mouth. Sorrow. Death. It held meaning, though to whom or what, I dont know. The emotions are turbid.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
I looked over the statues.
Was it yours? I wondered.
Brand nodded solemnly. Wrath, he said. Vengeance. Glory. Despair.
Terror, I added.
What does it mean? Yuta asked.
I shook my head. I wish I knew.
Yuta stared at me for a while, while Brand surveyed our surroundings.
The robot sorcerer glanced back at me. There has to be something here. He walked forward, and Yuta and I followed him. The base of one of the buildings came into view. Look, Brand said, pointing with his staff, there are entrances.
Open archways punched through the ground floor of the building, chained together in a ring that wrapped all the way around the structure.
Is it wise to go inside? Yuta asked.
I looked up at the sky. The fog swallowed everything.
I sure as hell dont want to be out in the open, Brand said.
I couldnt fault him for that.
Brand trudged off without another word, his green sorcerers cape billowing behind him. He waved us to come follow him. Lets go, he said.
I had to close my gaping mouth as we stepped inside. I made the Bond-sign.
The interior was almost entirely hollow. Massive columns rose from the ground at the vertices of an imaginary hexagon, along with an even larger column that stood at the center. The number of egg-shaped buildings wed seen on the outside paled in comparison to the ones encrusting the inner surfaces of the buildings walls. The walls were strung up with walkways and platforms. Whole parks and plazas were held aloft in the network, rich with flowers and fountains, and long stretches of reflecting pools.
It was a city at the edge of the sky.
A trio of glass domes studded the ceiling, letting in wan, fog-sapped daylight. The walls werent solid sheets, but bore large opening at regular intervals that let in cool, mist-burdened air. I imagined theyd served as entrances and exits. I could only guess at the significance of the ornamental patterns that had been painted around the opening.
The ground floorwhere we stoodwas a single, expansive park, with gardens even lusher than the ones above. A lattice of paved paths crisscrossed through the park, passing geometric reflecting pools with silent fountains ceaselessly burbling. Softly glowing flowers bloomed among alien water lilies. The giant red flowers were almost everywhere, laid out in a massive grid.
Did they all fall? Yuta asked, near-speechless.
The beauties of this place were marred by horror. We stood at the site of a massacre. It was a graveyard without graves, but there was no difficult in reading their fates.
The statues were everywhere. But mostly, they were in pieces. The ground was littered by the debris of shattered bodies of petrified hummingbird-beings. I could almost see the trajectories their bodies had taken as theyd fallen, and then been pulverized against the uncaring ground.
It had to have happened while they were flying, I said.
And suddenly, Brand added. It had to have happened suddenly. They were caught off-guard.
Many of the hummingbirds were still intact, both up on the walkways and on the ground floor. I saw them standing in the doorways of their homes high up on the wall. I saw statues toppled into silent pools, I saw terrified beaks gaping up at the sky, arms outstretched, begging for a mercy that would never come.
This I muttered, shaking my head. This is unholy.
Shuddering, I turned around and walked out, coming to a stop underneath one of the entry arches.
I sat down cross-legged, curling my tail around to the side. I slumped forward, letting my head hang.
I heard Yuta and Brands approaching footsteps. I didnt bother to look up as I started to speak.
I cant believe Im saying this, but for once Im actually happy that Andalon isnt here right now. I took a deep breath. My hand reached for my neck, to fidget with my lucky bow-tie, only to grasp at thin air because Id forgotten it wasnt there.
Angel, I said, if shed been here if shed seen this? I covered my mouth with my hand. Shed be terrified.
Its eerie, Brand said, Im not gonna lie.
Letting out a pained sigh, I looked up at Brand Nowstons screen-face. Does your science have an explanation for this, Dr. Nowston? I stuck out my arms, gesturing at our surroundings.
Is it because of the hummingbirds? Yuta asked. His sandals clapped softly on the smooth stone pavement. I assume Lassedicy still holds the bird sacred by your faith?
Yes to both
At my estate, he said, I kept sweetened water out for them to drink. Theyd come in droves in springtime.
Meanwhile, I stared at the statues for as long as I could bear.
I came on this adventure because I thought it would help me understand what was happening. But now, I feel more lost than ever before. We really dont know anything at all, do we? Its just a matter of time before some new horror emerges from the darkness and strikes us, and well be powerless to stop it, just like these creatures were.
Levitating his staff beside him, Brand crossed his fingers, hand in hand. Andalon told you theres more than one Angel, right? Brand asked.
Leaning my head back against the arch, I closed my eyes and groaned. Yep. Theres a whole bunch of Angels. How many? I dont know. What do they do? I dont know. What does it all mean? I dont know. I spoke in a drained monotone. I chuckled darkly. I guess Im just like Andalon now, I said, muttering, I dunno, Mr. Genneth; I dunno, in a desultory sing-sion.
What if this placethis Incursion what if its the creation of one of the other Angels? Brand asked.
I was thinking of the same thing, I said, but the pieces dont quite fit. I looked up at Brand. It doesnt explain why Andalon was so afraid of this place. When I found her, shed been gravely injured, and she later confirmed that someone or something had attacked her, and, not just that, but that it was an ongoing problem. Someone was chasing her.
Did she identify her pursuer? Yuta asked.
I shook my head. Unfortunately, no. You gotta understand, shes not very specific. I shook my head again. Not specific at all. And yet I looked out onto the city. She told me the Incursion was caused by her pursuers. If shes working as an agent of the Angelour Angel, or maybe anothersor, fudge, if she is one of the other Angelswhy would she be afraid of the other Angels creations?
I made a mental note to ask Andalon if she, herself, was one of the Shiny Guys, as she called the Angels.
Crossing his arms, Yuta leaned back against the other side of the entrance arch. When gods are many, he said, quarrels are inevitable. Perhaps the Angels are at war with one another. He stared at the shattered statues scattered in the gardens.
I gased.
Realization hit me like a lightning bolt. All of my scales seemed to stand on end. I shot up to my feet, sucking in air. Tingling sensations ran down my arms and back.
What is it? Brand asked.
Southmarch, I said. The Battle of Southmarch.
What about it?
Its like a told you earlier he Lass didnt die at Southmarch, not in the traditional sense. According to legend, a portal opened in the skya window in the airthrough which Enilles soul was Translated directly to Paradise. Giant hummingbirds could be seen within the portal to Paradise, and what remained of the Lass physical body was then transfigured into the samea memento of Paradise, if you will.
You seriously believe thats what happened? Yuta said.
At this point, I dont know what I believe anymore, I replied. But giant hummingbirds? Think about it. If you were an ancient Trenton at the battle and saw hummingbird people appear, what would you call them?
Brands LED eyebrows flattened on his display-screen face. Fair enough.
Think about it, I said, maybe the Lass ended up with them. If shes still there, she might be able to help us!
My words echoed through the buildings interior.
Genneth, that was two-thousand years ago, Brand replied.
Maybe time flows differently for hummingbird people.
At this point, he said, anything is possible.
I nodded. These creatures the likeness is just too uncanny. They have to be the giant hummingbirds from scripture.
Does that mean theyre on our side? Brand asked.
I cant be sure, but Id like to think so.
Then, Yuta said, whatever force turned these creatures to stone
I nodded. Theyd be our enemy. Theyd be what Andalon fears.
Brands LED eyebrows furrowed. But wait a minute. His levitating staff gyrated about, stopping when it pointed at me.
You said the giant hummingbirdsthat is, the hummingbird peoplewere seen inside the portal to Paradise?
My jaw dropped as my blood ran cold. The skin at the back of my head twitched. But then, that means I stared at our surroundings.
Were in Paradise, Brand said. He pointed at the ground. This is it.
This is no Paradise I would want to be in, Yuta added.
I I think theres a war going on in Paradise, I said. The Angels are fighting. And Andalon is one of them.
I swallowed hard.
A war in Paradise, and we are its casualties, Yuta said. He turned his head toward the hummingbird people. As were they.
Then the earth shook, and my heart leapt.
130.3 - The City at the Edge of the Sky
Suddenly, torrents of fog spilled into view, blasting through the archways and the holes. A molten wind tore through Paradises deathly silence, followed by a sonic boom that shook me to my bones. All around, more statues tumbled down and shattered on the ground.
We didnt stop to ask what had happened. We just ran, bolting around toppled statues and shivering trees until we reached an open area where we could see what was going on.
My eyes went wide.
By the Angel
I could only describe them as claw marks torn in the overcast sky. Fire and smoke streaked through the air, plummeting earthward near and far, scattering the fog. Gigantic clouds of dust and ash rose up from the impacts. Blast waves ripped through the spacious streets, buffeting the petrified city and setting our clothesand my taila-flutter.
My ears popped.
Staff in hand, Brand pointed up. Look.
One of the sky-fires zoomed almost directly overhead us. Though it was moving at a terrific speed, it was still close enough for me to get a good look at it.
No I whispered.
There was no mistaking that telltale silver shape and its austere geometry.
It was one of Andalons Scary-Shinies.
Yuta looked around, trying to assess the situation. Whats that sound?
I looked around, but I wasnt able to hear anything other than the cataclysmic blasts of the Scary-Shinies crashing into the earth.
But then, I heard it. I heard what Yuta was referring to.
How could I not?
It started quietly, but grew louder.
Genneth, what is that? Brand asked.
He could hear it, too.
Wyrmsong, I said, raising my head to the sky. I held my breath in my chest. I think Andalon is coming to help
There was a sound of sliding metal as Yuta unsheathed his kanakatana. Look, there! He pointed with his glyph-blade.
Overhead, a wyrm was breaking through the clouds and fog. A couple days ago, the sight would have filled me with terror, but here, all I felt was relief and elation.
Andalon was coming to help!
But then the wyrm got closer, and my heart plummeted.
No I gasped.
The wyrm was the same color as I was, a dark violet, and it hadnt finished its transformation, which was important, because it clearly hadnt been human when it had started.
Trails and patches of vivid green feathers ran across its flanks, turning gray and white on its underbelly. Traces of a beak jutted out from its snout like nails in a swollen tree trunk. There were two feathered wings on its back, useless and vestigialpitifully small compared to the rest of its body. The wings stuck out to either side of a mane of tall stalks topped in green, bioluminescent bulbs.
And its eyes shone silver, brilliant like the full Moon.
Silver eyes Brand said. That means
Theres no time! I yelled.
I could already feel myself growing as I engaged my . My clothing and armor were absorbed into me as I stretched and swelled. I thrashed out my thickening tail, knocking over statues and trees. My face lengthened into a snout, absorbing my teeth as I turned to my robot companion.
Buffs, I yelled, now!
Overhead, the hummingbird wyrm roared.
Brand raised his arms. Egre gium, milnor!
Radiant globes of blue-purple light popped into being around all three of usBrands spell, metamagically modified for group protection. It wouldnt last long, but it would give us time for buffsand, thankfully, my now had spell casting capacity.
The silver-eyed hummingwyrm slithered down through the sky and spewed acid spore breath over us in a wide cone. Sparks crackled and flashed across our as the spell defused the deadly cloud.
I used a metamagic ability to fire off several buffs in rapid succession. As a downside, I was prevented from casting spells for a little while until I recovered from the arcane exertion, but thats why Id changed into a truck-sized pangolin.
! I shouted ! !
Lights flashed all around us as shimmering, iridescent shields came into being, beneath the .
The wyrm shot through the air, whisking wisps off the spore cloud. Around us, the ground had been eaten away. The statues bubbled and hissed as the acid dissolved them.
The wyrm swerved up overhead. Yuta ran off to chase it.
More polyphonic roars ripped through the air, making me flinch. Raising my head, I saw several more wyrms descend through the fog.
All of them were silver-eyed, and all their scales were dark purple.
Oh God
The fungus had made them all the same. It robbed them of their individuality. They were nothing more than ants to it: interchangeable slaves.
I yelled: Brand!
Brand cast . Our movement speed and reaction rates doubled. Even the air around our bodies moved more quickly, forming little eddies as it whirred around us. Everything around me seemed to slow, except for Yuta, Brand, and Iand this time, the speed of my thoughts had nothing to do with it.
Scatter! Yuta yelled.
He didnt need to tell me twice.
All three of us ran in separate directions. I galloped through the park, my pangolin claws flicking up dirt and moss-grass. And fast though I was, one of the wyrms was still on my tailfiguratively, of course. Mentally, I winced as I trampled over statues and tore through the manicured gardens, hurtling down the scenic boulevard. As I came around one of the egg-studded skyscrapers, I saw the wall of another hollow skyscraper rushing toward me, dead ahead.
At first, I tried to slow down, but thenremembering the wyrm in pursuitI picked up speed, barreling toward the wall.
I looked over my back: the wyrm was following. It sped up, slither-hovering over the ground, lashing out with its claws, spewing out green plumes as it turned and roared.
Sparks crackled behind me as my protected me from the wyrms breath weapon. Unfortunately, the magic barrier sputtered and faded a moment later.
Fudge.
When the buildings wall was mere feet from my face, I leapt, pushing with all fours. Tucking my head and legs against my body, I curled into a scaly, armored ball, rolling off to the side at the last minute.
I heardand smelledthe wyrm crash into the wall Id just narrowly avoided. The impact sent cracks through the structure. Chunks of stone came tumbling down.
Uncurling myself, I flopped onto my belly and then got back onto all fours. I shook my head, cursing that I didnt have an anti-dizziness spell as I staggered over to the pile of debris. The wyrm writhed, flicking stone off its body as it slowly levitated off the ground.
Flinging myself onto the feathered serpent, I dug my claws into its scaly hide. It bellowed and roared, flailing like a rodeo bull, but I held firm, going so far as to wrap my tail around its body to keep it from flinging me off.
The world rocked and rolled.
Yuta! I screamed. Over here!This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
I could make out a dark blue blur streaking down the acid-eaten path, holding a black scribble in its hands. Two hummingwyrms swam after it, their iridescent feathers flickering and flickering as they hovered along the ground.
A little help here?! I yelled.
With his magically enhanced movement, Yutathe dark blue blurleapt up, ricocheting off a hollow skyscrapers curved wall to land on one of the pursuing wyrms. The two wyrms swam up, slithered helices in the air, clawing at one another in a desperate struggle to swat away the inkblade warrior, but Yuta was too swift for them. He leapt from wyrmback to wyrmback, and then plunged his kanakatana into one of the wyrms. The wyrms flesh cracked open as ink streamed out and trickled down their vestigial hummingbird wings, spewed from Yutas blade to cut the creature open from within. The wyrm flopped in the air, writhing with pain.
The wyrm in my arms slithered out from under the blocks of fallen stone, hovering low to the ground. Yuta ran up the wounded wyrms back, slicing his blade through it as he went. My wyrm tried to throw me off with a barrel roll, but I dug into it with my claws. My scales and tail scraped along the ground as the world turned.
The silver light of Yutas wyrms eyes flickered and then faded, turning gold right as the creature plummeted to the ground. Yuta hollered as he leapt off the falling wyrm and onto mine, raising his kanakatana in the middle of the jump. He brought his sword down with a deft stroke, putting the weight of his body into the blow as he landed on my wyrm and plunged his blade in.
He used another , pumping pressurized ink out of his sword. The hummingwyrm shuddered in my grip. Sheets of ink streamed out from the wound like a crushed lawn sprinkler. Flesh came loose, lifting off the creatures frame.
The wyrm raised its head and roared. Its silver eyes and polyphonic cries died with swift strikes from both Yuta and my claws. Sickly sweet acid spilled out onto the ground all around us, intermingle within the pooling ink.
Yuta leapt off the falling wyrm, toward the other one pursuing him.
I flung myself off my wyrm as it crashed onto the rubble. Once again, I curled into a ball, rolling along the ground as I hit the pavement. I rolled and rolled, wanting to throw up, only to come to stop as I struck a building, back-first, my thick scales protecting me from harm.
Uncurling, I flipped back onto my belly.
Yuta was running along the paved path, leaping left and right as the wyrm chasing him breathed out multiple spore streams. I lumbered off, setting into a gallop, running alongside him, following the path around one of the hollow skyscrapers.
Familiar voice bellowed as we came around the bend.
Oun-Levitos!
Brand came into view right as his spell manifested, vertical lines of purply darkness appearing in front of him. Brands hit the silver-eyed hummingwyrm like an anvil to the head, pinning it to the ground. The spell continued to push, sending cracks through the pavement as it pressed the wyrm down and down. The wyrm spasmed beneath the weight, writhing tail and claws.
Yuta pulled back his sword as he ran toward the downed wyrm, ready to strike.
No! I screamed.
I had to grab Yuta with my tongue to pull him back and out of the spells way, wincing at the inks foul taste.
The wyrm sank deeper as Brands spell bore its weight, forming a depression in the raw soil.
Overhead, silver-eyed wyrms swarmed, filling the skies with violet lamentation.
Brand ran toward us as I retracted my tongue and let Yuta roll out of my grasp. Yuta sank into a crouch as he skidded to a stop along the ground.
The wyrm let out one final, agonized, roar before its silver eyes burst open. Its head collapsed with a sickening crunch, unable to bear the magics weight.
Yuta glared at me. Why did you stop me?
Its an area of effect spell, I said. It would have crushed you too! I rattled off the words as quickly as I could.
Mournful roars broke out overhead. I looked up to see two more wyrms swimming toward us.
Fortunately, it was right at that moment that I felt my spellcasting overheat finally dissipate.
The pangolin was back in business.
Shaking my head, I sat up on my haunches and raised my arms, spreading my claws as I spoke the invocation: Rain, O !
Motes of light rocketed up from the ground and then exploded overhead, sending columns of fire barreling down. Falling forward and set off in a sprint! Run, quickly!
Yuta darted away, but Brand couldnt move quickly enough, so I grabbed him with one of my hands as I ran off, biped-style.
I looked over my armor-plated back just in time to see pillars of my holy fire descend upon the two approaching wyrms. The pillars lined up with the pit Brands magic had ground into the earth, turning it into a bowl of flame as all three wyrms were reduced to charred husks.
Genneth! Brand yelled.
Skidding to a stop, I looked around for a second before remembering Brand was in my hand.
I curled my head down to look at him.
He pointed his magic staff skyward. His LED-screen face displayed the words:
Look up!
So I did.
All my scales stood on end as the sky rumbled. I felt Geoffreys spirit writhe within me, screaming with holy fury, begging to be released. My grip went slack from shock. Brand fell to the ground with an awkward thud. But I hardly noticed that, just like I hardly noticed the deluge of completely transformed, dark-violet scaled, silver-eyed wyrms wriggling out from the clouds like maggots from refuse.
All I saw, all I knew, was what lay above the wyrms, slowly coming into view. From horizon to horizon, the skies were locked away behind a dome of fog, and it was from horizon to horizon that the fog was swept away as the entity emerged from the fog, everywhere, all at once. At first, I thought I was looking at a ceiling for the sky, or perhaps even the veil of Night itself. Like the Night, it was dark and full of horrors, and drowned the Sun in its shadows.
But it was not the Night.
It was fungus.
The sky dead-ended against a wall of solid fungus. If the mass had edges, they were too far away to see. It was like seeing the earth from far above; another earth, not my own. A fungal earth. Fungal mountains miles high, crowned in fungal jungles and living plains. Black ooze rivers carved canyons in the fleshy geography. I saw twilight eternal, lit by bioluminescence in bulbs and stalks and reaching tendrils, softly lambent beneath the green and blue and gold. Fungus moved on the fungus, beasts of no name or form. Wyrms stalked the twilight, slithering through the jungles, soaring through the spore-clouded skies
Another group of wyrms descended toward us, casting us in their shadows.
Yuta screamed.
Gen
Brand and I turned just in time to see a wyrm swoop down and drown Yuta in a torrent of acid spore breath.
I screamed. No!
Yutas attacker pulled up and swerved around a broken hollow skyscraper. The wyrms tail swept through the spreading spore cloud, whisking some of the deathly mist away.
Yuta was gone, and barely any of him remained: a few bone-shards, and some fragments of his kanakatana, still smoldering among the spores.
I can use my teleportation spell, Brand said. We need to get out of here!
No! I yelled. Im not leaving him here! Yutas safety is my responsibility!
I rushed over to the smoldering ulcer the wyrms spore breath had eaten into the ground.
Genneth!
Wyrmsong filled the air. It made me shiver.
Overhead, the fungus-world was slowly descending.
I have a spell! I said. Now, get over here and use , before were all just smoldering husks!
We were lucky Id had the foresight to bring some diamonds with me. With deft tongue-strokes, I pulled a hard, octahedral object from my pack.
Diamond.
I slurped my tongue back in, releasing the diamonddropping it in my outstretched hand.
Of all the things Id thought Id never get to do in life, this had to be one of the never-est.
The arcane circuitry in Brands metallic body lit up as he cast . A glittering green barrier rained down over us, shielding up in protective domes. Waves rippled across the spheres of energy.
Closing my eyes, I reached out into the aether. A lifetimes worth of roleplaying experiences came together at that moment. It wasnt just a matter of speaking the words to draw out the power.
I had to work for it.
Power buzzed all around me as the ritual began. Through my minds eye, I could sense Yutas soul hovering above us like a will-o-wisp out on the marshes.
It was a spark of life in this city of the damned.
Raising my arm, I lifted the diamond into the air. Opening my eyes, I could see the bright glow of the spirit magic within it, flickering like a flame. Yutas soul thickened in the air, condensing around the diamond. I could feel the strength being slurped out of me and into the gem. I groaned, thrashing my tail.
The next thing I knew, the gemstone pulled in Yutas soul. It let out a brilliant flash. Light streamed between my claws. Heat burned my palms.
I managed to throw the stone onto the ground as I fell forward, bracing myself on all fours, Yutas body directly beneath my chest. I was panting like a dying dog.
The diamond burst into a shining dust cloud. Particles lifted up off the ground and joined the swirling light. Looking down, I watched a body begin to form bit by bit. Bones began to regrow, followed soon after by blood vessels and deepest sinew.
It would take a few minutes for the process to complete.
Genneth! Brand yelled.
A flock of wyrms descending toward us. Green wisps flickered and whorled around their hole-studded snouts.
But all I could do was moan.
Brand launched a volley of attack spells. . . Sparks rained onto my scales.
Looking up, I saw the wyrms closing in. All around us, the ground was turning to liquid as the wyrms launched burst after burst of breath attacks. The acid powder-fluid trickled down our energy barrier like rain on a windshield.
A few of the wyrms managed to swerve out of the way of Brands spell barrage, but his attacks had too wide a range to be dodged altogether. Incandescent explosions and crackling chain lightning scoured the approaching wyrms. One of Brands ignited a spray of spore breath fresh out of a wyrms mouth. The cloud burst into flame.
Brand didnt need to look up at me; I didnt need to see his face to know his desperation.
Despite the damage, his attacks werent enough. One wyrm fell to the ground with a crash, its flesh riven by burns, but that was all. The rest closed in on us, undeterred.
All hed done was slow them down.
Brand, I said, panting for breath, you have to use a high level spell.
He launched a fireball.
This barrier will stop us from getting melted, he said, but it wont stop those claws. I need to keep them at bay.
Meanwhile, I was still recovering from my casting of , and Yuta was still busy being resurrected.
Within my mind, Geoffrey stirred.
Hed been watching us this whole time, bristling with spite. Id lied to him about who and what I was. Arguably, Id gotten him killed. Butas I well knewmore than anything else, he hated me for working with Yuta. Id colluded with the face of the enemy hed spent his whole life fighting. But I also knew he saw the wyrms and the fungus as the ultimate evil, and he was too pious of a man to give evil free rein.
I just hoped hed kill the silver-eyed wyrms before he tried to kill us.
Focusing, a window popped into view in front of me, bearing the prompt Id willed into being:
|
Party Management
Switch
Recruit
Dismiss
|
I flicked out my tongue and selected Recruit.
| Add Party Member? (1 space remaining) Y/N |
I pushed my trembling tongue on the Y.
131.1 - Skill Check
I didnt even need to designate Geoffrey as my selection. He selected himself. One moment, Brand and I were cowering beneath our pulsing green protection, bathing in clouds of acid spores; the next, a figure stood beside us, clad in armor and feathered glory. Unlike Yuta, Geoffreys avatar was not quite human. Perhaps moved by the sight of the murdered hummingbird beings, Athelmarch chose a form not unlike theirs. His human face was framed in green feathers on the side and stubbled blood red on his chin and throat. Hummingbird wings and tail-feathers extruded from his back. His wings beat so fast, they cast blurred shadows on his white and green plate armor. As in life, he wielded a halberd, but its blade was jade, if jade could shine with the golden of the midday Sun. Electricity sparked at the blades edge, wafting out ozone-stench, and threatening to ignite the clouds of streaming spores.
By some miracle, hed spawned with all the buffs Id already cast. He came pre-equipped with a protective green sphere of .
He would definitely need it.
Geoffrey didnt bother to give us more than a contemptuous glance before his thighs bulged like steel cables as he squatted down and sprung, launching off the ground. The beating wings roared like a gasoline engine, The breeze he left in his wake scattered the spore clouds and set Brands cloak aflutter.
Brand! I yelled.
Right!
Brand started to cast his spells. I did the same after gulping down a big breath of air.
, I said. My head throbbed as the power flowed through me, though, mercifully, the effect of my spell quickly remedied that.
It no longer felt like my head was about to split in two.
Shaking out my head and tail, I lifted my forelimbs off the ground and stepped back. I made sure to stay close enough to Yutas body to keep him within the radius of my .
Yutas body was more than halfway reformed. Muscle and sinew knitted together right before my eyes. Tendons unfurled, fat filled in the gaps. Skin and clothes started appearing a couple seconds later, as if someone was drizzling them over his body.
Raising my head, I saw Geoffrey barreling toward three wyrms with his halberd outstretched, crackling with energy.
The wyrms swam toward him with a roar.
I needed to give Geoffrey some kind of blessingprotection, enhancement, something. Unfortunately, I was running out of higher level spells to cast. But Id rather be safe than sorry, so I cast one anyway, and made it a long-lasting one, too.
Settling onto my haunches, I raised my arms and yelled. !
I had a terrible feeling I was going to regret this.
Rays of light appeared around Geoffreys body, covering him with a golden aura as they whirled around. was my second-most powerful combat blessing, after . The spell Was like a , , and a all rolled into one.
The effect was immediate. Geoffreys flight speed doubled, making him move almost too quickly for my eyes to see. I had an easier time tracking the green than Geoffrey himself; he seemed to flicker from place to place.
The sudden speed caught the wyrms off guard. Geoffrey cleaved his halberd through them with mighty strokes, darting forward on hovering wings. He zipped from blow to blow.
A broad horizontal slash.
A stab of the halberds spear-tip.
An aerial pirouette, whirling the weapon round and around.
Each strike was a thunderclap. Lighting clashed and crashed, sparking down the wyrms bodies.
The wyrms fought back with claw-strokes and corkscrew twists, blasting out spores in stream after stream.
Geoffrey deftly dodged, changing his momentum at the drop of a hat. The sparks from his halberd strikes ignited the spore streams, chaining explosions all the way back to the serpents maws.
It was fudging awesome.
Beside me, winds whipped over the acid-eaten depression as Brand charged his spell. Energy swirled around him, lifting his cloak off his back.
Yet, high above, the fungal sky loomed large.
I gaped at its sheer immensity, muttering under my breath. Beasts teeth
With each passing second, it was getting bigger. Closer.
My thoughts raced.
A war in Paradise, I thought.
A shiver crawled down my spine.
That was it. Thats what it had to be. It was all the evidence I needed. That was the answer to the mystery. This place? The Incursion?A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
There was a war in Paradise. Hell itselfthe fungushad broken into Paradise. The Scary-Shinies were in league with it; coalitions of Angels and their creations at war with one another.
Andalon was either an Angel in her own right, or the creation of one. Perhaps &alon was her maker. When shed first appeared to me, in that dream, she was injured because she was a refugee of this war, having barely escaped with her life.
As Andalon had shown me, I knew that &alon was a physical being, immense beyond words, with awe-inspiring power.
I shivered again.
How much more powerful were the other Angels, then, if they had Andalon on the run.
I became almost numb to the battles around me. So many puzzle pieces were coming into place.
This place, these hummingbird beings long ago, this must have been Paradise. But no longer. That explained why Andalon told me the afterlife only exists in wyrms heads. True Paradise had been lost. The fungus had gotten to it first, and all that remained was this, a memory of the fall.
&alon must have put Paradise into the wyrms as a last resort. Now, the fungus was trying to finish what it started: destroy Paradise for good.
