ã€ŠWorlds of Mebar - Book 1: The New Alephã€‹


 Prologue

    Most people probably didn¡¯t grow up with a memory of having visited a parallel universe. Nathan Sanchez had. He wouldn¡¯t have called it that at the time, but that¡¯s what it was.

    His dad had taken him along on a trip to pick up dinner at Sonic Burger. It was hard to find those back then. It¡¯s impossible now, obviously. Nathan couldn¡¯t remember what was special about their food, but had a vague notion that they had good milkshakes.

    But that¡¯s not important. After they finished at the drive-thru, Nathan asked his dad if they were going to go back home now. He was probably just wondering if they were going to do any other errands, get groceries on the way, something like that. It was a long drive from their house to Sonic, all the way from San Diego to Santee, so maybe that¡¯s why he asked. He was only four at the time, best he could remember, but the administrative part of his brain had become fully active much sooner in life that in most people. Probably why he spent most of his adult life in government.

    But that¡¯s also not important. What is important is how his dad answered the question.

    ¡°Well, we¡¯re actually going to go to a different home.¡±

    ¡°Different home?¡± Nathan asked.

    ¡°Yeah! A house that looks just like our house, but a little different. With a mom just like your mom, but a little different.¡±

    ¡°Does it have a little brother?¡±

    ¡°It does! It has a little brother just like our house, but different. Everything will look the same, but it will actually be different.¡±

    Nathan had known his dad for all of his four years, but he still didn¡¯t really know him. He didn¡¯t know he was playing a game right now. He had seen Nathan¡¯s simple, obvious question as an opportunity to be silly. He was practicing the ¡°yes-and¡± improv technique, though he didn¡¯t know that¡¯s what it was called, or that it was a technique. It¡¯s where you agree to anything your partner says and then elaborate on it, often taking it to ridiculous extremes, then you see where the other person takes it next. He¡¯d probably learned it growing up as a middle kid among four siblings, where cleverness and cunning were crucial survival skills.

    Nathan didn¡¯t know any of this. He only knew that this was his father, and that he was strong and clever and focused. So, when he told him they were going to a house like their house but not their house, Nathan was fascinated.

    Nathan remembered pulling up to the dark driveway, looking at this house, this double. He studied it carefully, looking for differences. The similarities were obvious. Everything was similar. He was in awe, nearly to the point of fear. But his curiosity was beyond all that.

    They parked and entered, carrying the food. The walls and the lights and the sounds and smells were all so shockingly like those at Nathan¡¯s home. In the family room was a baby in a walker. It was made of four rings of red, blue, yellow, and green, stacked up into a cone shape, with a one-year old boy suspended from the opening in the top.

    This baby boy looked so much like Nathan¡¯s little brother, but he was not his little brother. It was some copy. Nathan looked closely for differences, and it looked like the walker was worn in inconsistent ways. A different scuff here, a different one there. The brother¡¯s hair was different. Maybe a lighter shade of brown. His cheeks weren¡¯t as round. His smile was a little different.

    Nathan turned and saw the mother. She looked just like his mom, sounded just like her. They all took the burgers and fries out of the bags and ate in front of the TV and Nathan¡¯s shock faded. He started to accept that maybe he was just going to stay at this copied house. Maybe he wouldn¡¯t see his real brother and mom ever again, but these ones were pretty close. His dad definitely didn¡¯t seem to mind eating and getting cozy with these doubles, so maybe Nathan shouldn¡¯t mind either. Also, it¡¯s amazing how eating fatty foods can calm anxieties.

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    Eventually Nathan was taken to a room just like his and he went to bed. When he woke up the next morning, he was sure it had all been a dream. There wasn¡¯t any worry or doubt. It wasn¡¯t until years later when he knew his dad better that he realized it had all actually happened. That he had fully believed he¡¯d entered a world parallel to his own, a duplicate, slightly different.

    Both that quick acceptance of the fantastic, and the learned mistrust that had grown out of the later revelation of the truth, were at play now. Now, in this imposter universe of Mebar.

    The acceptance was why he¡¯d had so little trouble with how this new universe worked. In many ways, it was just like the one they¡¯d all left. He could notice the differences here and there if he looked hard. Almost the same, but not. A world like the one a god or fate or blind chance had created, but one instead made by humans. Specifically, humans of the TAW organization, of which Nathan was a leading member. Or had been.

    He remembered when he¡¯d argued that calling the first world in this universe ¡°Prometheus¡± was trite and obvious. He remembered Carini telling him she was going to double Prometheus and then mirror it to create the foundation for a pet world-building side-project she wanted to work on with Tanaka. He remembered being doubly annoyed when she insisted on calling that mirror world ¡°Pan¡± to reinforce its place as an opposite. He remembered being relieved when she let Tanaka be in charge of naming all the cities in Pan, since he was much more inclined to be clever in such things.

    That was all the acceptance part. The mistrust part was why he was right now doubled over on his hands and knees, with deep cuts all over his arms and torso bleeding down into golden grass of a wide, dry valley. That mistrust drove him to insist that everyone should return the real world. To leave the copy. The fraud. The TAW¡¯s refusal had made him feel like a child again, just along for the ride and out of control, but he wasn¡¯t content to accept the copy this time.

    He¡¯d wanted to get to the door hidden in the cliff face ahead of him. Get inside and set off the special bomb he had strapped to himself. Get inside and destroy the control center for Prometheus and Pan and all the worlds he and his colleges had created. But unfortunately, one of his bosses, Dawson Benet, was blocking his path. As were two large men standing on either side of her, dressed like Secret Service agents.

    Nathan looked up at Dawson Benet, one of the four founders of the TAW. He looked at her stern, very English face, which was beading up with sweat because she insisted on dressing very English out here in a high desert. Neither she nor her two bulky companions carried weapons. They didn¡¯t need any.

    ¡°What are you going to do with me?¡±

    Dawson shrugged. ¡°The TAW can¡¯t die, so I can¡¯t kill you.¡±

    Nathan smiled, trying to show defiance through levity.

    Dawson¡¯s face softened. ¡°Why do you keep fighting us? Your insistence on going back doesn¡¯t make any sense.¡±

    ¡°Because I know what you want to do. You won¡¯t just keep everyone here for a couple hundred years¡­waiting until Earth is ready. You want to keep everyone here forever.¡±

    Dawson frowned. ¡°It¡¯s not just about letting Earth heal. Think of the resources we can put into education, now that we can end war in a moment, without any bloodshed. Here, food shortage will become an old legend. There will never again not be enough. Any amount of land, any amount of resources. Any need taken care of at the moment of desire. No hunger, no disease, any injury healed instantly, we may even be able to live forever. This is what humanity has been searching after for its entire existence. We finally have it. Here.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯ll of course run the place with unwavering integrity.¡± Nathan chuckled. ¡°Forever.¡±

    Dawson folded her arms. ¡°We¡¯ll do the best we can.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, no thanks. This world was supposed to be a place for us to wait. Staying here indefinitely is not a good idea.¡±

    Dawson nodded to one of the men standing beside her. ¡°When you see it, you¡¯ll understand.¡±

    The Secret Services look-alike reached out a huge hand and grabbed Nathan around his neck. His fingers almost went all the way around. The man lifted up Nathan off the ground and his vision closed in around him like he was falling into a black hole.

    Dawson took a step toward him as everything faded. Before he drifted off, Nathan heard her say: ¡°One day you¡¯ll wake up and see. But not for a very long time.¡±

 Chapter 1

    Fifth of May, M769

    --

    ¡°Your tone implies you believe him.¡±

    ¡°My tone?¡± lines formed on Detective Matthew Travis¡¯ face. He turned away from Detective Soma Dan, his partner at both Helison PD and in commuting home via transit shuttle. ¡°Dan, can you please switch off lie detector mode when you¡¯re talking to me. I don¡¯t believe him. And even though he was convinced he had to¡ªbecause of what that psychic told him¡ªit was still his decision to shoot the girlfriend. It¡¯s just, I find it interesting. Who¡¯s to say there aren¡¯t malevolent voices whispering in the ether?¡±

    ¡°I say there aren¡¯t.¡± Soma turned to look out the window of the shuttle car and past the reflection of frustrated lines around her oval eyes. Streetlights flashed by in a blur, houses moved past in a hurried walk, green hills behind everything sauntered by at their own, calm pace. Concrete, defined movements in her frame of view, following the principles of optics. Observable, measurable, non-deceptive principles. ¡°Police detectives don¡¯t chase ghosts and demons.¡±

    Travis shifted in his seat and looked back. They were near the end of this route, so the car was empty, just floating along in the grass-covered trough in the center of the road. Going where the transit system told it to go. Travis sighed. ¡°I know your husband believes in some stuff.¡±

    ¡°He was raised in a home that believed in Seven. But he grew up and left home and put away fairy tales.¡±

    The car was silent a moment. Travis lowered his voice. ¡°Did you put any fairy tells away?¡±

    Soma looked straight at his gray eyes, boarded in the light wrinkles of a grin.

    A dull, mechanical voice crackled over the car¡¯s PA: ¡°NOW ARRIVING. AT H-TWO-FOUR-ONE, HOUSE SEVENTEEN.¡±

    The car slowed and the door opened. Soma sighed and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

    Travis called out as she was about to walk off: ¡°You¡¯ve got a secret. Did you have a favorite of one of the old gods when you were growing up?¡±

    She held his gaze a moment, then turned and walked to the path leading to her house. ¡°No. And that¡¯s no secret.¡±

    Behind her she heard the shuttle¡¯s door shut and the electromagnets hum back to life. The hum faded as the shuttle moved down the road.

    As Soma approached her front door, she tried to think of something interested that had happened at work as she dug for her watch in her purse, which she didn¡¯t wear while working. She couldn¡¯t find anything in her head to think of, but she did find her watch faster than normal. She pressed the watch face against the gearlock on the door and twisted, listening to the clicking of the tumbler magnets and the deadbolt.

    She shut her eyes, drew in a breath, then opened the door and walked in. She heard one of those cheesy adventure shows her girls loved playing on the radio in the kitchen. This one was about a little girl that defended her home town from dragons. Or transformed into a dragon. Or defended dragons from her home town. She couldn¡¯t remember which, but she liked its music.

    It wasn¡¯t even a big deal, having Travis get on her case. It was tiny. She always let little these things bother her. Swinging the door closed behind her, she let out a sigh and dropped her purse on a chair.

    Her husband¡¯s voice came from the kitchen. ¡°Has something been going on downtown this week? You keep coming home really late.¡±

    Soma bit her lip as she walked to the kitchen, the radio getting louder. Alec was standing there, leaning against the island in the center, looking bored and annoyed. Sitting at the breakfast nook were their two daughters. The youngest, Melody, was doodling with an orange crayon in a coloring book. The oldest, Grace, was reading a book. Both were still wearing their school uniforms and both had their frizzy hair in stubby ponytails, which made Melody look like a miniature version of her sister. The cuteness of that thought did help calm Soma a little.

    She brushed past Alec to get a glass from the cupboard. She felt him looking at her as she filled it with water from the sink and she answered his question. ¡°The chief gave a longwinded lecture because there¡¯s a serial killer in Lieutenia. Has the public spooked.¡±

    ¡°Why are they bothering you about that? That¡¯s seven-hundred-K away.¡±

    Soma pivoted around to face her husband. ¡°Because he wanted us to be sure we knew how to answer people¡¯s questions. The killer is driving the Lieutenia police mad and the media is eating it up.¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t my choice!¡± yelled the radio sitting on Melody and Grace¡¯s table, then the show¡¯s dialogue dropped back to more muted tones. Tense music was slowly building. Soma wondered how Grace was able to read with the show playing right next to her.

    Alec mumbled something and walked over to look at what Melody was drawing. He looked down at his daughter but addressed Soma. ¡°I guess it¡¯s not as bad as a couple years ago. We only got to see you for maybe an hour every weeknight.¡±

    Soma¡¯s eye twitched. She took a drink from her glass as her forehead tightened. That wasn¡¯t a good memory. ¡°That won¡¯t happen again.¡±

    ¡°It will if your chief actually is worried that a killer like that will show up here.¡± He snorted a chuckle. ¡°You be thrilled to have a problem like that to solve.¡±

    Soma, her grip on the cup tightening, forced herself to lower it to the kitchen island very slowly and gently. ¡°Why do you say things like that?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s true.¡±

    ¡°No it¡¯s not. I¡¯m not a freak out for glory.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t say you¡¯re a freak. Just¡­obsessive about weird things.¡±

    ¡°How is that better?¡±

    ¡°Look, stop turning this into something it¡¯s not. I¡¯m just saying¡ª¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t like having murderers in our city. You may not be saying it, but you¡¯re implying it.¡±

    Alec shrugged. ¡°Well, you enjoy spending time chasing after them more than being here.¡±

    ¡°Stop it.¡±

    The room went silent except for the radio. Soma looked at her daughters. The older kept reading, as if she¡¯d heard nothing. Melody kept drawing, as if she¡¯d heard nothing.

    Soma looked down. This kept happening. She kept having these stupid arguments. Apparently, they were so common that her children just pretended they weren¡¯t happening. She was one of those parents now. She was turning their home, the place that was supposed to be safe, into a place where at any moment harsh, selfish words would be thrown out in anger.

    She walked out of the room. She leaned against a wall and forced herself to breathe as she listened to the protagonist on the radio sob out a complaint. ¡°I trusted you. But you lied to me!¡±

    She shut her eyes and clenched her teeth, but forced herself to breathe as strength drained out of her. She had to apologize. It didn¡¯t matter who was right or who was wrong. She was going to go in there and make peace right now.

    She breathed more easily as she stood up straight and opened her eyes. Clearing her throat, she readied to return to the kitchen when she jumped at the sound of a CRACK. It came from in the kitchen. She ran back in there.

    But no one was there.

    She frowned. Nothing was out of order. She saw the book Grace had been reading, sitting on the table next to the radio.

    ¡°Alec?¡±

    ¡°Make sure to subscribe so you don¡¯t miss the next episode of The Dragons of Angeles, releasing every Thursday morning data dump! Brought to you by¡ª¡±

    Soma turned off the radio, flooding the kitchen with silence. She looked out the glass sliding doors that lead to the yard but no one was out there. She looked through the door on the other side of the kitchen, leading to the small guest suite. No one was there. She turned back and looked at the kitchen.

    ¡°Melody? Grace?¡± She said the names louder, a little annoyance getting into her voice.

    No one replied. She looked down at the orange crayon sitting on the coloring book. Melody had been coloring a heron with it. Soma stepped over and picked up the crayon.

    She searched the entire house. The bathrooms. The storage room with their bicycles. The bedrooms upstairs. Alec had left his watch sitting on the nightstand, so she wouldn¡¯t be able to find him that way. She checked the closets in the bedrooms. She checked the cluttered, messy, funny-smelling office that no one except Alec ever went into.

    No one. Anywhere.

    She ran outside.

    ¡°Alec!¡±

    Silence. It was late and a Tuesday and no shuttles were humming along right now. The sky was fading from orange to blue and she couldn¡¯t hear any children playing outside.

    She ran to a neighbor. They hadn¡¯t seen anything. She went to another. They hadn¡¯t seen her husband or her daughters. She went to another and another, systematically going to every house within two houses of her house. No one had seen anything.

    Her forehead tight with frustration, she returned to her deathly silent home. She was hungry and needed to make dinner. Or she needed to ask Alec if he¡¯d already ordered something to be delivered. Or she needed to ask what Grace wanted, because she was eternally picky. She couldn¡¯t eat until she talked with them. With all of them. And she was tired. If she spent the whole evening running around looking for them, she¡¯d be exhausted at work tomorrow.

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    She searched every room in the house again. Each time she went into a room she felt an odd expectation. She rehearsed in her head how she¡¯d yell at them for hiding from her. But she¡¯d only be upset for a few seconds, then she¡¯d finally be able to relax. Another room, another blip of stupid, stubborn hope. Until there weren¡¯t any more rooms left.

    ¡°Why would he run off without saying anything?¡± she said as she came back into the living room. The room didn¡¯t answer back. Shehad been the one who was irritated during the argument, not Alec. He wouldn¡¯t have snapped and taken off with the girls over that. It didn¡¯t make any sense.

    Silence continued. She still held the crayon in her right hand, turning it over and over and turning the inside of her hand all orange. She looked down at her purse and watch. She sighed and picked up the watch with her free hand. She tapped the face twice and held it up in front of her. ¡°Emergency. Police Override. This is detective Soma Dan of Helison PD. I need to file a missing-person¡¯s report.¡±

    ***

    ¡°How can you believe the Name creates people just to send them to hell?¡±

    Susie frowned at Paul as she answered, ¡°The book talked about that argument. People always try to use it. But it¡¯s not like that. It¡¯s just that if he knows everything that¡¯s ever going to happen, then he knows that some people are going to go to hell. He knows even before they¡¯re born.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t like it.¡± Paul stood up and brushed sand from his shorts. So much for a romantic moment on the beach, very possibly leading to a romantic moment back home with him. Today had gone so well, too. A great day, that seemed to be leading toward a great night, was a much bigger deal for the two of them than most people. He instantly regretted standing up, because now he couldn¡¯t just focus on Susie¡¯s face. Now looking at her meant looking at all of her, with her just wearing short shorts and a t-shirt on her reclining figure.