By the Angel
Below me, Yuta gasped, drawing in breath. The sudden loud sound ripped me out of my contemplation. I looked down in shock.
Yuta shook his head and stood up. His clothes and equipment were fully restored, his pitch-black kanakatana sheathed once more in the scabbard at his waist.
Above, wyrms roared.
I looked up.
Wyrms were slithering out from the ruins and the fog, turning to Geoffrey en masse. They spewed spore breath at him from every direction, making the crackle, impossibly bright.
There was no trace of reason within these silver-eyed wyrms. They attacked Geoffrey like wild animals, swerving and diving, claws slashing through combusting clouds as they chased the hummingbird .
But as fast as the wyrms were, Geoffrey was nimbler still. He darted through their coils and flew circles around their heads. His every movement was an attack. He sliced off arms, snouts and tails.
Beside me, lightning crackled at Brands feet. It rose up, whirling around him. Energy flashed and snarled as it spun and spun.
Faster. Faster.
Grabbing Yuta with my tongue, I plopped him onto my back and yelled, Hold on! as I fell forward and galloped off. As I ran, I looked over my shoulder and yelled: Geoffrey! Run!
The pulsing energy waves streaming out from Brand quickened, scattering bits of broken hummingbirds. Thick light whipped around him as he rose to his feet, obscuring his form.
Turning sharply, I scrambled into one of the hollow skyscrapers. I could see Brand through one of the entry arches across from me.
Brand screamed. Intuicin!! !
Brands trump card was worthy of the Lass Herself. For a breathtaking moment, earth and sky were linked by a massive column of solid plasma. If it had a color, the light was too bright for me to tell. Everything was monochrome, as if the sky had turned on the wrong set of lights. Rock disintegrated at the columns basebits of black, dissolving in the all-consuming light.
Black and white afterimages flashed in my eyes as the spell petered out. Up above, I could make out Geoffreys protective green sphere zooming away. Hed escaped the devastation just in time.
I blinked until my vision half-worked again, resisting the urge to rub my eyes. The destruction was exquisite. Brands magic had carved out a miniature Cranter Pit in the middle of the dead city. Fires smoldered at its rim, and whole swaths of the ground had liquified, turning to molten rock and glass. Chunks of wyrmsa tail, part of a torsostuck out from the columns radius where theyd flopped to the floor, bearing the charred edges where the rest of their bodies had been destroyed. Entire swaths of the surrounding buildings had been erased.
A shaft of light streamed down onto the pit. Looking up, I saw Brands spell had punched a hole all the way through the great fungus, creating the largest Ceiling Eye any world had ever known. The hole filled with shadows as the fungus began to repair the damage. Tendrils writhed out from the wound, plunging their tips into the opposite side.
I saw the sky through the holegloriously bluebut only for a moment.
Below, Brands robot body stood at the center of the pit like a broken toy. Brands emerald-topped staff fell from his hand and clattered to the ground. A moment later, Brands body did the same, toppling forward, rigid and unmoving. None of the lights on his body were on.
I ran out from the massive gap that had opened in the hollow skyscrapers wall.
Brand! I yelled. Brand!
Yuta leapt off my back as I scrambled down to the bottom of the pit.
Settling down by Brands side, I flipped my friend onto his back with a gentle flick of a single claw, sighing with relief as I saw green text displayed on his black LED screen face. I lowered my head to the ground to read them:
|
Power Depleted.
Recharging.
Time until completion:
23:58
|
The numbers flashed on and off like a digital clock waiting to be set.
Whats wrong with him? Yuta asked.
His battery needs time to recharge, I said.
Yutas brow furrowed. His what?
I started to explain, but my reply was immediately drowned out by an engine-revving hum.
Geoffrey landed right in front of us, his armor clinking as he folded his wings against his back. His halberds golden blade crackled with electricity.
etal scrape as Yuta stepped forward and unsheathed his blade.
Geoffrey glowered at us in frightful rage.
I raised my hands in a defensive gesture, only to fold my arms against my chest when I remembered I had massive, threatening-looking claws. Please, Geoffrey, I said, just calm down.
Ive had enough of your lies, Geoffrey hissed. He glared at me, and then Yuta. You betrayed us, Howle. You betrayed me. You betrayed your people
Yuta pointed his kanakatana at the half-man, half-hummingbird warrior.
The war is over, Lord Athelmarch, Yuta said. It was a hollow cause then, and it is a hollow cause now. There has been enough bloodshed.
A tear glinted in the corner of Geoffreys eye as he shook his head. Our cause was not hollow, Mewnee. He spat out the word, pointing his halberds head at us. I fought for God and country. For my peoples freedom! Geoffrey said.
Everyone is dead, Geoffrey, I said.
But causes endure, Dr. Howle, Geoffrey replied, and good and evil are set in stone. Time has no meaning when a cause is righteous. He stamped his halberds haft on the ground. I dont care what is real and what is false. I know what Ive seen. I know what I feel. Shuddered, he stuck out his arm and squeezed his fist.
Geoffrey, please, I said, dont do this.
He glared at me as he stepped forward.
131.2 - Skill Check
Yuta brandished his sword.
I should say the same to you! Geoffrey yelled. Youre no Chosen! Youre a Norm! A prince of demons! You arent even human.
Geoffrey!
Protest if you wish, Dr. Howleif that is your true name It will make no difference.
But
Beside me, Yuta sighed and shook his head. Dr. Howle, it is easy to find a stick when you want to beat a dog.
Geoffrey pointed his halberd at Yuta. And, as for you, Lord Uramaru You will answer for your peoples crimes. He nodded grimly.
Yuta raised an eyebrow. Youve heard of me?
Dont play coy with me, Geoffrey snapped. Even deaf men know the tale of Sakuragis pet, the mulatto samurai.
Yutas face turned as cold as plaster in the snow.
I turned to Yuta. Please, theres no need for violence.
I glanced over to Brands face, but I couldnt make out the numbers.
The inconveniences of pangolin eyes.
Well, at this point, I figured my best hope was to try to buy as much time as I could, and then hope Brand had enough juice left in him to help me bottle Geoffrey back up again.
Geoffrey placed a hand on his chest. On my honor, I swear, you will not leave this place alive. Perhaps with that, I might be redeemed.
Yuta shook his head again. See the look in his eyes; I know it well. It is useless to dissuade him. He has already made up his mind.
Geoffrey nodded. Youre damn right I have. And then he charged, propelling himself forward with his wings.
I rolled onto my belly and skittered away as Yuta and Geoffrey clashed. I tried to pick Brand up with my tongue, but retracted when one of Yutas ink arcs nearly sliced my tongue in two.
Geoffrey used his halberds long handle like a quarterstaff as he and Yuta traded blows. Yuta leapt back and lashed out with ranged attacks, flicking arcs of ink through the air. But Geoffrey dodged them effortlessly, hovering up and away, only to dart back into the fray, forcing Yuta onto the defensive.
I might have been in , but as went, I was still pretty squishy, especially compared to the wyrms. And Geoffrey had made mincemeat out of them. As long as Geoffrey stayed blinded by his rage, we had a chance, but Angel help us if he figured out that the giant pangolin made for an easier target than the ink-wielding warrior.
If it fell to Yuta to protect me from Geoffreys attacks, we were guaranteed to lose.
Dodging a downward arc of razor-sharp ink, Geoffrey hovered backward in a feint. Having failed to make contact, the momentum Yuta put into his downward slash kept pulling himself forward, forcing him to stagger back to keep from falling. Seizing the moment, Geoffrey dove forward and down, thrusting his halberd.
Yuta didnt have time to jump back. He screamed as the halberds spear tip plunged into his right flank.
Scrambling, I casted new buffs for both of us, clasping my pangolin claws together in
, following up with . Radiance sparkled around Yuta and I as our wounds were healed.
You flit about like a child, Count Athelmarch, Yuta said, steadying his grip with a grunt. You said you wanted to fight, so fight!
Above, Geoffrey hovered with murderous intent.
So far, it seemed Geoffrey knew what he was doing regarding the game mechanics. I just hoped he hadnt been paying full attention when Brand and I had explained the core concepts to Yuta.
But then, Geoffrey closed his eyes in prayer and lifted his halberd skyward. His beating wings blurred behind him, forming a halo of gray and green. My eyes widened as that halo became more than a metaphor, shining with yellow green light that flowed around Geoffreys body.
That meant
Oh no
He was casting a spell.
I yelled: Yuta!
But it was too late. Thick, monstrous vines erupted from the ground. They wrapped tightly around Yuta and I, immobilizing us. I hunted my back, thrashing my tail as I struggled against the tightening bindings. My scales helped, With every squirming and twist, their sharp edges cut the bindings.
But it wasnt enough.
Cut them! I said. Use your !
Yutas eyes widened in realization.
A
s link with their weapon deepened as they grew in power. Every new character level granted them more and more control over their Pactbound weapons special abilities.
Defeating those wyrms had given Yuta the boost hed needed. Ink streamed out from his kanakatana, significantly extending its reach. The ink stream at its tip could be moved like a whip, as Id seen Yuta do in his attempts to hit Geoffrey out of the air. Unable to move his legsensured by the vines, which, even now, were still crawling up his bodyYuta turned his waist like a cherry-picker motion. He curled the ink flow as his sword swung, slicing through enough of the bindings for me to tear them loose with a lunge to the side, freeing both of us.
Nice trick! I said, running alongside him.
Hardly, Yuta replied, using my scales to scramble up my back.
Geoffrey flew in pursuit. Raising his hand, three droplets of blue light coalesced in front of him, and then rocketed at us. The shrieked through the air as they spiraled toward us.
Leaping off my back, Yuta managed to bat one of the projectiles away with an ink-widened slash, but the other two hit their targets. Yuta groaned in pain as one of the bolts slammed into his chest, sending its blue energy sparking through his body. The other hit me in my left eye.
I screamed.
The pain was enough to screw up my gait. Stumbling, I crashed onto the ground, shattering hummingbird statues and flattening gardens as my tail and scales carved furrows into the dirt.
Worse: I was now blind in one eye!
How is he doing this? Yuta yelled. You said warriors didnt use magic!
He I winced in pain. He must be using a hybrid build!
So, fudge, Geoffrey had been paying attention. Or worse, hed read the manual.
So much for your talk, Geoffrey scoffed, holding out his weapon. For all your bluster and booshee-dough honor, you run like the unchivalrous coward that you are!
You fight with a sorcerers tricks! Yuta yelled. Come at me! He ran toward his enemy.
Gladly! Geoffrey charged at Yuta. But instead of diving down and stabbing with his halberds spike, Geoffrey swung his halberd in a wide sweep that flung gooey purple muck everywhere, puddling all over the ground.
It was the oldest trick in the spellbook.
Watch out, Yuta! I yelled. Thats slippery !
Given my sheer size, I figured this was the time to take one for the team. Scampering forward, I threw myself onto the grease, landing with a belly flop, my tail slamming on the ground behind me. The fur on my underbelly soaked up the foul-smelling goop, though I didnt indignify myself further by trying to get back up.Stolen story; please report.
Feeling a trail of light pressure run up my back, I raised my head to see Yuta jump off me once more, leaping at Geoffrey. His kanakatana spewed out a whip of ink that snapped as Yuta lashed it at the oncoming hummingbird warrior.
The blow struck Geoffrey squarely in the chest. Sparks flew as the magic rasped along Geoffreys armor. The ink infiltrated the chinks in the armor. Yuta clenched his fist as he fell, causing the ink beneath Geoffreys armor to explode out. Several of the metal plates blew off altogether, revealing a trickling mix of ink and blood.
Geoffrey darted back as Yuta landed on me and crouched down. Id slid forward along my greased-up underbelly.
You can have your chivalry! Yuta barked. It means nothing! Its a fairy tale men use to wave away their wanton cruelties.
Shut up! Geoffrey screamed, sputtering with rage. Shut up!
Yutas words must have struck a nerve.
Swooping down, the winged warrior scraped his halberd along the ground, sending up electric sparks. Yuta dodged the blows, but not the electricity, which zapped both of us. My nose filled with the stench of singed, grease-soaked fur..
Yuta adopted a defensive stance, gripping his kanakatanas hilt in both hands. Geoffrey stabbed down at the ground again and again, darting up and down in between each strike. But Yuta parried every one.
I tried my best to get a few claw-sweeps in, but my wasnt built with dexterity in mind, other than my tongue. At best, I was just a distraction, but that was enough. Repulsed at the sight of my tongue hurtling toward him, Geoffrey dodged the wrong way, giving Yuta the chance to lash out with another ink-stream and rip open Geoffreys feathered flesh where his plate armor had been blown off.
Geoffrey flitted above us, dripping with blood.
Have you satisfied your bloodlust? Yuta said.
Beat me down all you like, Mewnee, Geoffrey snarled. Hardship only makes me stronger.
What do you know of hardship, you pampered aristocrat? Yuta said, gripping a wound on his chest. He spat. You know nothing!
I used another for us both. My damaged eye healed, bringing back the missing half of my visionand just in time for me to see buildings starting to crumble all over the city.
The fungal sky had been getting closer and closer this whole time. It was near enough to the ground that the upper reaches of the citys tallest structures had begun to be crushed. The thing was like a spiked wall trap in an ancient tomb, only it was as vast as the sky, and there was no way out.
Geoffrey! Yuta! I screamed. Stop this madness! I pointed up at the encroaching fungus-world. We have to get out of here!
Is your memory as bad as your morals, Dr. Howle? Geoffrey said.
He plummeted, stabbing his halberd onto the ground as he landed, sending out a wave of crackling electricity. Yuta leapt back to dodge, cleaving his sword through the air by spinning around in an ink-propelled strike, but Geoffrey just darted out of the way with a rumble of his wings.
I swore you would not leave this place alive! Geoffrey yelled.
Youll be killed! I screamed.
Geoffrey smiled. But so will you.
As I ran, I glanced over at Brands motionless form.
Desperation really had a way of lubricating the brain. Nothing gets the creative juices flowing quite like impending catastrophe.
Brand was a robot, and as far as I could tell, he ran on electricity.
Who else used electricity? Geoffrey did. He was putting out a heck of a lot of electricity right now.
Put it all together, and what does it spell?
Well, I was about to find out!
Dodging one of Geoffreys lightning bolts with a leap, I curled myself into a ball as I fell, doing my best to arc my path toward the big pit Brand had made with his . I rolled down the depressions sides, then up the other side, then back again, and back again, rocking left and right as I slowly came to a stop at the pits base.
I wretched as I uncurled myself. I had to keep my tongue from shooting onto the charred earth. Shaking out my head, I wrapped my hand around Brands robot body and scampered forward in a rocking, three-legged gait, pushing myself up the depressions incline with my spare claw.
I trundled a couple of steps forward as I got out of the pit, and then sat on my haunches. I pushed my tail on the ground to keep myself propped up.
Next, I yelled something stupid.
Munine swords are better than Trenton swords!
Yutas sandals skidded across the ground as he and Geoffrey turned to stare at me. For a brief moment, they both looked at me like I was crazy.
That was all I needed. Cringing inwardly, I ran toward the dueling warriors, right into the path of Geoffreys lightning-wrapped strike.
Figuring what-the-heck?, I started shouting, Its pangolin time!, only to get cut off mid-sentence as Geoffreys enchanted halberd bit into a gap between my scales. Electricity bolted through me, making me roar in pain.
Curling into a ball, I rolled back down into the pit, uncurling right as I hit the bottom. I held Brand tightly, even as I landed with a painful belly flop. I glanced down at Brand as I pushed myself back up.
|
Power Depleted.
Recharging.
Time until charged: 14:45
|
When last Id checked, thered been nearly twenty-four hours remaining. My hunch was right: Geoffreys electrical attacks were recharging Brands batteries!
I just wished I had time to sigh in relief!
Is that the best you can do, Geoffrey? I said, as sardonically as I could manage. Or are all Athelmarches as hapless as you?
In all honesty, it was a shoddy effort at bullying, but luckily enough, it did the job.
Its funny how you can be both proud of yourself yet also terribly ashamed.
I didnt need to see the world through Geoffreys eyes to know that he was seeing red.
The Count of Seasweep let out a blood-curdling shriek, as if Id just ripped off one of his limbs..
Genneth! Yuta yelled. What are you d
Electricity cracked overhead.
In the second-and-a-half of conversation Yuta and I had just shared, the half-hummingbird had taken advantage to fly up high and barrel down on us with his halberds spear-tip pointing down. Geoffrey beat his wings, boosting gravitys pull. Cone of fractal lightning roared into being, swirling around his weapons blade.
I screamed. Look out!
I barely managed to slam my shoulder into Yuta in time to knock him several yards away before Geoffrey struck. My little maneuver had probably saved Yutas life, but it had come at the cost of putting my upper back directly in the path of Geoffreys attack. Electric arcs ran amok. I could smell my fur burning inside the sounds of my agonized screams. Pain tore upward through my neck.
If I didnt know any better, hed just pierced my spinal cord.
And then, I realized I couldnt feel anything below my neck
Fudge.
Everything hurt, and then hurt more as Geoffrey ripped his halberd out of me, while screaming something about the Honor of his House.
But I was paying attention to that. No. All of my attention was on the soft whirrs and beep-boop chimes coming from the robot sorcerer I held in my claws.
Darn it!
The underlying mechanics of Gregs RPG system required a to perform certain gestures along with the incantations for their divine spells. Though my perk took care of the incantation problem, my newfound quadriplegia prevented me from going through the necessary motions, which sucked, because I needed to perform those motions for the spell that would heal my severed spinal cord.
I guess I had no choice. I had to shift back.
I shrank back into my humanoid form, exiting my . I doubted Id ever get completely used to the feeling of all that extra mass slurping back into the non-existence from which it came. It was especially weird, given that sensation was also returning to my body at the same time
Brand yelped as he clattered to the ground, his cloak falling on top of him.
I fell to my knees.
Yuta! I yelled. Help!
The good news was that specific injuries didnt carry over between my forms. Unfortunately, the damage did carry over.
I keeled over in agony. Sticky wetness kept my overcoat fastened to my back as blood spewed from the wound.
I had one casting of remaining. I spent it, making the appropriate gestures with my hands as I intoned the necessary prayers, trying not to fumble the words as I coughed up blood.
I knew Id succeeded when comforting light blossomed all around me, sending trails of milky radiance flowing into my mouth and nose and all of my wounds. I inhaled sharply as broken flesh stitched back together. The wound on my back tickled as it closed.
Geoffrey pulled up and then plummeted in another dive-bomb attack, but Yuta leapt in the way just in time, twisting his body as he slashed at the handle of the oncoming halberd. The two warriors rebounded off one another.
Yuta skidded across the ground, having landed back-first, but he was back on his feet in the blink of an eye.
I turned to Brand.
Cast spell! I yelled.
Overhead, the fungus loomed ever closer. Debris was falling all around us.
Got it! he replied, a wink flashing on his display-face. Just cover me! It takes a second to cast.
Got it! I said. I stood in front of Brand, making myself into a half-pangol shield
Geoffrey screamed No! I wont let you escape!
Magic circles spun around his halberd as he zoomed toward us, readying to cast a lightning spell.
A blue bolt zapped at us, only to swerve around me. I screamed in panic, but then flinched as a black object flew through the air, right at the magic lightning.
It was Yutas kanakatana. Hed thrown it!
The magic lightning crashed into Yutas blade. Sparks flew as the spell discharged. The energy made the black kana glow red-hot.
The sword crashed into the dirt.
Geoffrey continued flying forward, ready to rend us limb from limb. I reached up, but he zipped by too quickly.
I turned to see Yuta hold up his hand, his fingers outspread.
Thwump thwump thwump.
The kanakatana spun round and round as it hurtled through the air, flying back to its masters hand. Geoffrey just so happened to be directly in the weapons path, and it did not move out of the way.
Athelmarch screamed as the kanakatana struck him, slicing through his damaged armor. He crashed onto the ground, his halberd scraping through the charred earth.
pore errant! Brand yelled.
There was a big grin on Yutas face as the was cast.
You lose, he said.
131.3 - Skill Check
Light swirled around us. My body dissolved into streams of particles, starting from my lower extremities. My vision broke into droplets of colors, like paint splatterseverywhere, everywhere.
It tickled somewhat.
For a moment, everything buzzed, then all the impossible feelings played out all over again, only in reverse. My head reformed first, giving me a clear view of my body as it spent the next five reassembling itself. Numbness vanished as feeling returned, first to my head, then my arms and my chest, then to my belly, and lastly to my legs, feet, and tail.
Geoffreys body was frozen in place until the moment it finished reconstituting, at which point all his momentum came roaring back with a vengeance, launching him across the ground.
But this time, I was in control. I didnt even need to look around to see that wed returned to the Forgotten Sands, back in Lantor proper.
We were on my turf, now.
Freeze, I thought.
And, instantly, Geoffrey did.
I actually spent a moment marveling at the form Geoffrey had chosen for his avatar. He looked like hed just leapt out of a book cover. His feathers iridesced whenever I moved relative to him. There was a breeze in the air, but it didnt ruffle Geoffrey in the least. Resolve sculpted his face, but his eyes burned with the kind of ferocity that could only come from deepest pain. Id frozen him so totally, he wasnt even thinking. He was stuck in a single moment of time.
Yuta sank to his knees, panting for breath. His kanakatana softly impacted on the sand.
We stood somewhere in the middle of Forgotten Sands. Far, far, behind us, past quivering mirages, the land turned corrugated and canyon-struck as it gave way to the rest of Lantor. Up ahead, nearly as far away, the Hoduul Mountains rose from the ground, piercing the sky. And though I could not see the fungal sky beyond it, that did not mean it wasnt there. Thankfully, whatever was happening on the other side of the mountain range was staying on the other side of the mountain range, though I wondered how much longer it would stay that way.
The Incursion had spread even further across the desert. Otherworldly realities had leaked across the sands like so much spilt blood. Near the mountains, the sky fractured into at least half a dozen different realities. Blue skies. Orange skies. Swirls of fog-bound dark atwinkle with distant stars. Alien trees grew from forest floors right next to bottomless voids and floating isles. The deserts sand filled the jagged gaps between the different world-bleeds, its waterless cataracts spilling into the voids.
Staring at it, I felt a presence tug at my thoughts, beckoning; beckoning. The Incursion was like a clawed hand spreading across the desert, reaching for me.
Help me, Andalon, I muttered. Help me stop it, before its too late.
I felt her stir. She came within an inch of appearing before me, but then darted away, cowering in terror.
I sighed.
One step at a time, I guess.
Speaking of which
With a thought, I willed Geoffrey, Yuta, Brand, and myself back to our normal formsthough Geoffreys pose remained unchanged. I also wiped away our injuries and fatigue.
I breathed out softly.
Much better, I thought.
Yuta glanced at me. Are you doing this, Dr. Howle?
I nodded.
He slid his now-ordinary katana back into its scabbard.
The three of us gave Geoffrey a good look over.
What are you going to do with him? Yuta asked.
Ideally, I want to calm him down, and not just because I dont want any more trouble. I glanced up at the sky. As long as Brand and I remain physically interlinked, Andalon wont be able to stop me from figuring out what needs to be figured out.
Physically interlinked? Yuta asked, his brow furrowing.
I opened a window in the air, giving us the live feed coming in from my physical bodys eyes.
I didnt blame Yuta for staring. He looked away as I dismissed the window.
I turned to Geoffrey, looking him over once more.
Anyway, I said, as the first of the knights ghosts to manifest to me, Im going to need to pick his brain over what he remembers of time traveling and the rift. I looked back at Yuta. I want to compare it to what you saw in your memories, and, hopefully, when I combine it with all of the secrets that Dr. Horosha will most definitely be sharing with me, maybe well finally figure out whats going on.
I very much doubt Geoffrey will be cooperative, Yuta said.
Sighing, I willed a force field into being, surrounding Geoffrey with a lambent block of transparent, pale blue light. I pressed my fingers against the barrier, feeling its solidity, and then, satisfied, released Geoffrey from my freeze.
Free to surge, Geoffreys momentum sprung him forward, knocking him into the barrier several inches in front of him. From the look on his face, it was not the most pleasant experience.
I nodded in satisfaction.
Hed definitely deserved it.
Geoffrey spent the next fifteen seconds or so feeling out the barrier, testing it out with his hands, touching it here and there, like a mime.
Geoffrey? I said.
He glowered at me.
Hes a zealot, Yuta said. For all their differences, Mu and Trenton both excel at training their soldiers to disregard reason.
Geoffrey pulled out a shortsword from a pocket hidden in his armor and then slashed at the barrier. This accomplished nothing, and it took several more stabs and strikesall accomplishing nothinguntil he begrudgingly relented.
Yuta shook his head and sighed. My point exactly.
Geoffrey glowered at me. What is this!? He pounded his fist against the barrier.
I gestured at Brand. My colleague, Dr. Nowston, transported us here. Unlike where we were before, here, I am in complete control. Youre inside my mind now, Geoffrey. Id bid you welcome to the afterlife, but you dont seem to be keen on pleasantries right now.
Geoffrey hissed through his teeth. Your colleague is one of those things, isnt he? A Demon Norm.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
I sighed. Were not Norms. Were wyrmswith a Y. Wyrms and Norms are not the same.
Yuta bore his palm. I am not a wyrm.
Well, congratulations, Geoffrey said, with unconcealed venom.
Sheathing his blade, Geoffrey turned around and began to pace inside the barriers confines like a caged panther.
You say Wyrms and Norms are different, yet they look the same to me, he said. Their tongues spout lies in much the same way. He crossed his arms. Tell me, Howle, do all wyrms claim to be the Angels chosen Blessd? Or is it only you?
I sighed. Im sorry about that. It was a dire situation. Lives were at stake. Afterlives, too. I didnt have time to argue theology.
So you say.
Well, this is awkward, Brand said.
Tell me about it I muttered.
What is DAISHUs plan, then? Geoffrey asked. Do they mean to join the war in Paradise?
Brand stared at Geoffrey, and then at me. Why is he talking about DAISHU?
He thinks theyve made a pact with Hell and the forces of darkness.
You do not know the Mewnee like I do, Dr. Howle, Geoffrey said. They would stop at nothing to win.
The war is over, Geoffrey, I said. And, Ill have you know, we won.
More lies, Geoffrey said. He scowled at Yuta. There can be no peace as long as these foreign devils continue to defile the Holy Land.
I palmed my forehead.
Theyre all like this, Yuta quipped. And Mus magistrates are just as bad.
I shook my head. Geoffrey, let me remind you: you are dead. This world were in? I created it.
Brand raised his hand. And I helped.
I glared at Dr. Nowston before continuing.
This world exists within my mind, Geoffrey. As I said, this is your afterlife, and its my responsibility to oversee your afterlife, and make sure it is a pleasant one. Believe it or not, I want you to find peace, Geoffrey. Id like to help you, if youll let me.
I dont believe it, he replied.
Well you should, I said.
Count Athelmarch pursed his lips. Why do you care?
Lots of reasons, I said. For one, its the right thing to do. For another, its in everyones interest that you find peace in the afterlife. If you dont, I pointed at the mountains, the awful fungus things that were about to kill us back there will take control of you and turn you into a demona real demonand that wont be good for anyone, least of all you.
There was silence.
Geoffrey pointed at Yuta. I can have no peace as long as he lives.
Im as dead as you are, Yuta replied, sardonically.
Geoffrey stared in confusion.
Both of you are ghosts, I said. As soon-to-be wyrms, Brand and I and all the others have to ensure that the souls uploaded into us make it to Paradise.
Geoffrey pointed at Yuta. If he is dead, and this is supposed to be Paradise, wheres the rest of his brood?
Emotion roared within the samurai, even though Yuta gave no outward sign of it. His pain was a tempest. Longing screamed within him, desperate for the people hed lost.
Theyre dead, he said, but theyre not here.
Oh? Geoffrey asked, cruelly feigning interest, oozing malevolence.
The Green Death killed my daughter and I, Yuta said, as well as my young ward. My wife and son were lost to Darkpox, not long after the rest of my household. He lowered his gaze. They never got a chance to learn of the wonders the future held.
The pain was written deep in Yutas face.
Much to my surprise, for all Geoffreys hatred of Mu, Lord Uramarus grief struck a chord with him. Geoffreys reaction was as immediate as it was dramatic. Shooting Yuta an alarmed stare, Geoffrey stepped away from the edge of his prison. Geoffreys emotions suddenly went to war with one another. The anger in his face seemed to turn inward, crashing against a lurking sorrow. Geoffreys voice caught in his throat. He inhaled, his face paling.
Whats wrong? I asked.
Geoffrey scowled at me, and then smiled in disgusted, broken-hearted resignation. He glanced at Yuta. Lord Uramaru, is it? You said you had no quarrel with me, did you not?
Correct, Yuta replied, with a steely glare.
Geoffrey leaned forward and whispered, pressing his hands up against the barrier. I would reconsider that, he said. After all, it was my idea to use Darkpox against our foes.
The ground crunched under Yutas sandals as he stepped forward, shocked. What? he whispered.
Oh fudge I muttered.
I had a bad feeling about this.
Geoffrey looked like was about to cry. All those deaths, he said, all those children they all lie on my shoulders. You see, I was the one to suggest it. Your people forced Trentons into servitude, but so great was your pride that you saw no risk in employing them as servants at your estates, to mock and belittle us. Your peoples pride was their undoing, Lord Uramaru. Patriots among the servants put rags from our Darkpox sickened children in all the nobles manses.
Y-You you did what? Yuta said. Metal keened as he unsheathed his sword. You would damn us all with that plague?
I called out Yutas name, trying to calm him, but he simply didnt hear me. Every fiber of his being was focused on the knight in the cage.
Five Mewnees died of the illness for every Trenton that succumbed, Geoffrey said. History remembers me for this. He glanced at me. I saw it written on your Flying Cloud, Dr. Howle. It said I played a crucial role in turning the tide against the occupation.
Yuta trembled with rage.
Yuta, I yelled, lunging forward, stop!
The samurai turned to face me.
It wont do any good, I said. You wont be able to strike him as long as hes in the barrier.
Then remove the barrier, Yuta demanded.
Not long ago, you were telling Geoffrey to let bygones be bygones, I said, what changed?
Dr. Howle, Yuta said, tremblingdesperate to remain calm, if this man speaks the truth, and the Darkpox epidemic was an act of war
Its the truth, Brand said, solemnly. Its well-known that the Third Crusade owed its success to the Trenton rebels use of biological warfare.
Well, Yuta said, then Geoffrey must receive a just punishment. This is the afterlife, after all, where lifes injustices are set right. Yuta stared me in the eyes. Remove the barrier, Dr. Howle. Now.
I crossed my arms. No.
Yuta glared at me. Why not!?
Its like you told me, I said, nothing good comes from senseless violence.
Yutas face contorted with pain. He wept as he pointed his sword at Geoffrey. How can you look into my eyes and tell me this mans misery would be senseless? Hundreds of thousands of innocents died because of his actions. Its his fault! Hes the reason Im dead. Hes the reason Ichigo is dead, and Genta, and Sukuna! The earth screams with the blood he has shed! He must pay! And in here, Dr. Howle, you have the power to mete out justice. You can do what your god would not. You can set things right
Tears glinted in Geoffreys eyes. And there it is. He laughed bitterly. Theres the wolf. You Mewnees believe yourselves the superior race. You think your justice is the only kind. All others are lesser. Even the one, true faith is a lowly thing in your eyes. You gaze down at us from your paper mansions as your soldiers pillage our lands and defile our people, and proclaim that it is good and just because it is the rule of the strong over the weak. But the truth is, youre no different from us, just as Im no different from you. All men fall short. We are sinners, all! He sneered. My only regret is that I couldnt kill you with my own two hands.
Oh God.
Belting out a battle cry, Yuta charged at Geoffrey with his katana raised, poised to strike. But I willed a barrier into being right in Yutas path; he crashed into it face first, and then stumbled back.
His katana fell from his hands.
Geoffrey pointed and laughed, but there was no joy in his laughter. It was the broken-glass sound of a man drowned in regret.
Angels breath, I thought. At this rate, I was going to lose both of them to the darkness!
You dont know my pain! Yuta screamed. You dont know my loss!
And you dont know mine! Geoffrey said, yelling back.
And that gave me an idea.
Freeze, I mutteredand both of them did.
Closing my eyes for a moment, I reached out with my thoughts and tapped into their minds. Was it invasive? Physically, no, but, ethically, yes. Was it a problematic violation of their privacy? Of course.
But I was done playing around, and with a war going on in Paradise, I truly had nothing left to lose.
Information poured into my awareness as I opened the two mens memories. Sense, sight, sound, rapture, despair, love won and lost, connections broken and forged in lives beset by tragedy after tragedy. I had to open my eyes to keep myself from getting overwhelmed.
I started crying.
Genneth? Brand asked.
Turning to him, I sighed. Its so sad, I said. To think, in another life, they could have been friends.
What?
I pointed at Yuta and Geoffrey, both frozen in stasis. I have to stop this, I said. I need their help. Yutas mind held secrets about the fungus that not even he knew. Imagine what might be buried in Geoffreys head! I refuse to let the darkness take them!
Okay, Brand said, but how? Its not like theyd agree to sit down for group therapy time.
Im going to do what I did with Ileene and her parents, and with so many others, I answered. Im going to get Yuta and Geoffrey to understand each other. Ill get them to sympathize with one another, even if I have to drag them to revelation, kicking and screaming.
And this is feasible because?
I just tapped into their minds, Brand. Having skimmed their life-stories, I can tell you that both of them are ultimately reasonable. Theyre not psychopaths. They can feel remorse.
Geoffrey doesnt seem very remorseful to me, Brand quipped.
Hes just broken, I said, as is Yuta. In their own way, everyone is broken. What matters is what can be done to repair them.
With but a thought, I summoned a portal into the world of memories. An entryway opened in the air, streaming out light.
I gestured at the portal with a polite bow. After you.
132.1 - Ghosts
two-way street. Unfortunately, Geoffrey was not really in a trusting mood right now, to say the least. Ordinarily, this would have made things difficult. When uncooperative spirits refused to bring up certain issues or memories, I had to either set the matter aside or force my way into their psycheand the latter could cause damage. However, Geoffreys regrets and pain were prominent in his mind; if anything, he couldnt stop himself from remembering them. He was torturing himself, and the tumult in his heart made it quite easy to access his depths.
I felt I owed it to him to try to help him deal with these issues.
It was my job, after allboth as a doctor, and as a wyrm.
I barely had to do anything to coax out Geoffreys memories. They sprouted up like kudzu. As far as personalities went, Geoffreys was definitely on the obsessive side.
I gathered the ones I needed from him and from Yuta, and then plotted the course we would take through them.
Hopefully, this treatment plan would yield results.
I opened the first memory Id plucked from Geoffreys soul. It was a beautiful landscape, worthy of a master painter. The colors were intensevividwith an immensity to them that made the moment feel truly lived.
There was green below, and blue above; trees and hills, and clouds and sky.
I pooled our emotions. We all felt Geoffreys deep nostalgia.
Wind swept through the hills; grass rustled in the breeze. Butterflies blew from tree to tree. Farmlands stretched out down below, their golden fields rich with summers grains.
Up atop the hill, Geoffrey sat with his younger brother Harmon in the shadow of a great cypress tree. The tree stood on a patch of moist earth, covered more by shed needles than grass. Dried sap trickled down the cypress trunk, redolent with a cozy tartness. The boys wore tunicsone blue, one brownalong with simple pants and comfortable boots a fine, supple leather. Looping, curling patterns were embroidered on their tunics shoulders, rendered in gold-colored thread, unlike anything a peasant could wear.
The four of us stood off to the side, watching the boys talk.
What is this? Geoffrey demanded, in the now. What are you doing?
Sharing, I said. These are your memories, Geoffrey. Were experiencing them together.
Why? he demanded.
I turned to him and Yuta. To get you two to understand each other, and to get you to trust me. I tilted my head at Geoffrey along with the you.
Geoffrey stared at me in no small amount of shock, only to gasp softly as his gaze drifted over to his little brother.
H-Harmon? he said, in a plaintive tone.
Harmonthe boy in the blue tunicstretched his arms and yawned.
Little Geoffrey rubbed his brothers head.
Hey! Harmon said, squirming about, trying to shove Geoffrey off.
Little Geoffrey grinned. I gotta wake you up, Harmon. Its midday and youre still yawning. Thats ridiculous!
You know I have trouble falling asleep, Harmon replied.
Geoffrey flexed his arms, showing off his muscles. If you spent more time sparring with Karrick and me, youd have no trouble falling asleep!
A voice called from over the hill. Your lordships! Your lordships!
Both boys turned to look.
It was Jennifer. The servant girl came running over the hill, her dainty shoes pressing down onto the grass. She carried a basket of mushrooms in her arm, which rubbed against her dirndls long blue skirt as it jostled about.
She slowed as she approached, and then stopped, panting for breath. There you are! she said.
Younger than Geoffrey but older than Harmon, Jennifer was the daughter of their estates head chef. Little Geoffrey thought she was the most beautiful creature hed ever seen. Her eyes were like gems in reflecting pools.
What are you doing out here, your Lordships? she asked. Sir Karrick has been looking everywhere for you!
Harmon gave her a timid glance. Well, what are you doing here?This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Jennifer gestured at the mushrooms in the wicker basket. Looking for mushrooms, she said. Father wants to make a sauce of them with some wine.
Is that all? Geoffrey asked.
I was also looking for you two, she answered.
Well, Little Geoffrey said, I found him first. He grinned, and then glanced at his brother. Harmon was watching the birds. Or maybe he was talking to the trees, like one of those old witches?
Geoffrey, please Harmon whined. He lowered his head, evasive and downtrodden.
Harmon of House Athelmarch of Seasweep, Geoffrey teased, show some backbone. Theres a beautiful maiden standing right there. He pointed at Jennifer, who curtsied in acknowledgement.
You honor me with your praise, your Lordship, she said.
Its like father says, Geoffrey continued, an aristocrat ought to shine like the Sun. Girls arent going to notice you if you dont shine.
But Harmon kept his gaze averted.
Hes plenty handsome already, Jennifer said.
Harmon shivered, his cheeks flushed in the most extraordinary shade of red.
Meanwhile, Geoffrey scowled. For the first time in his life, he worried he might have to compete for Jennifers attention.
Not wanting to do that, nor wanting to drag out the awkward conversation any longer, Geoffrey stood up and stretched his limb.
Well, come on Har, he said. Sir Karrick must be very peeved if he sent Jennifer to look for us. We have sparring sessions. He brought his son Yoric to duel you.
Finally raising his head, Harmon looked his brother in the eyes. I dont want to fight Yoric.
Geoffrey rolled his eyes. Its not a fight. Its training. No one gets killed in training.
I dont like the way I feel, when I fight them. Harmon said. I He stammered. I dont want Yorric to get hurt. It it keeps me up at night, he admitted. Id rather we be well He lowered his head again. friends.
People get hurt in battle, Harmon, Geoffrey said, trying to be as kind as he could. They die. Thats the way of the world.
Harmon got up and pushed off the tree;s trunk. He walked away.
Harmon? Geoffrey said. Harmon!
Harmon kept walking, toward Athelmarch Castles shadow.
He was always so sensitive, Geoffrey said, in the now. My brother was cut from a different cloth than the rest of us. A gentle man in an ungentle time. He smiled wistfully. But he had greatness in him. Geoffrey turned to me. He taught himself to read, you know. He memorized the opening of the Words of the Witnesses, and used it to learn his letters.
I had to exert some force to actively suppress the rage in the two mens hearts. However, it helped that the memory was there. That made it easier. The memory gave off strong emotions, which easily wrapped around Yuta and Geoffreys thoughts, distracting them from their quarrel.
He does not have a warriors build, Yuta said.
No, he didnt, Geoffrey said, and in better times, it wouldnt have mattered. But these were not better times.
I sensed Geoffreys wistful mood go belly up as he turned to glare at Yuta. Thanks to you and your kind, Mewnee, times were hard. Cruel.
Stop it, Geoffrey, I thought.
The effect was immediate. Geoffreys focus turned inward once more.
He shook his head and sighed. It would have been difficult no matter who I was. But my brother and I were born to a blighted house. For all my ancestors sins, we might as well have been demon-spawn, ourselves. We were not permitted to receive Unction in public. And when father died, I But Geoffrey cut himself off.
He stared at me.
I could feel his soul writhing at my grip on its memories.
No. Geoffrey blinked and shook his head. Wh why am I sharing this with you? You dont deserve to know my pain!
Why not? I asked. Before, you said Yuta didnt know your pain. Wouldnt you want him to know?
Enough of this! Geoffrey yelled. I will not have sympathy for my brothers killers. They are inhuman beasts, down to the last!
And suddenly, things got a lot more difficult. Geoffreys emotions burned in my grasp. They stabbed me like thorns, resentful of being held.
Mewnees dont deserve to know my pain, Geoffrey said. They will know my wrath, and it will be the last thing they ever know.
No wonder your House is cursed, Yuta said, grimly. Your hearts are as black as coal.
Geoffrey was the first to strike. He tried to tackle Yuta and topple him onto the grass, but I bound Geoffreys limbs with a forceful thought.
Someone had to be the grown-up in this situation.
Act like a man, Geoffrey, I said, somberly. Use your words, not your fists.
Gritting his teeth, Geoffrey hissed at me. I am a better man than you will ever be.
I raised an eyebrow. Oh, really?
Geoffrey lowered his head. That winter, he said, my father dropped dead, and suddenly, all his responsibilities were thrust onto me. I was young and inexperienced, he shook his head, but it made no difference. He swallowed hard, and then turned away as I released my hold on him.
I wouldnt have endured without Harmon. We helped each other. We looked out for each other, and for our subjects. I cared for them. I cared for him. Of the two of us, Harmon was always the more intelligent. He helped me plan and decide. It fell to me to take action and sway the people. It was Harmons idea to drain the swamps. He said it would put an end to miasma and pestilence, and he was right. He tended to Mother as her mind slipped away. My heart was not strong enough to face her, and none of the servants had the authority to give her orders. People depended on me! They depended on both of us!
I looked Geoffrey in the eyes. Youre not the only person whos had responsibility thrust upon him before he was ready, I said.
Then I put my hand on Yutas shoulder, and the scene changed.
We stood in a one-room wooden shack, roofed in thatch and dried palm leaves. Herbs hung from the wall beside the bed, left out to dry. Salted sea bass smoked on a spit above the fire pit outdoors. A depression in the middle of the shack held a hollowed stone bowl, filled with ash and dead embers.
The shack was cramped and destitute. The roof leaked when the rains cameand they came often. It had only one window, covered by a pair of flimsy shutters too water-warped to properly close. By al accounts, it should have been a place of misery, and yet, as we stood there, we felt nothing but serenity and contentment.
Turning my head, I looked through the lone window and beheld a tropical paradise. Palm trees swayed beneath the unbounded sky. The sea was a turquoise jewel, lapping gently at the black-sand beach. Yutas memory of himself sat inside the shack, at the rickety table hed carved by hand. His wife, Mayumi, sat beside him, leaning into him tenderly as they both stared in wonder at the treasure Mayumi held, swaddled, in her arms.
Uz.
Their son.
Yutas spirit stood beside me. I didnt need to look at him to know that he was crying. We all were. Our chests burned with the love Yuta felt for his wife and his newborn son. That love turned our thoughts to our own children. Me, to Jules, Rale, and Rayph; Geoffrey, to his only child, his daughter, Elaine.
Look at that, Count Athelmarch, Yuta said, pointing at his past. Look at that and tell me that I am inhuman.
Geoffrey averted his eyes. Children are children, he said, softly. That never changes. But it doesnt redeem you. It doesnt redeem your kind. It He shook his head, and then sighed in defeat. It doesnt redeem anyone.
Yuta raised an eyebrow, confused. What does redemption have to do with it?
Everything Geoffrey muttered.
Then time passed forward, and we found ourselves elsewhere.
132.2 - Ghosts
Church bells rung in the belfry high overhead.
It was the day of Harmons ordination as a fully fledged priest of the Lassedile Church. It was the day Harmon donned the mallard robe. Harmons normally pallid face was rosy with life. Hope twinkled in the young clerics eyes, shining against his gray, ceremonial sulpiceand Geoffreys heart twinkled with them. It was far short of the Hummingbird Robe, but a robe was still a robe. Seeing an Athelmarch in the green skullcap and brown cassock gave Geoffrey hope.
Perhaps the curse might yet be lifted.
Perhaps the name of Athelmarch might yet be redeemed.
Harmon knelt on the polished granite floor of Lucent Duncans of the Meadow, along with the other freshly minted priests. Luminer Allbright stood before them, his bronze scepter shining in his hand. Silver strands entwined the scepters handle, and garnets and turquoise gleamed at its tip, symbolizing the sacred Sword and the sacred bird.
Geoffreys thoughts spilled into us, one by one.
Next to his daughters birth, Harmons ordination was the proudest day of Geoffreys life. This moment would be Geoffreys lodestar in the years to come. It would ground him, reminding him of the good he could do.
Of the good an Athelmarch could do.
Geoffreys life had been one long worry. He worried about his familys honor, and his own. He worried about his brother. He worried about what his father had thought of his brother. He worried about what would happen to brother, now that the rebellion against the Mewnees was moving forward in earnest.
From the Holy City of Elpeck to the smallest hamlets, people whispered of a Third Crusadea holy war, to oust the intruders.
Geoffrey knew there would be many challenges ahead. But, for that one moment, he could rest easy. Harmon had found his place. Hed finally come into his own. His brother who was too noble to be a noble had embraced a sacred vocation. Geoffrey had no doubt Harmon would be the greatest priest the world had ever seen. He was sure of it, as sure as the Sun would rise. Harmon had the heart, the soul, the perspicacious intellect, andabove allthe abiding patience that came with deep-seated faith.
Maybe, someday soon, he might just become Lassedite.
What a wonder that would be, Geoffrey thought.
Geoffrey looked on in astonishment from the now, fraught by agony and ecstasy in equal portions.
He clenched his fist. Harmon mattered, he said. He mattered more than I ever did. He would have gone down in history. He could have redeemed House Athelmarch. The Angel would not have overlooked his noble, suffering spirit.
I turned to Yuta. You hear that? I said. You feel that? I asked, but Yuta didnt need to answer me. I knew he felt it.
I felt it, too.
He looked away, discomfited by the emotion.
Here, in this church of memories, you could not run away from another persons emotions. They were as real to you as your own feelings.
Why is the name of Athelmarch so reviled? Yuta asked.
I thought you knew Trenton history, I saideven though I knew he didnt.
I know your scripture, and the tenets of your religion, Yuta said. I recognize Athelmarchs name from some of the later writings, but they never went into detail beyond vague denunciations of his pride.
So, I told Yuta about the 176th Lassedite.
Its believed Lassedite Athelmarch lost the Sword. And, though its status as doctrine varies depending on who you ask, theres a widespread belief that Darkpox came into existence as a punishment for Eadrics abuse of the Swords powers.
Geoffrey flinched at every word. This is what you dont understand, he said, barely above a whisper. No one but an Athelmarch can. He looked us in the eyes.
The story is wrong, Geoffrey muttered. The truth goes deeper than anyone knows. My father passed it down to me, as did his father before him, all the way back to Karl himself.
Karl? I asked.
Geoffrey nodded. Karl Athelmarch, the Lassedites younger brother. He accompanied him on the Crusade. He was there when it happened.
When what happened? Brand asked.
The window in the air, Geoffrey said, quietly. The Lass was not the only one to work miracles with the Sword. Once in a generation, a soul would be born capable of harnessing the Swords powers like Enille had. Eadric was one of these Chosen. He had the power.
Geoffrey closed his eyes and exhaled. They say darkpox was Eadrics sin, but it was not. It was the Churchs. For centuries, the Lassedites had used the Swords power for selfish ends. Eadric used the Sword for the people. With its powers, his soldiers came out of battle unscathed. He led the army to make the world safe for Lassedicy. Geoffrey shook his head. But it was too late. The Lassedites that came before him had done something to the Sword. It malfunctioned. Karl saw it with his own eyes, as did so many others. The Sword opened a window in the aira passageway to somewhere different. Demons stepped out of the window, sick with Darkpox. Eadric slew them, but, by then it was already too late. Everyone fell sick. Eadric succumbed, but Karl recovered. By the time Karl returned to Trenton, the plague had already reached the holy land. Eadric died trying to save his ailing soldiers. He was a hero, Dr. Howleyet, no one believes it.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Obviously, this revelation left Brand and I stunned.
Geoffrey looked away. Even as a child, I could not leave home without facing vitriol and contempt. When you look at me, Lord Uramaru, you see a man, but when my countrymen look at me, they see a demon, a Nighttouched soul. Harmon had to renounce his lineage to join the priesthood, and even that was not enough. Every smile had to be fought for. Every morsel of praise. But Harmon persevered; that is why he matters! If he could win the peoples praises, then, perhaps, so could I.
He swallowed hard. Or so I thought.
Yuta said nothing in response, but, again, he didnt need to. His thoughts were turning inward, to his son, Uz.
And to Ichigo.
The next thing we knew, the church melted away, leaving us standing in the middle of a large military encampment, surrounded by Munine troops and tools of war. The fortification had been hurriedly built ts only protection a fangsome wooden palisade on its perimeter. Unlit paper lanterns hung in simple stables, above the horses. The animals munched on hay in the heat of the day.
Yuta stood behind his son, who was facing off against a burlap dummy, stuffed with straw. Uz was a young man, now, strapping and lithe. He had his fathers strength, and his mothers kindness. His skin was a shade darker than his fathers; unlike Yuta, Uz could have almost passed for a pure-blooded Costranak, were it not for his angular eyes and brow.
Then and now, Yuta wished Mayumi had been alive to see it. The pain of her death echoed through us all.
As usual, father and son were practicing their swordsmanship together. Their lightweight, pale blue haoris allowed for great flexibility of motion; the bandanas wrapped around their foreheads kept their hair and sweat at bay. Up above, the Trenton sun shone bright.
Yuta gently grasped his son by the waist. Do you feel that? he asked.
Uz looked over his shoulder, still holding the katana in his hands. You bet I do.
Your core is loose, Yuta told him. You must properly anchor your stance, or you wont be able to put your full strength into your strikes. Your stance determines how force passes through your body. It must be perfectly aligned. Yuta let go and stepped back. Son, every detail matters, from the tips of your fingers to the socks on your toes. If even one piece of your body is misaligned, your whole strike falls apart.
Im trying to build upper body strength, Uz said. Youre stronger than me.
Yuta crossed his arms. Only because Im older. With age comes experience, and with experience comes practice. The more you have done, the more you can do.
One of Geoffreys regrets was that the war had kept him from being the father to Elaine that she deserved.
Now, hed never see her again.
We could feel Geoffreys thoughts pickle as he mused about how happy his wife would be at the news of his disappearance. Mariett had only agreed to wed him because her family needed the money.
Geoffrey took on envy as he watched Yutas reparte with Uz. Yet with it, there came a shred of respect.
Orperhaps more than a shred.
Hes a good father, Geoffrey thought.
I crossed my fingers, hoping this meant progress.
Yuta resisted me slightly as I pulled up the next memory.
Must you? he thought-asked.
I want Geoffrey to see you for who you are, I thought-answered. A person is more than just a gazes estimate.
A thunderbolt shattered the blue afternoon. The sunny day exploded into black and rainy Night. Yuta ran through the woods, through scents of water sap and earth, guided by the light from the covered lantern in his hand. Its metal hinge creaked as it swung from his movements. Stormclouds had smothered the Moon, leaving the forest hair, feathers, and teeth in the dark of the Night.
But Yuta was not alone. At Sakuragis behest, Governor Yamamoto had deployed reinforcements. They traveled with Yuta, their lanterns like wandering moons, casting shadows on the shadows.
Uz! Yuta yelled.
Yuta dashed into a clearing. It wasnt the least bit clear. Mail and mle clanged all around him. Rifle fire spat ineffectually, briefly illuminating silhouettes and limbs before the rain smothered them.
A village was burning.
The Costranak laborers were in open revolt. Perhaps theyd fallen prey to the Rasudito and his teachings, or perhaps they simply thirsted for revenge.
Nagnas clashed with halberds. Axes bit katanas. Templar mail bumped against samurai armor.
Of course, the Tsurento were helping the Costranaks. Theyd do anything to oppose Munine rule.
Somewhere in the chaos, a lantern fell. By its light, Yuta finally found the one face hed been looking for.
He screamed. Uz!
H had fallen.
Yuta ran to him with a determination brighter than the brightest lantern, elbowing a Tsurentu rifleman in the chest, pushing him aside, slicing his sword clean through a club-wielding Costranaks neck, and then stabbing a Templar in the gut. The Costranak had been wearing tattered Munine armor.
Dad!.
Uz was on the ground, in a muddy trench overflowing with water. As he struggled to stand, a hand reached out and pulled him up.
A Costranak hand.
In the faint light, Yuta said, in the now, one of the rebels had mistaken Uz for one of their own.
But in the memory, Yuta didnt even have a chance to scream. By the time the words had left his mouth, a Munine soldier had impaled Uz and the Costranak with a nagnta.
Having dealt with so many ghosts, I was getting used to this kind of pain. I was used to sharing the agony a soul felt as they watched their loved ones lives get snuffed out.
But Geoffrey wasnt. He wasnt prepared for it. While Yutas spirit stared, silent and unmoving, Geoffrey fell to his knees. He didnt want to weep, but he couldnt stop himself.
It just hurt too much.
Meanwhile, the Yuta of the memory did the only thing he could do.
He acted out.
War is endlessly cruel, Yuta said, in the now. Even the soldiers suffer. There is no time for grief, not in the thick of combat. You have to fight for your life, and for your comrades, even when you feel like you have nothing left to live for.
Memory Yuta doled out death with an almost mechanical perfection. Mud, blood, and gore sprayed out again and again as he marched through the torches and the rain. He slashed. He stabbed. When a spear tore off a chunk of his layered armor, Yuta ripped off the rest, fighting unprotected, at twice the speed. If they begged for mercy, he cut off the hands that held their weapons, though most only begged near the end. By the battles end, the surviving Tsurento rebels had fled in terror, having abandoned all hopes of benefiting from the Costranak laborers short-lived uprising. Then and only then was it safe to weep. Yuta tore his shirt in two and sank to his knees, letting his tears mix with the rain.
I killed three-dozen men that night, Yuta said. I went from an unknown mercenary to a celebrated warrior. And to think, he added, bitterly, all it cost me was the life of my son.
Youve both lost so much, I said. Cant you see that there isnt any point in fighting? Itll only cause more harm.
Yuta looked me in the eyes. Only one of us has killed a family, Dr. Howle.
Geoffrey didnt even react. He kept quiet, muted by pain and shame.
Youre I shook my head. Youre not wrong, Yuta, but I sighed. Theres more to this story than you know.
The next memory was Geoffreys. It practically offered itself up to me. Geoffrey couldnt stop thinking about it.
It wasnt hard to see why.
132.3 - Ghosts
Geoffrey woke to the sight of gray dawn. Its gentle veil trailed through the windows diagonal mullion grid. He was glad to be awoken by the blessed Sun, though it was hardly a miracle. Hed left his curtains open the night before, for Harmon had asked to be woken early, and hadnt wanted to impose on the servants.
Their work is demanding enough as it is, hed said. They deserve their rest.
Geoffrey rose from his bed still wearing his nightclothes. He could have called his clothes-servant with one of the bells hanging on the rack on the wall, but he chose not to, out of respect for Harmons wishes.
Athelmarch Castle was a place of wood and stone, wrapped in cracked, fading plaster even grayer than the fog on the surrounding marshes and moors. Its prickly gardens were often barren, with the flowers bringing their colors far less than Geoffrey would have liked. His homes angular, merloned towers were stained by water and mold and augur-birds feculence. The stone had to wait for the rains to wash them clean. Yet, even then, they seemed to weep.
Geoffrey put on the simple slippers on the floor by his bedside. The gnarled, splintered edges of the hardwood floor made it unsafe to walk the halls barefoot. Leaving his room, Geoffrey quickly walked the short distance to Harmons room down the hall.
Even as a child, Harmon had always had a bad habit of sleeping in. It was one of his few faults, and he hated when Geoffrey reminded him of it.
Im just as troubled as any other man, hed say. I suppose I simply do a better job of hiding it. And then Harmon would flash his enigmatic smile.
Within the memory, Geoffrey thought back to an earlier horrora memorys memory. I let the remembrance percolate into the castles drafty halls. The walls melted away. Varnished wood flooring became a gravel-paved town square, peppered with feathers and weeds and little chunks of dung.