    Most couples fell for each other and had sex and then took it a day at a time from there forward. Then, when they¡¯d decided they wanted to make it last, they¡¯d have a wedding reception and work out the logistics of turning in their credit halves to get the fertility treatment. Then they¡¯d have a child, maybe save up enough money to buy another treatment and have another. All very straightforward and simple.

    But not for Paul and Susie. They were followers of Seven, servants of the Name so the first time they slept together would mean they were married. And divorce was nearly forbidden, so there was a lot of pressure resting on the decision to pull the trigger on that first night. So much pressure that, starting a week or so ago, after four months of serious dating, following two years of being friends, Susie and Paul had started discussing it.

    Paul was on board. Susie was on board. But Paul was uneasy because Susie¡¯s father didn¡¯t really like him. Said he was too gloomy and irritable. Said a twenty-three-year-old should have higher ambitions than merely running a five-axis CNC machine at a watch shop. Susie would tell Paul about indirect, but decided statements her dad would make, like: ¡°I¡¯m sure Paul will be a wonderful husband for some girl someday,¡± or ¡°Oh, Sue, you¡¯ll eventually find someone who really knows you.¡±

    Susie didn¡¯t think much of these comments. She thought her dad was just being obnoxious. She trusted her dad. Paul did not. Paul felt family disapproval hanging over the whole situation like smoke from an approaching brushfire. The wedding reception that both families would be expecting one month after the marriage night might not be the time of celebration it was supposed to be.

    Paul wanted to hear her say, ¡°I love you and I¡¯ll marry you no matter what anybody says.¡± He was very confident she would have said that tonight if this current argument hadn¡¯t come up. But he was too stupid and stubborn to just say, ¡°oh, that¡¯s fascinating, my love¡± when she brought up theology that grated against his soul. No, he somehow had a stronger urge to clarify why he disagreed than to swallow his pride and take the girl home with him. Finally. Gloriously.

    It didn¡¯t matter anyway. She¡¯d know he was upset and would pry it out of him. He tried to regather his thoughts. They were arguing over an old controversy, apparently. Double-predestination, which she¡¯d read about in a found-book. An ancient book on theology. From Earth, so that made it special. To her. He concentrated on making his tone casual: ¡°It makes all our choices in life a tease. He should at least be as just as the Alephs.¡±

    Still sitting on the sand, Susie rolled her eyes. ¡°The Alephs. Mebar¡¯s gods. We might as well be living in Babylon. All these false gods people believe in. Alephs, the TAW, Irse, all that nonsense.¡±

    Paul frowned. ¡°Most people don¡¯t actually believe in all of those, other than the TAW I guess. But they still get held up as ideals.¡±

    Susie, facing the draining light to the west, shrugged. ¡°All I know is what the Remnants say. And don¡¯t worry, I still trust them more than some found book. And they say that the one and only god isn¡¯t some enlightened human who used hidden knowledge to rescue humanity, gain immortality, and let the tragic dead come back to life as monsters.¡± She snorted a dry laugh. ¡°He judges the living and the dead, and he¡¯s the only one who has a right to, because he¡¯s just. And he¡¯s good.¡±

    Paul put his hands in his pockets and looked at his sandaled feet. ¡°I wish I understood him better. Or that we weren¡¯t missing so much of the Remnants.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s still enough.¡± Susie stood up and stretched. Paul watched her, transfixed by her figure and natural grace in the execution of such a simple motion. He thought about how friends laughed playfully when they found out he believed in the Name, one of the old gods, as if he was telling them he was a fan of a team that never made it to the playoffs. He thought about how difficult it was to explain the whole, ¡°one time means marriage¡± to people. People who lived in a world where STDs had been eradicated centuries ago and pregnancy was deeply coveted.

    But then Susie turned to him and smiled and all the thoughts were washed away. ¡°Just remember. We don¡¯t know who the Name will save, so we can¡¯t give up hope. We try to save everyone. No matter how good or evil they may seem to us.¡±

    Paul nodded, but found zero comfort. He knew Susie did, but he didn¡¯t understand how. He wanted Susie to be wrong, but didn¡¯t know how to prove that she was. The Remnants were very difficult to read and understand.

    Susie took his hand and they walked down the beach together. Her tone changed. ¡°One thing¡¯s for sure. There¡¯s definitely evil in the world.¡±

    Paul dragged a little behind, Susie¡¯s hand hot and soft in his. ¡°You must have heard about the other killing.¡±

    Her grip on his hand tightened. ¡°She was from the neighborhood I grew up in. Thirty-one years old. In school to become a teacher.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s terrible.¡± Paul looked at the dimming western horizon.

    They went along, silent, for maybe a hundred paces. Susie took in a deep breath. ¡°I¡¯m getting pretty tired. You want to meet up again tomorrow for coffee? Memory Bean is supposed to have a new band playing.¡±

    The words killed his last bit of hope for the night. ¡°I¡¯ll walk you to the station.¡±

    Paul had a sharp pain in his forehead the entire walk. He was fuming as they walked past a dark cluster of touristy beach shops closed for the night. As the road curved around and a handful of shuttle cars came into view, Paul wanted to ask Susie why having a book be written on Earth made it special. The book didn¡¯t know about them. Then he imagined embracing Susie right there by a building and kissing her passionately in the shadow of a streetlight. Then he pushed that thought away as heat surged through him.

    Instead of doing anything remotely like that ludicrous fantasy, he walked along with her as they reached the shuttle station. Susie smiled and pulled her hand free from his and tapped her watch on the console next to the front-most shuttle car. She told it where she was going and got in.

    She leaned out to kiss him, a light, soft peck on the lips. ¡°I love you.¡±

    She disappeared into the shuttle and the door closed before Paul could reply. The shuttle floated off down the road.

    Paul was alone. His stomach filled with an unclear dread that something terrible was about to happen, possibly worse than going home alone, but that seemed unlikely. He ignored it and turned inland to walk toward his apartment in the cheap part of the beach district. The dread changed into anger toward himself. Dull, unfocused, anger that fed off of the spurned passion that was boiling inside of him.

    Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he sighed as he looked up at the stars. In an hour or so, light pollution laws would kick in and all non-safety lights would shut off. More stars would be visible. Right now, only the stars behind him, the ones over the ocean, were bright.

    He continued walking away from those heavenly lights into electric dullness. He cleared his throat and picked up his pace. He had some books he wanted to read when he got home, so he decided to let himself be distracted by that. He concentrated on the books, images of Susie and her voice on the edges of his mind, all of them laced with confusion and frustration.

    ¡°Excuse me,¡± said the low voice of a man off to Paul¡¯s side.

    Paul stopped, looking at a dark corner next to a closed sandwich shop. ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°Could you help me with something?¡±

    The man didn¡¯t leave the shadow. Paul couldn¡¯t quite make out what he looked like.

    ¡°Uh. It depends.¡± Paul took a step forward. He stumbled back as a black-shrouded figure lurched from the darkness and grabbed him. As the figure moved and passed under a street light for a brief moment, it almost looked like his skin was dark gray. The man was terribly strong.

    Paul was about to say something, but the man then brought a large, strong hand over his mouth and pressed down with so much force that his lips hurt from being pinched against his teeth. The man¡¯s skin felt like cold stone.

    Paul felt warm breath on his ear and heard the softly spoken words: ¡°I need you to be very, very frightened, my friend.¡±

    ***

    ¡°You¡¯re sure he wasn¡¯t angry?¡±

    Soma let out an indecipherable noise that was sort of a grumble, a rare occurrence for her, which was excellent evidence of how absolutely exhausted she was. She and Travis were on to their fifth shuttle station tonight. This was Circle Point Station, where five wide, cobblestone streets all converged at one point and a small park sat within the island of the central roundabout. Travis had been kind enough to come over during the night and help her search, even driving to her house to pick her up in his trike car that he only ever drove on the weekends down to the sea. She appreciated his selfless efforts, but now he was getting on her nerves. ¡°I was the one who was angry! He was just annoyed. That¡¯s it. That¡¯s as far as you could take it. He was not angry.¡±

    She walked a few paces away, then climbed up on top of one of the shuttles to get a better view. From here, she almost had a clear line of view down all five of the joining streets. Not that she could see much, with the low light hours in effect right now. Mostly just orange curb marker lights along the semi-gloss of the cobblestone and some widely-spaced, blue-hued street lamps. Apparently, a man and two young girls disappearing wasn¡¯t due cause to override an ordinance whose only noticeable purpose was to make the sky prettier at night. Probably because no one really believed Soma¡¯s family was actually ¡°lost.¡± Whether they admitted it or not, Travis and everyone else helping Soma sided with the missing persons officer at her own department. They¡¯d seen this happen a dozen times before, the officer had said.

    She should know that, he¡¯d said to her. She¡¯d helped in similar cases before, he¡¯d reminded her. He said that because he was an ass. The only cases like this she helped on were ones where the missing person was almost certainly dead. Her throat had filled with acid as she¡¯d fought the temptation to slam the butt of her pistol into his nose when he¡¯d said that.

    At least, despite no one really believing her, the department had everyone who was on duty with a patrol quad out on the streets looking.

    Travis walked up alongside the shuttle she was standing on and leaned against it. He chewed on his lower lip as he looked around. ¡°Well. Just because he didn¡¯t seem angry doesn¡¯t mean he wasn¡¯t planning something.¡±

    Soma adjusted her long, heavy coat tighter around herself and folded her arms. It had already been cold when they¡¯d started the search. ¡°I didn¡¯t hear the sliding door open. I didn¡¯t even hear the girls get out of their chairs. They just vanished. I was only out of the room for ten seconds. Fifteen at the most.¡±

    ¡°It sounds like you¡¯re trying to make a case for them poofing into thin air.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s what it felt like. I do have enemies. They could have been kidnapped.¡±

    Travis smiled. He looked up at Soma and caught her glare, which informed him that she didn¡¯t appreciate his levity. The smile shrunk. ¡°I don¡¯t think any of the folks you¡¯ve booked could afford to hire someone to kidnap your family.  Even if they could send out a commission like that from a penal colony. As far as I remember, you¡¯ve never worked in the narcotics or organized crime division. That¡¯s where they have money and crazy friends. There isn¡¯t a lot of money in good, old-fashioned murder.¡±

    ¡°Please do not talk about murder right now.¡±

    Travis went silent and all humor left his face. They listened to the buzz of some less than ideally functioning piece of electronics somewhere nearby. Soma couldn¡¯t see anything. No one was out walking. No one was out doing anything.

    She almost jumped as something broke the silence with a loud click and a deep hum. A shuttle parked a few rows in front of the one she was standing on had come to life and taken off, summoned by someone somewhere to pick them up to take them somewhere else. A person going about their business, no care at all for what was going on with Soma. She remembered not having any cares about what other people might be dealing with. She remembered even helping other people with their terrible problems while not really having a care for those problems. Years and years of watching tragedy happen to other people.

    ¡°I think he was cheating on me.¡±

    Travis stepped away from the shuttle and looked up at her. ¡°Oh.¡±

    ¡°But he still wouldn¡¯t do this. He wouldn¡¯t just leave. He knows how mad I¡¯d go if I didn¡¯t know they were okay. They would have found some way to call me by now. Grace is too stubborn and too practical to let her father go this long without letting me know they¡¯re alright. That¡¯s really what it is. It¡¯s not Alec; it¡¯s the girls.¡±

    Travis, still looking at her, nodded. ¡°Yeah.¡±

    She put her hands in her pockets and kept looking out over the streets. ¡°Something very wrong has happened.¡±

 Chapter 2

    Feeling horribly sleepy, Paul was forced awake by one strong, singular sensation: pain.

    He had to wake up because of sharp, stabbing pain in his wrists. There was a smaller pain in his neck muscles as he lifted up his head to look at his wrists. He found them clasped in shackles.

    He frowned and mouthed the word ¡°shackles,¡± then realized he could feel the ground with his toes. He looked down and pressed down with just the balls of his feet and a euphoric relief rushed down from his wrists and all over his body. As Paul started to piece together what was going on, he realized that eventually his calves would start burning. Soon he¡¯d have a choice. It would be the burning of his calves or the stabbing, tearing pain in his wrists.

    ¡°I used to try inflicting the torture myself. I didn¡¯t like it. Messy, disturbing. This is easier.¡±

    Paul lifted up his eyes again to find the hooded man with the gray face standing nearby. They were in a basement, one in the process of being finished, with framing set up against concrete walls on one side and stacks of drywall leaning against the other. There were a few work lights dangling from the exposed ceiling framing.

    Paul didn¡¯t remember coming in here very well. He remembered struggling and being hit in the head and then being moved, then just fragments of details. Just a mess.

    Paul had heard once that the way to keep a mugger from killing you was to talk to them, remind them that you were a person. He wasn¡¯t sure if it would work with a kidnapper with gray lizard skin, but it was worth a shot. He said the first thing that came to his mind: ¡°I don¡¯t want to be here.¡±

    ¡°I had a feeling you wouldn¡¯t open with begging for your life.¡± The man stepped in closer. Paul could see the texture of his face better now. It looked more like it was made from roughly cut stone, not from a reptile. And it really was gray. Dark gray. And the irises of his eyes looked like light blue stone. Sapphires. As he took in the sight, everything else going on disappeared. It was amazing and beautiful. If only the guy wasn¡¯t torturing him.

    Paul said the second thing that came to his mind: ¡°Are you human?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a bonded human. You¡¯ve heard of preyvedes, then, obviously.¡±

    ¡°Pray-veeds?¡± Paul¡¯s calves were starting to burn a little, but it wasn¡¯t too bad yet.

    The man leaned in further to put his mouth by Paul¡¯s ear. ¡°Comes from some old Slavic word. The preyvedes, that prey upon your needs. Heh. Sometimes they¡¯re called spirits.¡±

    Paul frowned. ¡°Spirits. Like ghosts?¡±

    ¡°See, that¡¯s the problem with this place!¡± the man walked away from him. ¡°Everyone¡¯s forgotten how the world is put together. People don¡¯t want to know about the things that might be outside their precious, little cities. They¡¯ve all forgotten. Well, at least the big cities.¡±

    ¡°Hey, uh.¡± Paul cleared his throat. Now his calves were starting to hurt. He shifted all his weight from one foot to the other to let one rest. It worked. He figured he¡¯d switch the other way in a moment. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about.¡±

    The man came in very close, his nose almost brushing Paul¡¯s cheek. ¡°I heard you. I hear you. I know you¡¯re hoping I¡¯ll be nicer because you¡¯re talking to me. That doesn¡¯t work on me, unfortunately. There¡¯s nothing you can do, extra, to remind me you¡¯re human. That¡¯s not why you¡¯re here. You¡¯re here for me¡ª¡± he pointed to himself, ¡°¡ªto educate¡ª¡± he pointed to Paul, ¡°¡ªyou.¡±

    ¡°About what?¡±

    ¡°About the injustice of the Alephs. You¡¯ve already started down the road. I¡¯m here to get your feet moving more quickly. Soon, if we¡¯re lucky, we¡¯ll arrive at our destination together.¡±

    He kicked Paul¡¯s feet out from under him and all of his weight fell down onto the fresh, momentarily-relieved wounds on Paul¡¯s wrists. Paul screamed and sucked in air and felt his fists clenching and every muscle in his body contracting and cramping. His head throbbed from the pain and his toes scrambled to find the ground again.

    He lifted himself back up, his calves were still burning, but some of the discomfort was gone because of the short rest they¡¯d been given. And his entire body shook as the pain in his wrists faded again. ¡°Please don¡¯t do that.¡±

    The man smiled and walked away. ¡°You used to believe that the Alephs were good, but now you¡¯re wondering if they¡¯re all monsters. If they¡ª¡±

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Paul had to take a few breaths after yelling out the question. ¡°I don¡¯t believe in the Alephs.¡±

    ¡°Seven?¡± the man¡¯s shoulders fell as he turned around to frown at Paul. ¡°You believe in Seven? I would have sworn you were thinking about the Alephs. Or at least the TAW.¡±

    Paul frowned back in confusion. ¡°How would you know what I¡¯m thinking?¡±

    The man ran his fingers across his stony cheek and smiled. ¡°My strange complexion isn¡¯t just for looks. It¡¯s part of a package deal. You were walking along...not thinking about the gods of this world, apparently, but thinking about Seven, and believing that¡­¡±

    The man smiled and held out his arms at his sides and paced while he talked. ¡°Yes, of course. How very old fashioned. Not the new gods, but the old ones. One of the big old ones. Not Allah or Jehovah or Rah, but¡­good old Seven. Oh! Yes, yes, you do believe that, don¡¯t you. Yes, that Seven is the son of Jehovah¡­oh, excuse me, ¡®The Name.¡¯ The All-Sustaining-One. Forgive my disrespect. Three in one, yet no special name for the third part. Anyway, now you¡¯re worrying that he may actually be cruel. That he may plan destruction for some people. A few special people that he selects to destroy over and over again, for all eternity. I know. I heard that last part from you and couldn¡¯t resist. Though I did, at the time, think you were talking about the Alephs. My mistake. But I knew I needed to talk with you. To tell you some things.¡±

    The man picked up a two-by-four and approached Paul, whose breathing quickened. His heart beat hard against his rib cage.