In this memory within the memory, Geoffrey rode his horse down Main Street, by his two retainers. He wished it would have been mere business, but the situation was dire. Geoffrey followed the lead of a young lad riding a white mare. The boy was one of Harmons seminary students, in training to become clergyman. Unlike most of his classmates, the boy was a farmers child, so he knew his way with animals.
Thats why hed borrowed the mare to ride to Castle Athelmarch.
The boy pointed down a dusty intersection. Its this way, sir.
Seasweep was a large fief, and Geoffrey was only familiar with its capital. This townSacred Hillwas one of several communes located a mere three-quarter-days ride from Seasweep proper.
The four horsemen rode into the town square as quickly as safety allowed.
The Sun hung high overhead. It reigned supreme, unchallenged by cloud or storm, having long since boiled away the mornings fog. Pitched rooftops bowed before the hot Sun, hatted in thatch, ceramic, wood. A small platform stood at the center of the square, built up from rectangular slabs of smoothly cut stone. The town well sat off to the side, unused. Except for a few bystanders huddled in the corners and the hung-over drunks lingering outside the tavern, the square was hauntingly empty.
It was easy to see why.
Five soulsfour men and a womanwere crucified at the center of the square. Geoffrey could picture it in his mind: a group of Mewnee samurai, clad in layered armor as dark as bile, marching through the streets in the dead of night, unloading a wagon of prisoners and stringing them up on the makeshift stockades. Theyd stand guard for hourssometimes dayskilling anyone who dared approach. Even the tenderest mercies were denied. No food. No water. Not even a comforting touch. Only the samurai themselves and whatever officials had ordained the punishment knew how long theyd be stationed there.
The seminary boyAsh was his namehad ridden for Castle Athelmarch as soon as the prisoners had arrived the night before, because his teacher was among the condemned.
Geoffrey yelled in shock as he rode into the square.
By the Godhead! Harmon!
Geoffreys breath caught in his throat.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.
By a minor miracle, the samurai had only recently left. But, even so, the townsfolk had been understandably reluctant to come and help the prisoners.
You could never know if a Mewnee spy was watching, nor would it have been the first time the local magistrate chose to crack down on dissent by luring out rebel sympathizers.
After all, anyone could be a sympathizer. Even a child, crying at their dead mothers dangling feet.
Lindon, watch the horses, Geoffrey said. He left the animals in his retainers care as he the others dismounted.
He could smell deaths grip on the prisoners. Blood and bruises; shit and pus.
Geoffrey tried using his sword to hack away at the base of the crucifix, but it had little effect. Clenching his gauntleted fists, he turned to the townsfolk cowering in the distance. For Angels sake, he yelled, help me! And if not for me, do it for my brother. Help him! Hes more than just another Athelmarch! Hes a man of God!
A cooper and a wainwright took pity and offered their aid.
They chopped down the crucifixes. The four menHarmon includedsurvived; the woman, sadly, was already dead.
Geoffrey wrapped his arms around his brothers beaten body as he and the cooper lifted him off the downed post.
Harmons slender, elegant face was little better than a bruised blackberry. His hair was singed in places. Burn marks weltered on his skin, which was exposed to the elements, covered by nothing but a pair of tattered breeches.
The wainwright shook his head. I hear he was tortured by Nighttouched Sakuragi himself. Rumor has it someone heard one of the samurais talking about it last night.
Yuta looked on in disgust. I hated the cruelty of these punishments, Yuta said. I always forbade crucifixions on my land.
How courteous of you! Geoffrey said, oozing venom.
There are monsters in this world, Lord Athelmarch, Yuta replied. I did all that I could not to become one. I wish I could say the same of you.
The scene dissolved as the Geoffrey of these memories turned his thoughts back to home. It had been over a year since theyd pulled Harmon down from the crucifix, yet the horrors of that moment were still as raw in Geoffreys mind as the day it had happened. It had taken months for Harmon to recover, and even then, he never returned to who hed been before. He was diminished, as if part of his soul had boiled away, lost to the aether.
But Harmon persevered. He always persevered. Hed left to go on pilgrimage to Elpeck, journeying with lay worshippers. Yesterday, the group had passed through Seasweep, and Harmon had stopped by at the castle for a visit. The plan was to follow the Trade Road north, passing many holy sites from the era of the Righteous Five, and reach Elpeck in time for the Summer Solstice.
Geoffrey had never been to the capital. It was dangerous for any noble to make the journey, least of all an Athelmarch. With Sakuragis generals tied up in the east in a stalemate against Trueshores ferocious fighters, the Holy City had become the focal point of the rebellion. Knowing the rebels were desperate to re-establish ties with Trueshore, the Mewnee patrols did not hesitate to cut down anyone suspected of aiding that cause. Near forts and other checkpoints, the roads were lined with crucified suspects. Crows feasted on the bodies piled at the bases of the stakes, the corpses of anyone foolish enough to try to offer aid to the condemned. The sheer horror of it all deterred travelers more thoroughly than any military blockade.
Yet Harmon would brave that, for the sake of the faith.
Geoffrey wished he could be as strong as his younger brother. But he didnt have Harmons optimism.
Geoffrey knocked on the door as he arrived at Harmons room.
Harmon? he said.
But there was no response.
Then again, thats why he asked me to wake him in the first place, Geoffrey thought.
He stepped inside.
Harmons room was as simple as ever. Even as a child, hed shunned the use of servants or bed hangings. Scripture, flute, and a flower are all I need, hed like to say.
Yet Geoffreys brother was nowhere to be found.
When Geoffrey had gone to bed the night before, hed heard Harmons prayers echo from the castle library. He liked to read the Testaments by candlelight.
Did he not go to sleep? Geoffrey wondered. Or did he wake up on time for once?
He decided to head for the library, to see for himself. Harmon might have fallen asleep among the books.
It wouldnt be the first time, Geoffrey muttered, grinning wryly.
Feeling a bit peckish, Geoffrey stopped by the kitchen first. It was on the way to the library, and the cook and scullery maids always woke early. If theyd seen Harmon, they could tell him.
For whatever reason, Geoffrey hadnt slept well last night. If, by some miracle, Harmon had left without saying goodbye, a bit of bread in his belly would help Geoffrey catch up on his missing sleep.
Dont go, Geoffrey said, in the now.
More memories bubbled up to the surface. The emptiness of Harmons room pulled Memory Geoffrey back to the dark days of his brothers recovery.
In a moment, we were back in Harmons room, but this time, the bed wasnt empty.
It had to be several days after the crucifixion. The swelling on Harmons face had diminished to the point that he could see and talk again. The servants had been washing him methodically: cleaning his wounds, trimming his overgrown beard, and cutting away the burnt sections of his dark blonde hair.
Harmon lay on his back, his head propped up by a pillow. Geoffrey felt the full weight of his brothers wide, hazel-eyed gaze.
And then he yelled. Why are you here?!
Both brothers features contracted; Harmons in anger, Geoffreys in shock.
Why is he angry?
I think my brother had to persevere, Geoffrey said, in the now. Next to the Mewnees, Harmon was his own worst enemy. Hed give alms to the poor even if hed be beaten or mugged. He hesitated when he should have been decisive. He denied himself for the sake of others, despite his frailties. He kept secrets and let them fester.
He turned away, unable to his brothers suffering.
Harmon groaned in pain; his own yell had been too much for him. He coughed and groaned.
I noticed Harmons arm twitch. At first, I thought it was just fidgets, but, as I watched, I began to suspect it was something more.
132.4 - Ghosts
Geoffrey sat at his brothers bedside. What happened to you?
Harmon didnt respond.
Harmon, look at me, Geoffrey said.
But Harmon merely stared at his twitching fingertips.
Geoffrey raised his voice. Harmon! But then he flinched and shook his head in shame. He didnt want to be yelling at his own brother.
Im not the victim here.
Harmons eyes quivered as he focused on Geoffrey. What is it? he asked. His voice was tired and heavy, like a muggy wind.
Sakuragi crucified you Geoffrey said, barely able to voice the words. Why?
Harmon stared at his fingers, which he tried to control by clenching his hands into fists. He looked back at his brother, tears welling in his eyes.
I preached, he said, barely above a whisper. I went to the Mewnees and preached. Then his lips pulled into a rictus grin and he laughed. Sakuragi didnt like that, oh no. Oh no.
He laughed so hard, he groaned in pain.
Twitching fingers, I thought. Mood swings?
Being able to remember the symptomatology of every condition ever made it that much more difficult for me not to automatically diagnose any oddities that I happened to notice.
Geoffrey shook his head in dismay. Why? he muttered.
Harmon had no excuse for this. Everyone knew that it was forbidden for Lassedile preachers to proselytize in the Mewnee settlements.
Geoffrey bunched up some of the bedding and squeezed it with his hand. Why would you do that? he said, repeating his disbelief. You know the consequences of proselytizing in the Mewnee quarters!
Harmon softly wept. Because what theyre doing to us is wrong, he said.
You think I dont know that? Geoffrey said.
Then join the cause. It is good to help those who suffer. I Im too weak to aid the Third Crusade, Harmon replied.
Is that what theyre calling it, now? Geoffrey tried to dismiss it.
But Harmon kept his resolve. What else should we call it?
Geoffrey put his hand on his brothers hand. Youre a light, Harmon. Youre a light for the faithful. For all of us. We need you now, more than ever. Why would you throw away your life like that, and risk it all? The world needs people like you, brother. You keep the dark at bay.
Geoffrey knew it was shameful for a man to cry, but he cried all the same.
I dont want to lose you. Thats the selfish truth. I want my daughter to be able to have pride in her name as she grows. I know my place in history. I have no illusions that I will amount to anything. The best any of us can do is be a stepping stone for someone better than ourselves. Someone like you. When my little girl grows up, Ill point to you and tell her that thats who she should strive to be. Angels breath, Harmon, youre the only one of us who turned out right! You have to take care of yourself, for all our sakes. Your life has value!
The corners of Harmons lips twitched as he chuckled in mania. I just wanted to do whats right, Gof. The way to Paradise is long and narrow. He shook his head. I am a sinner, brother! His voice became a plangent cry. I am not a light, II
Geoffrey opened the door to the kitchen. Piquant spices caressed his nose: cloves, ground bell peppers from faraway Maiko, and ever-precious cinnamon. A headless ram hung from a hook on the wall, its blood dripping into a wooden bucket down on the floor. It looked like Mr. Burnsley was in the middle of butchering the creature. Behind the smell of blood, Geoffrey noticed they were baking bread. He could almost feel the heat flowing off the kiln in the kitchens back room. It was a comforting sensation on this chilly morning.
Jennifernow a scullery maidand Mr. Burnsely stood at attention the instant Geoffrey stepped into the kitchen. Setting the washing bucket down, Jennifer dried her hands on the apron she wore over her faded, light blue skirt.
Your Lordship, she said, with a reverent curtsey. Youre early.
Has my brother come by? He usually eats a bit of bread first thing in the morning.
Mr. Burnsley flicked the blood off his carving knife. No, sir.
Has anyone caught wind of him?
Jennifer looked at the cook, who then shook his head.
No, she said, Im afraid not. Her kind, green eyes bore into Geoffreys. Is something wrong?
Geoffrey shook his head. Harmon isnt in his room. He must have fallen asleep in the library.
Mr. Burnsley pulled the ram off the hook. Its blood had fully drained into the bucket below. He smiled. It wouldnt be the first time.
Forgive my intrusion, then, Geoffrey said, closing the door behind him as he left.
The library was on the other side of the long hall that ran along the front of the castle. Walking down the corridor gave Geoffrey a clear view of the gardens through the row of windows on the wall. The librarys entrance was next to the landing atop the short flight of stairs at the far end of the hall. From the landing, the stairs branched left and right, leading into the castles upper reaches.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
During his recovery, Geoffrey said, speaking in the now, Jennifer helped Harmon regain his strength by taking him up and down the stairs. She was always fond of him, even when we were children. An ordinary man would have taken advantage of thatof herbut not my brother. He was a shard of the Angels Light, through and through.
Geoffreys thoughts wandered as he walked down the hallway.
It had taken a fortnight for Harmon to rise from his sickbed. As the week passed and his strength returned, he walked with a cane, as if all his vitality had been drained away. Hed spend time in the gardens, marveling at the roses, watching the hummingbirds buzz, sipping from the red nectilias or bathing in the fountain.
Geoffrey remembered waking up early one morning to find Harmon kneeling by the fountain, like a ghost in the morning fog. His hands trembled as he muttered prayers. His white robe was soaked, and grass stains and mud were caked at his knees. Cupping his hands, Harmon had scooped water from the fountain and poured it over himself. He scraped and scratched at his skin, as if to clean it, but he didnt stop, not even after he was raw and red and bleeding.
Genneth, Brand thought-said, are you seeing this?
I am.
The library door was ajar. Geoffreys lungs filled with the scents of paper, parchment, ink, and wood as he stepped inside.
But he also smelled something else.
A bitter scent.
The library had two floors, with a walkway wrapping around the room on the upper floor, and stairs leading down to the ground. Its steeply pitched roof was held up by ancient wooden hammerbeam vaulting. Both floors walls were lined bookcases, stuffed to the brim with volumes new and old.
Hed found Harmon. His brother lay on a thick, pattern-woven rug, with a candle at his side. The candlestick had toppled over, smiling melted wax onto the wooden floor.
Harmon! Geoffrey yelled.
Harmon didnt move.
Geoffrey ran as fast as he dared, sliding his hand down the banister as he descended the stairs. Harmon, its time to
On the last step, Geoffreys blood froze cold. He nearly tripped.
He stared in shock.
Harmons curdling blood spread in a wide pool on the floor. The color blended with the woods.
No no!
The priests throat had been slit, and a bloodied knife was in Harmons own hand.
What? Yuta asked, in the now, horror-struck. What is this?
Yuta felt Geoffreys pain as if it was his own.
The four of us stood over Harmons corpse. We watched the memorys Geoffrey scoop up his brothers body and hold him close, and weep.
Geoffrey answered Yutas question without turning to face him. Harmon took his own life. My brothers body might have healed, but his mind? His soul? He trembled with emotion. I never found out what Sakuragi did to him. My nightmares have tried to answer that question, but to no avail. All I know is that it broke him.
Yuta lowered his head in a look that could only be shame.
Sakuragi is he shook his head, was a vile, twisted man. In all likelihood, he raped your brother. You were fortunate that he did not take Harmon into his torture chamber. Yuta lowered his gaze. No one but Sakuragi himself leaves that room alive.
Beasts teeth I muttered.
Geoffrey whipped around. His eyes glistened like sapphires, maddened with pain and grief. His voice cracked. What did you say?
Yuta stepped back and gave a deep bow.
I am sorry. His pain must have been he shook his head, and then turned to me. Dr. Howle, your faiths holy men take vows of celibacy, correct?
Yes.
Yuta closed his eyes for a silent moment. Daikenja preserve us, he muttered.
Why? Geoffrey croaked. What would possess a man to do that to someone, let alone a man of the cloth?
Above all else, Lord Sakuragi believed in his own power, Yuta explained. Munine nobles are given great leeway to express their desires. Men. Women. Children. Every conquest is a display of their potency. It is an intoxicant, and it makes men into monsters. Even Ichigo had difficulty accepting my counsel on this matter. His father was Yuta sighed. He spread himself far and wide. He clicked his tongue. I wanted Ichigo to be better than that. He looked us in the eyes. But, even by those standards, Sakuragi was beyond the pale. Though, outwardly, he was cultured and refined, within, he was nothing more than a depraved killer. He would have been burnt at the stake long, long ago had he not ensconced himself in the halls of power.
Geoffrey staggered back, phasing through his remembered grief. He fell to his knees.
All this time Geoffrey shook his head. I never knew. That was why he was always so desperate to clean himself. That was why he couldnt see his own Light. He he was violated. Oh Angel, Angel Geoffrey leaned over and wept. Im sorry, Harmon. II should have Godhead, I
I took a deep breath, and then willed the scene to freeze. Everyone but Brand and I turned motionless.
We looked each other in the eyes. Do you want to go first? I asked him.
Brand nodded. Harmon had late stage Engoliss.
I agree. I nodded back. In that flashback, he had all the symptoms. Mood swings, mania, twitching in the extremities.
Im willing to bet that some of the welts that looked like burns were actually ulcers caused by the parasite, Brand said.
Where do you think he picked it up from? I asked. Sakuragi?
As far as I knew, there was no record of Nighttouched Sakuragi having displayed the symptoms of chronic Engoliss Disease, though, given his importance in Munine history, if he had had Engoliss, it wouldnt be a surprise that any mention of it had been stricken from the historical record.
Whitewashing was a universal temptation, after all.
Brand shook his head. Not possible. The gap between the initial acute phase of Engoliss immediately following infection and the terminal chronic phase is too long; thirty years, at leastthough, there are some rare cases where the chronic phase starts earlier.
Suddenly, Brands eyes bulged. Holy shit, he muttered.
What is it?
I I think Harmon was homosexual, he said, averting his gaze. If he sighed, if Harmon was anything like me, hed have had his first sexual experience in his teens, maybe earlierthey were a lot more lax about age of consent back in those days. If one of his partners mothers had had Engoliss, they would have had a congenital case, and could have spread it to Harmon. Timetable-wise, its still something of a long shot, but its at least plausible.
I clenched my fists. Fudge
Looking back on what wed seen, it made sense. I know it wasnt right to lean into stereotypes, but Harmon fit the bill. It would explain why he thought so poorly of himself. Joining the clergy would have been the safest choice for him.
I ran my hand through my hair.
How are we going to break this to Geoffrey? Brand asked.
No idea, I said, but that can wait for later. Hes got all eternity, after all.
Geoffreys weeping resumed as I unfroze time.
Yuta surprised me by speaking up. Let me guess, he said, addressing Geoffrey, after this, you swore revenge and joined the rebellion. Is that about right?
Wiping his hand on his sleeve, Geoffrey rose to his feet and barked. Are you mocking me!?
You caused the deaths of my loved ones, Yuta replied, sternly. Your tactics killed so manyand all of it, in the name of hate.
Geoffrey looked down on the ground. You think I dont know that!? You dont know my nightmares! You dont know what Ive endured!
Geoffrey motioned to unsheathe his sword, but I pre?mpted him, dissolving his bladeand Yutasinto nothingness.
Geoffrey?
The knight turned to face me.
Is it alright if I show him your memory of the pile? I asked, trying to broach the issue as delicately as I could.
I knew how deeply it pained him.
Geoffrey let out a snort and then chuckled, bitterly. Be my guest, Dr. Howle. Its not like I can stop you.
Then the knight glowed with a light that soon washed away our surroundings, and we found ourselves somewhere else.
133.1 - Gaikotsu no buchō
The morning was blue, its bright sky striped in ash. Lightsbreath was burning. Bonfires stood watch in the citys Mewnee Quarter, indifferent to the wails and lamentations that filled the cloudless skies. Every few minutes, a fusillade of rifle fire went off, and the sounds of mourning got a little quieter.
In size, Lightsbreath''s Mewnee Quarter nearly rivaled the rest of the city. The locale was a strange reflection of Trenton life, a place of dark, curving tile rooftops, sliding doors, and paper walls.
And, now, thanks to me, Geoffrey thought, a place of unimaginable death.
There werent enough wagons for all the corpses. The ones they had on hand were so overburdened that dead bodies slid off the piles and fell onto the street, littering the road as the wagons passed.
And yet the troops were celebrating. Soldiers got riotously drunk off beer and Vineplain wines, singing songs in Darkpoxs praises.
For its a jolly-good plague,
For its a jolly-good plague,
For its a jolly-good plague,
Which no-body can deny!
The strategy was as simple as it was cruel. Once enough Mewnees had died, the armies of the Third Crusade would sweep through the major cities, killing any and every infected person they came across, regardless of race or allegiance.
We have to stem the tide as quickly as we can, Athelmarch, theyd told him. We cannot allow the plague to take us down with those slant-eyed bastards.
It was a small mercy that no one had noticed Geoffreys reluctance to join in the culling as they rode through Lightsbreaths streets on horseback. The cloths the crusaders wore over their faces to keep Darkpoxs miasmas at bay also kept them from guessing at each others emotions.
I wanted them gone, Geoffrey said, in the now. Not not this. No one could want this.
The crusaders cut the infected down where they stood. They sowed fires in their wake, burning down the Mewnee Quarter. Koi drowned in corpse-filled ponds.
In the memory, Geoffrey wandered through the streets, breathing through his cloth-covered helmetand we followed behind him.
Yuta covered his mouth in shock, utterly overcomeand not just with his own emotions.
The memorys Geoffrey did not look away from the bodies, even though the fumes and smoke coming off the burning corpses made his eyes sting and weep. He did not look away from the piles on the main street. Men, women children. There was a separate pile for the children. They looked like discarded dolls, covered in mud, shit, and blood.
Geoffrey wanted to believe the fire was a cleansing flame, but he could not. Charred flesh cracked and crumbled under the fires pressure, leaving bones sticking out like used matchsticks.
Its incredible, sir, a soldier said, walking up behind him. Its like magic. Its the days of the Lass all over again. Theyre dropping like flies.
That they are, Geoffrey said.
Geoffrey turned to the soldier, and then looked back at the bodies. The fires were magnanimous. They consumed Trenton and Mewnee alike.
The soldier must have sensed Geoffreys distress, because he patted him on the shoulder and said, Dont trouble yourself, sir. This is a necessary thing. Its for faith, freedom, and fatherland. I can hardly believe it myself. Most of the sick Trentoners Ive seen have met death with smiles on their faces. Were free. Were finally free."
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I watched the realization flood into Yutas eyes. I read his thoughts like an open book. I felt the shame that Yuta felt at his own hatred.
Hed made the very same mistake hed admonished Ichigo for making: to fail to see the person on the other side of the battlefield.
It was the same mistake Geoffrey had made. And it was a grievous one, for here, the two adversaries were rich of heart and soul.
They had just been too rage-blind to see it.
Even now, their anger was refusing to let go.
Fucking hell, Brand whispered.
For once, it seemed even Dr. Nowston had reached his limit.
Would you have been happy if it killed us, but not the sons and daughters of Trenton? Yuta asked.
Do you take me to be heartless? Geoffrey said, indignant.
No, I take you to be a monster, Yuta replied.
Geoffrey hung his head in shame. Even monsters have hearts.
Some do, I said. Others dont. Love can turn men into monsters just as it can turn monsters into men. I find that what matters most is not why we do what we do, but how we respond to what comes after. How can we do better? How can we work to avoid making the same mistakes?
I expected the Mewnees to flee, Geoffrey said, staring off into the distance. Its the rational thing. Even rats know well enough to flee a sinking ship! The Mewnee knew what Darkpox did to them. They should have known better. But Geoffrey shook his head, weeping, even as he faced the Sun. No, they stood their ground. They sank in their heels. They forced the dying to fight. They set fire to their settlements, hoping to stop the spread.
But that only spread the plague further, Yuta said, somberly. As always, they save face before lives.
They do, dont they? Geoffrey said.
Yuta glaredbut gently. As do you.
Geoffrey stared at him, as if to yell, but he held his tongue. Then came the admission. I hate that youre right.
Geoffrey turned to look at me, as if I was about to pronounce judgment on him. I tell myself I did it for my familys honor. For the honor of my nation and the shining Light of the Angels holy truth. And along the way, I became a monster. And in the end, I didnt bring us victory. I failed at everything I set out to accomplish. So much death, and all of it was for nothing! He shook his head. Im a failure.
Victory does not erase our evils, Yuta said, nor does it justify them. Yuta muttered. It is just a small joy to plaster over our guilt and regret.
I Geoffrey said. He was hesitant at first, but then he stabbed a finger at his memory-self and the human carnage playing out before us. I did that! I went out in search of honor, and I found it, served to me on a platter of dead children! He shook his head. There could be no turning back after that. Victory was my only chance at redemption. Its the only way I could get the corpses off my neck, where they hang like millstones. This isnt about my guilt or my grief, he said. He pointed at the bodies. Its about theirs! Angels mercy, I will have to live with this stain on my soul for all eternity. It is my burden to carry, and I refuse to let it be hollow! Thats why I have to save my country. In the name of God, it had to be worth something! All that tragedy it has to be worth something. There has to be an end to it. But, but now he stared, broken and devastated.
No. Geoffrey shook his head. I dont know. Even that has been taken from me. He glared at Yuta. I should have resigned myself to ignominy and failure. It would have been better that way. But it was not to be. I succeeded. I succeeded utterly and it destroyed me. To think I devoted my life to redeeming my family name, only to become the very lord of pestilence Eadric was thought to be. He stared me in the eyes. In some ways, Im worse. Eadric never intended to bring about the plague and break . But I did. That is my failing, and I will never be able to escape it. Turning to Yuta, once more, Geoffrey smiled cruelly. But this time, the daggers of his mind were pointed inwards. That is the difference between you and I, Lord Uramaru. His lips contorted as he spoke. My burden is the burden of millions. You have no idea what that is like.
Actually, I said, he does. I stepped close as I butted in. Youve been feeling each others pain.
Geoffrey stared at me in shock. Why would you do that to a person?
Im not creating pain, I said. Its already here, in us. I just happen to have the power to bring it out in the open. No one has to suffer on their own anymore.
Geoffrey turned to Yuta again. Then you should know that I cant forgive your people for what they did, he said.
I know, Yuta replied, staring him in the eyes. No, I do not, the samurai replied, quietly. But I see more than I did before. I see that you are the broken heir of a fallen house from a nation yearning to be free. I do not forgive your actions, but, I
Looking Yuta in the eyes, I gave him a thumbs up and a subtle, encouraging nod, whispering, You can do it!
He snorted in amusement before turning back to Geoffrey. I do not forgive you, but, I I suppose I understand you.
Geoffrey shook his head, distraught. He struck out with his arm, causing his tattered cloak to tremble. How can you say that? I was willing to exterminate your people. Part of me still is! You and your people hate God. You befouled the Holy Land. You broke my brothers soul. He was a good man, and yet you defiled him. Geoffrey clenched his gauntleted hands into fists.
Geoffrey I said.
Yuta nodded at that. Yes, they did. They did break him. His sobering words were leavened with an unexpected acceptance. They broke so many. And I hate them for that. All people have a capacity for evil. The biggest regret of my life is that I was not strong enough, nor selfish enough to gut Sakuragi where he stood.
Why? Geoffrey asked. Why hate your own people?
I, of course, already knew the answer, but it wasnt my story to tell.
Now it was Yutas turn to look at me. Dr. Howle, he said, please show him my memory of the earthquake.
What earthquake? Geoffrey askedthough I ignored it.
I turned to Yuta. Are you sure? I asked.
Yes. A burnt sugar smile broke on Yutas face. Id like to see my mother again.
I understand.
Light emanated from Yutas body, washing out our surroundings as it transported us to another where and when.
133.2 - Gaikotsu no buchō
I can never recall my first memories, Yuta said. His disembodied voice echoed through our awareness. Whenever I try, I am confronted by a mountain of a moment, beyond which I can never pass.
Yuta remembered the rumbling that came before. The sun had been hanging high over Vaneppo. Shadows and window-shutters flung open onto narrow streets. The stoic timber-framed buildings lining the terraced hillside and gently sloping roads had been greeting the day, their serene white walls and curl-tipped tiled rooftops seeming to smile at the seaside. The ocean was calm, its waves sparkling over the distant beaches sands. The surrounding, eroded stone hills rose like elbows and thumbs, awash with jungles green.
Then the earthquake came. The land itself shuddered across wide, distended seconds. Yuta remembered the feeling of his feet trembling atop his shoddy sandals soles. He remembered the scores of bids taking flight from spastic palms and twitching evergreens. Yuta remembered his mother, tightly gripping his hand, pulling him along through the staggered streets, her brown face warm and kind, even as fear flashed in her eyes. He remembered the panicked horses drawing carts of fruit and silk. He remembered pots and goods tumbling onto the streets. Smoke brumed as fires broke free. They broke free in the familiar streets, with their tiled alleyways and rows of loudly painted homes, and in distance, and in the Mu-folks white-walled paradise up on the hill, where his mother had served as concubine in the Magistrates paper palace.
All of us felt his memories. We felt his terror as a chasm opened in the earth. The underworld opened its jaws, swallowing buildings whole as the sky rained liquid fire.
Yuta followed his mother, running as fast as his lanky legs could carry him. They ran into the hills, up and up and up. The boys panting breaths snatched the questions from his mouth, so that all he could do was gape and gasp.
Is this the Great Indakon Earthquake? Brand asked.
Yes, it is, I said.
If its not, Yuta replied, I pity anyone misfortunate enough to have lived through it.