    The man smiled, as if he could feel these things as well and was excited by them, and lifted up the board. He then stopped a pace from Paul and held eye contact with him. ¡°I need to let you know that you¡¯re right, and that you are, in fact, one of the chosen ones set aside for destruction.¡±

    The man swung with a yell and hit Paul¡¯s left leg. Paul screamed, even though he didn¡¯t feel the pain from his leg right away. He first felt the pain from half-falling into the wrist shackles again. Then there was an ache throbbing in his left leg. And when he tried to put weight on that leg, the aching grew to a sharpness that exponentially increased until he discovered an undeniable fact that he could not put any real weight on it.

    So, all rest and relief came from his right leg. Suddenly, he realized that he should probably be praying right now. The thought was lethargic and unclear at first, but as the reality of the situation became clearer and clearer, the need to pray became desperate and intense.

    The man threw the two-by-four clanking against the concrete floor and then he headed for the stairway. ¡°Well, looks like you¡¯ve got me interested enough to go back to some old techniques. Don¡¯t worry. By the time we¡¯re done you¡¯ll be convinced I¡¯m right.¡±

    ***

    Soma sat in the chair Melody had been in about twenty-four hours ago. She was hunched over, looking down at the orange crayon as she turned it over in her hand. She was running scenarios through her mind, but none of them were any different from the hundreds she¡¯d already analyzed and thrown out during the last twenty-four hours.

    She was a homicide detective. A good one. But it was nearly impossible to put theories together when there was no evidence to draw from. Soma had borrowed some CSI equipment from the station and spent six hours today going all over her house, looking for anything. Precision, multi-band scanners. Micro-trace aerosol analyzers. A new cell tissue collector that could find a single, tiny flake of skin in a room and compare it to a list of entered genetic profiles.

    Nothing. No one except her family had been in the house in the last seventy-two hours. There was no sign of struggle. No sign of anything.

    She¡¯d sent emergency messages to all of her family and friends, everyone she knew. She¡¯d sent emergency messages to all of Alec¡¯s family and friends. She¡¯d sent messages to every parent of every child that might have had any interaction with either of her kids at school.

    She¡¯d spoken with nearly every grocer who worked at the market they visited twice a week. She¡¯d spoken with the gardening company that trimmed the bushes around the houses on her block. She¡¯d spoken with the managers of the transit system, asking them for copies of all security footage from every shuttle that had been within a kilometer of her house.

    That last conversation hadn¡¯t ended well. They told her that she was talking about hours of footage from hundreds of shuttles, and Soma had made some threats, then she¡¯d apologized. She¡¯d left the offices with nothing, because she¡¯d made an ass of herself and didn¡¯t feel like she deserved to be helped.

    That was the last thing she¡¯d done today, just an hour ago. The trike she¡¯d rented to be able to run around town quickly to do all this was sitting on her lawn, running down her account every hour she had it here. But she didn¡¯t care.

    There were a lot of things she should be upset about, but she was only upset about two things. One, that she couldn¡¯t think of a scenario that made any sense, and two, that she hadn¡¯t swallowed her pride and demanded the transit managers give her at least some footage.

    If she told Travis how her day had gone, he¡¯d probably be shocked at how much she¡¯d done. He¡¯d be impressed. But thinking about that made Soma angry. It didn¡¯t matter one bit how hard she worked. It only mattered if she found them. She wasn¡¯t doing this so that, in telling everyone how hard she¡¯d worked, they¡¯d understand that she¡¯d done all she could.

    Soma¡¯s hands were shaking as she looked down at the crayon. She was holding the little stick of orange very tightly, but resisted the temptation to snap it in half out of anger. She set it down on the coloring book Melody had been using.

    She was alone and powerless.

    ¡°Soma?¡±

    Soma jumped to her feet and fell backward against the sliding door. For a second she was afraid she would break through the glass. She looked up and saw Travis. She nodded, as if to answer his question of how she was doing, even though he hadn¡¯t asked it yet.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine. You startled me.¡±

    Travis took a step forward. He looked just as exhausted as she felt. He looked down at the floor, then over at the coloring book, at the orange heron on the page. ¡°Long day.¡±

    She nodded. She wanted him to comment on how hard she¡¯d worked, so that she could fly off the handle and cuss him out for getting his priorities all wrong. But he didn¡¯t. He just stood there.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what to do. It¡¯s only been a day, and already I can¡¯t handle it. I can¡¯t go¡ª¡± Soma trailed off. She stood there with her mouth still open, her eyes on the floor.

    Travis put his hands into his pockets and sucked in a breath through his nose. ¡°I have an idea.¡±

    Soma looked up at him. His eyes were red. It looked like he was fighting back tears. She frowned. ¡°Are you¡­are you okay?¡±

    He nodded. He took a step back and opened his mouth, then smiled, then frowned again. ¡°I¡¯ve been through something like this before. I just don¡¯t like seeing it happen.¡±

    Soma knew he was lying. But she played along. ¡°What¡¯s your idea?¡±

    Travis pulled his left hand out of his pocket. It was holding a crumpled-up note. He looked down at it a moment, then extended it out to Soma. ¡°I know someone who may be able to help. She knows¡­she knows some people who are very good at finding people.¡±

    Soma studied his face. He wasn¡¯t lying, but he was hiding something. ¡°Travis, this isn¡¯t another psychic?¡±

    He frowned, looking hurt. ¡°This is different. This isn¡¯t some paranormal stuff. Well, not exactly.¡±

    Soma looked at the outstretched note. She took a step toward it, trying to see what was written without taking it. But it was folded, so all she saw was a name: Viki. ¡°I¡¯m not going to some witch doctor that¡¯s going to spray holy water on one of my children¡¯s items of clothing, then throw it up into the air and go in the direction it seems to land.¡±

    A crooked grin snuck into the miserable, exhausted expression on Travis¡¯s face. ¡°No, nothing like that. But you will need to separate some things.¡±

    ¡°Separate? What are you talking about?¡±

    ¡°The spiritual from the strange. The very strange.¡±

    ¡°Travis, what the hell are you talking about? Are you suggesting this Viki woman will summon Irse herself, to come and tell me where my family is? Or will she tell me to try and trick Irse? Like in one of those stupid, old fairy tales?¡±

    The room felt silent. Travis didn¡¯t answer. Soma chuckled. ¡°I¡¯m so crazy right now I¡¯d almost be willing to try it.¡±

    Travis pursed his lips and stepped forward and placed the piece of paper right in Soma¡¯s hand. ¡°This person can help. Contact her. Please.¡±

    Soma stared right into Travis¡¯s eyes. He was afraid. What did he have to be afraid of? Unless¡­

    ¡°It was you.¡±

    Travis¡¯s face twisted up and he turned around. ¡°I have to go.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re the one. He was seeing you.¡±

    But Travis was already across the living room and out the front door. Soma took one more step after him before stopping.

    ¡°Coward.¡±

    ***

    Paul had developed a system. After the hooded, gray man had left, he¡¯d decided to try reaching up and grabbing the chains attached to the shackles around his wrists. It took grabbing on with one hand, then pulling himself up with that one arm, then grabbing higher up with the other, then so on until he had a solid grip with both hands and there was no pressure on his wrists or on his feet.

    Concentrating, he could hold on for only about a minute before his fingers became too tired and he¡¯d have to lower himself down to the ball of his right foot. After the first few times doing this, the strain had been so much and so strange, that he¡¯d been unable to even open his fingers once he put his weight back on his leg.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    He avoided looking down at his legs, though. His left was swelling horribly from the broken bone. Its foot was twice as large as the right, and all sorts of shades of purple, blue, and blue-green. He didn¡¯t even know bruises could turn green until now.

    But he did what he had to do. He would stand on the toes of one leg as long as his calf could last, then he would climb up and hold on to the chains with his hands. Back and forth, one after the other. All through the night and the day. The endlessness of the cycle and the pain had pushed him through cycles of determination, rage, despair, and exhausted sorrow. By this point, though, he was nearly numb.

    He didn¡¯t know how long he¡¯d been down here, but as best he could tell it had been at least a day. He¡¯d actually fallen asleep while still holding on tight to the chains above him, which shocked him. He couldn¡¯t tell if those stretches had lasted two seconds or twelve minutes, but he¡¯d always end up waking up when his hands were too exhausted to last any longer.

    He¡¯d tried humming songs to pass the time and to lift his spirits, but it hadn¡¯t helped much. The only thing that helped was trying to remember passages from the Remnants. This would usually lead to him thinking of Susie. It would make him terrified one moment, then sob with sorrow over the idea of never seeing her again. Sometimes he¡¯d think of his argument with her, and it would make him angry. Partly because her vision of a cold, calculating god that could destine some people for destruction seemed to have a lot more evidence right now.

    Strangely, though, debating her points back and forth in his head helped pass the time better than anything else, not that Paul knew what he was waiting for. He was doing this when the gray man walked back down the stairs.

    He caught Paul in hands-gripping-chains phase as he came down. He saw it and frowned. ¡°No. No, no, no. That¡¯s cheating.¡±

    Paul had spent a lot of time thinking about how he would talk with this guy when he finally reappeared. But he was also very angry. ¡°Are you going to kill me or what?¡±

    The man walked up to him and stopped, studying Paul¡¯s face.

    Still angry, and very tired, Paul glared back.

    The man shook his head. ¡°Won¡¯t kill you until you¡¯re ready. I¡¯ve been listening in on your conversations with yourself, and I agree with some of it. I¡¯m curious about this woman you keep bringing up, though. Does she really believe The Name is as cruel as it sounds like she does?¡±

    ¡°If you asked her,¡± Paul began. His breathing was becoming uneasy, because the gray man had reached behind a stack of drywall and retrieved a long-handled sledge hammer. Paul cleared his throat and tried to steel himself up. ¡°She¡¯d say you¡¯re misunderstanding the argument.¡±

    ¡°So, you¡¯re arguing in your head with a misunderstanding of her argument?¡± The man set the head of the hammer down on the ground, less than a meter from Paul¡¯s feet. He leaned on the butt of the handle like a cane. ¡°That doesn¡¯t make much sense.¡±

    ¡°No, you¡¯re misunderstanding my understanding.¡±

    The man shrugged. ¡°I heard what I heard. It sounds like I am definitely one of these souls destine for hell. Wouldn¡¯t you say?¡±

    The man lifted up the hammer, holding the handle by the middle. He then swung the butt end of it in sharp, light thwacks against Paul¡¯s fingers. Paul was too angry to care about the stinging pain right at that moment.

    The man then smiled and brought his rough, gray face right next to Paul¡¯s. ¡°Am I a damned soul? I¡¯d say your god did a fine job building such a demon. Wouldn¡¯t you?¡±

    The man then struck Paul¡¯s right hand with the handle so hard that Paul had to let go. His fingers clenched up, numb and unmoving. Paul frowned at the man as he swung again and did the same to his other hand.

    Paul sort of caught himself on his right foot, but lost his balance a moment and had the shackles catch his wrists. But, because Paul had been so careful in keeping pressure off them all night, the skin had healed just enough so that this was no longer excruciating. It was sharp and painful, but bearable.

    Paul regained his balance on his foot. The pain from his fingers began to cut through the numbness. He closed his eyes, then opened them to see that the man was kneeling down by Paul¡¯s toes. Paul couldn¡¯t hold back his anger anymore. ¡°Would you just leave me alone!¡±

    ¡°Oh, now you start with that stuff!¡± the man looked disappointed. He choked up on the hammer and let the head drop and bounce off the concrete. He studied Paul¡¯s toes. ¡°I¡¯m trying to decide. No, I know what I¡¯ll do.¡±

    He lifted the head of the hammer just a few centimeters above the big toe of Paul¡¯s right foot, then he let it fall.

    It made no sense, but the pain that shot through Paul¡¯s entire body as the cold metal landed on his toe was worse than everything else. In a way, worse than when the man had broken his leg. His gut filled with nausea as the pain throbbed up his leg. After sucking in a breath from shock, Paul growled out a yell.

    The man looked up at his face. ¡°I should tell you. I¡¯m going to keep you alive for weeks. I¡¯ve studied Medieval-Earth techniques very intently. I¡¯m very careful, so there will always be something like this. Something that redefines pain for you.¡±

    The man then dropped the hammer¡¯s head onto the two smallest toes of his right foot. The pain made him almost black out. He willingly lifted up his foot and let his wrists take up all his weight. He wanted to scream, but now felt too weak. He wanted to be angry, but was too tired. Through the pain he felt sweat beading up on his forehead.

    The man stood up and looked him right in the eye. ¡°Oh, come on. Don¡¯t give up just yet. Don¡¯t you want your god to have me take your place? You¡¯re not one of the damned ones, are you? You can keep your theology if you want. Just realize that he will save you, but put me into pain like this forever. I¡¯ll keep you alive for days, weeks, whatever. But your god will keep me alive forever! In greater pain than you¡¯re in right now, on and on and on. He won¡¯t even need to feed me to keep me alive. He¡¯ll use his god magic to do that. But he¡¯ll save you. Your little god, hiding you away from the bad men like me, while he tortures us forever.¡±

    Paul heard the words through the pain and nausea. He heard them and they made him angry. Extremely angry. But not at the man or at The Name. He was angry with Susie.

    The man frowned and backed away a little. ¡°What?¡±

    Paul glared at him. ¡°Her stupid ideas. Those stupid books she keeps reading. You know what I want? I want you to be saved, so she can be wrong!¡±

    The man folded his arms. ¡°That doesn¡¯t even make any sense. If I get saved, I¡¯m saved, right? Wouldn¡¯t I have to be not saved, then not tortured for all eternity for her to be wrong?¡±

    ¡°Whatever! Just shut up! Just because you can hear everything I¡¯m thinking, doesn¡¯t mean I have to hear everything you¡¯re thinking! I¡¯m not going to hate you, so get over it! I¡¯m not going to hate The Name either! Right now, I just hate Susie¡¯s stupid ideas.¡±

    The man stood there with his arms folded. The head of the hammer rested on the ground and the butt of the handle was leaning against his leg. He started chewing on his gray, stony lip. ¡°Well, doesn¡¯t look like I¡¯m going to get anywhere with you.¡±

    Paul let his head drop and eyes close and tried to ignore the pain in his wrists. He actually let himself think about the pain in his toes to do this. ¡°Whatever.¡±

    ¡°Guess I might as well let you go.¡±

    Paul didn¡¯t open up his eyes. He heard the clanking of keys coming out of a pocket, but didn¡¯t trust this guy enough to really believe he was going to let him go. A moment later, however, he felt himself collapse on the cold, hard floor.

    He breathed deeply, not even noticing until that moment that being chained up like that had restricted his lungs. Everything in his body seemed to calm. He felt his heart beating heavy and slowly and a cool looseness wash through his muscles. A restful heaviness. Unfortunately, this had the effect of making him start to hope that he¡¯d get out of here. He started to really want to be let go. But he didn¡¯t believe it.

    The man, looking down at him, sighed. ¡°You¡¯re right. I¡¯m not. Just kidding.¡±

    The man, smiling, picked up the hammer, swung it around, and smashed it right into Paul¡¯s head.

    Everything exploded around Paul. He tumbled to his side and felt the universe around him crumbling.

    Then everything was white and the pain was gone. He merely felt exhausted. He frowned and reached up and touched the side of his head. He was sure there would be a crater there, or at least pain when he touched it, but he just found his ear and hair and everything where it was supposed to be.

    He looked down at his left leg. It was fine. His wrists were fine, though there were blood stains on his sleeves. But no blood on his skin. All his clothes were the same, looking grimy and soaked with sweat.

    He coughed, his lungs raw, and the sound didn¡¯t seem to resonate in the room. The room that was pure white. All around him. The floor, walls, and ceiling all glowed a soft white. It had a strange, detail-free quality that was unnerving to look at.

    He looked at the wall behind him and saw that it had features. Gauges. Dozens of them. Maybe hundreds. Some were semi-circles with a needle ticking back and forth. Some were scrolling lines of numbers. Some had oscilloscope-like waves or bars moving across. A lot of them were frozen. Some of the gauges had dials or keypads under them.

    He stood up and walked over to them. Each had a label underneath. A lot of the labels were terms he didn¡¯t understand, like ¡°MSG STABILITY,¡± ¡°NHI ACTIVITY,¡± or ¡°CHERENKOV LEVELS.¡± Those had values that were fluctuating very slightly.