The Costranak people called their archipelago the Land of Sea and Flame, and it more than lived up to that name. The islands straddled the boundary between two of the earths oceanic places, causing the frequent volcanism and earthquakes for which the islands were known all over the world. The frequent eruptions enriched the earth, turning what would have otherwise been a severed appendix of land far to the south of Trentons eastern reaches into a verdant gem. Combined with their location, the islands natural bounty made them into a nexus for intercontinental trade. But the land of sea and flame had a savage heart, and all who lived there had to endure its tantrums.
Tsunamis that wiped the lowlands clean.
Lava flows that prowled like dragons along the land, burning everything in reach.
And earthquakes, to keep men humbled.
And the king of them all was the Great Indakon Earthquake of 1581.
The tremors opened an active lava tube beneath the heart of Vaneppo. Buildings plunged into the earth as molten rock spewed into the air. Within half an hour, the city was in flames. Strong winds blowing in from the sea whipped the firestorm into tornadoes that scattered like shrapnel in every direction. Historians estimated at least two-hundred thousand lives were lost in the first few hours.
On its own the earthquake would still have gone down as one of historys great natural disasters.
Then the tsunami hit.
Yuta and his mother had been hiding in the trees when it happened. With a wall of water, the Triun doused the blaze They had set. Torrents of steam hissed through the ash-choked air. Yutas mother shielded him with her body, cupping her hands atop both their mouths to keep their insides from getting cooked.
I will never forget the sound of her pain, Yuta said, those stifled cries
We watched the angry red blisters welter through her skin.
Yutas mother wore a kimono the lecherous magistrateYutas fatherhad purchased for her. It was pale gray, tinged with the barest hint of blue, embroidered all over in purple fuji flowersthe flowers of the sacred trees that grew in the magistrates garden. It was smeared with ash and mud.
But my mother was a fighter, he said.
Everything in sight was a kingdom of smoke and steam. The vapors seemed like spirits, churning with a will of their own. Hours passed. The screams subsided as the sea breeze slowly cleared the sky. Noise turned to silence, and for a time thereafter, the land was deathly quiet. The city was crumblinga ruin of charcoal darkness.
The combined effects of the quake, the firestorm, and the tsunami proved too much for Vaneppos ancient aqueducts. Only a few of the aqueducts survived, and those that did brought water contaminated by the acids and minerals spewed out by eruption, leaving the survivors with barely any potable water. And the firestorm had burned the citys stores of rice-wine and fermented fruit juice to the ground.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
When the skies cleared, Yuta and his mother wandered over to the banks of the river Anga, hoping to quench their thirst, only to find the water blackened and sludge-like. The polluted water bit at their skin when they cupped it in their hands.
But the worst was yet to come.
In search of help, she led Yuta down the charred hill.
Compared to what came after, Yuta said, in the now, the earthquake might as well have been a drunken barashais prank.
The Great Earthquake was unrivaled not because of its intensity, nor the grandeur of its devastation, but because of the human evil that it awakened. In the days and weeks that followed, Vaneppo would be rocked by mass killings as desperate people boiled over with hate. As the tour guide had told Pel and I when on our Vaneppo honeymoon, there was general agreement among historians that the mass killings proximate cause was the lack of available water.
If only it had just been that. The massacres went far beyond mere desperation.
Nearly 200,000 people lost their lives, with anywhere from a quarter to half of that number coming from those murdered during the riots.
Yuta would never forget how it began. For hours, the once bustling city had been deathly still; wails and lamentations were the only sounds. Yuta had been hiding out in a half-ruined shack, waiting for his mother to return from her search for food and water.
Shed pulled the broken door from its hinges and lunged forward to grab him off the ground.
Mom, he said, looking up at his mother, seeing the fear in her eyes. Whats going on?
Something terrible. We have to run!
At first, Yuta thought she meant another tsunami was on its way, making him wet his pants.
We watched them run.
No one knew who started it, Yuta said, in the now. But once the killings began, they spread like wildfire. Costranaks said the Munine caused the earthquake by having angered the gods. Munine accused the Costranaks of hoarding drinking water. He lowered his head. But it did not matter. Both sides formed up in mobs, roving the streets, slaughtering one another.
Yutas mother guided his younger self through the deadly streets. The mobs carried torches, clubs, katanas, improvised bamboo spearsanything they could get their hands on.
Come, Lord Athelmarch. Here are true demons.
Yuta ran by a dead woman, her head bashed into a fractured bowl of blood, brain, and shards of bone, all because she wore a sarong.
Rage-eyed Costranaks chased down pink-kimonoed Munine courtesans. Leaping onto them, they raped the women, then silt them open from crotch to chin.
Munine mobs killed anyone with a beard.
You see, Yuta explained, the Emperor did not care for the appearance of beards, and for that, thousands died. Only inferior races sullied their jaws with hair.
People who failed to pronounce Munine shibboleths were killed on the spot. Foreign merchants were slaughtered based on what clothes they wore. Children with the wrong skin color were tied to posts and skinned alive. The living and the dead were violated in equal measure, their used corpses dumped into the Angas inky current.
Geoffrey watched in horror.
She tried to shield me from horrors, Yuta said. We turned down street after street, but the violence was everywhere. We ran and hid, then ran again, and hid elsewhere.
We watched Yuta and his mother peer out through cracks in walls or between slats of wood, watching screams and shadows rush by.
This is inhuman, Geoffrey said, barely above a whisper.
I dont know how long we were in that hell, Yuta continued. We were too afraid to sleep. My mother passed the time telling me stories, to keep me from crying. She told them in a whisper, her lips nearly touching my ears.
They ran and ran, passing through parts of the city Yuta hadnt even known existed.
No place was safe, he said. If my mother took refuge with the Costranaks, theyd have killed me. If any Munine caught us, theyd kill her, thinking shed stolen a Munine child. But the fighting got so bad that the only places left to hide were up on the hill, in the Munine fortifications.
The way Yuta watched his past self run told me all I needed to know.
There would be no happy ending here.
Come, Yuta, his mother hissed. Quickly! Quickly!
She led him to the collapsed foundation of a half-charred building. A shop, from the look of it. Broken urns spilled spices, smoked fish, and tubers on the ground. Much of the food had already been looted, or eaten by rats or crushed underfoot, split open and rotten.
But it was better than nothing.
Get as much as you can, she said.
He wrapped them up in his shirt, and then followed his mother, crawling under the shops wood frame foundation.Yuta scraped his legs along blackened, splintered timbers and the rocky ground beneath them. When they reached the center of the ruin, they lay down, making a bed of ash and earth, tilting the world on its side. The position gave them a clear view of the first foot or so above the ground along the path by the ruined shop, just past a wooden palisade wall.
Yuta watched voices, feet, and torchlight run this way and that. Bodies fell, spilling out blood.
His mouth was so dry, the food hurt to eat, the salted fish most of all. But he was so hungry, he didnt care, just like he didnt care that much of the food tasted of ash and dirt and crunched grains against his teeth as he chewed.
Hours passed in near silence when the mobs moved elsewhere.
What do we do now? he asked.
We cant leave, she whispered. Look, she said, pointing at the gap between the foundation and the ground, there are soldiers there. If they find us, they will kill us.
I dont wanna do this anymore, Mom, Yuta said. I wanna go home. Im so thirsty.
Shh, shhh, she said. She coughed. Dont talk. Save your strength.
They waited. Voices came and went.
A cut opened up in the roof of Yutas mouth when he bit into a rotten mushroom that had been speared through by a splinter of wood too small for him to see.
It hurt so much. He started to cry.
Shh, shhh, his mother said, holding him close. Dont cry. Please, dont cry.
But it hurts. It hurts so much.
She coughed again. Daylight reflected in her eyes, showing her ash-smeared cheeks. They were sunken in around the eyes.
Shes severely dehydrated, Brand muttered.
Then let me tell you a story, she said. Its my favorite.
133.3 - Gaikotsu no buchō
They were pressed so closely together, Yuta could feel her tears as they trickled down her cheeks and onto his.
You remember Kannanak, the great god of fire? she asked.
He lives in the mountain, Yuta said. Hes angry with us.
No, Yuta, his mother said, Kannanak is not angry with us. He is not angry with anyone. Anger is in his nature. Fire has no hate in its heart. It just wants to burn.
But people get hurt.
She nodded, trying not to cry. Yes, Yuta, people get hurt. She pressed her mouth against his ear and closed her eyes.
This is the story of the Great Tern, mother of the birds. She was the most beautiful of all the gods. Her cloak of feathers spanned the sky. She frolicked among the clouds, dancing with the birds in a mirror of the oceans playful waves. She loved the ocean, and the ocean loved her. She filled the skies with joy and laughter.
His mother paused as footsteps passed outside. The violence had returned. The screams began anew.
My mother must have seen them checking under the buildings now. She told me the story to keep me from noticing.
Then, one day, his mother said, Kanannak slew her.
What? Yuta was horrified. Why?
He told her how beautiful she was. Great Tern, Great Tern, surely, you are the mother of all beauty! Your dance is a treasure that warms my heart. But Kanannaks words were fire and lava. They burned the Great Tern. She fell into the sea, blackened and charred. Kanannak wept, guilty and broken-hearted. Why must I destroy? he cried. But no one answered him. Seeing this, the ocean dredged the Terns body from the depths and presented it to Kannanak. If you wish to honor her, make beauty from her death. Do not be indolent, O God of Fire. Attend to your duties.
And so Kannanak took apart the Great Terns body and fashioned it into new creaturesthe Children of the Tern. They were beautiful things, with tails of light and wings of sunset. They frolicked in the skies, lords among the birds, mirroring the oceans playful waves.
Something bad is going to happen, Yuta muttered.
His mother pressed her hand to his forehead.
Men saw the Children, and coveted them. They wanted their beauty. Men set out with a fleet of ships, with their slender harpoons and oiled bows. They would shoot them out of the sky. Kannanak saw this, and he yelled, Look out, look out, O Children of the Tern, the hunters are coming.
Then I saw it, Yuta said, in the now.
We stood in the darkness together, looking down on mother and son.
There were footsteps coming down the street on the right. He saw the men checking under the buildings, with torches to illuminate the dark.
In the memory, Yutas child-self reached for his mother. She grabbed his hand and held it tight.
The hunters did not harm the Children. They didnt fire a single shot, for there was nothing left to kill. Kanannaks words of warning had burnt the Children to ash. Their bodies fell into the sea, blackened and charred. Kanannak wept, guilty and broken hearted. Why must I destroy? he cried. But no one answered him. Seeing this, the ocean dredged up the Childrens ashes from the depths and presented them to Kannanak. If you wish to honor them, make beauty from their death. Do not be indolent, Fire God. Attend to your duties.''
Out on the street, one of the voices yelled. Yuta turned his head as the footsteps drew close, but his mother grabbed him by the chin, and kept his face pointed to her.
Kanannak spent many moons wandering the beach, thinking of what to do with the Childrens ashes. The ashes sparkled like diamonds, as beautiful as the Great Tern herself. But the god of fire was filled with fear. He did not want to destroy again.
Look, the food! someone yelled.
So he threw the ashes higher than his highest, up and up, into the empty sky. The ashes did not fall back to earth. They held fast to the sky. They are still there, the Children of the Tern. They are the stars, glistening and bright.
I dont understand, Yuta said, with tears in his eyes. What does it mean?
Be beautiful, my son. His mother kissed him on the cheek. Always be beautiful, no matter what.
Yuta could hear hands and feet scraping at the dirt. Beams of wood were heaved about.
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I see tracks! The Costranak scum must be hiding with the rats!
His mother whispered in his ears, so softly, he almost couldnt hear it. Dont let them know Im your mother, she said.
Mama? I
I love you forever. Dont blame yourself. Its not your fault.
Then Yutas mother grabbed him by the wrist and crawled toward the other end of the buildings foundation, toward the opening out into the day, dragging him with her. Youll never take him back! She screamed, yelling for all to hear. Never! Never!
She yanked him through the gap between the wood and the dirt, scraping the broken slats against his back. The wood stung and drew blood.
Yuta screamed.
The back of the ruined shop came up against the wooden palisades hefty stakes. Throwing Yuta onto the ground, she began to kick him in the chest, screamed at him in her native Costranak. Yuta didnt know what half of the words meant, only that they were filled with cruelty and evil.
Out of sight, a man yelled in Munine: Stop that Costranak bitch!
Yutas mother kicked him harder.
Seconds later, a man plunged a bamboo spear through her chest, ramming her body into the palisade. A woman leapt over Yuta as she rushed to his mother and smashed her face in with a club. The woman didnt stop until his mothers mind was splattered all across the wood. Handing the spear to a companion, the man who murdered Yutas mother picked the boy off the ground and held him in his arms.
We watched from off to the side. Yuta had turned away, not wanting to look. Geoffrey, on the other hand, couldnt bring himself to look away.
My mother was a clever one, Yuta said, in the now. He did not turn to face us, but I knew he was weeping. To this day, I wonder at what point she thought of itthat last, brilliant act of hers.
Brilliant? Brand asked, aghast.
Yuta turned to face us. As a boy, I looked hardly any different from other Munine children. My mothers murderers were so filled with hate that they could no longer see the world for what it was. Instead, they saw what they wanted to see: a rich mans Costranak concubine, pummeling a defenseless Munine child.
It wasnt until his mothers killers had carried him away that Yuta began to sob.
She was the only reason I lived.
I sensed Yutas spirit gravitating toward another point in his life as that horrid memory came to an end. I let him take the lead, guiding us to our next destination.
The scene changed. We stood in a room of sumptuous restraint. The furnishings were few but divine. The lacquered wooden floor shone like sheets of amber. Rows of robed courtesans knelt at either side of the room, lying prostrated, with their arms on the floor. Every kimono was a masterpiece: here, a crane among marsh-reeds; there, iris blossoms tall and deep. It was a symphony of colors, accompanied by harsh-blown reeds and an accelerating, woodblock drumbeat. The floor on the back half of the room rose up to a second level a footstep above the first, with the edge of the platform cordoned off by a sliding wooden grate. A magisterial figure sat cross-legged behind the grate, his face obscured by the gaps in the wood, and the translucent white veil that hung from his hata black mesa, tall upon his head.
Yutas memories told us who he was: Sakuragi.
A younger version of Yuta knelt at the center of the room with his head held low. Before him sat the Daimyos interlocutor. The interlocutor wore a broad, vivid purple coat, with peaks on the shoulders and a bright red sash down the middle.
The interlocutor held a katana in his hands. The same katana Yuta had had when I met him.
In the now, from where we stood off to the side, Yuta rested his hand over the hilt of that self-same weapon.
Behind the grate, Sakuragi leaned forward, whispering something into the interlocutors ear. The interlocutor spoke only once his lord was finished.
For your service, his Excellency has rewarded you with a title of the realm. Accept this sword, and with it, the inception of your House and Lineage.
In the memory, Yuta lifted himself up, but only just. I am humbled beyond all words, he said. He reached out, even as he kept his face pointed to the floor. I thank Lord Sakuragi for his beneficence. Long may he serve our glorious Emperor.
Leaning forward, the interlocutor placed the katana in Yutas awaiting hands. Then rise, he said, coming to his feet. Rise, Lord Yuta Uramaru. His Excellency has high hopes for you.
The memorys Yuta sat up slowly, with the utmost deliberation. He cautiously locked eyes with the interlocutor, wary of the figure behind the grate.
We all felt Yutas emotions. They were potent, like a boiled tea kettle, screaming out steam.
For all the finery surrounding him, Yuta felt only digest. There was no glory here, no noble rulers, no princes of peace. Just another vainglorious bureaucrat; a debauched authority who preyed on blood, innocence, and pain.
The only difference between Sakuragi and the sniveling magistrate in Vaneppo who raped me into this world was that Sakuragi would have been a monster even without his wealth and power. He was as indifferent to the Empire as any other noble. His status was all that mattered to him."
There was fury in the samurais face, both now and then. Rage kindled in him, threatening to bubble over and drive him mad. But he kept his composure. He endured his pain.
Our Yuta trembled as Sakuragi whispered more words into his interlocutors ears.
His Excellency commends your skill and valor. One ought to be wary of half-breeds, but here on the fringes, you have proven your value and use. Men like yourself can show the lesser races the proper way forward. Bend without breaking; the lesser submits to the greater. Even as a child, you emerged from the Great Earthquake purified and strengthened. The flower that blooms from scum is the strongest of all. May you serve as a lesson to the nations, and further the Empires glory.
P-Purified? Geoffrey stuttered. The knight seemed even more livid than the samurai. He turned to Yuta. And you just sat there and took it?
In a fair world, I could have told Lord Sakuragi to go fuck himself, Yuta said. But the world isnt fair. I was just one man, Lord Athelmarch. I could not change the world, but I can do my part to lessen the suffering. A tear twinkled in his eye. I could add beauty to it, as my mother would have wanted. I never set out to oppress anyone. He shook his head. I could have sought vengeance, but what would be the point of that? What example would that be for the next generation? So, I tried to move forward, even if my heart wasnt in it.
Yuta offered up the next memory, and I was happy to oblige him.
It really was a beautiful one.
Sukunas face was painted white, like the moon. Her kimono was just as pale, embroidered with red dragons, long and winged. Yuta stood with her, clad in a black haori with blooming gray hakama trousers. He held his wife-to-be in one hand, and a red umbrella in the other. Sunlight filtered through its paper shade.
The wedding procession stretched many, many yards, pointed toward the barashais temple. Ginkgo trees flanking the temples approach, showing their leaves like golden flames. Pollen covered the stone pavement like embers of the sun.
We felt Yutas strange mix of pride and shame.
He worried about what Mayumis spirit might have thought, had she been watching. He even worried about what Sukuna thought of him. It was an arranged marriage, after all; a noble wife for a nobleman.
Shes beautiful, Geoffrey said. I he shook his head and swallowed hard. I wish I would have been able to give my daughter a wedding as grand as this. Briefly averted his gaze before turning back to face the samurai. Did it ever fill the loss? he asked. Your new family, I mean.
Yuta shook his head. No. Loss abides. Ours is not a good world; there is no cure for true pain. But it is not an evil world, either. There can be new joy, if we look for it, like Kanannak and the Children of the Tern. He inhaled sharply. Thats what I am most grateful for. Sukuna gave me the push I needed. She dared to look for joyfor beautyeven in a place I thought I would never find it.
133.4 - Gaikotsu no buchō
You see? I said, standing with the wedding procession receding behind me. Youre both more alike than you know.
And if any doubts remained in their minds, I had just the evidence to show them. It would hurt, but I was 99% sure it would do the trick.
Geoffrey pointed at Yuta. He found a new life. He managed to move on. I have nothing! I have nothing!
Geoffrey must have sensed I was about to tap into another one of his memories, because he glared at me and yelled, Wait just a moment!
W-What is it? I stammered.
All this, he gestured to our surroundings, its all been you.
I nodded. Guilty as charged.
Geoffrey exhaled sharply. Why?
What do you mean, why? I asked.
Why are you doing this? Why dredge up these memories. Why He pointed at Yuta while trying and failing to keep himself from shedding tears. Why show me his life? Why make me live it? Have I not suffered enough?
When I said I wanted you two to stop fighting, I meant it.
Geoffrey sliced his arm through the air and yelled. Thats not an answer! But then, gasping his temples in one hand, he sighed and shook his head, trying to regain a semblance of his composure.
In here, you might as well be God. Why go through all this trouble? You could easily shut me away for what I did. But you havent. Why?
I told you already; I need to stop you from becoming a demon. Both of you!
You could throw me in the dungeon, he replied. It would be far simpler.
Can you do that? Brand asked.
I nodded. Yes, but I dont want to, not if I can avoid it.
Why? Why am I worth your time?
Because its the right thing to do, I said. I mean, come on! If I can fix an Athelmarch, I can basically fix anything, right?
I dont believe thats how it works, Genneth, Brand said.
I sighed. You know what I mean. It gets me motivated. I turned back to Geoffrey. Believe it or not, youre not the only person on earth whos fallen short of his own expectations. I know I have.
But then I felt a twinge of the sinister logic that lurked beneath Geoffreys inquiries.
I stared at him for a moment.
What? he asked.
You still think Im a demon, dont you? I said. Or, at least part of you does.
That question certainly left Geoffrey flustered.
Demons are incapable of kindness or sympathy, let alone whatever all this is.
Therapy, I said. This is therapy.
He glared at me. Demons arent capable of therapy.
Now that, I agree with, Brand quipped.
Isnt that enough evidence for you? I asked, turning back to Geoffrey.
Evidence only matters if it changes peoples hearts, Dr. Howle. Can you blame me? Imagine if our positions were reversed. Would you believe me?
Yuta crossed his arms. I believe him.
Why? Geoffrey asked.
Why not? Yuta retorted.
Because hes a Norm!
And youre an Athelmarch, I said. I pointed at the both of us. Scripture doesnt speak kindly of either of us.
Thats not the same! Geoffrey replied.
I chuckled. For a moment there, Geoffreys captious objections had reminded me of Jules.
Angel, how I missed her. I missed them all, so, so much.
Why not? Brand asked.
Finally, Geoffrey belted it out. Because it would mean scripture was false! Demons arent supposed to do this.
Geoffrey, scripture left out the fact that theres more than one Angel.
What? He whispered.
I shared my memory of that moment with him, complete with all my inner torment laid bare. It took only a few seconds, but when it was finished, Geoffrey was left trembling.
Thats thats impossible. He wept. It cant be.
I kept saying the same thing, and I got proven wrong time and again. I sighed. Youre right. I could have locked you up and thrown away the key. I could have forced you to comply. Thats what a demon would have done. But I didnt, because I wouldnt be able to live with myself if I could.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.
I guess this meant I was going to have to deploy the aforementioned evidence. Letting my arms hang at my side, I sighed.
It seems youre inclined to trust your experience of my feelings more than my words, I said. So, why dont I stop beating around the bush and show you whats going on under my hood. I suppose its only fair. Ive seen the memories that make you tick, Geoffrey Athelmarch; you might as well see mine.
Closing my eyes, I focused. Our surroundings changed. I could feel it in my bones.
It was like opening an old wound.
Well, no, it wasnt like opening an old wound; it was opening an old wound.
I was already crying.
We sat in a halcyon day, in a booth for four. The OMalleighs was filled to the brim with customers. Seats swiveled at the chrome counter curled around the kitchen. Heads stuck up from the booths around us, in front and behind. The booths red and white striped plastic upholstery was plump and bouncy, making it easy to bob in tune with the slow rhythm n blues playing from the jukebox on the far wall. The music was smooth and lush, like the jukeboxs mother of pearl inlays. The sparkly clean windows behind the machine gave a cloud-swept view of a flawless summer day out on the Bay.
Brand and I sat on one side of the booth; Yuta and Geoffrey on the other. We were in our work clothes: Brand and I in our white doctors coats; Yuta, his blue haori; Geoffrey, his stately plate mail. The two time travelers gawked at each other for a moment before turning their gazes to me. For a moment, they moved like mirror images of anothersimilar, despite all their differences.
A white-aproned waitress walked up to us. She had auburn hair and a plucky attitude, one that showed off in the smile she graced us with as she handed out the three ice cream pebble cones shed brought to the table.
Id put the order in in advance.
Here you go, gentlemen, three Chocolate Caramel Crazes.
I nodded. Thanks, Carol.
She walked off with a smile and a wave.
I was the only one without any ice cream, but that was intentional. Nothing ruined ice cream quite like crying while you were eating it.
I was already tearing up.
Brand, to his credit, knew exactly what to do, and he didnt waste a single moment. He moaned softly as he chowed down on his ice cream pebble cone.
Holy crap, he said, speaking through a full mouth, this is good.
I tapped my fingernail on the plastic tabletop. Yeah. I nodded. Thats probably the extra helping of nostalgia youre tasting.
While Geoffrey gazed at his cone quizzically, Yuta locked eyes with me. Is this like the Ice Cream Sandwich? he asked.
I nodded. This is the Daimyo of ice cream.
And it really was. To make an OMalleighs Chocolate Caramel Craze, take vanilla and the four flavors of chocolatemilk, white, black, and fudgeand turn them into spherules of freeze-dried deliciousness. After that, squeeze out some caramel and press it into little beads and add them to the mix. Then, finish it off by pouring the six-color batch into a double-layered waffle conetwo sheets of waffle cone with chocolate sandwiched in betweenand serve it up to the eager clientele.
What is this? Geoffrey asked. He posed the question right as Yuta took his first bite.
Yutas jaws churned for a moment, then froze as he stared at the dessert in his hand. He then looked at Geoffrey askance and whispered, Either you eat your, or I will take it.
Apparently, that was enough to break the ice. Geoffrey mimicked Brand and Yutas eating technique, biting into the pebble-pile jutting out from the waffle cones rim.
His eyes went wide.
By the Godhead, he whispered.
I nodded glibly. Youre welcome. Also, I added, you should thank DAISHU. They made this.
That revelation certainly threw him for a whirl.
I let the two time travelers finish their treats before I spoke. I cleared my throat when they were done.
The effect was immediate. The rest of the restaurant fell into shade as something like a spotlight bore down on the booth on the other side of the aisle, directly across from ours. There was a record-scratching noise as the music came to a halt and the ambient chit-chat fell silent, save for one conversation.
Brand, Yuta, and Geoffrey look over at the spotlit booth almost immediately. I, however I took my time.
My younger self sat in the booth across the aisle. Dana sat across from him, hunched forward with her arms crossed on the tabletop.
Angel, she was just like I remembered.
Twerpy tween Genneth was nearing peak dowdiness, an aesthetic accentuated by his (our?) braces and his undue confidence in square-framed glasses. But my sister? She was a summers day, forever shining. She was a little sloppy, and proud of it. Her long, wavy hair spurted up at the back of her head in a poor attempt at a ponytail; the rest of it spilled down her shoulders, Just hangin, as shed liked to say.
Danas black t-shirt and indigo jeans looked even less put-together than my buttoned up plaid shirt and khaki shorts. We each had a Chocolate Caramel Craze in our hands. As usual, Dana couldnt help but make a mess of it as she ate, andjust as usuallyshe laughed it off like she didnt have a care in the world.
She laughed and laughed.
Yuta, Geoffrey, and Brand fell silent. I think it was the look on my facemy older self, not my memory-selfthat got them to clam up.
I cleared my throat again. Thats me, I said. I was twelve. And thats I exhaled. Thats Dana, my older sister.
I raised the volume of my memory-selfs conversation until it filled the air.
Dana I-he said, with a trace of hesitation. What was Mom like?
Her brow furrowednever a good sign. You really wanna make it this chewy? she asked.
Im serious.
Seriously serious? Dana asked.
I nodded.
Dana huffed, jutting out her lower lip and blowing out a puff of air that tousled her bangs. Well She leaned back in the red and white booth seat. What kind of answer are you looking for? I have a salmony answerinteresting quality, bad aftertaste. We could do the laughy one. Though I also have a pretzel answervery crunchy.
Salted or unsalted? I asked.
My sister had a way with words. Something was chewy if it made you feel, while something was crunchy if it made you think. A wasp-tickler was a foolish person. As for pretzels, salted pretzels were always more enjoyable than dry, unsalted ones.
Salted, she said.
Ill have a salted pretzel answer, please, I said.
Dana tapped her fingers on the tabletop. She didnt waste time with nail extensions or finger polish. Her nails were as plain as her lips. Anything else would have been fingermongering, and if there was one thing an honest jane (or joe) didnt want to be, it was a fingermonger.
Well, Eg, she began.
My sister had a traveling bags worth of pet names for me, all of which were anagrams of my name (or a subset thereof).
Eg was for when I was receiving wisdom. Nethgen was for casual conversation. Genneth was for emergencies and other moments of extreme reality. Hentgen was for when I wasnt doing the right thing. Tenheng was for when I was doing things like a boss.
I didnt get nearly as many Tenhengs as I would have liked.
she was a lot like you, Dana said.
What? I asked.
Dana nodded. Mom was the salt to Dads pepper.
Dad was pepper? I asked, astonished.
Dana smiled. Like you wouldnt believe. Mom, though, she was beautifully turtle. She smelled every rose. Loved reading. She read fairy tales to me at night, when my head was too monkey to go to bed.
Dana had done the same for me.
There was a pause. Do you think she would have been proud of me?
Shed have loved to meet you, she said. Though, as you know, I think everyone would be happy to meet you. Youre very meetable, you know. You know how to listen, Genneth, and well, thats diamond-sky priceless. Youre doin great, you know you know you know.
I got a B on the chemistry test, I admitted.