    He felt his head go light as he read the labels under some that were at zero and not moving. Ones like ¡°HEART RATE,¡± ¡°BLOOD PRESSURE,¡± and ¡°NEURAL ACTIVITY.¡±

    He backed away, then looked to the side. He realized that his eyes had adjusted a little to the brightness in here and he could now see a doorway on that wall.

    Hearing nothing but his own echoless breathing, he walked to the doorway, which was just a simple arch cut out of the featureless, glowing white wall. Once through it, he found himself in a long, straight hallway. He couldn¡¯t see an end looking down either direction. There seemed to be arch doorways cut out along both sides at regular intervals.

    But he couldn¡¯t actually see the doorways from this angle, because there were no shadows anywhere and no differences in brightness on anything to allow for the doorways to be visible. He only knew there were doorways all along the sides because, right above each one, was a plaque with a name engraved on it.

    Paul¡¯s heart froze still for a full second as he looked at the plaque above the doorway he¡¯d entered the hallway from. The doorway leading to the small room he¡¯d appeared in right after having his head smashed in.

    It said, ¡°PAUL FREDERICK STEVENS ¨C M748¡±

    Paul fell to his knees and clasped his hands behind his neck. Moments went by, then he felt his lungs stubbornly suck in a full, deep breath, because for a moment he¡¯d stopped breathing.

    ¡°What the hell is going on?¡±

    ***

    Nathan reached out, feeling like he was falling, hitting his arms and shoulder blades against hard things as light exploded in his eyes and a hiss faded from his ears. He couldn¡¯t tell which way he was falling, or if there was any air coming into his lungs. The panic slowly faded as his limbs felt weak and his body felt heavy.

    He moaned as he went limp on the ground. The ground was hard. It was down. The hard ground was down. His eyes closed to escape the pain of the light piercing through the back of his head. His fingers felt along the surface he was laying on. Rough. Rough and cold. Damp in spots.

    His fingers touched a thick piece of glass. He grabbed it and pulled it in toward his face. As it drew near, the sound of his breathing reflected off of it and into his ears. The hissing in his ears faded further. He heard his breathing and the sound of a city. Clapping footsteps. Doors, opening and closing. Jingling keys. Jostling bags. Clicking bicycles. Humming sounds he didn¡¯t recognize.

    His eyes cracked open. The trash was from a broken bottle. He saw white, cursive writing on the green-tinted glass. A Coca-Cola bottle. He frowned. Coca-Cola shouldn¡¯t exist anymore.

    He shut his eyes again tightly as the pain returned. His body curled up into a fetal position as he coughed a couple times. Dull pain in his lungs and throat. It faded as he resisted the urge to cough. But his throat went tight.

    ¡°I¡¯m awake.¡±

    Like a gentle, firm push, clarity moved all the confusion and shock aside as Nathan realized where he was and remembered where he¡¯d been. Dawson¡¯s big, muscled goons had put him into stasis. Forced to ¡°sleep¡± for however long the TAW Founders saw fit. For months or years or decades, whatever they felt like. Maybe they told his friends he¡¯d committed suicide. Maybe they told them the truth. All they needed to do was get him out of the way.

    Whatever the case, he was awake now.

    He took in a deep breath, knowing the air belonged to the TAW. Owned by his colleagues. Made by them and offered by them however and whenever they saw fit. Crafted by the saviors of humanity. He pushed his clumsy, shaking body onto hands and knees. He took another deep breath. It felt almost like recovering from being sick or from a horrible hangover, but the headache wasn¡¯t too bad.

    Now on his hands and knees, he celebrated the accomplishment for a while longer. ¡°Gotta celebrate the small things.¡±

    He waited for the dizziness to fade before clenching his jaw and then grunting and pushing himself up to his feet.

    He opened his eyes. The world around him wobbled. He took a step to the side and leaned against a dumpster that was in some sort of alley.  He heard street noises behind him.

    He turned around and saw a dark figure silhouetted against the brightness of the street. Small, short, just a child. But this wasn¡¯t really a child.

    Nathan laughed. ¡°Hey Irse.¡±

    She stepped forward. Nathan could make out features of her face now. Hair to the shoulders, the eyes just a little too curved to be a boy¡¯s, the jaw a little too square to be a girl¡¯s.

    ¡°Good morning, Nathan. How was your sleep? No one has been down that long before, so I¡¯m curious what the experience was like.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t remember.¡± Nathan opened his mouth and stretched the muscles of his face. ¡°I was hoping that I was back on Earth. This¡­feels like Earth. Exactly like it. I never did stop noticing the plasticy-ness. And I didn¡¯t think the TAW would let their precious Prometheus get this dirty.¡±

    Nathan looked around, frowning. He looked up the sides of the buildings on either side of him. One was concrete with mirrored windows. The other was brick. Both had wear marks and chips and scuffs where graffiti had been sandblasted off. And the air smelled a little weird. He never remembered smelling anything so subtle here before.

    He again turned to Irse. ¡°But, seeing you is proof we¡¯re still in Mebar.¡±

    Irse nodded. ¡°I was worried about the cognitive damage that could have been caused by being asleep for eight centuries. But you seem fine.¡±

    Nathan¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°How long?¡±

    ¡°Eight hundred and two years. How do you feel?¡±

    Nathan took a step back. He looked at the ground, at a stain in the concrete from some unknown something spilled at some point. He looked at his hands, at the dirt on them. ¡°There¡¯s nothing there. I feel like I went asleep a day ago and woke up with a really bad hang-over. Why do you even need to ask? Don¡¯t know you everything I¡¯m experiencing all the time?¡±

    Irse¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Everything external. You may think your answer doesn¡¯t help me, but it does. Speaking of help, do you need any? Mebar is not the same as it was when you were put in stasis. They hadn¡¯t even finished transporting everyone over yet.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Do they use money now? Do they use cash? Do I need a credit card, or a chip embedded in my neck?¡±

    Irse smiled. ¡°Or a bar-code on your forehead?¡±

    Nathan gestured at her. ¡°When did you learn jokes?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not a great joke. I¡¯ve missed you, actually.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­kind of creepy. Sort of.¡±

    Irse held a relaxed smile as she stepped forward and held out a pen. It was all black but with crooked veins of gold running across the surface. Nathan took it and looked it over, pulled the cap off. It was a fountain pen with a gold tip. ¡°What is this?¡±

    Irse nodded. ¡°Press your thumb against the fountain tip. You don¡¯t have to press very hard.¡±

    Nathan did, and the pen changed color from black to a deep maroon. The gold veins turned a bright silver. ¡°Whoa. Why did it do that?¡±

    He turned it over.  On the cap, rising out of the pocket clip, was a small black button. On the other side was engraved: ¡°PROPERTY OF MEBAR OPERATIONAL AFFAIRS. Possession of this pen by unclassified personnel is a felony and grounds for incarceration.¡±

    Nathan smirked. ¡°Huh. Funny.¡±

    ¡°Turn it on.¡±

    He pushed the button. A square, holographic screen appeared above the pen. It showed a photo of his face.

    ¡°That is a key pen. It will give you backdoor access into Threshold if you ever do want to go in there. It also lets you get whatever monetary balance you want in a bank account. But, not fractions. Oh. I forgot something.¡± Irse held out her hand and dropped an oddly shaped piece of multi-colored stone into Nathan¡¯s free hand. It was heavier than it looked.

    Irse nodded toward it. ¡°That¡¯s for if you want to spend any time in Pan and prefer to avoid going through Threshold. Security there is unpredictable, and you don¡¯t want them to find you.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s a fraction? Aside from¡­the obvious definition. The math one, I mean.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll need them to buy anything of value. You can try and exchange shekels for them, but that will probably draw too much attention. You can sell ink feet as well, but that will draw even worse attention.¡±

    ¡°Aleph ink. Why is it measured in feet? I thought we finally got rid of the imperial system.¡±

    Irse looked behind her. She looked worried. ¡°The ink is used by the pen¡¯s menu to create items, not just change things with DC paper.¡±

    Nathan looked through the menus on the holographic screen. He remembered having devices like this when they were building Mebar¡¯s worlds. The menus weren¡¯t this organized and deep back then, though. This one had categories for weapons, food, vehicles, and even buildings. A category for bodyguards made him uncomfortable, reminding him of some heated arguments he¡¯d had with some of the other TAW. He didn¡¯t open that category. He glanced through the others.

    Each item had a different ink cost, most things costing multiple feet, with food being the main exception by being very cheap. A revolver cost ten feet, the same as a bicycle. A two-bedroom house cost thirty feet, but a ham and cheese sandwich only cost an eighth of an inch. ¡°We used to just be able to make whatever we wanted. Why¡¯d they tie it to the ink?¡±

    ¡°A lot of reasons.¡± Irse looked at the ground, then turned her eyes up at Nathan. ¡°You remember the GCL. The TAW didn¡¯t ignore everything you said. After they put you down, most of the papers they added there put limitations on everyone in Mebar, including the TAW and the Alephs. It¡¯s going to take a while for you to get up to speed. I wish I could explain everything to you right now, but I can only stay so long. There¡¯s another situation where I need to intervene.¡±

    Nathan nodded, then realized he was starving. ¡°Well, hey. Before you go I do want to know one thing.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Why now? Why wake me up? Dawson made it sound like they¡¯d just keep me sleeping forever.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s complicated. The short answer is that there¡¯s an investigation going on concerning the Essesin, and that allowed for a backdoor. The first I¡¯ve had since you were put under. Remember, I can¡¯t override the Founders¡¯ orders, even if they¡¯re dead.¡±

    ¡°Dead?¡± Nathan¡¯s legs felt weak. He looked at Irse right in the eyes. ¡°I thought that was impossible.¡±

    ¡°As I said, a lot has changed. But those four, however, were assassinated not long after you were put to sleep.¡±

    ¡°Huh. Is anyone left?¡±

    ¡°You and five others, though most of them are no longer mentally stable. One of them has split herself into two people, so technically there are seven of you left. Well, technically eight, because Shiro is alive, but technically not in Mebar.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a lot of technicalities.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Irse looked over her shoulder at the street behind her and then folded her arms. ¡°I have to go. You should go out and explore, write down some important questions, and I¡¯ll be sure to come by and visit you soon so I can help answer them. Other than that, welcome back, TAW Nathan Sanchez.¡±

    She stepped away, then stopped and looked back over her shoulder. ¡°Oh. I should warn you. No human living in Mebar knows the truth about what it is, so be careful what you say to people.¡±

    Nathan took a step toward her. ¡°Wait, what? You said there were¡­seven of us left. Do you mean ¡°no human¡± except the TAW members?¡±

    Irse resumed walking and spoke without turning around. ¡°Shiro knows, but that¡¯s why I said ¡®in Mebar.¡¯¡±

    ¡°That sounds like you¡¯re includes me!¡± Nathan chased after her, but she stepped around a corner and out of view. He stepped out onto the street, looking down the sidewalk that Irse should be walking down, but she was gone.

 Chapter 3

    Soma felt cold. Not just emotionally. It had been three days since her family had vanished. Three days with zero leads. Now she was finally, possibly, about to get some progress. First she had to find her way through chilly, stone hallways that were almost a millennium old, built for aesthetics instead of convenience or comfort.

    Helison University was packed full of young people, some with rich parents, others who had earned the right to come here on merit. Soma had grown up with neither avenue available, so despite living her whole life in Helison this was her first time on campus. It had taken her twenty minutes of fumbling around the huge property and asking shy eighteen-year-olds where the College of History was before she¡¯d found the building. Now she was ten minutes into trying to find her way to the president¡¯s office.

    Finally, she found a stained wooden door with a plaque showing ¡°Dean of History.¡± She opened the door and found a young man with perfect bone structure sitting at the receptionist desk. His skin almost seemed to glow. He looked up at Soma and smiled. ¡°Detective Dan?¡±

    Soma nodded.

    ¡°She¡¯s ready.¡±

    Soma nodded again and walked past him and to the door on the far wall with printing on the window that took up the top half of the door: ¡°President Viktoria Akhmatova.¡± This all felt like the beginning of a Philip Marlow radio show. Would President Akhmatova be leaning against the side of the window, slatted light cast through blinds across her face? While she wore a fedora and smoked a cigarette?

    Soma pushed through the door and found nothing like that. The room was warmly lit and the president was a somewhat overweight woman, probably in her fifties. She was looking through a news article on her pen reader, her face lit up by the glow of the projected panel floating above the reader.

    She noticed Soma and set it down, the screen flashing out of existence. She stood up and extended out a hand. ¡°Detective Dan.¡±

    Soma took the hand and tried to match the firmness of her grip. The president¡¯s hands were large and easily out-compressed Soma¡¯s. ¡°President Akhmatova.¡±

    The woman smiled. Soma had practiced saying the name on her way here. She knew whatever this woman was offering would be expensive, so best to get her in a good mood right from the start.

    ¡°Please, call me Viki.¡±

    ¡°Viki. You probably¡­and you can call me Soma.¡±

    Viki let out a short chuckle as she sat back down on her chair. She gestured toward another across from her desk. Soma sat down.

    ¡°What brings the police to my door?¡± Viki¡¯s smile was relaxed. She had no fear, which unsettled Soma, who was used to people being at least somewhat uncomfortable whenever they had to speak with her when she was working. But this woman projected confident, relaxed authority.

    Soma cleared her throat. ¡°I¡¯m not here for work. I need help, and a friend said you could point me in the right direction.¡±

    Viki¡¯s eyebrows went up, then her lower lip stuck out slightly. ¡°Well, how can I help you, then?¡±

    Soma¡¯s hands were shaking as she pulled out her pen reader. She set it on the desk and the screen glowed to life, showing a photo of Alec. Soma flicked the projected image and the photo swiped away to be replaced by one of Grace. She swiped again and that one was pushed away by a photo of Melody.

    Soma had her eyes on the screen the whole time she did this. She looked up at Viki¡¯s face, which was still relaxed, except between her eyes. Soma drew in a long breath through her nose and cleared her throat. ¡°My family disappeared three days ago. There¡¯s been no sign of them anywhere.¡±

    Viki¡¯s expression transformed from welcome to curious. ¡°Okay. Seeing as¡­you are the police, I can assume you¡¯re not exaggerating that last sentence.¡±

    ¡°No. I¡¯m not. We have zero physical evidence to go on. No witnesses.¡±

    Viki leaned in toward the photo of Melody. ¡°I¡¯m a dean of history. I¡¯m curious why you think I can help.¡±

    Soma¡¯s eyebrows went up. ¡°I¡¯m curious as well.¡±

    Viki¡¯s eyes squinted as she looked at Soma. A long moment passed before she folded her hands and set them on her desk. Her back straightened. ¡°This is what I¡¯m seeing. There¡¯s a police officer in my office, suggesting that I could find information on three persons that have vanished. That either means I¡¯m suspected of being involved, or that I have connections that I can utilize to help find them.Correct?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°So, if I admit to either of these things, to a police officer, I put myself in an awkward position. Now, there is a chance that this police officer is also a terrified mother and wife, who honestly needs my help. In that situation, what do you think this mother and wife could do in order to appease my worries?¡±

    Soma looked around the office for the first time. She noticed that half the walls were covered in shelves. Most of the shelves had books on them. Some had baseball memorabilia. Photos of players. Signed baseballs. One shelf had a collection of bobble-head dolls, all wearing the same uniform. Alec was into baseball. He would have known which team they were, possibly who each of them was. Soma returned to looking at Viki, feeling wholly unprepared for whatever game Travis had sent her into by suggesting talking to this woman. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    Viki shrugged. ¡°There is one thing I could do. I could offer to help you in a way that is entirely non-illegal.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s an odd way to describe something: Non-illegal.¡±

    ¡°It is!¡± Viki smiled and stood up from her desk. She moved to a shelf with non-baseball items, which Soma hadn¡¯t taken notice of yet. There was a spyglass, a sextant, and a sail-ship in a bottle. She took the spyglass down and turned back to face Soma. ¡°Finding the right way to describe things can be very important.¡±

    ¡°I suppose. I guess if there was something that should be illegal, but wasn¡¯t, it might fall into that category.¡±

    ¡°Or!¡± Viki pointed an index finger at her as she sat down and set the spyglass on the desk, standing it straight up on its big lens side. ¡°Or, something that isn¡¯t quite quantifiable either way.¡±

    Soma immediately remembered what Travis had said when he¡¯d given her Viki¡¯s information. About separating the spiritual from the strange. Or the very strange. ¡°Alright. What¡¯s the spyglass do?¡±

    Viki set two fingers on the eyepiece and pressed down. ¡°This can help you. Possibly. But it is very expensive to get it working.¡±

    Soma was unnerved. Partly because none of this made any sense. Partly because it most definitely confirmed that Travis was telling the truth when he said this wasn¡¯t just some psychic nonsense. This was something else. This woman knew exactly what she was talking about and knew what she was offering.