Yeah, well, chemistrys a B, Dana said, with a laugh.
Then I ended the memory, and everything went dark.
133.5 - Gaikotsu no buchō
I spoke into the dark. My mother killed herself not long after I was born. That didnt make me stronger. It was only because Dana was there to pick up the pieces that managed to survive and ended up as a half-functional adult, and I might have fared even better had she not died before her time. These experiences didnt make me stronger. What sin did I commit to deserve such punishment? Its one of the questions Id ask the Angel if I ever get to meet Him.
I focused my words on Yuta and Geoffrey.
Ive lost people that I shouldnt have lost, and I know, compared to what you have suffered, it might as well be nothing. But this isnt a contest. Theres no glory in being the most broken person in the room. Thats not a distinction anyone should have, let alone want.
How did she die? Geoffrey asked.
Ill show you.
I willed the memory into being, against my inclinations. As the scene changed, I couldnt help but think back to Yutas memory of the Great Earthquake. The memory I was dredging up was a tsunami all its own. It wasnt a large storm; it spanned only a few rooms of a dinky bungalow in Witchriver, in Elpeck County. No one died, but you dont need to be a killer to be a destroyer of worlds.
The four of us stood in the main hallway in my Dads house, back in my teenage years, mere seconds after the tsunami had come ashore. Its name was Dana, and it swept up everything in its wake.
The only doors that werent open were the front door and the door to the backyard. Those had to stay locked tight, otherwise the men in black would get her. But, everything else? Shed flung it wide open. Cabinet, closets, cupboards, pantries, drawerseven the ones on the nightstands you name it; shed opened it. Her madness swept her through the house, tearing through our closets and shelves, pulling everything out and tossing onto the floor.
And I mean everything.
Clothes. More clothes. Her clothes. My clothes. Shirts, pants, jackets, cloaks, dresses, skirts, scarves, gloves, socks, shoes, shoes, more shoesand that was just the clothing. There were books, old and new; magazines; a couple spare e-readers; textbooks and workbooks from when we were little, finger-painted art; macaroni sculptures; glue sticks; leftover glitter; pencils and pens tossed from old metal cups redolent of ground up graphite; cereal boxes, the bags of cereal inside the boxes, the pieces of cereal from inside the bags; oatmeal containers; old toys, baby stuff, test prep, our great-grandparents photo albums, hammers, boxes of nails, bed sheets, pillows, cushions, toppled chairs, the unused duvet my mother bought the day before she killed herself, and Angel-knows what else.
And it was everywhere.
Shed also unplugged all the electronics.
This time, I wasnt standing with Brand, Yuta, and Geoffrey. No: I was standing inside of myself, jammed into my young body, watching helplessly as the horror unfolded.
I waded through mounds of books and shirts. Objects rasped against my shins. Some of the piles came up to my knees. The big pile in the hallway was so tall, youd think it was a predator, waiting to topple onto me and strike.
Dana was in the hallway, crouched on top of the big pile. She was barefoot, and barely clothedjust a black t-shirt and her underwear. The top of the pile fell off, sliding onto the wall and taking Dana with it, but she scrambled back over it, reaching for the clothes hangers in the hallway closet. The bits of metal on the plastic hangers rattled and clacked as she manhandled them. She ripped off their garments, sometimes even tearing through the fabric before brusquely chucking them aside. Some of the hangers left breaks and indentations in the drywall where theyd crashed.
Dana, please, my young self begged, you have to stop.
I cried. I was afraid, and not just for myself. I was afraid for her.
Dana looked at me with wide eyes. My imagination ran wild trying to picture what she was seeing.
Theyre here, Nethgen, she said. Cant you hear them? Theyre here. Theyre watching! She crawled up to me. Its not safe. She put her finger on her mouth. Its about the circle. The circle is a square. Its a square!
She looked off to the side with a twitching motion, and then whispered. What was that?
Dana slapped my face when I opened my mouth to speak, plastering her hand over my mouth and nose. Quiet, Nethgen. Mantis quiet. She locked eyes with me. You are the warrior.
I couldnt breathe.
I tried to pull away, but that just made things worse. Slipping out of her grasp, I tumbled onto a pile of shirts and old, plastic binders.
Dana shrieked in terror. Hentgen! Hentgen!?"
Scared out of my mind, I ran down the hallway, across the dining room and into the kitchen. That was where the nearest phone was.
Id called Dad about ten minutes prior, and he was on his, but he wasnt getting here quickly enough. I needed more help.
Grabbing the handset, I pulled the phone off its wall-mounted base. It was an old modelhandle, receiver, the works.
Danas bare feet slapped on the kitchens blue tiled floor.
Genneth! she screamed, eyeing the handset in my grasp. Stop! Stop!!
I hadnt even dialed the number yet.
The next thing I knew, she slammed into me, using her weight to pin me to a wall.
A knife gleamed in her hand.
She twitched as she wept.
No, no no no. Baby otter, no, she said. You cant be with them. Dont tell me youre with them. She held the knife up.
Im not with them! Im not! I shook my head. Dana, youre scaring me. Stop this, please! Stop! Its me! Its me!
She pressed the knife against my neck.
And then the front door opened as Dad stepped inside, though from the way Dana reacted, youd have thought a murder had just stepped into our house.
There was terror in her eyes as she turned to look.
I was crying. It was like my sister was gone.
I didnt want to lose my father, either.
With a yell, I tackled Dana from behind just as shed turned to face the kitchen door. Her knife slipped from her grasp. Its silvery edge flew across the kitchen, clattering onto the tiled floor in the corner of the room. My tackle knocked Dana to the floor, and I fell with her. In my grasp, she squirmed like a cockroach and shrieked like a banshee. Dad joined me in pinning Dana to the floor, taking the lead long enough for me to call the police.
At that point, I couldnt take it anymore. Even I had my limits. As everything dissolved away. I couldnt take my thoughts off the fifteen heart-wrenching minutes Dad and I had to spend physically restraining Dana until the authorities finally arrived to take her into custody.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.
I expelled us from the world of memories, returning us to the Forgotten Sands world-struck vistas. Yuta and Geoffrey were both visibly shaken by my memories.
And, well there you go, I said, smiling through my tears. Now, were truly well-acquainted with one another. I know your pains, and you know mine.
Geoffrey was overcome. He covered his face with his hand. Dr. Howle if I ever made Harmon feel what your sister made you feel I dont know how I could live with myself.
How do you think my sister felt about it? I said, grimly.
What happened to her? Yuta asked.
She was possessed Geoffrey whispered.
I chuckled bitterly. I wish. At least then, a priest could have fixed her with a couple of well-aimed prayers. I shook my head. No, Dana suffered a disease of the mind. She had to be taken away, both for our safety and her own. But her new caretakers didnt take care of her.
Your era cured darkpox, Yuta said. Why not afflictions of the mind, as well?
Geoffrey stared at us. You you cured darkpox?
I nodded. Yes. Ill tell you about it later. I sighed. Its just I turned to Yuta. Its so much easier to destroy something than it is to put a broken thing back together again. So much easier. When it comes to the mind, were still grasping in the dark. Even the most basic questions elude us. What is consciousness? Do we have free will? Where is the line between thought and non-thought? Its all a riddle.
Why did you show us that? Geoffrey asked.
I furrowed my brow at him.
He really was a stubborn nut to crack.
To show you that, contrary to your belief, your situation is neither unique nor incomprehensible to others. Geoffrey, I said, all of us have suffered, Geoffrey, I said. I showed you how Yuta suffered; I showed you how I suffered. I hope thats enough to get the point across, and to convince you that Im not a demon.
And what is your point, Genneth? Brand asked. Other than not being a demon, of course.
Suffering doesnt make us better, I said. It doesnt make us stronger. If we grow, its only in spite of the pain, not because of it. Losing my mother didnt make me stronger. Dana did. And losing Dana didnt make me stronger, either. I could have given up. It would have been so easy to just let myself drift. But I chose to do something. Every dayeven at this very momentI still make that same choice. I do what I do because I dont want anyone else to have to feel the kind of pain I felt when I lost my sister to the monsters inside her skull. I try to help others as a way of making amends for my own failures; for the death of my son. For I sighed. For a lot of things. I looked Yuta and Geoffrey in the eyes. And you know what? I said, chuckling through the tears. I dont think we get to make amends. If we did, and if the world was fair, the pain would go away. But it doesnt. All we can do is try to be better. Im trying, I said. And Id like you to try with me, if youre willing.
Geoffrey stared at Yuta, and then shook his head. Were too different, he said.
At that, Brand broke out in raucous laughter. Hot damn! he yelled. You old folks really are dense.
Brand I said, with a glare.
Cmon, he deserved that, Brand said.
I sighed.
I conjured one last memorya double memory, one part from Yuta, another from Geoffrey. The two memories filled our perceptions with a split-screen reality.
On one side, Yuta sat with Ichigo in House Uramarus tea garden, instructing his retainer on matters of politics and moralsan oxymoronic combination, to be sure. On the other side, Geoffrey knelt beside Karl, instructing the aspiring soldier on the proper use of a rifle.
In the now, both Yuta and Geoffrey stared at one another. They felt each others feelings as if they were their own. Geoffrey saw Uz in Ichigo, just as Yuta saw Harmon in Karl.
Its like the story Yutas mother told him. Your joy came from creation, not destruction, I said. You both built something new, and in doing so, you honored what youd lost. Dont tear that to pieces, not here, not now. Its too precious.
Karl reminded me of my brother in so many ways, Geoffrey said, speaking to everyone and no one. He had the same gentle temperament, the same probing intellect. But, more than anything else, what struck me was the way he looked at me. He didnt see me as an Athelmarch. He scoffed. He didnt see me as a lord, either. I was just Geoffrey, just like it had been with Harmon. Here was someone I could help. Here was a chance to do good without any ill consequence.
Yuta looked Geoffrey in the eyes. If I could do right by Ichigo, perhaps Uz would forgive me for having failed him as a father.
Geoffrey returned the look. I think you were a wonderful father.
Me too, I interjected.
I Geoffreys voice fell to a whisper. I wish my father had been as devoted to us as you were to your children. He turned to me. Dr. Howle I I dont know what to think anymore. But, please is there some way I can see Karl again? And if not at least tell me this: is he safe? Is he happy? Geoffrey lowered his head. Hes the only person in the world who would speak well of me. I will be a poorer man when his time comes.
Ichigo is dead by now, Yuta said, mournfully. As is His voice broke. Barashai my Hoshi. My star.
Karl is alive, I said. He hes becoming like me. A wyrm.
Geoffreys expression turned grave, but then opened with realization.
Thats why youve been so insistent, he said.
I nodded. I knew you wanted to see him again, I said. But I would never be able to forgive myself if I left you thinking that Karl had become a demon. It would have hurt both of you beyond words.
Geoffrey lowered his head, humbled. Thank you, he said. I shouldnt have doubted you.
I bowed in response. Geoffrey, I think I may be able to reunite you with him. I could give you to him.
I I would like that, Geoffrey said, softly.
I turned to Yuta. I will look for Ichigo, I swear, I said. Some wyrm must have found his soul by now.
Yuta bowed to me.
I bowed to him, even more deeply.
Im sorry I cant be of more help, I said.
Yuta walked up to me and pushed me into an upright posture. You are too modest, Dr. Howle. You have helped me more than I could have ever thought possible. You showed me wonders beyond my wildest imagination. I was a stranger, yet you showed me kindness and friendship. Yutas voice cracked. You let me see my daughter smile when Id thought she had been lost to me forever. For that alone, I will be forever in your debt.
You dont owe me anything, Yuta, I said. Im not worth the trouble.
He glared at me. Stop hating yourself, he said, bluntly. The world already has enough hate in it, and you have more than earned your fair share of happiness.
At that moment, I felt something stir within meand that wasnt just the fact that I was softly weeping. It was just like what Id felt when Geoffrey had stirred. Only this time
I gasped. I knew what it was. Who it was.
Once more, I smiled through my tears. I I guess I misspoke, Lord Uramaru. I bowedthough only slightly. There is something I can do.
Clasping a hand to my chest, I pulled forward, imagining I was dragging something out of me. And not just something.
Someone.
Just like Yuta and I, they yearned to be reunited with the parents they adored. In an instant, a little girl stood in front of me. I held her gently, by the wrist.
Of course, Id held her before. Id held her lifeless body as Id lifted it into the maw of a dump truck. But now? Now she was reborn. Her inky dark hair brushed on the hem of her kimono. The kimono was gray, with traces of blue, like dawn, sewn through. Her features were soft and clean and pure, on a face as filled with love and wonder as an old books yellowed, dog-eared pages.
The scabbard on Yutas hip scraped the sand as he fell to his knees, jaw agape.
Hoshi smiled widely as she ran to her father, with her arms spread even wider.
Daddy! Daddy!
She hugged him, andafter a frozen moment of disbeliefYuta wrapped his arms around her, and squeezed tightly. And this timethis timethey would not be parted.
At that moment, something clicked within me. Feelings that had been stirring within me since Id brought peace to the Plotskies suddenly rose to the surface, and this time, I affirmed them in full.
Stop hating yourself, Yuta had told me.
That had always been difficult for me. Both consciously and not, Id blamed myself for so much. Moms death; Danas death; my broken relationship with my father.
Rales death.
The insurmountable distance between myself and my familymy wife, most of all.
The world already has enough hate in it.
I made sure to let Geoffrey hear my thoughts, and feel my pain, just as I made sure that he could feel Yutas joy.
Father embracing daughter.
The knight wept like a wall in the rain.
I didnt know if I was ready to forgive myself. Past guilt made for easy scapegoats when new tragedies came my way. Id always tried to make things better by losing myself in my work. Even after coming to terms with my transformation, I was still using that same old trick, only this time with the spirits in my mind.
But now
I drank in the feeling that flushed through my chest as I watched Yuta embrace his beloved daughter.
It felt good. It was good.
I covered my mouth with my hand, trying to hide my smile. I felt their happiness. It warmed me. It chased away my demons.
And I wept.
Was I still horrified to be turning into a monstrous wyrm? Unquestionably.
Was I still angry at myself, guilt-ridden over having to lie to my colleagues and conceal my condition and put them at risk just because I couldnt bear the thought of being locked up like one of my patients, unable to do anything to make a positive difference in the world?
Of course!
Did a second go by where I didnt wish this was all just a bad dream? That we could have just gone on with our lives as they had been, none the wiser?
Not on your life.
And yet in these new abilities of mine, in these new responsibilitiesin sustaining the afterlives of the souls carried in my flesh?
In them, Id found something I could proudly call beautiful. I could commune with people, and help them and learn from them in ways no one ever could have before. Yes, the road to building their afterlives was a rocky one, but, with friends like Brand and Andalon on my side, I knew Id be able to make it work, even if it was a frustrating struggle. God might have turned their back on themon usbut I wouldnt. I would be better. Id be their Angel.
It made me happy.
It was something worth fighting for.
And, most importantly: it was a battle I could actually win.
134.1 - A House Built On Sand
Yuta bid his daughter farewell as Hoshi disappeared to her personal corner of the afterlife.
So many ponies; so very, very many poniesand Yuta was going to get acquainted with each and every one, once we were finished with what needed to be done.
As Hoshi was about to step into the portal to her arcadian tomorrow, Geoffrey surprised us all by getting onto his knees embracing the little girl with a hug of his own.
When she asked why, he replied, with tears in his eyes, I have a little girl just like you, you know? I want to hug her, but I cant. He wept. But I can hug you, he added, so I will.
It was deeply touching.
Geoffrey blushed in embarrassment, turning away for us as Hoshi bid her father farewell and disappeared through the portal. Count Athelmarch walked about, muttering under his breath as he struggled to regain a semblance of composure. Fortunately, he eventually succeeded.
For the final test, I dismantled the connection between Yuta and Geoffreys emotions. Their feelings were entirely their own once more.
I hoped the lessons would stick.
Well, Brand asked, are we done here? Have you two made up?
They stared at him for a bit.
Yuta, Geoffrey, I said, addressing them both, you came from opposing sides of a terrible conflict, but I hope you can see that you dont need to be each others enemies. The situation was to blame: the horrors of Munine colonialism, and the no-holds-barred desperation with which the Trentons fought for their freedom. Please, I said, there will be time later to weigh our sins and pass judgment and make recompense. Right now, I need your help. Both of you.
I sighed.
Yuta and Geoffrey stared at one another.
I sympathize with your pain, Geoffrey said, and wish your family had not died.
Your brother was a good man, Yuta said. He deserved better.
Thank you.
Does this mean you two are friends now? Brand asked.
The two men looked at each other. Geoffrey spoke up first, shaking his head. Im not so sure. For all our similarities, we are still two very different people, after all. Still
Yuta snorted, in a chuckling sort of way. I respect a man who is willing to tell me to my face that he dislikes me.
I wasnt finished, Geoffrey said. Though I do foresee myself taking too much of a liking to you, Lord Uramaru, he turned to me, I dont want to cause Dr. Howle any more trouble than I already have. There is no point in rehashing our vendettas.
I can agree with that, Yuta said.
Though its obvious, Geoffrey said, if we were to have an honest fightno powersI would win.
Yuta scoffed. Your sword isnt even curved.
Gentlemen, gentlemen, please I stepped forward. Lets not start fighting all over again.
They both stepped back.
I walked up and patted them on the backs.
This is good, I said. This is good.
Um, Dr. Howle? Geoffrey said, pushing off me.
We both stepped back.
Yes?
There is one thing I still do not understand. He stared at Yuta. I think Lord Uramarus thoughts kept my doubts at bay, but now, I am confused again.
About?
He looked at Yuta and I. What is a star?
I shared stares with Yuta and Brand, in that order.
What do you mean? Yuta asked.
Feeling more than a little panicked, I waved my hand over Geoffreys head. Plumes of memories flowed out from him. This time, I focused on the backgrounds, ignoring the people, places, events, and emotions.
Genneth? Brand asked.
Fudge, I thought.
I pulled away from Geoffrey, ending the memory stream. I turned to Brand. I was so focused on their memories that I wasnt paying close enough attention to the backgrounds. Look. Heres two memories of the same night.
With another flick of my hand, I summoned a memory from both men: sights of night skies. The two memories hovered in front of usa pair of windows in the air. Both were memories of night, but where Yutas night had stars, Geoffreys was black and void, like mine.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
I pointed at the stars. Those are stars.
I I dont understand, Geoffrey said.
I turned to Yuta. Do you mind if I put your understanding of the concept into him?
The samurai nodded. It would be my pleasure.
I closed my eyes for a moment and focused. A second later, a stream of gold particles wafted from Yutas head to Geoffreys.
The knights eyes went wide with realization. He stared at the night sky of his memories with visible terror. Why are there no stars?
I turned to Brand. Are you thinking what Im thinking? I said.
On a count of three Brand replied.
Three silent seconds later, we both spoke up at the same time.
Its another world, I said.
Two different worlds, Brand said.
What? Geoffrey asked.
I pointed at the Hoduul mountains. Everything beyond there, and all the strange stuff spreading onto the desertthose are memories of worlds other than our own. I turned back to face them. When I first learned that Yutas memories showed the night sky as having stars in them, I was worried that, as Andalon had suggested, perhaps the fungus was somehow altering the timeline as it destroyed the stars in our sky.
Yuta nodded. And that theory is no longer viable because?
I pointed at the two memories floating above the sands. These are the same night. I pointed at both skies blood red moon. Thats I conjured up a memory of a documentary Id seen about Sakuragi. Thats the lunar eclipse of 1608.
Yuta nodded. The night I foiled an attempt on Lord Sakuragis life.
Yes, and its the same night in both memories, I said. If the fungus was attacking the timeline, even though there might be differences between the way things are now and the way they were in the past, two different observations of the same moment of time ought to be the same. But theyre not. So perhaps its a different version of our world. Yours, I mean, I added, pointing at Yuta.
Is that even possible? Geoffrey asked.
Theres a world with hummingbird people in it, Brand said. If that can happen, whos to say multiple versions of our own world arent possible?
Then, to my surprise, both Yuta and Geoffrey stepped back in shock.
Uh Genneth? Brand said.
I turned around.
Mr. Genneth?
Andalon floated above the ground, her sky-blue hair beating in an unseen wind. She held her hands at her chest, against her pale, airy nightgown.
Andalon?!
Is this really her, Genneth? Brand asked.
I nodded. Yeah, this is her.
Obviously, this was a shock. As far as I knew, she was still angry with me. Barely had that thought crossed my mind when Andalon shook her head in dismay.
No, Mr. Genneth! Im But then she shook her head, No, it doesnt matter. Something bad is coming! Something really, really bad!
My blood ran cold.
What? What is it?
I remembered, Mr. Genneth!
My pulse went through the roof.
Andalon looked me in the eyes. It wasnt Amplersandalon, Mr. Genneth. It wasnt.
What wasnt?
When we first did the nekkomancy, you know the portal to Amplersandalon that was there? she asked.
Yes?
She shook her head grimly. It wasnt. It wasnt Amplersandalon. It was the darkness.
I blinked. No, that thats not possible.
What portal is she talking about? Geoffrey asked.
I turned to face them. When you and your companions arrived in our time period, there was a fight, and all of the infected began going feral, I said.
Yes. He nodded. But something stopped them.
That was me, I said, tapping my finger on my chest.
You?
Yes! And when it happened, there was this portal. I felt it draw in Andalons power. It was Andalons greater self, connecting us to her. Or at least, thats what I thought it was.
Neither of them seemed to understand.
Thankfully, Brand picked up the slack for me. Andalon is a spirit beingprobably divine in origin, likely either another Angel, or perhaps an agent thereofworking to counter the fungus and the forces of Hell it is allied with. He pointed at Andalon. The way Genneth explained it to me, the Andalon inside Genneththe one were currently looking atis just a piece of a greater whole: &alon.
Why is there an ampersand? Geoffrey asked.
Your guess is as good as mine, I said. I sighed. Anyhow, Andalon was able to channel her greater selfs power, which I then manipulated, and thats how I control the zombies, and the infected, more generally. Well, thats a bit of an oversimplification, but it gets the main idea across.
You used this power during our rescue, Geoffrey said, nodding in understanding.
Yes.
So whats the problem? Geoffrey asked.
Shes saying that the portal isnt what it obviously is, I said.
How is it obvious? Yuta asked.
Yuta, in your memory, we saw a portal the fungus had made. Thats what made Andalon freak out. Its what made her mad at me.
Andalon nodded with me, which only further emphasized my point.
And that portal was clearly different from the &alon portal, I added.
Brands eyebrows rose. He leaned into our conversation, dark lips tightening in an inquisitive, pearly toothed smile. Might this be something I should know about? he asked.
I nodded.
Mr. Genneth
Here, Ill show you. I blinked. Wait I turned to Andalon. Are you going to be okay with this? I cant have you freaking out on me again.
Andalon is scared, she said, but I know you hafta do it.
I blinked.
That thats very mature of you, I said, somewhat surprised.
Whats ma-chore? she asked.
Its a good thing, I said. But what changed? You were upset with me before.
She looked at the four of us. You fought away the bad wyrmehs. It was really cool. Maybe you can be strong, together?
Brand grinned at me. And you were worried this misadventure wouldnt amount to anything!
I turned to Andalon. Are you going to get scared again? I asked.
Maybe? she replied.
I sighed.
I guess I was just going to have to play things by ear.
I turned to Yuta. Do you mind if I go back to your memory of your time-traveling?
The samurai shook his head.
Then I waved my hand, and we all dove in. A droplet of water fell from the sky. As it splashed on the sand, its waters wiped the desert away and replaced it with the night of the fall of House Uramaru.
We stood far from Yutas estate, which could be seen burning in the distance.
Geoffrey looked up and gawked.
He pointed at the stars. Wh-What He cursed. Norms take me, what is that?!
I wanted to answer him, but Andalon went and screamed. Mr. Genneth, look!
One crisis at a time, I suppose.
I turned to face her, only for my jaw to drop.
See, Mr. Genneth, I told you!
Human memories were subject to change. I was well aware of this. The electrochemical and cytostructural networks that held up human memories were prone to change over time. Rosy-hued nostalgia really was a thing; it had a quantifiable biochemical basis. Because human beings couldnt relive their memories in full like a wyrm could, every time a human being recalled a memory, they would focus on some aspects at the expense of others. Maybe it would be what someone said, or the emotions we felt, but, whatever it was, by focusing on it, we added a tiny spin to the memory. Individually, these spins might not do much, but, over time, they would accumulate, altering the memories in all sorts of subtle ways. Rather than being set in stone, our memories were the product of a never-ending dialogue between our past and present selves.
But none of that applied to the wyrm I was becoming. There, memories really were set in stone. I remembered my remembrances, and their remembrances, too. And it was that fact that made my eyes go wide with shock as I beheld Yutas memory of the time-rift.
134.2 - A House Built On Sand
Andalon floated behind me, looking away, not wanting to see. I could feel her trembl against my back. Or was that me?
Somehow, Yutas memory had changed. Wyrms memories and the memories of the souls within them were 100% accurate down the last detail, and the base copies could not be tampered with. This shouldnt have happened t broke the rules.
Id thought Id gotten past all the mind-screwy surprisesApparently,
Before, the tear in the starry night sky had resembled a jagged claw mark, one longer than it was wide. But no longer. The rift had grown, swelling like the ulcers the fungus bit into the skin of the infected. The slender cut had expanded into a wide blot with an irregular edge, giving a clear view of what lay inside.
It, too, was a window in the air; a window to another place and time. I could see a sunset-tinged sky through the blot. I saw the sweep of a modern road, bustling traffic, and the distant red curve of a mag-lev Expressways supporting trestles. When I noticed the buildings beside the trestles and spied the hills rising up in the distance, I was able to recognize the area for what it was.
Thats Rebels Spark, I said. I drove through there when I took my family on a road trip through the Riscolts to Polovia. I tugged t my lucky bowtie and shook my head. I couldnt see this before.
What do you mean? Yuta said. I remember it this way. He pointed at the rift. That is what I saw.
Okay, now this is really getting creepy, I said. Yuta, I know for a fact that the memory was different. The rift was much thinner. Its grown.
And I had proof. Yutas memory might have been corrupted, but mine was fully intact. With but a thought, I brought up my memory of Yutas memory. In a moment, we were staring at two copies of the same slice of sky, set side by side. On the right was what Yuta claimed his memory now showed; on the left, my (accurate) recollection of what his memory had really been.
The difference was stark. The old memory was grainy, crisscrossed by patches of static that had been spreading across the sky. The old memorys rift was only faintly visible, like stretch marks on skin. The light shining through the gaps was weak and indistinct, like a reflection of moonlight. You couldnt tell what lay on the other side of the rift. Compared to the corrupted copy, Yutas original memory of the rift was smaller, with less defined boundaries.
The new version, though? Its edges smoldered like burning paper, glowing faintly with many colors.
The memory itself has changed! I yelled.
Yuta stepped back, mouth wide and eyes full of fear. No, no. Thi cant be.
That looks like the hole that brought us to the future, Geoffrey said.
Below, Andalon squatted on the ground, head down, eyes tightly shut. She covered her head with her hands, as if the sky was about to fall.
Mr. Genneth, please, she begged, no more. No more!
She didnt need to tell me thrice.
I breathed in and out. A moment later, we were back in the Forgotten Sands.
Brand ran his fingers through his sponge-curls.
Geoffrey stammered in shock. He stood as stiff as a rod. He turned to Yuta. That was from your memory? he whispered.
What is it? Yuta asked.
Geoffrey took a single step forward. This is the same as our rift, he said. I swear, on the honor of my House, the rift that brought me into this era looked like this.
I nodded. I agree. This comports with Duncans description.
I played Duncans words for all to hear: There were many colors, if I recall correctly. They were quite faint, and at the rifts edge. It lasted for but a moment.
Geoffrey exhaled sharply, clenching his fists. You wanted to check my memories, Dr. Howle? he asked. He spread his arms at his sides. By all means, have at it! I insist!
He was dead serious, and nearly as freaked out as I was.
I turned to Andalon. She was still kneeling on the ground, though shed stopped covering her eyes and head.
Are you okay? I asked. Are you ready for this? Can you handle it?
Just do it, she implored. Do it fast. Do it super fastly.
And so I did.
A seam split down the middle of the sky, through the mountains and the sectors of half-remembered worlds sprawled out onto the desert sand. The two halves of the seam folded away, opening like a pair of double doors in one of WeElMeds hallways.
My heart snk as Andalon started to cry.
We stood on a road in a town on a hill. Gun smoke spit left and right across the dirt-paved path as Munine and Trenton soldiers faced each other in pitched combat.
But the memory was frozen in time. Horses were fixed in place, rearing up, lips flaring as they brayed. Riflemen knelt on the dirt, loading more powder into their guns. Soldiers charged. Paginates, swords, and bayonets were caught mid-clash. I even saw Geoffreys companions in the fray. Karl had run out into the middle of the street, following Fink the horse. Geoffrey had followed after him, with Bever, and all the rest not far behind him.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
The startled horse was running into the rift.
In appearance, this rift was indistinguishable from the one in Yutas changed memory.
Genneth look, Brand said.
I stepped forward, phasing through an armored Munine solder. My head passed through the haft of his naginata.
I shook my head and muttered. No thats impossible.
Behind me, Andalon did exactly the same, mimicking my movements with an accuracy that would have been uncanny, I given it any attention.
Like with the rift in Yutas altered memory, I could see through the rift in Geoffreys memory, and what I saw made no sense.
No, worse than that: it wasnt possible.
I reached for it, though I kept from making contact.
By the Angel I muttered.
Through this window in the air, I saw myself. I saw myself standing at the edge of Ward Es reception area, hazmat suit and all, with the feral infected closing in on every side. Not only that, I saw Geoffrey and his comrades in the reception area, even though they were also out here, standing in the memoryand that wasnt counting the copy of Geoffreys soul watching from the sidelines.
I turned to him.
Count Athelmarch was speechless. He couldnt believe it, either.
Turning back to the rift, I let the memory play, slowly advancing it forward, second by second. All around us, guns fired and horses shrieked. Metal clanged against metal as two worlds clashed.
The split second before the rift swallowed Geoffrey and his friends, the copy of myself on the other side of the rift stuck out his arm, exactly as I had. A moment later, all the feral infected returned to their senses.
Then a great flash of light swallowed up everything in sight, and the next thing we knew, we stood in Ward Es lobby, alongside Geoffrey and his comrades. Chairs and benches that had been knocked to the floor a second ago were now back in place. Yuta and Ichigo stood at the far end of the room, deathly ill with the Green Death.
This was when we arrived in your time, Dr. Howle, Geoffrey muttered.
Ichigo Yuta whispered.
Once again, the two worlds clashed. The Yuta and Ichigo in Geoffreys memory charged straight at Geoffrey and the others.
Make it go away, Andalon prayed. Make it go away. Make it
I ran my fingers through my hair in panic. Stop! I yelled. Stop!
All at once, we were back in the Forgotten Sands.
I fell to my knees. Thats this is impossible.
Mr. Genneth! Andalon yelled. She across the desert sands and then threw her arms around me in a big, big hug.
Genneth, Brand asked, whats going on?
I gently pried Andalon off me, though I made sure to keep hold of her hand in mine. I look her in the eyes. That was when we channeled &alon, I said. Id been looking at the wyrmsight rift when Id done it.
She nodded bigly. There were tears in her eyes. But it wasnt Amplersandalon, Mr. Genneth. It wasnt.
Are you saying more memories have been changed? Yuta asked. How is that possible? He stared at us, and then at his own two hands. Is any of this real?
What is going on Howle? Geoffrey said. He clasped at his head and shook. I dont understand this. I I remember seeing you in the rift, but I remember laying eyes on you for the first time in that that place.
Ward Es lobby, I said.
Wait you have two conflicting memories? Brand asked.
Geoffrey trembled. I dont know. I I dont know!
I gently grabbed hold of Andalons shoulders. Please, Andalon, what is going on? What do you remember? What is happening?
Its like you said, Mr. Genneth, she whispered. The darkness makes time melt. Its so, so scary.
How can you be sure the second Dr. Howle was not standing in yet another world? Yuta asked.
Theres only one Andalon, Andalon said. And she looked up at me. Mr. Genneth cant do nekkomancy without Andalon.
Darn it! I said, stamping my foot. There are too many threads! The Lantor Incursion, Andalons attackers, the fungus, and now, the ar in Paradise.
War in Paradise? Geoffrey asked.
Sniffling, Andalon wiped her arm on her sleeve and then turned to Geoffrey. Mr. Genneth was talkin about it with Dr. Brandy and Mr. Oota before you guys all fought in the spooky stone place, she said.
Spooky stone place? I asked.
With the humminbirbs, she said.
My eyes widened. You were watching that?
She nodded. Andalon has so many sees. She turned to Yuta and then to Geoffrey. Mr. Oota Mr. Joffy Tears welled in her eyes. You have so much sad and hurt. So much
Yes, I said, telling Geoffrey about our theory. The more I think about it, the more sense it make. Everything fits. I turned to Andalon. I once asked Andalon if there was a good place for souls to go after they died other than inside her wyrms, and she told me, no.
Andalon nodded in agreement.
Now, we finally know why: theres a war going on in Paradiseand Paradise lost. The fungusHell itselfhas infected it. Thats what we were seeing.
Geoffrey stared at me, comprehending. The great darkness.
Yes, I said. Paradise has fallen, and Andalon is a refugee, perhaps even one of the other Angels. Maybe one of the Angels sided with the fungus, and thats how it managed to break into Paradise.
Geoffrey stared at Andalon with religious awe. You youre an Angel?
Whas a Ain-gel? she asked me.
A Shiny Guy, I said.
She shook her head at him. I dunno what I am
Lets just take that as a probable yes, for now, I said. Shell probably remember more later.
The fungus is trying to finish the job, Brand said, and that means taking over the wyrms, and destroying the afterlives within them.
I shook my head. Flibbertigibbet all this time, Ive been looking for something to believe in when it was staring me in the face all along. I was just too stubborn to see it.
But why is Andalon so afraid of these rifts? Yuta asked.
Cuz its the darkness! she answered.
A shiver ran down my spine as more facts clicked into place.
Andalon told me that the fungus is making time melt. Though Im no physicist, even I know that things get pretty wonky when you add time travel to the mix. I looked at the two time-travelers in our midst, Both of your memories have been changed. If someone or something went back in time and changed the past, the memories of everyone involved in the event would change accordingly. That sounds a lot like time melting to me. No wonder the wyrms have extreme eidetic memory: they have to keep track of the changes made to the timeline as the fungus rewrites history!
But then I pursed my lips in worry. But that Yutas memory changed in only a matter of hours of real-world time. I said. I first saw his memory of the rift earlier today.
Its advancing Geoffrey said, almost like an afterthought. Th evil has been advancing toward its goal all this time.
Then the altered memories and the widening rifts are a sign of the fungus progressive destruction of the time stream, Brand said. His eyes widened in shock. Genneth, the pit in Geoffreys memory is in E Wards Lobby. What if
My heart got caught in my throat.
Fudge, I said. The rift there might be widening as we speak!
Oh God oh God oh God oh God.
The lobby rift is like the Lantor incursion, only its happening out in the real world! Its an ulcer on space and time!
There will be great bloodshed if the battle at Lightsbreath spills over into this era, Geoffrey said.
Not just that, I added, the violence will trigger more of the infected to turn into zombies, and well have another disaster on our hands!
Its coming, Mr. Genneth! Andalon yelled. Its coming!
We need to get those people out of that lobby, now! I yelled.
I could feel the weight of the approaching disaster creep onto my shoulders.
Actually, it felt like someone was gripping my shoulder.
I noticed Brand staring at his own shoulder. He opened his mouth: Do you feel th
And then I felt the familiar and highly uncomfortable sensation of being yanked out of my link with Brand. Everything faded to white as Lantor flew away from us at a thousand miles a second.
134.3 - A House Built On Sand
I blinked. The brightness of the skies over the Forgotten Sands had collapsed into the dimly lit, spore-spritzed halls of the Self Help Groups abandoned ward. I yelped in surpriseand not just at the sight of Brands transformed body staring at me a couple inches from my face.
The next thing I knew, an arm pried the two of us apartmuch to our hyphaes dismayand I found myself staring at Dr. Horoshas panicked face.
Dr. Howle!
Suisei thrusted a console into my hands, which immediately fell because a startled Genneth was very much a klutz. Fortunately, I managed to stop it from hitting the ground at the last second with a well placed spurt of psychokinesis that lifted the PortaCon back into my grasp.
It took me a second to realize it was, in fact, my own PortaCon, and then a couple more seconds after that for me to notice the commotion around me. The incompletely refurbished ward reverberated with a frightened polyphony of gasps and whispers.
There has just been an explosion in the Ward Es reception lobby, Suisei said.
What!?
Brand turned to me, his eyes bulging on his burgeoning snout. Looks like you were right.
Right about what? Suisei asked.
I got up off the stool. Its a long story. I started to walk away.
What are you doing? Suisei asked.
Saving the world, I guess. I shrugged. Cmon, I waved my hand, lets go. I narrowed my eyes at Dr. Horosha. Also, your days of keeping secrets have ended.
One of Suiseis eyebrows creted up behind the visor of his PPE. Oh really?
Yes, really, I said.
Feeling a frigid, spectral hand tugging at my shoulder, I turned around to see Andalon staring me straight in the eyes, trembling in wide-eyed terror. Its coming, she said. Its coming!
Is it Andalon? Suisei asked. He must have seen me staring at nothing.
Yes, I answered, glancing away from Andalon for just a moment. Just hold on.
Andalon floated out behind me, stting down on the vinyl floor next to Suisei. She paced around, phasing through the three of us, shaking her hands in distress.
Andalon, please, talk to me. Use your words. I swallowed hard. This incident in the lobby is the darkness, right? The fungus has struck?
She shook her head. Nuh-uh.
What? I said.
Suisei looked at me in alarm, but I raised my hand to shush him.
I thought you said the fungus was coming? I said.
Andalon nodded. The darkness is comin. But its not here yet.
Its not here yet oes that mean things are going to get worse? I asked
Tears trickled down Andalons cheeks as she nodded vehemently.
Fudge.
My tail twitched with fearwhich felt really darn weird, what with how my tail now felt more like my legs than my legs did, which didnt feel like anything all.
What is it? Suisei asked.
I gulped. Its only just begun. The darkness hasnt arrived yet. I looked Andalon askance. But it soon will be.
I turned back to Suisei. Lets go. You can fill me in on the way.
Wha abou me? Brand asked, pointing at himself with a claw.
Stay here, and stay safe, I said.
And with that, we were off. Suisei took the lead as he. After all the time Id spent inside Lantor, the fleshy reality of being back inside my transforming body hit me like a sledgehammer. If it wasnt for my perfect wyrm memory, I dont think Id have remembered how to walk with the sketchy, stilt-like set-up Brand had arranged for me and my new hazmat suit. Fortunately, I did remember how to do it, so I wasnt helpless, I was just miserable.
Suisei moved much more quickly than I ever could, and that was before my legs had gone down the tubes. I had to put even more oomph into the psychokinesis Id woven around my bodyto keep myself from falling flat onto my face, and to speed my waddling walkjust to keep up with him. Andalon had much less trouble, following alongside both of us with ease.
I pushed forward until I was abreast of Dr. Horosha. Alright, tell me what happened.
Dr. Marteneiss was there, Suisei explained. She saw it. A Type One cases corpse had been left out in the corner of the reception area, seated on the floor just out of sight. It was overgrown with masses of fungus fruiting bodies. Dr. Marteneiss said the fruiting bodies burst, spewing spores throughout the room.
The corpse exploded? Why is this only happening now!?
Nearly two-thirds of our staff ha died, as are about half of the soldiers. Just in the past two hours, everything has been grinding to a stop. I expect all of WeElMeds non-transformee staff to be incapacitated or dead within a day or two. We are in free-fall.
Fudge I muttered.
Suisei nodded. Quite.
We rounded a corner.
So, what now? I asked.
As per quarantine protocol, Suisei explained, the reception lobby was sealed, as were many of the surrounding rooms and hallways. Dr. Marteneiss has been leading the effort to gather enough ethyl alcohol to spray down the room before the spores eat through the floor. Once the spores are neutralized, we can begin removing the bodies, be they living or dead.
Beasts teeth I muttered.
It gets worse, Suisei added, grimly. High spore concentrations lead to much quicker and more intense fungal growth, which expedites the disease progression. If we do not act quickly, more fruiting bodies might emerge and rupture. The resulting cascade of spores could eat through the buildings walls and structural supports, and bring the roof crashing onto our heads.
I stared at him. What?
You heard what I saidAt the moment, Heggy has called for a tactical retreat to E Wards IT hub in order to assess the damage and figure out the details.
We can at least use the mycophage to slow down the progression somewhat, I said.
Suisei looked at me, perplexed. I was under the impression the mycophage did not work.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
I sighed. It doesnt. Any benefits attributed to the mycophage were really just Andalons doing, but the patients dont know that, nor can they.
Briefly, genuine hope shone in Suiseis eyes. She can stop the disease? he asked, barely above a whisper.
I shook my head. No. She can just slow it down a little. Thats all.
I I see, Suisei said, after a long sigh.
Through my wyrmsight, I could still see the snow-in-a-snowglobe motes of Suiseis spore-deterring pataphysical weave as they swirled around him, but it was fainter than ever before, its fading brightness coming in pulses.
Suisei might have been one of the few people in the world who hadnt yet been infected by the Green Death, but he was anything but a picture of good health. H features emaciated xhaustion written all over his face.
Now, what were you expecting me to tell you? he asked me.
For starters? I said. Everything.
He smiled gently. You seem confident I will tell you.
I am, I said, nodding proudly.
He sighed. I swear on my honor, Genneth Howle, once this latest crisis has passed, I will tell you everything.
I knew he meant every word.
And what if it doesnt? I asked.
Then I will tell you everything when it does, he replied.
Im sorry for not trusting you, I said, softly. For what its worth, I looked him in the eyes, its been an honor serving beside you, Dr. Horosha.
He chuckled. Much appreciated. He motioned with his head. Now, enough delay.
I nodded, and followed.
Suisei pressed the elevator call button as soon as we arrived back in the Administration Building. I plastered my palm against my hazmat suits visor as we stepped out on the ground floor, reflexively trying to cover my mouth.
By the Angel I muttered.
Suisei was right, we were in free-fall. And if the poor sod that had detonated in the lobby was any indication, the mounds of bodies I saw piled up like sandbags in E Wards rooms and hallways made it clear that the finale the fungus had in store for us was going to be spectacular.
If all these bodies go the way of the exploded corpse, I said, this is gonna be a real firework show, thats for sure.
You are assuming we will live to see it, Suisei said, with a smirk. I admire your optimism.
The bodies of the dead became less and less numerous as we approached the reception area. A handful of still-living people were staggering around in shock. By this point, the only difference between the patients and the healthcare workers were their clothes. This wasnt the WeElMed Id come to know over the years. No, it was a waypoint between life and death, and everyone was on their way out.
And yet
Its funny, I said, softly, in a way, Dr. Skorbinka wasnt a failure, after all.
The mycophage is not the cure he hoped it would be, Suisei said. It is Andalons doing, after all.
But the people dont know that. As far as they know, it gives them a little bit more time before they pass. I bit my lip. It gives them a chance to say goodbye. I nodded. We owe it to the people that got trapped in the lockdown. They deserve better than to die alone and afraid.
As do we all, Suisei said.
Finally, we arrived at the scene of the disaster. The main double-doors leading from Ward Es heart into its reception lobby had been extended into a plastic airlock tunnel. They were covered head-to-toe in green hazmat suits, likely fresh out of the matter printers.
Floating out in front of me, Andalon stared blankly at the lobbys double doors.
To think if this disaster had happened a couple of days ago, we would have wheeled in cabinets and refrigerators filled to the brim with vital medical supplies: IV fluids, corticosteroids, blood bags, antifungals. But now, all we had were chilled boxes filled with the latest batch of mycophage fresh from the Mark IIIs, as well as transparent plastic aerosol bottles filled with what I hoped was some kind of alcohol.
Suisei spoke up. Dr. Marteneiss said she was He looked around. There! He pointed at a nearby open door. The IT room.
We walked inside.
An ordered waterfall of plastic-sheathed fiber-optic cables wove one of the walls. The room was relatively small-ish; the long, minimalist desk sitting against the wall opposite the cables nearly spanned the length of the room. The desk had multiple consoles mounted onto it, desktop-computer style. The wall behind them was a cluttered quilt of monitors and switchboards.
From what I could tell, most of the screens on the wall displaying the live feed coming off the cameras of the consoles mounted on the walls of the areas inside the lockdown. The screens were variations of a single scene: people morosely mulling about, somehow managing to be even more on edge than usual. There were still a few stragglers futilely pounding on the lockdown barriers from the inside. Those who tried to find a hidden way out were sorely disappointed as they met either metal barriers or the crossed arms of a soldier or two whod had the unluck to get trapped in the lockdown with them.
Heggy stood at the nearer end of the long desk, leaning over a microphone stand mounted atop it. A darkly uniformed soldier sat in a swivel chair in front of one of the consoles near the desks far end. A door on the far wall flanked a great glass window, through which I could see and hear whole colonnades of thrumming CPUs. The computers green LEDs flickered like Vineplain fireflies.
WeElMed could never have enough IT rooms. The hospitals IT-AI network was a nervous system in its own rightliterally so, ever since ALICE had been installed. Tech rooms like this were scattered around the hospital, where they did for our network what ganglions and the thalamus did for the human nervous system.
Unlike the human nervous system, though, I didnt understand how any of this stuff workednot in the slightest.
Heggy spoke into the microphone. Remember, folks, no matter what happens dont panic. Her voice issued forth from loudspeakers hidden in E Wards walls and ceilings.
I was disturbed by the way Heggy was speaking. In my experience, Dr. Marteneiss had a knack for exuding calm and confidence, even when your every impulse was to run around like a headless chicken, screaming in terror. But I wasnt sensing any of that here. There was a tremor to Heggys voice, and the microphone magnified it several fold. We could hear her every pause, and each uncertain smack of her lips.
One of the healthcare workers lined up in front of the tunnel spoke up. Alright, everyone He interrupted his own words with a pained cough. Lets do this. His voice was raw and gravelly; it wasnt the kind of voice that inspired confidence.
Then the team closed the doors at the entrance to the tunnel and engaged the airlock. As I watched, my stressed imagination hyperphantasized the suction-cup sounds the doors would have made as they closed to form their hermetic seal.
Heggy stood up straight and turned to face us.
Hello boys, she said, dryly. Took you long enough to get here, she added, in a low, breathy mumble.
I see you started without us, Suisei said.
Its not like weve got time to waste, Dr. Horosha, Heggy said.
I noticed Dr. Marteneiss wasnt making direct eye contact with us. Shed aimed her gaze low.
I cleared my throat. Heggy, I
She closed her eyes and shook her head. Vernons in there, you know.
Oh fudge.
Angel, Heggy, I said, Im so sorry.
On instinct, I stepped forward to embrace her, but she stuck out her palm, stopping me.
Why are you here, Genneth? she asked.
I inhaled sharply.
Beasts teeth, that hurt to hear.
And it hurt to see her say it.
Mr. Genneth.
I felt Andalons tug on me.
Its coming! she said. Its coming! She floated around in front of me.
What do you expect me to do, Andalon? I thought-asked.
Its not safe, she said.
I know.
If something awful didnt happen in the next five minutes, Id go to one of our gift shops, buy a hat, and eat itand not just because I was feeling peckish again.
One of the soldiers with the expedition team spoke up. Dr. Marteneiss?
Leaning over, Heggy picked up the microphone. One sec.
I turned my attention back to her. Shed asked me why I was here, so I told her.
Why am I here? I said. Im here to help, however I can. And to that end it would be nice if I knew what you were doing here.
Suisei glanced at one of the screens. I take it the spray bottles are filled with alcohol?
Heggy nodded. It turns out someone in B Ward had set up a moonshine machine. Weve also got some of the matter printers on alcohol duty. Weve been grinding up the paintings and paper sculptures on the walls to give the printers organic matter to ferment.
And here? I asked, tilting my head toward the soldier at work at the table.
Weve made this tech room into a temporary base of operation, Heggy said. She pointed at the soldier by the console. Ian heres been workin triple duty, analyzin the footage to figure out what the fuck happened and figure out what the fuck we need to do to prevent it from happenin again.
Alright, Dr. Marteneiss, were going in.
I saw the interior half of the double doors open on the feed from one of the cameras in the lobby, only to look away as a chair beside the opening doors rose up from the floor of its own accord. For a split second, the feed from the lobby quivered like a mirage.
I swear, I could see sparks kindling in the middle of the air.
And then everything went wrong.
The feeds coming in from the various cameras suddenly diverged from one another and went wild. In one, people moved at triple playback speed, their motions blurring into jittery chaos. In another, time seemed to slow to a standstill. Strange masses encroached on the images, as if fingers were moving to block the cameras. Patches of the images swelled and shrunk, like the space itself was a predator, breathing in the scent of fresh prey.
And the sounds
I heard screams and moans, crashes and thuds, eerie growls. The sounds cut in and out, fragmenting and reassembling, stretching and shrinking as they dissolved into high pitched chirps and deep as whale-song, and so many other noises.
The sounds smeared across the audible spectrum until, all at once, they tore themselves to shreds. All the screens cut to softly buzzing static. Our gasps blossomed in the stillness.
Heggy spoke into the microphones. The technicianIanwent through each and every console in the lockdown area, hoping to hear someone respond, but the result was always the same.
Silence.
135.1 - Deine N?he nicht verweigerst
If my life had been a horror movie, this would be the point in the moviewell, one of the points, anyhowwhere the audience would be yelling at the charactersin this case, Heggy, Suisei, and myselfto not follow through with the obviously stupid thing we were about to do.
Leave it to Andalon to make that a reality.
No no no no no no, she begged, shaking and sobbing. Mr. Genneth please, dont go in there. Its in there, I can feel it. The darkness, its in there, and its stronger than ever! She darted around, pacing once more. Then she stopped again, whipping her gaze back to me. Its not safe!
More than ever before, I found myself agreeing with Andalon: she was right, it almost definitely was not safe.
But what else could I do?
Currently, I was existing as two of me. One of me stood in front of the airlocks plastic tunnel, its opening looming before us, as if awaiting our entry. The other part of me sat on a chair in my Main Menu, watching the goings-on through a window in the air. Andalon stood in between my Thin World self and the window, where she currently having a nice, big freak out. As much as I wanted to, I couldnt decouple myself from my body. I needed to be fully present out in the real world, which meant that both hypostases of my consciousness were completely aware of my hazmat suits sweltering, sweaty, sticky confines.
Ill admit it: I was scream-your-pants-off terrified. Just looking at the double doors beyond the plastic airlock had me feeling like someone was trying to pull my eyeballs out of my skulloptic nerves and all. And yet, my fear barely held a candle to Andalons. She was running circles around me in Thin World, shaking her hands and clapping her head, fretting like no one had ever fretted before.
Andalon, if we dont find a way to stop this incursion, the real world might very well end up like Lantor. I have to try!
In my Main Menu, Andalon ran up to me and tugged on my coat. Its not safe! Its bad, bad bad bad bad bad. Its evil!
You did a good job of being brave when we went through the memories of the rifts, I said. You can do that here, too.
No, I cant! she cried, shaking her head. Its back, its back, all the bad things are back, and theyre gonna hurt me, and then theyre gonna hurt you and
I placed my hand on her head.
Her lips trembled.
said. I know youre scared, but Im here to help you, remember? My powers are getting stronger. Im saving more people than ever before. We have to take the next step, Andalon. We have to. Lifting my hand, I got out of my chair and went down on my knees, bringing my eyes level with Andalons.
W-Whats the next step? she asked.
I exhaled softly. You have to face the darkness.
She started to retreat from me, but I reached out and grabbed her hand, which got her to turn back and face me.
Im stronger than I was before. Im not saying Ill be able to beat the darkness, but we cant just keep running. Well never learn the truth if all we do is run. We have to take a stand.
But
Think about it, Andalon. So far, all this time, youve been running and running and running, right?
Yeah. She nodded, her eyes big and blue.
But what has that accomplished? Youve been chased and beaten and hounded. I looked at her with deep concern. One of these days, the darkness might corner you, and then what will you do? Where will you run then?
I Andalon stared at me in fear. I dunno.
I rubbed her head again, tussling her sky-blue hair. Well find out together, I said. Im tired of running. Im tired of being scared and confused.
But can we do that?
Catamander Brave was only a little older than you when he got thrown out into a strange place, all alone, away from everyone he knew and cared about. But he didnt give up. He persisted.
Andalon looked down at the floor in shame.
How can I be like Catamander Brave She shook her head. How can I be brave if Im scared? If Im so, so scared?
She locked eyes with me.
Being brave doesnt mean you arent scared, Andalon, it means not giving up, even if you are scared. I know its difficult but, would it be worth doing if it wasnt?
I I guess not. She quivered. Im Im just scared for you. So scared.
I smiled at that.
Then stay close. Ill do my best to keep both of us safe.
Andalon shook her head. No, Mr. Genneth, you dont get it.
I crossed my arms and lowered my head, meeting her eye to eye. Then enlighten me.
She sniffled Wha?
Explain it to me, I clarified.
She bit her lip. When you said the darkness was wanting to tack the Paradise, you were right. Andalon shook her head. I remember. It it breaks wyrmehs, and all the peoples in em go bye-bye forever. She looked up at the ceiling of sky. Its gonna do that here, too. Its gettin ready. And when it does, everyone will be gone and Ill be all alone again, and I, she stammered, I
I nodded. I understand.
She wept. But then why are you goin inside? You gotta run, Mr. Genneth. Eberybodys gotta run run run! Its
Remember what I just told you, Andalon. You cant keep running. I spread my arms at my sides. Look at us now? Where can we run, Andalon? Not even the worlds inside our minds are safe.
I Andalon lowered her gaze. I dunno. She furrowed her brow. I think I ran here, to get away.
And look, I said, the fungus is still attacking you. Brand and I have been able to hold back its advance in Lantorat least, forbut that wont make much of a difference if the fungus breaks through time and space!
But how are you gonna stop it? she asked.
I sighed. I admit, you got me there.
Got what? she asked.
It means you were right. And, to answer your question I dont know what Im going to do. But, Im gonna try my best. Thats all I can do. Its really all that anyone can do.
Andalon voice cracked, her blue bangs swaying over her brow. But what if you cant?
Well then well have to run as fast as we can.
Okay Andalon said, in a shaky reply.
I stood up.
Mr. Genneth? she asked, softly.
Yes, Andalon?
I thinks youre really, really, super brave.
I smiled, trying not to cry.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
That my voice nearly broke. That means a lot to me, Andalon. Thank you.
Closing my eyes, I shut down my mental self, reducing myself to a single existence, back in my body, all sweaty and miserable. But as miserable as I was, at least I wasnt alone. I had my colleagues. I even had Andalon. She bunched up close beside me, with her arms wrapped around my leg.
As Heggy, Suisei, and I stood outside of the plastic tunnel leading into the lobbys double doors, you would not have been wrong to point out that I met nearly all the criteria for being a superhero. I had a flashy outfit, wild superpowers, and a drive to help people that sometimes caused more trouble than it was worth. I had my teammates, too.
My squad.
I had Heggy Marteneiss, with her military training, her sharpshooters eye, and her indefatigable spirit.
I had Suisei Horosha, with his own mysterious powers, crystalline mind, and peerless stealth.
If my life had been an action movie, this would have been the scene that would have gotten my kids pumped up. All three of my children had fallen in love with the Primo Cinematic Saga without failthat big-budgetest, blockbustrious of all big-budgeted, blockbuster superhero movie franchises. Their rated-E-for-everyone tales of men and women in flashy armor snarking left and right as they hopped between dimensions, battling everything from vindictive ancient gods to armies of sapient submarines had dominated pop culture for over a decade, and had breathed new life into what it meant to be a superhero.
I just hoped I could live up to the hype.
I was staring down a great unknown, and worlds were at stake: my world, Paradise, and all the others.
Heggy was the one with the goods: carrying the insulated messenger bag holding our batch of mycophage ampules, and twin, alcohol-filled spray bottle holstered at her hips.
Not knowing what lurked behind the static-streaked screens did not sit well in my stomach. But then again, thats exactly why I was doing this in the first place: to get answers, and to avert catastrophe.
Assuming catastrophe could still be averted.
Still, I made a point to not to think about all the frightening, anomalous things Id seen before the signals had cut out, because if I had, it would have had me leaking resolve like a broken bucket.
Just like Andalon said, I was being brave.
Heggy stepped toward the airlock.
Are you certain you want to do this, Dr. Marteneiss? Dr. Horosha asked.