    ¡°How can it help me?¡±

    Viki shrugged. ¡°It will let you see a person, no matter where they are.¡±

    ¡°How much?¡±

    ¡°One hundred.¡±

    Soma¡¯s hands clenched for a second. Viki had warned it was expensive, so she couldn¡¯t be talking about shekels. ¡°I don¡¯t have a hundred fractions on hand.¡±

    Viki picked up the spyglass. ¡°I¡¯m not some scammer, Soma. It really does cost that much to make it work. Almost just to buy the raw materials to activate it, because almost no one is cultivating them here. That¡¯s not the cost of giving it to you, either. It¡¯s only so you can borrow it and use it. On one person. So, you¡¯d probably want to decide which of these three you want to use it to find.¡±

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    Soma picked up her pen reader and stood up. ¡°I¡¯ll have to get back to you.¡±

    ***

    Paul sat with his back against the wall opposite the door. The door in a room with valves and gauges that seemed to be designed for tracking his vital signs. Vital signs that said he was dead.

    To his left was the wall of gauges. To his right was a nearly blank wall except for two buttons at waist level. He hadn¡¯t dared touch anything, though. He¡¯d been here for at least a few hours, and didn¡¯t want to do anything but sit and hug his knees and try to not go crazy. Of course, a few hours sitting in a corner was wonderful compared to an entire day hanging from chains in the basement of a serial killer.

    Still, there was no escaping the question of where he was. He mumbled to himself as he looked at himself: ¡°Why would I have my bloody clothes on if this was heaven?¡±

    ¡°Not heaven.¡±

    Paul jumped to his feet and banged his shoulder blades against the wall behind him. A child¡¯s voice had come from out in the hallway. He could hear footsteps getting louder. He looked at the doorway, watching for whoever had spoken.

    A young girl entered. Or, maybe a boy. It was hard to tell, but maybe just because of the weird lighting. She, or he, had very dark olive skin and wore colorful clothing. She was smiling as she came up and stood in the center of the room and held her hands behind her back. ¡°Hello Paul. Sorry I¡¯m late. I kept you in stasis for a couple days, but still had a few things to do after you woke up before I could make it here.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d ask how you know my name.¡± Paul cleared his throat. ¡°But, for some reason it¡¯s written above the doorway.¡±

    ¡°Well, name is Irse.¡±

    Paul felt light headed. ¡°Irse? As in¡­the soul guardian? The goddess of the five senses? The one parents tell their kids about, so that they do the right thing when no one¡¯s looking?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m the original inspiration for those stories, but I don¡¯t do anything to children, good or bad.¡±

    Paul leaned back against the wall. ¡°If I hadn¡¯t just gone through what I just went through, I¡¯d think you were screwing with me. But¡­a few hours ago someone hit me in the head with¡­wait, two days? That just happened.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a very strange situation, but that¡¯s just a happy coincidence. I only had a moment to pull someone out of the preyvede queue while the Alephs were investigating an accident, but I had something else to take care of before I could talk to you.¡± Irse walked over to the wall of gauges. She folded her arms and looked over them as she spoke. ¡°That man who killed you has been causing a lot of trouble lately. I think he¡¯s trying to break things, but the Alephs don¡¯t agree. Either way, he¡¯s forcing us to make more preyvedes than we¡¯d like.¡±

    ¡°Preyvedes. Like, what he talked about. Ghosts.¡±

    ¡°He was bonded to a preyvede. That¡¯s why he was so strong, why he was able to change his skin into that funny color and texture, and why he could hear your sub-vocalizations. Though that last one was a bit of a cheat. I¡¯ve never been a fan of those wasted conditions.¡±

    Paul took a few steps toward her. ¡°I am¡­very confused right now.¡±

    She looked at him and smiled. ¡°You know, this would be much easier if you¡¯d grown up on Pan.¡±

    She walked to the opposite wall. The one with the two buttons, two little circles like elevator switches. She looked at them and reached out a hand to one, then stopped. She smiled again and turned to Paul. ¡°I¡¯ve been going too fast. I apologize. Let¡¯s start over. How much do you know about how Mebar was created?¡±

    Paul frowned, then awkwardly folded his arms. ¡°I¡­believe in Seven. My family went to gatherings where we¡¯d read from the Remnants. The Name created the universe.¡±

    Irse shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m not talking about the universe of the old gods. I¡¯m talking about Mebar.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­just what they call this star system, right? Humans think they¡¯ve overthrown The Name because they were able to terraform Prometheus. That makes them think they¡¯re the new gods.¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°No?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Irse smiled and held her hands together in front of her.

    Paul waited for her to explain, but she just stood there silently. He tried to think of something else to say. ¡°Was¡­Prometheus not settled by humans after they left Earth?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s partly true.¡± Irse held up a finger. ¡°But you¡¯re thinking too small. They didn¡¯t just leave Earth for Prometheus. They left the entire universe for Mebar.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Oddly, this was the first thing she¡¯d said that he understood well enough for it to really throw him for a loop. ¡°That doesn¡¯t make any sense. You can¡¯t leave the universe.¡±

    ¡°You should know the stories.¡±

    Paul lifted a hand, as if holding something up. ¡°The ones they tell kids? The same ones they tell when they¡¯re talking about you rewarding kids for not lying to their parents? Those are just fairy tales.¡±

    Irse waited silently.

    Paul lowered his voice. ¡°Ones about people finding out ¡®hidden knowledge of the universe.¡¯ And destroying it by accident. Or, madness. Then¡­some saviors calling themselves the TAW became gods so they could build a whole new universe.¡±

    Still Irse waited, not moving. Not speaking.

    ¡°Nobody believes that. Not really.¡±

    Irse¡¯s eyes widened just a tiny bit. ¡°What else is in that story?¡±

    Paul paced away, going over to a corner by a narrow, tall stack of gauges labeled ¡°AUGMENTATIONS¡± and had all zeroes running top to bottom. ¡°I don¡¯t know. They created you because human souls were getting lost in a portal world called Threshold. Then they put all the souls in big tanks and you made sure that the soul would stay connected to the body. It¡¯s¡­bonkers.¡±

    Irse looked down at the two buttons on the blank wall. She pressed one. The wall sunk down into the floor, revealing a glass window. The white room took on a deep blue hue. Paul¡¯s mouth fell open as more of what lay behind the window was revealed. He took a step toward it, then sat down. ¡°No.¡±

    Through the window was a tank of a dark liquid. And, floating and glowing in that liquid, was a monstrous figure of neon blue. A figure made up of millions¡ªor billions¡ªof tiny points of light. It had a huge head, with big eyes and giant lips. The hands were nearly as large as the head. The rest of the body was there, shriveled and horrible.

    Paul had seen something like this before, in high school. It was the sensory¡­something. Something that started with an ¡°h.¡± A representation of how much of the brain is dedicated to each part of the body. But that wasn¡¯t what was horrible about it.

    ¡°Is that¡ª¡±

    Irse nodded. ¡°That¡¯s the real you. Floating in the ocean we call the Essesin. The body you¡¯re in right now is just a loaner, a copy of the one that was just murdered. You¡¯re here partly because you were supposed to be resurrected as a stone preyvede in Pan. But, there are currently too many stone preyvedes. One more would upset the balance. In fact, there are too many people alive in Mebar altogether. The Essesin is overcrowded.¡±

    Paul found himself on his feet, walking toward the glass. He pressed a hand against it, finding it cold. He looked up at the monster that was him, twice as large as he was over in this ¡°loaner body.¡± All his arguments with Susie. All his worry about The Name¡¯s true character. Now he finds his soul suspended in some ocean and watched over by this strange girl.

    He took in a deep breath and then breathed out onto the glass. It fogged up. ¡°What are you going to do with me?¡±

    ¡°Because you were murdered tragically, having your life taken unfairly, you¡¯re going to get a second chance. That¡¯s not in question. But, because there are too many stone preyvedes, and because of another tragedy that has directed the Alephs¡¯ attention elsewhere, we have an opportunity. I¡¯ll send you to Pan and give you all the strength augmentations that a stone preyvede would receive. You won¡¯t receive any of their changeling abilities, but in return, I won¡¯t fog your memories. And you¡¯ll be able to blend in better.¡±

    ¡°Why would you fog my memories?¡±

    She shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s standard procedure whenever someone is resurrected as a preyvede. Often so they can work on rehabilitating without having the trauma of their first life distracting them. It¡¯s also so they won¡¯t miss their home as much. But, for you, I think it would be better if you kept your memories clear. It will help you do a favor for me.¡±

    ¡°A favor?¡± Paul turned away from the glass and looked at her. ¡°What kind of favor could I offer you?¡±

    Irse smiled.

    ***

    ¡°Travis! Stop.¡±

    Soma was chasing her partner through the back offices of their police station. He was carrying a thermos of coffee and moving fast, possibly to get to a back door, but Soma was catching up.

    But instead of going outside, he went into a small conference room and went to stare at a chalk board. He sipped his coffee as Soma came over to him.

    ¡°Right now, I don¡¯t have the luxury of being able to care about what happened between you and Alec. I¡¯ll be angry at you later, but right now, I need to know if you have any other connections.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with Viki?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have a year¡¯s salary in fractions just laying around. Especially not for a gamble to see if his magic spyglass will actually work.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised you went at all.¡± He kept himself from looking at her.

    She leaned in close. ¡°My kids are missing. They may be in some monster¡¯s basement. I don¡¯t care what I have to do anymore.¡±

    He finally turned and looked her in the eye. He leaned back against the board.

    She sighed. ¡°You¡¯re going to get chalk all over your jacket.¡±

    He shrugged and took another sip of coffee. ¡°The only other contacts I have left are psychics and nut-jobs.¡±

    ¡°What kind of nut-jobs?¡±

    ¡°The kind that say they can talk to other worlds in their sleep. All they have to do is drink this nasty-tasting swill. Some of them say that they¡¯ve been able to talk to Alephs.¡±

    ¡°Alephs.¡± Soma cursed under her breath. ¡°What does it say about me that I¡¯m more willing to try that out than to talk to a psychic?¡±

    ¡°That you have personal experience with psychics.¡± He took another sip of coffee.

    Soma looked at his thermos. ¡°Where do I get the nasty-tasting swill you mentioned?¡±

    Travis reached into his pocket and pulled out a glass vial, filled with a yellow liquid. He looked at it first, then held it out to Soma.

    Soma looked at it, then at Travis, then she took it.

    He stepped away from the wall and headed toward the door. ¡°I had a feeling Viki might turn you off. She can be a bit of a cutthroat sometimes.¡±

    ¡°Wait.¡± Soma looked at the vial in her hand, then at Travis just as he reached the door. ¡°How should I take this?¡±

    He stopped in the doorway. ¡°On a full stomach, with a good chunk of time to rest and recover afterward. And wine for afterward. Lots of wine.¡±

 Chapter 4

    Where are they¡­

    I don¡¯t know¡­

    How can I find out¡­

    You may have to make a deal¡­

    With who¡­

    Find an Aleph¡­

    What could I offer an Aleph¡­

    Part of your soul¡­

    A young, water preyvede woman gasped and sat up, her green-blue skin drenched with sweat. In the darkness, it took a moment for her to remember which person she was. Aramis, she was Aramis. The person who wasn¡¯t supposed to be part of the midnight caller potion conversation. Her eyes wide and her entire body shaking, she breathed heavily for a full half minute before coughing and finally being able to breathe just through her nose.

    She looked around in the darkness of the tent. She could hear Ignacio Leone, her sort-of-foster-uncle, breathing loudly and awkwardly through the partition separating their respective sides of the tent. Whoever was calling him must have taken too strong a dose. The call had bled over into Aramis¡¯ brain.

    Aramis wasn¡¯t going to be able to fall back asleep for a while. If at all. Especially not while Ignacio was talking to some hard case over in Prometheus that was high on ash clam sauce and fermented, mountain wasp eye jelly. So she got up, dried the sweat off of herself with the shirt she¡¯d worn the day before, and pulled pants and a shirt on over her pajamas. Putting on her dark green, heavy wool jacket, she stepped out of the tent.

    Even though it was late spring, the air was so still and frigid that the stars barely twinkled. She found her sandals and stepped into them, the rubber of the souls feeling warm and soft compared to the ice-cold ground.

    Bruce should be back from Hempstock by now. If he was back, he¡¯d be over by the fire pit in the center of the camp, so Aramis headed that way. Like all wind preyvedes, he could pass as human, so he had a real job in the city, but unlike most wind preyvedes, he lived here in the communes. It made for a very long commute.

    Maybe she could talk with Bruce a little and get tired enough to fall asleep again by the time she walked back to the tent. It was a bit of a walk downhill because Ignacio¡¯s tent was on the far edge of the Germanic camp, buried in the forest along the base of Mount Alanessa.

    Bruce didn¡¯t like that Aramis lived in Ignacio¡¯s tent. Some people had started calling it ¡°Ignacio and Aramis¡¯ tent,¡± with a smirk and a wink, which was more than a little annoying.

    She saw the flicker of firelight up ahead of her, looking white because her eyes could really only see blues and greens. Sometimes shades of brown. The world always looked like it was underwater.

    That thought fled as she caught sight of Bruce warming his hands over some cracking logs in the fire pit. She picked up her pace, trying to think of something interesting to say after she said her initial ¡°hey¡± and he returned it with his ¡°hey.¡± Maybe he¡¯d have something interesting to tell her, but usually she had to carry the weight of conversation. But to her it was worth it if she could get him to smile at her.

    He caught sight of her and gave her a friendly wave. She came up beside him and hugged herself in front of the fire, even though she wasn¡¯t actually cold.

    She skipped the ¡°heys¡± and went straight to the best question she could think of: ¡°How was work?¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡± He was staring at the flames.

    Aramis tried to think of another question. There was a hint of coldness in his voice. She thought of something else to talk about, not wanting the silence to last too long. ¡°Ignacio is having another caller.¡±

    Bruce smirked, but it wasn¡¯t the kind of smile she wanted to see on his face. ¡°So weird that he gets that business. Did you get sucked in again?¡±

    Aramis sighed. Partly to put on the performance of acting exacerbated by the experience they were talking about, but mostly because she was relieved that a conversation had started. ¡°Yeah. The caller must have taken too strong a dose.¡±

    Bruce nodded. Aramis caught herself staring at him. His strong, hard expression. No-nonsense personality. Strong shoulders. Wavy, jet-black hair. All a girl like her could ask for. But right now, she was having one of those moments where she realized he didn¡¯t seem aware that she was standing next to him.

    He frowned at her. ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m not very talkative tonight. Had a long day.¡±

    Aramis shrugged up her shoulders tightly as her foot tapped on the ground. ¡°Maybe we should do something tomorrow. I¡¯ll be in Hempstock to check out that job. We could do something in the city.¡±

    He made a very telling facial expression¡­a flat smile with unsmiling eyes. As if he wanted to smile politely and not let on that he was wholly uninterested in the idea.

    Aramis felt her stomach turn inside out. ¡°Well, I¡¯m gonna go. I¡¯ll see you.¡±

    She turned and left quickly, a flood of emotions rushing through her.

    Anger at Bruce for not wanting to spend time with her. Anger at herself for being angry at him for not wanting to spend time with her. Anger at herself for being so upset and angry that things clearly weren¡¯t working out with Bruce. Anger that she would even categorize her association with Bruce with the thought ¡°things weren¡¯t working out,¡± as if they were a couple, which they weren¡¯t. Most of all, anger that her emotional stability was so easily shattered because she¡¯d ruled out a very vague romantic prospect. Because she didn¡¯t know anyone else in the entire camp that she was interested in. Because she was planning on moving away soon, and would have to start all over, and now she wouldn¡¯t even have Bruce to see during the day anymore.

    Well, she could probably still see him, but she didn¡¯t want to anymore. Seeing him would just remind her that he wasn¡¯t interested in her.

    There were some other emotions too, but they were less clear. Something like shame. Also, something like relief. Bruce was cool and unflappable, but he was also pretty boring. He probably wouldn¡¯t have been a good match for her anyway.

    If she wasn¡¯t planning on moving to a new city, where she¡¯d be possibly the only water preyvede there that was trying to become a professional tradesman, making her an immediate outsider, that relief would be more comforting.

    She suddenly realized her speed-walk retreat from Bruce had led her right to the edge of the camp. She stopped before walking out into the deep darkness of the forest and stuffed her hands in her pockets. This was stupid. She shouldn¡¯t be basing her hopes and dreams on whether or not she could find a boy that liked her. She was a follower of Seven. Her hope for the future was supposed to be in the creator of the universe where humanity had originated. Not in finding some pretty boy out there to share her life with.

    But her emotions were what they were. They didn¡¯t care what era Aramis lived in or what her career goals were or what her religious ideals might be.