Hell no! Heggy answered. But thats not the point. The system is there for its people, and the good folk in therethe patients and our colleagues?theyre our people. Going in after them isnt optional. It would be that way even if my brother was here on the outside, safe and sound.
Dr. Horosha nodded. Understood.
Alright, she said. Lets do this.
We stepped into the tunnel. The way the ceilings fluorescent lights shone down on us, streaming through the tunnels translucent plastic, made it feel like we were walking through the clouds.
Our destination? A doorway in the sky.
It was only a couple of footsteps to the other end of the tunnel. A chill trickled through me as I reached for the handle. Tingles danced at the base of my clawtips.
Heggy stepped beside me. Genneth if youre feeling any apprehensions, just remember: always keep on talkin.
Her words pulled me back into the moment.
If you keep on talkin, then you keep on truckin, she added. Dont let yourself go all stir-crazy.
Andalon skittered through Heggys body, coming to huddle in the safety of my shadow.
I couldnt help but stare at Dr. Marteneiss hand as Heggy reached for the door.
Slowly, she pushed it open. Strange, she said. Its cold.
The doors swung inward, clearing the waybut none of us moved.
Bite me Heggy swore, with a sigh. Her words clung to the air.
Though Ward E was not my usual stomping grounds, Id grown immeasurably familiar with it in the past week. I knew the double doors in front of me almost as intimately as I knew the door to the bedroom at home. Hardly a day had gone by where I hadnt walked through these very doors at least half a dozen times. With all that experience, I knew that when I opened those doors, I should have seen Ward Es lobby. It should have been there, as surely as dawn came after dusk.
But the lobby wasnt there, and what was there was utterly, utterly wrong. When I say that, I dont mean that it looked different or had some other twist to it that made it other than what Id expected it to be.
No.
When I say it was wrong, I mean that there was a completely different room on the other side of those doors: a hallway. A long hallway, long enough that the seams where the floor and ceiling above and below formed a great X whose center receded, away, away, to a vanishing point whose end I could not discern.
And that barely scratched the surface of the wrongness.
Umbras obscured the hallways depths. The lights in the ceiling flickered on and off, setting a pale green haze aglow in hair. The spore clouds hung in the air like an esurient specter. The walls were covered in dark, fungal growths, crooked and gnarled, like the trunks of ancient trees. Cracks ran through the floor and ceiling where the fungus tumid branches delved into the structure. The floor was littered with flakes of paint and chunks of molding, doubtless having fallen there after the fungus growths had sloughed them off the walls.
On a hunchcurious to see what would happenI thickened my wyrmsight, just a little bit.
This proved to be unwise. I inhaled sharply, cursing under my breath as I thinned my wyrmsight, making my vision mundane once more.
Through my wyrmsights lens, the darkened hallway was at once both the brightest and darkest thing Id ever seen. It was paradox incarnate. The open corridor sucked up energy like a vacuum wind, dragging it into itself in wisps and threads.
But that wasnt all. During my brief glimpse, Id noticed some of the pataphysical threads of Suiseis electrostatic anti-spore shell had been coming lose and wafting away. The energy shell unraveled as our surroundings tugged at its woven music, unwinding the threads and pulling them away. The effect began right as Heggy had opened the door.
Though Id thinned my wyrmsight away as quickly as I could, the pain of staring at that impossibly bright darkness persisted, leaving a slow-to-fade, baleful aftertaste all over my head and eyes.
For a while, none of us said anything. Andalon clung tightly to me, keeping her face buried in the back of my leg. Standing there, I felt like a glass jar filled with candy, poised at the edge of a cliff, teetering left and right, at risk of plummeting into a bottomless ravine. The candies were the souls stored within me, pressing up against some inner glass, given weight down by the darkness ravenous pull. Barriers within me trembled, as if Id shatter any moment, freeing the spirits within me to be sucked up by the void.
With a gulp, I stuck my arm into the hallway. A chill wrapped around my hand.
Tell me Im dreaming, I said.
I wish you were, Suisei replied.
There was fear in Dr. Horoshas eyesbut not the same as mine, or Heggys. No, his fear was that of a soldier remembering his traumas, or perhaps staring down the face of an old enemy.
He sigh.
I looked Suisei the eyes, but he quickly glanced away.
After exchanging a couple more stares, curiosity got the best of us, and we stepped forward.
Bending my neck forward, I groaned as a piercing pain struck my skull. Everything buzzed. I felt like aluminum foil in a microwave. I vibrated, as if I was receiving a signal. The sensation was so overpowering, it took me a moment to recognize it for what it was: a ghost was bubbling up within me. And something within that ghost was screaming to be free.
Are you alright? Heggy asked.
I nodded. Sorry, Im just feeling a little lightheaded, I lied.
I sighed. At least this problem was something I could fix.
Heggy and Suisei disappeared as I grew a second consciousness and recentered myself into a hastily assembled Daydream Alley, leaving my body in charge of a decoupled doppgenneth. This wasnt an issue; it would only take a moment, and then I would be back in the drivers seat.
The next thing I knew, my reality was me standing in Daydream Alley with Andalon and the ghost. Given my extremely spooky surroundings, instead of copying where I was, Id whipped up a generic WeElMed hallway to serve as the backdrop for receiving this ghost. I figured it would be rude to just put the spirit on mute, so the plan was to quickly sequester them spirit in Daydream Alley and then swap out with the dopplgenneth, who could then work with the ghost while I focused on dealing with the madness out in the real world.
What lurked in those dark halls, I wonder?
Andalon hid behind my leg as I turned to face the new arrival.
I immediately wanted to switch places with her.
I gasped.
Its not every time that your childhood hero walks toward you, in plain view. I tried to speak, but could only stutter. I ended up clearing my throat rather loudly, which succeeded in catching his attention, Him being Mr. Kosuke Himichi.
Mr. Himichi was younger than hed been when we last met. The Mr. Himichi I now faced was the one Id known in the latter parts of my adolescence, at the height of his powers st comfort on the far side of middle age. streaked his hair where it stuck out beneath his even blacker beret. was dressed in near-monochrome: a muted, beige-gray vest atop a darker pair of gray slacks, with a white dress shirt underneath, collar crisply folded. he soft twists on his black tie
pressed his hand down on his beret, as if to steady himself. Dr. Howle? he muttered, staring at me through his rounded rectangular glasses.
I exhaled sharply. Emotion twitched at my lips.
After Andalon and I kicked the fungus in the buttassuming we figured out how to kick it in the buttit would be the honor of my life to guide Mr. Himichi to his well-deserved afterlife.
I guess I just had on more thing to fight for.
Closing my eyes, I willed everything to pause. I could deal with this later, and there was no way I was going to do it through a doppgenneth. No, this was gonna require my full attention, so it would have to wait for later.
Who is that? Mr. Himichi asked.
My eyes fluttered open. I looked around in shock.
We were still in Daydream Alley.
For a second time, I willed the mind-world away.
Im now returning to my physical body, I said, under my breath.
But nothing happened.
Andalon crept around my leg to look up at me. Mr. Genneth?
Leaning forward, Mr. Himichi smiled. She speaks!
Meanwhile, my heart was racing. I kept trying to recenter my consciousness in my body, but nothing happened. Neither my physical body nor its mental accoutrements were obeying me.
Andalon, whats going on? I asked. I lowered my voice to a whisper. My powers arent working.
Mr. Himichi approached us. I, also, would very much like to know what is going on.
My lips trembled. I was embarrassed and terrified all at once. I felt like I was about to cry.
Its the darkness, Mr. Genneth, Andalon whispered. Its attacking. Its making things horrible! She shook her head. Nothing works. Nothing works!
I guess the fungus had struck first.
Oh fudge, I muttered. I think I might have just walked into a trap
Mr. Himichi scratched his chin. It seems your wa has been disturbed, Dr. Howle, he said, pointedly.
I sighed. You have no idea.
135.2 - Deine N?he nicht verweigerst
Mr. Himichi and I sat cross-legged on the floor, with our backs to the corridors wall. Andalon sat between us, scared and confused. Even so, I was deeply appreciative of her presence. Had I been on my own, I might very well have died of embarrassment.
How long had it been since Id begun rattling off explanation after explanation? Fifteen minutes? Fifteen years?
Probably somewhere close to the former.
The fact that it was Mr. Himichi made it plenty awkward already, and whatever the fungus had done to make my powers go on the fritz was only making it worse. With my other ghosts, when Id told them they were now data floating around in my mind, a short demonstration of the god-like powers I had within my mental realms quickly banished most of their doubts. Unfortunately, the fungus attack seemed to have disabled my ability to manipulate the Daydream Alley Mr. Himichi and I were in. I couldnt even sense the dopplegenneth manning my physical body, assuming there even was one.
As far as I knew, I might have been in the middle of a grand mal seizure out in the Thick World.
I really had been sent back to square one. I couldnt recenter my consciousness, nor create more dopplegangers or decouple or recouple with them, nor make, access, or manipulate mind-worlds.
I lowered my head in dejection. You must think Im crazy, I said.
But Mr. Himichi crossed his arms. No, Genneth, I dont think youre crazy. He glanced at Andalon. Ive had a lifetime of night terrors and vivid dreams; I can assure you, this is not one of them.
The tiny, tiny part of me that hadnt yet been torn to pieces by stress and terror screamed with glee that my childhood hero had just called me by name. Unfortunately, that part of me really was tiny, and the stress and terror were very much not.
Its like Im in the Incursion in Lantor all over again, I said, suddenly stopping to stare. Fudge, thats a scary thought. When Heggy, Suisei, and I entered the Lobby of Darkness, did we step into a real-life incursion?
He nodded. That makes sense.
I stared at him. Wait, really?
Sense is relative, not absolute. Compared to everything you have told meAndalon, transformations into wyrms, demons, a War in Paradise hummingbirds it, he nodded again, it tracks. He raised a finger. Now, if you were my publisher once again trying to suggest what my next story ought to be Id tell you were out of your mind. Mr. Himichi narrowed his already narrow eyes. I mean, really, Ampersandalon?
I swallowed hard.
I am curious, though, he continued, do you really believe Cats story is somehow connected to all this?
Yeah! Andalon said, rather cheerily.
My shoulders slumped. At this point I looked up at the ceiling, I dont even know anymore. I shook my head. The truth is so twisted and convoluted, I doubt Ill ever be able to understand it all. I glanced back at him. Though Im never going to stop trying.
Mr. Himichis prying eyes must have noticed me clenching my fists, because he then said, But thats not the only thing thats bothering you, is it?
I swallowed hard. This is my fault, I said. So much of this is my fault, and not just the current crisis. I sighed. A couple days ago, I managed to blackmail my boss to get him to consent to provide treatment to children even if they didnt have medical insurance. A lot of them were inside the lockdown zone. I imagine theyre dealing with a fate worse than death by now. The darkness will turn them into demons or worse; whatever it is, it wont be good, which is all the more reason why Im upset with myself.
I sighed again.
If Yuta were here, hed probably be upset with me for having taken a step back.
Sorry for ranting, its just
Mr. Himichi waved his pipe at me. Stop talking and get back to venting.
I smiled weakly, only for my effort to collapse in misery as I vented my guilt.
I should have known better, I said. I shouldnt have assumed the &alon rift was what I thought it was. I screwed up! If Id been more attentive and analytical, maybe maybe I could have prevented this from happening.
And now
Mr. Genneth, Andalon said, Mr. Oota told you not to be so angry with yourselves.
I sighed. Youre right, Andalon, he did. I shook my head. Yeah, nono more backsliding for me. This isnt my fault. Theres no way I could have known.
Have you finished resolving your character arc? Himichi asked.
Maybe, I said, but then I slapped my head with a cupped hand. You know what it is? Im frustrated that I need to be out there, but Im stuck here! I ran my fingers through my hair, scratching my scalp. There has to be something I can do.
As if on cue, a wave of lightheadedness rushed through me. I blinked, and suddenly, where there had once been Daydream Alleys hallway lights, now, there was only darkness.
You might want to consider turning on the headlights, Heggy said.
She pointed to the touchscreen built into the forearm of her suit before tapping the Light icon.
I looked around in shock.
I was back in Thick World. There was no mistaking the feeling of my barely inhuman body.
Heggy stared at me while Dr. Horosha turned on his headlights. Is everything okay? she asked.
I gulped and then turned on my own headlight. Andalon flinched as the bright light passed through her.Stolen story; please report.
Honestly, Heggy, I sighed, no, Im not. Im barely human on the inside anymore. Its its a lot. I surveyed my surroundings. Whatever is going on here, its interfering with some of my mental abilities.
Suisei shot me a wide-eyed stare as he realized my words implied Dr. Marteneiss already knew about my condition. For a second, I thought Suisei would admit to having known about it, but he kept mum.
The lights streaming out from the tops of our visors eased my anxiety somewhat, but not nearly as much as I would have liked, and they hardly did anything to dispel the shadows in the halls depths. It was like the darkness had a thickness to it.
Thats not the only thing thats being interfered with, Heggy said, as she walked up to one of the consoles mounted on the wall. Look.
We stepped closer. The consoles screen was beset with static and glitchy twitches, though most of the apps and options were still clearly visible on the home screen.
Try sending a message, I suggested.
Nodding, Dr. Marteneiss did just that. She started by sending a text message:
Ian, do you read me?
A red alert appeared a second later,:
Message failed to send. No signal. Please check with your service provider.
Wait, Heggy said, look, she pointed at the signal indicator on the screen, its not registering the Wi-Fi.
There was a rustling sound to my side. Turning, I saw that Dr. Horosha had taken out his PortaCon. He showed its screen to the both of us.
The same glitches were present, as was the lack of signal.
I pulled out my own console, only to find the same. Even our hazmat suits wireless connections werent registering, and they used DAISHUs network.
Andalon spent this whole time looking around nervously.
Well, thats certainly creepy, I said, with more than a hint of sarcasm.
We stowed away our consoles.
As I stuck my console back into my hazmat suits stomach pocket, I turned to see Suiseis headlamp pointed upward as he examined the growths that had burst through the seam where the wall met the ceiling.
It appears to be the fungus.
But thats impossible I said. How could something like this happenand how could it happen so quickly?
Dr. Horosha glanced at me. Take a closer look at the touchscreen on your forearm, Dr. Howle.
I did so; Andalon stepped aside, and stared at it, too.
What in the world? I turned to Heggy. Look at the clock!
She did. Holy crap. Youre right.
The list of new things I was learning today was starting to get pretty long.
Apparently, digital clocks could have grand mal seizures. A green LED display in the upper left-hand corner of the touchscreen on my hazmat suits arm showed the time in hours, minutes, and seconds. All of those numbers were currently rapidly cycling through different digits, zooming back and forth, as if time was riding a see-saw.
These suits keep time by wireless connections to atomic clocks, Dr. Horosha said.
I gazed into Andalons eyes and shook my head. Both our eyes were filled with worry.
I think we should go back, I said. We need to tell someone about this. I turned around to face the door, but then gasped.
No
What should have been the double doors closed behind us were now open of their own accord, and instead of the quarantine tunnel, beyond them lay the same foreboding hallway as the one in front of us. It was like looking into a mirror.
I felt myself begin to run, or scream, or somethingbut then Heggy grabbed me by the arm and pulled me close. Age showed its grip on her in the crows feet that encroached on her eyes. There was fear in her, but she didnt let it stop her.
Just keep talkin and keep walkin, she said, nodding slowly and solemnlymeeting me eye to eye. Whatevers happening She inhaled, short of breath. Panic wont help.
Neither will rushing, Dr. Horosha added. We should be prudent.
And so we were. We walked down the hallway slowly and methodically, keeping a close eye on our surroundings. I noticed that the walls seemed mismatched in places, as if theyd been thrown together from a motley assortment of different pieces that had no business being together.
As we walked, I could still feel Mr. Himichis spirit rattling around inside me. Something within him was dying to bubble up to the surface. But, try as I might, my mental abilities refused to function.
It was very disconcerting, to say the least.
Do you guys mind if I share a story? Heggy said, staring at our surroundings. I I need to do something to get my mind off all this.
We told her we didnt mind.
Genneth Ive told you about my combat tour in the Costranaks, right? Heggy seemed unsure of herself.
I nodded. Yes. You helped suss out the drug cartels jungle compounds.
But, she added, did I ever tell you how I nearly became an academic? She smiled.
I shook my head. No, you havent.
Ive always loved history, Heggy said. I was a history major in college, you knowfor a time. I switched over to biology and the pre-med track, but came away with a minor in history, regardless. Im proud to say my senior thesis on Privateer naval tactics durin Second Empire won first prize. She sighed. Sometimes, I wonder what my life woulda been like if Id spent more time in the service, orGod forbidacademia.
What? I replied. I think youd make a great academic.
On the outside, perhaps, she replied, but not in my heart. Not in my gut. I chose medical school and then became a combat medic cause I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to find that sweet spot in the big machine of life where I could be the most useful.
I glanced at Andalon. She was still looking around warily, but less so. Something about our camaraderie seemed to have calmed her.
Why did you return to civilian life? Dr. Horosha asked.
Because I get to see my patients go home. And because I dont need to think about all the people I didnt treat, or all the people I had to kill.
Heggy stopped walking, and we stopped with her. She glanced down at the floor for a moment. I need to get this off my chest now, she said, with a cough, or, Im afraid Ill take it with me to the grave.
She locked eyes with me.
I served a combat tour in Trans-Dalusia, she said.
Trans-Da I stammered. You were part of the fight against Lal-Baham?
The one and the same, Heggy said, with a nod. Along with all the rest of the damn Biyadi insurgency. She sighed, briefly fogging up the inner surface of the plastic window in her hazmat suits helmet.
The air here was terribly cold.
People often say that war is hell, Genneth, but they dont nearly as often go into the reasons why. Especially the hard ones. Yeah, fear burns through worldviews like acid. If you take to battle long enough, soon, every inch of dusty road will feel like its littered with landmines. Every mountain cave might as well be teeming with insurgents, waiting to pump you full of lead and worse.
But you seem to have surmounted that fear, Dr. Marteneiss, Suisei said. You are stronger for it.
But Heggy shook her head. Dr. Horosha, in the grand scheme of things, fears just another emotion. Theres far worse things to fear than fear itself.
She looked around the shadowy hall. As we got deeper and deeper into this seeming endless place, the darkness encroached us. Our lights seemed to grow weaker and weaker.
Right now, for example, Heggy said, Im fuckin scared out of my mind right, but if I go to choose, Id pick this moment over any of my tours as a combat medic, even the nice ones; the laughs in the mess; the smiles from people who knew we were there to help. Id pick this over them without a second thought.
Why? I asked.
Gently, she placed her free hand on my shoulder, and then on Dr. Horoshas.
Because, as dark as all this might be, at least here, we know where we stand. Its no trouble for us to say whats right and whats not. Heggy patted the mycophage ampule case. Boys, Heggy said, war is hell because it robs us of any place worth standin in. War saps the moral order out of things. There aint no such thing as winning when everyones fighting to survive. That sort of world isnt one I want to live in. Thats thats why we gotta persevere, here. We cant let things fall apart. We just cant.
Heggy and I locked eyes once more.
Dr. Horosha, however, had gone a bit ahead, his attention focused elsewhere. He turned around to face us. There has been a development, he said.
135.3 - Deine N?he nicht verweigerst
What is it? Heggy asked.
Suisei pointed further down the hall.
We walked up beside him to look around the corner for ourselves.
There was more of the dark hallway ahead, seemingly identical to the corridor wed just walked down: no sign of life, dreadful cold; static glitching across the screens of the consoles mounted on the wall. But there was one key difference: a door was open. Light spilled from the doorway and into the hall. And not just light, but sound, too.
We stepped inside. Id barely turned to face the entryway when, once again, a wave of lightheadedness swept through me. I felt Mr. Himichis spirit push out from within myself.
I shook my head.
Many different sensations hit me all at once. Cold night air chased away my hazmat suits unpleasantness. The stifling heat and moisture was gone, with only the slightest trace of dampness to the wandering breeze. I smelled petrichor beneath me, along with moss, grass, and loam, and the pungent scent of sap-oozing pines. The wandering breeze carried just a hint of ramen, savory and delightsome. It was made with pork and water chestnuts, and some madman had the wild idea to put a dash of cinnamon in it.
It wasnt until Mr. Himichi spoke up that I realized something was out of the ordinary.
Standing in front of me, he gawked. Why do you look like that?
I started to say, Look like what? but stopped when I felt a tail swaying behind me, and the nice feel of the moist grass against the underside of my tail-tip.
A quick glance down at myself revealed a familiar set of clothes: chainmail armor, beneath a long overcoat, with pangolin scales on the back of my hands.
I was back in the body of my Lantor character!
Mr. Genneth? Andalon asked. Where is this?
I turned to face her, grass crunching underfoot.
My mouth hung agape.
We stood in a beautifully manicured park, in the heart of a city whose grandeur rivaled Elpecks. It was a dream of silicon and steel. Digital billboards plastered at skyscrapers waists played their advertisements into the night. The park was in the Munine style, kept at the edge of ruin, somewhere between nature and civilization. Half of the park wrapped around a quiet pond, over which a Moon bridge curved. Lights hidden in the flowerbeds illuminated pastel-colored flowers: mauve fuji, languorous and resplendent; effusive sakura, the color of true loves first kiss. A half-disk of Moon quivered on the water, the rest hidden behind a towering pagoda.
The view pulled my eyes skyward, first to the searchlights swaying in the distance, then to the roar of an approaching aerostats engine. The aerostat passed over us, roving its searchlight through the night. I noticed the aerostat was of antique make, recognizing it from one of the miniatures Heggy kept in her office.
Mr. Himichi looked up too, gazing even higher than I had.
Oh my he said.
I gasped softly as I saw it, too.
There were stars in the sky, though they werent like what Id seen in Yutas memories. These were dimmer. Their lights were thinner, and less splendid, with many of the details washed out. But, even so, countless stars still remained, twinkling and twinkling.
Was something harming them? Was this place doomed to lose its stars? Would this night lose its magic and become as cursed as ours?
But while I was busy worrying, Mr. Himichi was having an entirely different experience.
Hed never seen stars before.
Wha what magic is this? he asked, in a whisper, as he stared at the star-swept sky.
Theyre called stars, I said. Beautiful, arent they? I quickly explained what Id learned about them from Yuta.
And to think, our Night denied us this serene tapestry, Mr. Himichi said. What a cruel fate, to be left ignorant of the world and its beauty.
But why are we here? I asked.
Youre asking me? Himichi said. One minute, Im sitting in a hallway with you and Andalon, the next, Im here, and you look like he shook his head and shrugged. That.
I didnt do this, I said. I didnt bring us here. At least, I dont think I did. I turned to face him.
Speaking of which, where was here, exactly?
Though a quick check revealed my mental powers still werent working, my memory was as perfect as ever. Closing my eyes, I briefly went over all my memories, breezing through my whole life.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
A week ago, this would have left me a panicked, gibbering mess. Now, it was just part of the daily grind.
This place isnt from my memories, I said. Id remember it if it was.
In between here and the hallway, I was back in the Thick Worldthe real world.
Inside the locked-down lobby? Himichi asked.
Yeah, I nodded.
But why do you look like this? he asked.
As I told you, I can create worlds inside my mind. One of them happened to follow tabletop RPG rules, and, well I scratched my neck scales with my claws. This is my charactera half-pangol cleric.
You took this form when you were exploring that creation of yours, correct? Landor?
Lantor, I said, emphasizing the T.
But then I groaned as the whole world seemed to pulse. I felt an unseen presence looming over me, massive and might.
Oh no I muttered.
What? Himichi demanded.
Mr. Genneth! Andalon yelled. Somethings coming! Lots of things are coming!
Fudge I cursed.
What is it? Mr. Himichi asked.
I I looked around nervously. Like I told you, the fungus was trying to attack me by way of Lantor. It must have pulled me back in. I bit my lip. It looks like my hunch was right. The fungus is behind this. I gestured at myself. That must be why Im in this form. I pursed my lips. I wonder if I have my character abilities.
Closing my eyes, I focused and then muttered a prayer under my breath, in an attempt to cast . I was rewarded with the appearance of several motes of glistening light and much-needed feelings of strength and fortitude rushing through my limbs.
So, things werent completely hopeless.
A momentary meditation confirmed that my spell slots were all fully charged. I could even feel the energy of my ability coiling in my chest. I had three uses of it left before I would have to rest to refresh the ability.
But then Mr. Himichi spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. I know this place
Wait this is your memory?
Yes and no. I know this place; I could never forget it. Mr. Himichi smiled fondly. This is the public garden in Noyoko where my mother took me as a child, and where I took Lily. It is where we fell in love. He pursed his lips as he looked up.
How can that be? I asked. Your memories wouldnt have starsunless the fungus has altered the timeline.
How would I be able to know if it had done that?
I have no idea, I said. Are there any other differences you can detect?
Speak of the Norm, right as I asked that question, Mr. Himichi narrowed his eyes, focusing his gaze at something in the distance. Wait no. He shook his head. Thats not possible.
I was about to ask him why when I was struck by a wave of dizziness stronger than any of the ones before. The next thing I knew, I was multiplied once more. I was in two dopplegenneths, one in this mental realm, the other, in the hallway with Heggy and Suisei.
I think my attempts to use my mind-powers had worked; theyd just been delayed.
Dr. Howle!? Mr. Himichi yelled, rushing toward me.
Tuning in to the part of my awareness that was in my physical body, I realized hardly any time at all had passed out in the real world.
Andalons eyes narrowed. Mr. Genneth theres something weird with Mr. Michi.
Yeah, I can tell, I said.
Are you okay? she asked me.
Yes, but
Mr. Genneth, this feels really imporptant. It it feels like Andalon. Somethin its somethin Mr. Michi knows, but he doesnt know that he knows
Out in the real world, I groaned.
Genneth? Suiseis voice echoed through the darkness.
I shuddered. Everything twitched and ached as the fungus interference intensified. With each passing second, it became more and more difficult for me to maintain simultaneous awareness of both copies of myself. It was as if the hallway itself was eating away at the connection.
I yelled at my mental self.
Decouple! Quickly, decouple!
Ill take care of the mess out here. You figure out whats going on with Mr. Himichi.
We can
I groaned in pain
We can reconvene later!
Right!
My consciousness bifurcated as I let the connection break. Part of myself would keep command of my physical body while another part of myselfthis partwould stay here in starry-skied Noyoko.
At least, I hoped it would.
The instant I decoupled, everything calmed. I stopped feeling like one man with two heads, andmore importantlythe distortions and all the pain that came with them almost completely died away. I could still feel the interference in the distance, and any attempt I made to reach out to my physical self left me feeling like Id just stepped into a storm of molten glass.
Back in the night-garden, under the stars, I fell to my knees beside the silent pond, panting for air. Andalon did the same, her blue hair drooping around her.
Are you alright? Mr. Himichi asked.
Gradually, my breathing calmed, as did Andalons. Rising to my feet, I looked Mr. Himichi in the eyes. I think I will be, I said, once you tell me whats not possible.
The city skyline is wrong, Mr. Himichi explained. Some of it is recognizable, but there are differences. He pointed. Look! Thats the
Angels Breath, he was right.
Thats the Tokuwatsu Palace! I yelled.
The grand palace of the ancient Soran Empires castle stood in the distance. Its central pagoda rose like a premonition of the skyscrapers that now flanked it and its wooded gardens.
It was burnt to the ground along with the rest of old Noyoko, back when darkpox first came to Munine shores, Mr. Himichi said.
But this building was no ghost.
The more we looked, the more anomalies we saw. The Tokuwatsu Palace was far from the only ancient building that should have been destroyed centuries before, but hadnt.
Wait, I said, wheres the Got6 store?
Mr. Himichis eyes widened. Youre right! Its gone.
And Tensoka districts world-famous high rise department store wasnt the only modern monument that was missing.
The New Millennium Train Station?
Gone.
The Great Lassedile Temple of Noyokothe crown of the forested hills?
Gone.
How can this be? Himichi asked.
Then a voice spoke. It was the voice of a behemoth, one that made the ponds waters ripple and rumble. Giant footsteps shook the ground beneath our feet, making the parks trees shivered in terror. The vibrations knocked me onto my knees.
Dr. Howle!
Mr. Himichi tugged at my sleeve with one hand, while pointing up with the other.
I raised my head to look.
Oh fudge I muttered.
My mental selfs heartbeat shot through the roof.
That presence Id felt looming over us? It had come into view.
Mr. Himichi whispered as he stared: Kaiju.