    ¡°Aramis! Good. You¡¯re awake.¡±

    Aramis looked around for who had spoken. It sounded like Phyllis, but Aramis couldn¡¯t see her in the thick darkness. ¡°Where are you?¡±

    ¡°Over here.¡± Phyllis said, coming up right beside her. ¡°Got a green cloud over the mountain. Word is it¡¯s a kid, early teens. Suicide.¡±

    Aramis frowned, trying to read Phyllis¡¯ face. She fished out her glasses from a coat pocket and put them on, but in the darkness she could still only barely make out Phyllis¡¯s profile. Even in daylight, Phyllis¡¯ face was usually inscrutable. Aramis considered putting her glasses away. ¡°I thought you didn¡¯t want me bringing in the new ones anymore? The council keeps chewing me out for messing up assimilation.¡±

    ¡°Well, the Alephs sent in a message saying that he only speaks French.¡±

    Aramis looked up toward Mount Alanessa, but could only barely see the peak through the dense needles of the trees. She could see the barest tint of the green cloud shining through, though. ¡°Why aren¡¯t they sending him to the Romantics camp?¡±

    ¡°They told the Alephs that they¡¯re full up, but you know how they can be. We have room, so we¡¯re getting him.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­strange.¡± Aramis debated a moment whether she should be upset about this. She might not be able to leave tomorrow if she ended up spending all night getting to the spring and then all of next morning filling the new guy in on his new life. But for some reason she didn¡¯t mind very much. ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll head up. Ignacio has another night caller, so I¡¯m not going to get any sleep tonight anyway.¡±

    Phyllis rolled her eyes. ¡°That man. Always cared more about making an extra shekel than his own health.¡±

    Phyllis wandered off into the dark.

    ¡°Oh! Almost forgot.¡± Phyllis jogged back and handed Aramis a paper sack lunch. ¡°I was going to go if I couldn¡¯t find you, but since you¡¯re going, you can have this. And no, it doesn¡¯t have fish. I know you can¡¯t stand fish.¡±

    Aramis took the sack. And headed into the forest and up the side of the mountain. She remembered being upset about Bruce a moment ago. She tried to keep those thoughts and feelings in the back of her head.

    She like being out at night. The color blindness of her Curse wasn¡¯t as apparent, since eyes didn¡¯t pick up much color at night anyway. All the color she saw was mostly just her brain filling in the gaps from memory.

    At night, it was dark and the world looked like it had before she¡¯d died on Prometheus. And right now, no one was out here to look down at her. No one was there to scowl when they saw her working hard at learning machining so she could leave. Just her, the cold air, and the vague moonlight.

    ***

    Soma woke up in a cold, empty house. Shaking and soaked in sweat.

    She swung her feet over to the side of the bed so she could sit up. Images hung in her mind, vague memories, but she fought to keep them from drifting away.

    Her quivering hand reached over to the night stand and grabbed her pen reader and a white tablet. All the movements of her muscles had to be deliberate as she set the pen reader up and stared at a blank document.

    She wrote down what she could remember, more and more of the twisted dream coming to her as she wrote. The details were mixed up and distorted.

    There was a man, a blue man, with an awkward rise and fall to his voice. He¡¯d laugh nervously when she¡¯d ask a hard question, which was often. They were standing next to a huge doorway carved out of the side of a mountain. An amazing relief of twirling, twisting flames rose up and out from around the giant opening like heaps of tangled snakes.

    Above the door, framed by the snakes¡ªor maybe fire¡ªwas a stone man frozen in the rock, chained and writhing in pain as a huge eagle clawed into and bit into his side. Except that in the dream, this wasn¡¯t just a carving in the rock wall. The eagle was actually tearing into and devouring organs from the man. It was terrifying.

    She had a vague recollection of seeing a girl with short, blond hair walking past them unceremoniously and then vanishing.

    Soma was a little confused by how so many details were now coming back to her so clearly, but she stopped writing as she realized she need to focus on the conversation she¡¯d had with the blue man.

    He had first joked about some bad ways to find out where her family had disappeared. Warnings of some scams people told, about very strategically killing oneself in very specific ways, then making a deal with the Aleph that would meet her in the afterlife. She remembered telling the man that she wasn¡¯t going to do anything that stupid.

    He¡¯d rambled on a while about how many Alephs were nuts, and that despite the fact that they were the only way she was going to get any answers, she needed to be extremely careful about which one she tried making a deal with.

    Soma sat there looking at her pen reader, at the scrambled bits of details she¡¯d written down. She scrolled the page further down, filling the screen with just white, then wrote down the list of specific instructions the blue man had given to her.

    His name was something Latin-sounding. Something that rolled off the tongue. She couldn¡¯t remember.

    That didn¡¯t matter. She had to write the instructions down before her memories faded too much. There was a quirky humor to the way the man had listed them off. That helped her remember them:

    - First, find an Aleph. Someone in power, but with seemingly pointless responsibilities, and with beautiful people working for him or her. They might have weirdly perfect skin and proportions¡ªboth the person and the people working for them.

    - Next, tell them you know that they¡¯re an Aleph, and demand a soul deal. They¡¯re greedy and they can¡¯t make them unless the other person offers first, so they won¡¯t refuse.

    - Get them to agree to trade information on your family for 10% of the space your soul takes up in the Essesin. Don¡¯t let them try to scam you into any more. This is a good deal, no matter what they say. Don¡¯t bother haggling.

    - If your family is okay, then accept that you won¡¯t be able to think as quickly or clearly as you used to from now on. It will be worth it.

    - If your family is dead, contact me again. I¡¯m a water preyvede named Ignacio. I may be able to help you find who¡¯s responsible.

    Ignacio. That was his name. Soma felt herself almost gagging as she wrote that last step. If your family is dead. Even if she didn¡¯t demand the Aleph make her a preyvede, she might end up killing herself and going to Pan as the Tragic Dead anyway. Like the stories you told kids that were sad when they learned about a family member or friend dying unfairly.

    She¡¯d never told her kids any of those stories. Death was supposed to be oblivion, end to suffering and longing and unrest. A week ago that was true. A week ago the Alephs didn¡¯t exist. The TAW were not gods. There was no Irse. A week ago she¡¯d known how the world was put together.

    Observable, measurable, non-deceptive principles.

    Now she was communicating, in her dreams, with a blue man, living in Pan, the land of the dead.

    And she was plotting how to bargain with a demigod.

    ***

    Aramis had been walking for four hours, but her mind had been running in circles, trying to decide if she should try again with Bruce. Her feet were starting to ache and her legs were tired. Finally, she reached the Soul Spring and saw that the green cloud was gone.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    Aramis walked up next to the rock-lined pool of crystal clear, ice-cold water, about ten meters across. She checked the sack lunch Phyllis had given her and looked for what was left over. She¡¯d already eaten the trail mix of dried berries and nuts on the walk up, and decided to take out the sandwich.

    It was chicken, but had a little too much of that sweet mayonnaise that they sell at the shop in Banks everyone at the commune loved. Aramis chewed as she peered over into the pool of the spring.

    A quivering reflection stared back at her, showing her long, pointed, olive-blue face and silver eyes framed by square glasses, all of it framed by her short, dirty-blond hair. The hair color she had to take on faith, since all she could see of it was gray. Her reflection messily masticated on the sandwich as her eyes looked for any sign of a dark area in the water. It was oddly comforting for her to see herself undignified like that, because it kept herself from thinking about what she didn¡¯t like about her appearance.

    She grumbled, set the sandwich and lunch sack down, and took out a torch stone flashlight. She switched it on and then unscrewed the front part so that it could shine out in all directions.

    She held it up and looked through the water. Still nothing. Usually the green cloud appeared about six hours before the new preyvede showed up, so he probably wasn¡¯t here yet.

    Aramis yawned and sat down cross-legged by the pool. She twisted the torch stone to dim it down to the lowest brightness and set it on a large rock next to her.

    The spring was natural, and so was the pool, originally, but centuries ago some Alephs and water preyvedes had dug it out deeper and lined it with river stones from down near the base of the mountain. That was all mostly to help keep the new preyvedes here, easy to find, instead of having them wake up at random points along the stream.

    Aramis finished half of the sandwich and waited. There. She spotted it. Like blue dye streaming in from the trickling streams washing through the moss and into the pool. The blue dye collected and spiraled, drawing inward toward itself, instead of dispersing like real dye would.

    Aramis stood up and put her hands into the pockets of her heavy coat. She suddenly felt embarrassed. And a little angry. She should have gone back to her tent to get some clothes for this guy. And Phyllis should have reminded her. Now she was going to have to pull a naked man out of the water and give him her coat.

    The walk back was going to be cold and awkward.

    Slowly, the spot of dye became darker and larger in the pool. After about twenty minutes, it started to spread out and form the shape of a person. That was Aramis¡¯s cue.

    She bent down and reached into the water. She breathed out slowly and let the submerged part of her arm dissolve into liquid. Hers was clear, not dark blue like the boy in the water, but she knew where her own hand was.

    She reached out with her water hand and gripped the dark colored water hand of the figure in the pool. It gripped down on her hand and turned solid. Her hand also went solid and visible.

    She pushed herself up and pulled the figure out of the water. As his skin rose into the cold air, it changed into solid, blue flesh. As his torso made it out of the water, he gasped for air and his eyes flashed open.

    He scrambled around, trying to bring his legs under him, but they were still water under water. Aramis got fully to her feet, grabbed under his armpit with her other hand, and pulled him all the way out of the pool.

    Finding his feet, he tried to stand, but he was disoriented and clumsy. He went to his knees and Aramis let go of him. He crouched there, breathing deeply and staring at his own hands. Aramis moved behind him and draped her coat over his back.

    He looked up at her and pulled the coat around himself. He sat there just shivering and breathing. Finally, he calmed and sat back on his heels, being extra careful to keep his midsection covered up by the coat. A teenage boy¡¯s face looked up at her, shocked and terrified and confused. Slowly, he calmed down as he caught his breath.

    Aramis folded her arms. ¡°Bienvenue ¨¤ Pan.¡±

    ¡°O¨´ suis-je?¡±

    She mumbled to herself as she tried to think of a concise answer to this expected question: ¡°That may take a while.¡±

    ¡°You speak English? You mumble in English.¡±

    Aramis felt a huge weight fall off of her. ¡°Oh, good. Trying to explain this stuff in French always gives me a headache.¡±

    ¡°Votre Fran?ais est parfait. Why would you prefer this?¡±

    His English had a definite accent, but he still hit all the syllables with perfect clarity.

    ¡°It¡¯s a long story. Did you do one of those duel-immersion programs in school like I did? English was getting pretty popular in Siene when I was little.¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°No. I was born in Siene, but when I was seven my dad got a job at a big farm out east of Lieutenia. He¡¯s an irrigation engineer. But I don¡¯t get to talk in French very much. And, we have time. What¡¯s your long story for why you don¡¯t want to talk in French?¡±

    Aramis looked at the sack lunch, feeling bad that she¡¯d already eaten a lot of the good stuff. There was still half the sandwich left, but the only other thing were some stale, Social Services Guild issue pretzel sticks. ¡°We have time, but we¡¯ll be spending all of it getting you up to speed.¡±

    The kid stood up and searched the buttons and cloth belt of Aramis¡¯ coat. He tied the belt tight and found the pockets.

    Aramis reached down and picked up her flashlight and the sack lunch. She twisted the light to get it burning brighter and got her first good look at the kid¡¯s face. He had to be just barely into his teens, barely old enough to be resurrected. Young children were never made into preyvedes, which no one understood and for which the Alephs gave an no explanation. He was shorter than her but broad chested. Of course, all water preyvede men were built heavy, so that was no surprise.

    The teenage boy frowned as he looked at Aramis¡¯ face. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with¡­why does everything look strange?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the Curse. Your eyes will go back to normal eventually.¡±

    She handed him the sack lunch and led the way down the mountain, following the creek running off from the pool. He looked down at his feet. ¡°My soles are really thick. And my skin is blue. Yours is more green.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s another thing you¡¯ll get used to.¡± Aramis hugged her arms around herself, but wasn¡¯t shivering. She was uncomfortable, but she could handle getting a lot colder than this. ¡°You¡¯ve probably heard of preyvedes, but only in fairy tales.¡±

    He shrugged, but the skin between his eyes wrinkled up.

    ¡°Well, you just died, and you¡¯re alive again. And on Pan. And you¡¯re a water preyvede. And I¡¯m here to explain everything to you.¡±

    ***

    Aramis yawned as she continued leading the kid down the hill. ¡°They don¡¯t let me bring down the new ones very often. I don¡¯t tell people any of the things they want me to tell them.¡±

    ¡°Like, what things?¡±

    Aramis turned and smiled at him. ¡°You know, I forgot to ask what your name was.¡±

    ¡°Jules.¡±

    ¡°Jules. That¡¯s a nice name. I¡¯m Aramis.¡±

    ¡°Aramis? That¡¯s a boy¡¯s name.¡±

    ¡°So? ¡®Jules¡¯ can be a girl¡¯s name too.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but Aramis was one of the Three Musketeers.¡±

    ¡°Well, my parents are weird.¡± Aramis hesitated. ¡°Hey, it looks like you remember books you¡¯ve read. That¡¯s a good sign.¡±

    ¡°I loved that book. And I hated almost everything I had to read in school. Dumas is probably my favorite author.¡± He was silent a moment. ¡°So, what kind of things do you tell people that the others don¡¯t like?¡±

    ¡°You know, you¡¯re unusually curious. Most people are all quiet and in shock at this point.¡±

    He shrugged. ¡°Why would I be in shock? I feel fine. I feel a little silly, wearing nothing but a girl¡¯s coat.¡±

    Aramis snorted. ¡°Sorry about that. I forgot to grab clothes for you. Anyway, I¡¯m going to try and remember what I was saying. You¡¯re now a water preyvede. Did you know what those were before?¡±

    He was silent a moment as they stepped between thick-trunked trees and quickly made their way downhill. The trickling of the creek filled the silence. Aramis felt delightful for some reason. It could have been finding someone who was so calm and unassuming to talk to. Or having a good conversation following being crushed by Bruce¡¯s disinterest.

    Jules hummed. ¡°I heard stories growing up. My mom would tell me to stay away from lakes or rivers if I was ever out in the forest by myself. Said preyvedes might come up and seduce me, then suck out all my blood. I always thought she made up the last part because she didn¡¯t want me to have any fun.¡±

    Aramis chuckled. ¡°Most people on Prometheus never see the preyvedes, but they¡¯re there. Just as many as here. Most of them take ships to communes out on isolated islands. If one of the others had come up here instead of me, they¡¯d tell you that you just hit the jackpot. Now, you¡¯re hot and sexy and you can seduce anyone you want. Or just fool around with the other preyvedes whenever you want.¡±

    ¡°I was already hot and sexy. Don¡¯t know if being dark blue now will help my game. Will I have to suck anyone¡¯s blood?¡±

    Aramis shook her head. ¡°No. But some people drain the life out of the people they go after. Not that things are different when you¡¯re human. It¡¯s just more obvious when you¡¯re a preyvede.¡±

    ¡°You said the colors being dim would go away, right?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Eventually.¡±

    ¡°How long?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s different for everyone. We don¡¯t really know what causes it, but the going theory is that you have to work through your grief over how you died, or why you died, and then you¡¯ll be able to see colors again. Some people just wake up one day and are able to see colors. Others go for years without the Curse going away.¡±

    ¡°Can you see colors yet?¡±

    Aramis looked down at the soil as one foot stepped in front of the other. ¡°No. Not yet. The folks in the commune say it¡¯s because I refuse to really be a water preyvede.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, you keep talking about that. What¡¯s wrong with you?¡±

    She smirked. ¡°I don¡¯t go around trying to seduce lonely men.¡±

    ¡°Are you gay?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t go around trying to seduce lonely women either.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡±

    They walked silently for a moment.

    He cleared his throat. ¡°Do I have to seduce them, or I can just find someone I like and get together with them?¡±

    ¡°They might think you¡¯re boring if you do that, but they¡¯ll like you better than they like me.¡±

    ¡°Do you not want to be with anyone?¡±

    She frowned and turned around to look at him. She could see more of him now with the sky brightening from the coming dawn. She took in a deep breath and put the flashlight away. ¡°I¡¯m not attracted to anyone I right now.¡±

    ¡°That fair.¡±

    Aramis heard him stop walking. He was facing the creek which was now twice as large as when she¡¯d last turned to look at it. After a moment he reached down, picked up some rocks, and threw one into the creek.

    She stepped over to stand beside him and they both watched the creek for a while.

    He drew in a long breath threw his nostrils and shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m never going to see my family again, am I?¡±

    ¡°Probably not.¡±

    He didn¡¯t move. ¡°I can¡¯t remember a lot of things. I can remember everything about my mom, but nothing about anyone else. Except that my dad worked very hard. I don¡¯t¡­I can¡¯t remember if I had brothers or sisters. I think I died, but I can¡¯t remember why.¡±

    Aramis looked at him, then turned back to the creek. More and more detail was revealed as the eastern horizon turned from dull white to a brighter dull white. With more detail just came a clearer reminder that she couldn¡¯t see the deep browns, reds, oranges, and yellows of the forest floor. She felt colder as it swelled brighter. ¡°A lot of us can¡¯t remember that. I know that I killed myself, but I can¡¯t remember how I did it or why. Or even hold old I was. Or am now. I think I was in my mid-twenties, and I¡¯ve been here for eight years, so I¡¯m probably in my early thirties now.¡±

    Jules squinted. ¡°I don¡¯t get it. Why would The Name send us here like this? I thought we were supposed to go to heaven or hell.¡±

    Aramis shrugged, but a thrill of excitement went through her as she hoped Jules was a follower of Seven. ¡°This is not heaven. That¡¯s another reason the others don¡¯t like me. None of them believe in The Name anymore, if they did before. We all know the Alephs brought us here after we died, but just because some super-powerful beings were able to give us new bodies doesn¡¯t mean they¡¯re gods. This world is just as big a mess as Prometheus, so in some ways this second life just feels like a joke.¡±

    ¡°Why is it a joke?¡±

    Aramis¡¯ forehead hurt as she tried to find better words. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m not good at explaining it. Look, it¡¯s like¡­a doctor saved you right before you died by replacing a failed organ. But with us, they replaced the entire body. That doesn¡¯t make the doctor a god. It doesn¡¯t mean a real god doesn¡¯t exist.¡±

    ¡°I think I get it.¡± Jules threw the remaining rocks from his hand into the water and put the dirty hand into a pocket. ¡°So, where are we going?¡±

    ¡°To breakfast.¡± They headed down the hill again, but now Jules walked alongside Aramis instead of behind her.

    ¡°That sounds good. I don¡¯t really like pretzels.¡± He shook the sack lunch, the big chunks of salt and sticks of stale bread rattling inside it.

    ¡°We can get you some clothes there too. Sometimes the new ones will show up and no one will have noticed the cloud or the Alephs won¡¯t send any special notes, and they end up wandering down the mountain naked, so we set up a little outpost down where this creek meets the Alanessa River. There¡¯s a nice restaurant there that has showers too.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s nice.¡±

    ¡°The outpost is basically part of a town called Banks. If one of the others had come to get you, they¡¯d probably take you to the center of Banks after that, though. Show off how great our ¡®culture¡¯ is.¡±

    Jules smiled at Aramis with his eyes narrowed. ¡°Ah, now you¡¯re getting to the reasons why you think people don¡¯t like you. What¡¯s down at central Banks?¡±

    ¡°Depends on the time of day. It¡¯s a bit of a meat market. Stone, water, and fires all trying to look sexy, sunbathing on the rocks, jogging around the fitness trail.¡±

    Jules¡¯ seemed to be forcing his face into a mask if indifference. ¡°Huh.¡±

    ¡°I mean, it¡¯s actually a full town. I¡¯m just¡­over-focusing on the parts I don¡¯t like. They actually have a beautiful hot spring bath house there. It¡¯s hundreds of years old.¡±

    ¡°You said three of the elements just now,¡± said Jules. ¡°What about air?¡±

    Aramis looked skyward. ¡°There are wind preyvedes, yes. They¡¯re the only preyvedes that can pass easily for regular humans, so they usually have communities inside cities. They don¡¯t usually socialize with the rest of us. But, still, everyone comes through Banks first. After breakfast, I can take you to the town center if you want. It¡¯s only half a k¡¯ from the outpost.¡±

    ¡°You afraid they¡¯ll fill my head with water preyvede nonsense?¡±

    ¡°I know they will.¡±

    ¡°Well, then fill my head with non-nonsense, then.¡± He shrugged. ¡°You¡¯re like¡­the anti-Aramis. An anti-musketeer. You¡¯re trying to convince the new guy to not seduce the lonely wives of noblemen. Right? If you could be the one to tell me all the things I should do as a water preyvede, what would you tell me?¡±

    Aramis squinted at the ground as she gathered her thoughts. ¡°Two things. First: just because you¡¯ve suffered, it doesn¡¯t mean you¡¯re allowed to make anyone else suffer. Second: god, the universe, and society don¡¯t owe you anything, no matter how bad your other life was.¡±

    He nodded. ¡°That¡¯s like something my mom used to tell me when I was little. She¡¯s tell me before I went to school, ¡®always be just.¡¯ I didn¡¯t really know what it meant, but I think it¡¯s kind of what you¡¯re saying.¡±

    Aramis let out a long breath, her body relaxing. She wasn¡¯t quite sure why she was tense before. ¡°I like that.¡±

    ¡°So!¡± His eyebrows went up. ¡°I still don¡¯t get why the others don¡¯t like you. You want people to be just, but you think they¡¯ll tell me to be selfish. You said that you believe in the Name, but they don¡¯t. Those don¡¯t seem like good enough reasons. I think you¡¯re embarrassed about the actual reason.¡±

    If her face could blush, it probably would have. Hard for red to show through on a green-blue face. ¡°Maybe. You know about Seven, right?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. My mom believed in that.¡±

    ¡°Well, you remember your mom and you remember Dumas. I remember the Remnants and what they say about Seven. I remember something about every theology book I¡¯ve ever read. Especially the stuff by C. S. Lewis.¡±

    ¡°He wrote Chronicles of Narnia, right? I liked those.¡±

    Aramis smiled. ¡°Yeah. The Alephs don¡¯t like his books. Well, they don¡¯t like all of them. It¡¯s weird which ones they allow and which ones they don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°So, you remember lots of stuff about theology. Is that why the other water preyvedes don¡¯t like you?¡±

    ¡°Sort of. They think that, because they got new bodies, they should take advantage of them. They suffered during their first life, now they¡¯ve earned a life of unmitigated, purposeless indulgence and pleasure. I just seems foolish. Like a waste.¡±

    ¡°So,¡± said Jules. ¡°You don¡¯t want me to abuse my new sexiness, but you think they¡¯ll tell me I should sleep around a lot now.¡±

    ¡°I guess so. Life is too priceless to waste it on just¡­sleeping around and turning up your nose at people who you don¡¯t deem worthy enough to have sex with. Or laying on hot rocks under the sun and enjoying the fact that it¡¯s now impossible to get a sunburn or skin cancer.¡±

    ¡°So, you think people should follow Seven. Not just believe in him, but put sex and other pleasure stuff to the side. Even though most of them think that The Name doesn¡¯t exist, because everyone here died and was brought back to life by the Alephs.¡±

    Aramis chewed on his question a moment. A surge of emotions rushed over her as she considered saying that she had nothing against sex and pleasure, as long as it was according to Seven¡¯s guidelines, but that felt like a lie. She¡¯d been working on Bruce slowly for months, the whole time knowing that he did not subscribe to her convictions. At best, he believed The Name existed.

    If things had worked out, she might have ended up hooking up with him without doing any of the necessary wedding stuff. And, thinking about it right now, she wasn¡¯t sure she would have felt guilty about it. It was difficult for her to know which way it would have turned out, but it was even more difficult for her to imagine herself dumping him because he might not have wanted to wait until they were ready to make it permanent.

    Jules spoke again before she could answer the question: ¡°I can see why it might bother people, but it doesn¡¯t mean they shouldn¡¯t like you. Most people have weird opinions about sex, don¡¯t they? Why can¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Because mine are bossy. Nobody wants to be bossed around, especially about sex.¡±

    Jules¡¯ face scrunched up into a mask of wrinkles as he considered this. Finally, he shrugged. ¡°I suppose that¡¯s the answer.¡±

    Aramis didn¡¯t feel like it was a very good answer, but she didn¡¯t have a better one at the moment. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Sometimes I can explain it all clearly, other times I can¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re talking clearly right now. Would it be easier if you were talking in French?¡±

    Aramis coughed out a dull laugh. ¡°No. That brings up memories.¡±

    Jules nodded. ¡°Will my memories come back when my eyes start being able to see colors again?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Aramis stuck out her lower lip and looked at Jules. He looked back at her and they locked eyes for a moment. He looked like he was doing fine, but there was a hint of fear on his face. She wanted to think of something encouraging to say, but didn¡¯t have anything.

    He resumed looking forward. He pulled his hand free from the pocket and swung both hands out in front and back, clapping against the lunch sack in rhythm with his walking. ¡°I hope I don¡¯t remember anyone. That will just make me sad.¡±

    ¡°Maybe.¡±

    ¡°I think you should tell people about Seven more often. I mean, I¡¯m guessing you don¡¯t very much. I¡¯m getting a feeling.¡±

    She folded her arms. ¡°It¡¯s not easy. How do you convince people living in an afterlife of pleasure that they need to get ready for another afterlife?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Jules stuck out a finger at her. ¡°You¡¯re the one who remembers all that theology. You figure it out.¡±

    She smiled. ¡°Sometimes I write sermons. Because I don¡¯t ever get to talk about theology with anyone.¡±

    His eyes widened. ¡°You write sermons?¡±

    ¡°Well, sort of. I write out notes for sermons. I¡¯m not really that good at the whole, writing everything out, but I can give myself hints for what I want to say in the order I¡¯d want to say them.¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°Crazy. You know all this stuff, you write sermons, and you don¡¯t tell them to anyone. That¡¯s messed up.¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t met many who wants to listen.¡±

    ¡°You sure about that?¡± asked Jules.

    ¡°People only ever get angry. Or, irritated.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not angry. How often do you try?¡±

    Aramis couldn¡¯t remember the last time she¡¯d talked to anyone other than Bruce about her faith, or her views on ¡°being just.¡± And all her conversations with Bruce about it were tentative and cautious. ¡°Not very often.¡±

    ¡°Well.¡± Jules¡¯s shoulders rose up as he took in a deep breath, then they dropped suddenly as he stared at her with his mouth pressed into a flat line. ¡°Today, I just got a second chance to do my life. I don¡¯t remember what I did that got me here, but I¡¯m definitely going to try and do a better job. I think you should too.¡±

    Aramis nodded, looking down and feeling wounded. But in a good way, like she was the one that was being brought up to speed.

 Chapter 5

    Nathan chewed on his fried fish sandwich as he watched the sun rise behind the massive glass dome of the building where he used to work. He¡¯d sort of helped to design it, had given suggestions on some of the types of rooms it would have. How to make delegates from other nations comfortable. Various sizes and types of meeting rooms for discussing various types and sizes of world problems.

    Back then, it had been called the Worlds Hall. He didn¡¯t know what it was called now, or who was in there, but he had a feeling they saw themselves as just as powerful as he and all his friends had once been.

    He looked down at his sandwich. At least the food was better now. Almost impossibly better. That, and the TAW founders being dead, were two huge bonuses to having been asleep for so long. It felt like he¡¯d only been up for one really long night of drinking, dancing, and flirting with women centuries younger than him. But despite the now-mild headache of the latter half of a hangover, he had a clear recollection of the sun going down, coming up, and going back down again before this current sunrise underway.

    He also had memories of wandering around the hills surrounding the city, checking out little pubs and restaurants and theaters. There were fifty-seat black-box theaters everywhere. He had wanted to find one performing some Shakespeare, something timeless, because then he could forget about where he was and when he was and what he had to do. He couldn¡¯t find one, but he did find one place doing ¡°The Importance of Being Earnest,¡± which he wasn¡¯t super familiar with, but at least had that timeless quality. He remembered maybe about fifteen minutes while he watched it of feeling completely normal and having completely forgetting everything.

    What was odd was that many theaters were performing episodes of TV shows that he had heard of; some of his father¡¯s favorites. He¡¯d seen theater marquees listing off episode numbers for ¡°The Odd Couple,¡± ¡°Rockford Files,¡± ¡°Doctor Who,¡± and ¡°Faulty Towers.¡± There was definitely a tendency toward US and British shows from the 1970¡¯s.

    After watching some of these, and realizing he couldn¡¯t really remember what the shows were like¡ªhe¡¯d watched them with his dad when he was really little¡ªNathan decided he was too drunk for black box theater. He¡¯d then gone to one restaurant where an improv team had tried some jokes that weren¡¯t really that funny. A failed riff on a vaudeville act or something. At first, Nathan had thought he might just be too out of touch or too drunk to get the jokes, but no one else in the place had been laughing much either.

    After a few hours resting in a hotel, he¡¯d gone to a museum/art gallery where he¡¯d spent at least four, maybe six hours trying to absorb as much as he could of the culture and history that he¡¯d missed while asleep. Then he¡¯d gone to a wine bar, to get a little hair of the dog, where a three-person band had played a couple early songs by the Beatles, then ¡°Smooth Criminal¡± by Michael Jackson, then ¡°The Battle of Evermore¡± by Led Zeppelin. It was an odd playlist, especially since they were an acoustic group, but again it displayed that lean toward the 1970¡¯s.

    He¡¯d gone up afterward and asked them about the song choice, and the frontman¡ªor front-woman¡ªhad seemed embarrassed, as if Nathan were unduly complimenting them on being more creative than they felt they were.

    ¡°We¡¯re just your typical, gray-market band that does twentieth-century Earth music.¡±

    Nathan had frowned, feeling more out of place at that moment than any other since waking up. ¡°Earth music?¡±

    The young woman had her hair bleached pure white and was wearing the quintessential skinny jeans of all the rockers that Nathan remembered ever seeing. She reached around her shoulder and scratched her neck. ¡°You¡¯re not a cop, are you?¡±

    Nathan laughed at that one. ¡°Oh, hell no. I¡¯m about as far from a cop as anyone could possibly be, trust me.¡±

    The woman shrugged. ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s a thing. Every year, a few new songs leak out onto the streets. Well, not ¡®new¡¯ songs, but you know what I mean. Bands like ours learn them and play them in dives, wherever people are cool and won¡¯t tell anyone.¡±

    ¡°Is that a problem? People ratting-out bands?¡±

    She frowned. ¡°I had a buddy in school. He¡¯s actually the one who taught me my first chords. He was really, really good, knew a ton of the more technical stuff from the early twenty-first century. But, he started doing gigs that were too high profile. Too many people knew about him. One day, he just disappeared. No one knew what happened to him. Most people think they send you off to the penal colonies if they find out you¡¯re too deep into gray stuff.¡±

    Nathan knew that even the most well-meaning people would fall to the seduction of power, or be overcome by others more comfortable abusing power, if there wasn¡¯t proper accountability. Dawson was an idiot for ignoring him, for shutting him up, but she¡¯d won. She and the others had established their absolute rule, then been assassinated, and had their legacy of forcing humanity to be happier continue on for eight centuries. Of course, none of that explained why Led Zeppelin was semi-illegal.

    He needed to learn more about what passed for history around here. Most of what he¡¯d learned in the museum was that people had been fed some bullshit story about what Mebar was. He¡¯d seen a metal door on display, with a sign next to it saying it was part of the huge generational spaceship that had traveled for two thousand years to the solar system Mebar. So that humanity could colonize the new planet Prometheus.

    Nathan took another bite of his sandwich and turned slightly away from the Worlds Hall, or whatever it was called now. The sun was up past the edge of the dome and in his eyes. He wasn¡¯t sure if he would have done much better if he¡¯d been on the Assembly, with all that power at his fingertips. But at least he¡¯d remain aware of the dangers. That might be enough, but there was no way to know now.

    The question of what kind of person could both have the wherewithal to obtain full hold of that much power and then not bow to corruption¡­that was a question he¡¯d have to work on. It would be best of all to somehow get Mebar running under a democratic system, but that would first require finding the aforementioned ideal person and then getting them to willingly give up absolute power right after acquiring it. George Washingtons didn¡¯t come along every hundred years. And even General Washington didn¡¯t have the temptation of a power that could bend the very fabric of reality to his will.

    Around Nathan, people began to come out of the apartment complexes and condo towers of the city center. He noticed a man a block or so away from him in a suit, walking out to stand by the side of the road. The man spoke into his watch and then stood waiting.

    He saw two more people do something like this. Nathan watched them standing there by the roads, waiting.

    He did get distracted as a young woman in a skin-tight jogging outfit exited one apartment with a medium-sized dog on a leash. She ruffled the dog¡¯s floppy ears and took off down the sidewalk, her dog bounding alongside her and her ponytail bouncing behind her head.

    She was maybe half a block from Nathan when an ugly, hovering¡­pill, the front and back covered in huge dimples, appeared from around a corner and came and parked in front of the man in the suit. A door opened and the man stepped inside it.

    ¡°Those things are ugly,¡± Nathan said just as the jogging woman passed by him.

    She stopped and looked at the transportation device, which closed its door after the man sat down and it hovered off down the road. It passed by another man waiting, who didn¡¯t seem to mind that it ignored him, then stopped by the next person to pick them up. Nathan needed to get one of those wristwatches.

    The woman smiled at Nathan. She spoke in the strange sort of mid-Atlantic accent that the upper class folks here in Helison seemed to have. ¡°The way you¡¯re looking at it, it¡¯s like you¡¯ve never been to a city before.¡±

    Nathan shook his head. ¡°It looks like a huge golf ball was smashed, then stretched out, then had windows put in it.¡±

    She stuck out her lower lip. ¡°They are pretty ugly. They say the dimples cut down on drag.¡±

    Nathan frowned. ¡°That¡¯s¡­weird.¡±

    She smiled and continued jogging. Nathan found himself staring at the back side of her shorts as she moved away from him.

    He wasn¡¯t proud of it, but his fixation on what he was watching compelled him to call out, ¡°Hey, what¡¯s your name?¡±

    She turned around, jogging in place. ¡°Valerie.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m Nathan. I may be in town for a while.¡±

    She smiled and resumed running her route. Nathan decided he¡¯d indulged enough for now and kept his eyes to himself.

    Maybe he should get a dog.

    First, though, he probably needed to get a place to live. He turned around and looked at the building behind him. It had a convenience store, kind of like a New York bodega, there on ground level with a man inside puttering around, probably prepping to open soon. There was a doorway off to the side of it that appeared to lead up to apartments.

    He walked up and looked at the door. It had a funny little gear-shaped recess next to it, something he¡¯d seen a few times during his night (and day) of drunken adventuring, but he wasn¡¯t sure how it worked yet. There wasn¡¯t any contact information on the door, or any signs around the building saying how to check for available apartments.

    He decided to walk until he found something like that. He didn¡¯t know if this city had any classifieds, Penny Ads, or Craigslist. There was something like an ¡°Internet,¡± but it seemed to just be a multitude of media subscription services, mostly audio, that were updated twice a day in ¡°data dumps.¡± Many of them could have apartment information, but he had no idea where to begin.

    That was only one of the countless things about this world he needed to sort out.

    ***

    Paul turned the lumpy, amber-like stone over in his hand. Irse had given it to him just before she¡¯d left, recommending that he use it to get out of the world of Threshold without drawing any attention.

    She¡¯d said to throw it on the ground, so he did. It snapped like a firecracker and broke into a dozen little pieces, but those fragments flew outward in a weird way. They spread out and stopped, suspended in the air in an oval as tall as Paul. And the moment they stopped, the oval within them went black.

    No, not black. It was a portal showing a dark stone wall. It was so dark compared to the impossibly-white walls of the room Paul was in that it had looked black. Paul stepped through the portal. The stone now before him looked like a door and had a plaque above it that said ¡°PAN.¡± But he had no idea how the door opened. There were two little cut-outs on the floor, though.

    Paul turned around. The portal was blocking his path to wherever this stone hallway led. Paul wondered what else was down there, but was also worried about Irse¡¯s comment about ¡°drawing attention.¡±

    He looked at the cut-outs in the door and knelt down by them. He fit his fingers into them and pulled up, just out of curiosity. The door was heavy, but it did move. Brilliant light, even brighter than that from the impossible white room, still visible through the portal, bled in under the gap he¡¯d just made.

    Paul clean-and-jerked the door, lifting up to his waist and throwing it all the way up. It stuck up into the ceiling and Paul was bathed in mottled, glimmering sunlight. Before him was a wide, flooded valley, its water moving at a calm, steady pace below patchy cloud cover. Tuffs of submerged grass were bent to the left and swaying in the flow. The half-moon clearing was surrounded by a wall of tall bushes about a hundred meters away from the tunnel in every direction. Here and there along this odd hedge were openings¡­and it looked like there were little signs attached to stakes driven into the ground next to each of those openings. It almost looked like Paul was standing at the center of a hedge maze. A huge one.

    Past all this the valley gradually rose up into hills covered with dark evergreen trees. Further out the hills were veiled in melancholy gray, where clouds reached down to the ground. Paul had spent his whole life in a beach city surrounded by desert. All this green was shocking.

    He heard birds chirping. He smelled pollen. He looked at the wide, flooded river water with sunlight glinting off of it. He turned around and looked back into the dark tunnel and the eerie portal within it. He looked back out at the valley. He stepped out into the water with a bare foot and shivered. He let out a sigh, the cold of the water on his legs feeling so incredibly real. Everything that had happened to get him here: dying, waking in a white room, talking with Irse¡­all of it felt like some horrible dream he¡¯d just woken up from. Still, dream or not, the tunnel remained behind him. Solid, stone, real.

    In leaving that tunnel behind, he realized he was leaving behind everything he¡¯d once thought was real. His soul was not a ghostly something that occupied his body or his mind. There wasn¡¯t just one god. The world he lived in was not created by the Name. Everything was in question.

    He turned around, his feet sloshing in the river as he heard the rumble of falling stone. The door fell down and shut with an echoing THUD that sealed off the tunnel. As the sound reverberated across the clearing, Paul felt lightheadedness wash over him.  Then he felt the ground moving away from him. He looked down to see if he was floating, out of some impossible, fantastic expectation, but what was happening was even stranger.

    He had just grown taller. And his arms and legs were thicker. And his shoulders were broader. His heart beat hard and slow in his chest as he looked down at his hands and arms. He clenched a fist and felt a calm, confident strength. It was both exhilarating and terrifying. He was still wearing his bloody clothing, but now the shirt and pants were tight and uncomfortable on him.

    ¡°Holy hell.¡±

    He took another step away from the now-shut stone door. The rock door blended in almost perfectly with the rest of the rock around it, making it hard to see where the door was.

    Except for a poem that was carved into the door, which read:

    Zeus hid fire

    To keep men from finding ease,

    But Prometheus, of the subtle mind, stole it to give to morals.

    So Zeus fastened Prometheus, driving a post through his middle,

    And letting loose on him the eagle, feeding on his imperishable liver

    Which by night would grow back

    To be eaten by day.

    He looked up and realized that wasn¡¯t the only thing strange about the rock wall.

    He walked backwards, knee deep in chilly water, each step bringing what he saw into more clarity. The rock wall was carved out of the side of a mountain, a mountain that was part of a range that was tall and running along the valley for what looked like hundreds of kilometers in each direction. But the rock wall wasn¡¯t just carved flat. It had a huge bas relief fashioned into it.

    Paul¡¯s mouth dropped open as he continued walking backward and looking up. The relief was taller than any skyscraper he¡¯d ever seen.

    Carved all around the base of the wall were flames. Twisted and lively, almost seeming like they were moving. Along the edges of the relief the flames parted to form boarders on either side. Between them was a man, a stone giant chained to the wall. His body was twisted and writhing in pain, twisted like the flames. A huge eagle had one talon clenched on his hip while the other tore back skin and flesh to make a hole in the man¡¯s side. Through that hole the eagle reached its head in to bite down on his innards.

    Eating his liver.

    This was the doorway to the gateway world between the worlds. He knew where he was¡­sort of. He¡¯d heard stories about a similar carving on a wall about seventy-five kilometers north of Jicheng, but there it was instead a strange rendition of the god Pan. Most people said it had been carved during the first decades that humans had come to Prometheus, using whatever lost technology that they¡¯d used to come there.

    But there were no photographs of it. Just eye-witness claims and drawings from thousands of people of every variety of credibility, all of them describing it as an optical illusion that only appeared under special circumstances.

    It was supposed to be located deep within the Annuaki Valley, where travel was illegal. And, interestingly enough, this valley looked just like the one where the Pan relief was supposed to be located. Except that one was in a desert.

    Which meant he was in Pan. Or¡­on Pan, if Pan was a different planet. Irse had said it was a different world, but Irse hadn¡¯t explained everything very well. It also meant that the tunnel he had just been in probably led back to Prometheus. The door to home had just shut behind him.

    He stumbled back to the door and stuck his hands underwater to try and find hand holds for this side. He did, but when he pulled up, it didn¡¯t move. He repositioned his feet and clenched his jaw and pulled with all his strength. Nothing. He fell back sitting in the river, sweating and catching his breath.

    ¡°Damn it.¡±

    Paul decided to start walking left, downstream. Rivers usually led to bigger rivers and those usually led to cities. He put his hand into his pockets and felt the ten oblong, gold-plated coins that Irse had given him to help him get started once he made it to a city.

    He¡¯d worked at a mid-grade watch building shop, keeping the gear fabricating machines running. He had no idea if people here made watches that way, or if they wore watches. Or if they even bothered telling time.

    He reached the opening in the hedge that was downstream of the now-sealed tunnel door and stopped. There was a little sign next to it that said: ¡°To Chrysoprase. Keep your left hand on the left side to avoid getting trapped. Have a wonderful day!¡±

    So it was a maze. He stepped into it, then stopped. Curiosity made him turn around to look at the rock wall where the carving had been.

    The relief was gone. Or indiscernible. He took one step out of the maze, and could suddenly make it out again. One step in the maze, his eyes could no longer find it.

    He sighed and headed into the maze, his left hand on the left wall. ¡°Not even close to the strangest thing I¡¯ve seen today.¡±

    ***

    What Nathan was looking at didn¡¯t surprise him, but it was still a strange experience seeing it. An older woman glanced at him as she walked by, coming from the bland buildings he was looking at.

    There were six of them, almost identical, all about six stories tall, all pretty close to each other, but at least they had some brick fa?ade work to keep them from being too boring. Though the brickwork was dulled by lichen. A handful of people walked or biked around the area, going about their day, carrying bags of groceries or other things. The whole complex was surrounded by a two-meter brick fence that was covered in lichen and vines.

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    It looked like an 1800¡¯s insane asylum. Sort of. Trees here and there. Patchy, brown grass. Benches. Concrete tables with chess boards inlaid in two different tones of granite. Or, two different tones of concrete. Maybe it was closer to a college campus, though in Nathan¡¯s opinion there wasn¡¯t a lot of difference between one and the other.

    Nathan walked through the wide gate and down the brick-bordered path. This was the HNM Center, the place where the poorer people could get Housing, Nutrition, and Medicine. This was Dawson¡¯s justification for trapping humanity in her new universe. State-offered services like this were the kind of thing that Nathan and people he¡¯d worked with had fought for decades to have set up in the United States. But there, they¡¯d had the problem of figuring out how to pay for it all. But, when you¡¯re a god, you don¡¯t have to worry about things like budget negotiations or the laws of thermodynamics.

    In addition to the half-dozen apartment buildings, there were a handful of service buildings scattered around the complex as well. Right by the gate he¡¯d just entered was a quaint little brick building with a faded sign out front labeling it as the housing office.

    He went toward it, then stopped. He pulled out his little ¡°Aleph key¡± pen that Irse had given him. He¡¯d already found out that, to get any of the apartments in the city, he needed fraction, not shekels. And only good jobs that paid good money included fractions in their salary. Exchanging shekels for fractions was possible, but it was a time-consuming process requiring going through a licensed currency exchange¡­which would most likely result in grabbing the attention of the authorities. There were probably also black-market currency exchanges, but those would grab the attention of criminals who might try to capture him and auction him off to the authorities.

    That left him either going miles outside the city to find somewhere cheap to stay in or going to the HNM Center. He stepped between a tree and the brick wall to keep himself out of direct view and pulled out his pen. He pressed the button on the side of the pen to bring up the glowing screen and looked at his identification:

    <ul>

    <li>NAME: Nathan Alvarez Sanchez</li>

    <li>DOB: 25 Nov M753</li>

    <li>H: 175 cm</li>

    <li>W: 71 kg</li>

    <li>E: Br</li>

    <li>H: Br</li>

    <li>HOME CITY: n/a</li>

    <li>ADDRESS: n/a</li>

    <li>ACCOUNT BALANCE: ?9,999,843</li>

    </ul>

    Everything was basically right, except for the birth year. He was frustrated by the fact that he didn¡¯t know the specific reason for when ¡°M1¡± had started. He¡¯d done the math and figured out it was thirty-three years after he¡¯d arrived in Mebar. And he was one of the later arrivals, so he¡¯d have to do some digging to figure out what had happened thirty-three years later to justify restarting the calendar on that year.

    The answers would be somewhere in Threshold, and Irse had told him that the Aleph pen could get him in there. But she¡¯s forgotten to tell him how. It was already on his list of things to ask her when he saw her again.

    He turned the pen off and stuffed it back in his pocket and headed in the front door of the housing office. He almost laughed as he entered. It looked like every other dull government building he¡¯d ever been in. Worn laminate flooring, pealing veneers on cheap furniture, yellowing walls, spider-webs in the corners of the ceiling, all the usuals.

    A middle-aged, tired-looking woman with frizzy red hair resided behind a counter in the lobby. As she noticed him enter, her mouth moved in a way that might have been some sort of half-hearted smile. She was slouched up against the counter with her head leaning on a hand and didn¡¯t move as Nathan came up to her.

    She also didn¡¯t turn off the audio program she was listening to. The man talking on the program sounded very excited, and it was coming from a squat, wooden, radio-ish box sitting on a counter. It had a couple dials and displays and buttons on the front and a flat antenna made up of three loops of wire sticking up out of the top. Nathan studied the styling of the radio as he listened to the guy talking.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think the private beef industry is really going to pick up any more than it already has. It may be a lot higher quality than the HNM beef, but people are really only ever eating it at restaurants or when they go camping. Those are both luxury contexts for a product that¡ª¡±

    The woman looked at Nathan, a flash of something like self-consciousness crossing her face as she punched a button on the radio, killing it. ¡°Too early for money talk.¡±

    ¡°So.¡± Nathan cleared his throat and smiled. ¡°You¡­own any stock in¡­in beef?¡±

    She turned one of the dials. Text flashed past on one of the narrow displays. ¡°Help you with something?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, uh. I¡¯m looking for¡ª¡± Nathan resisted the temptation to reach for a wallet he wasn¡¯t carrying. Then he resisted reaching for the Aleph pen, having already found out during the previous night that everyone thought it was some sort of prank or prop. And anyway, shekel transactions were paid using iris scans, not anything like a pen.

    The woman turned her eyes toward him just a second before punching a button on the radio. ¡°A place?¡±

    The radio came to life again with music and a very professional-sounding radio voice saying, ¡°Previously on ¡®The Lower Empire¡­¡¯

    ¡°Yes! A place.¡± Nathan smiled and relaxed his arms at his side.

    The woman nodded and reached for something behind the counter.

    ¡°¡­Keizer Brusilov had just discovered the true identity of who had, in fact, raped and murdered his sister. But his list of allies, anyone who might help him seek vengeance, was much shorter than it used to be.¡±

    ¡°I only need it for a little while.¡±

    ¡°Ah, shit!¡± The woman punched the radio again, turning it off. ¡°I started the wrong episode. If he¡¯s looking for the ¡®true¡¯ murderer, that means he already found out Lord Anderson isn¡¯t the one, obviously. Do you follow the show?¡±

    Nathan shook his head.

    ¡°It¡¯s very good. If you can, you really have to catch the stage adaptation of season one. It¡¯s fantastic.¡± She found what she was looking for behind the counter. She pulled out what looked like a thick drink coaster and set it on the counter in front of Nathan. In the center of the coaster was one of those gear-shaped recesses that were on all the doors all over the city. ¡°Just touch your watch there. It¡¯ll assign you one of the singles and give you your cleaning detail for the week. If you forget your detail, your watch will remind you. If you go two weeks without doing your detail, you¡¯ll be locked out of your place and you¡¯ll have to come back here.¡±

    She finally adjusted her posture so she could turn her face toward him. ¡°Come back on a day I¡¯m not working, if that happens. It¡¯s a lot of paperwork getting you back in.¡±

    ¡°I guess I could just make life easier for everyone and do my cleaning detail.¡±

    She smiled. ¡°You¡¯d think that.¡±

    Nathan frowned at the drink coaster with the gear recess. ¡°Um¡­what if I don¡¯t have a watch?¡±

    She reached behind the counter again. She dug around for a second, looked up at Nathan with just her eyes and set a metal-banded watch down on the coaster. ¡°You look like you¡¯d look good in gunmetal.¡±

    Nathan picked up the watch. It was heavier than he expected, which made it feel more expensive than it looked. And it looked like a perfectly normal analogue watch that had been worn every day for years. The lens over the face had been re-polished to perfect clarity, making it stand out starkly against the scuffed, scratched-up metal. It had quartz movement and big, clear numbers on the face. He stuck out his lower lip and nodded approvingly. ¡°Nice.¡±

    The woman¡¯s eyebrows went up. ¡°It is nice. Most of the second-hand ones are usually more banged up.¡±

    Nathan smiled. ¡°I¡¯m guessing really nice watches usually cost a bunch of fractions.¡±

    ¡°And get stolen.¡± She pointed at him without looking at him. She twisted a dial on the radio one click and started up a new episode. ¡°Take my advice, stick with the HNM watch. Nobody¡¯s gonna mug you to steal something they can get for free.¡±

    Nathan nodded and turned to leave as he put the watch on. He stopped as he saw a tray by the door with a hot/cold water dispenser next to it. The tray had paper cups and tins of tea and dehydrate coffee. Next to that were a few small glass jars labeled sugar, powdered creamer, and monkey spider crystals.

    ¡°He killed my sister! The fact that we¡¯re friends only makes the crime worse!¡±

    ¡°What the hell are monkey spider crystals?¡±

    ¡°They give an extra kick to your coffee.¡± The woman again looked at him. ¡°Where are you from, anyway?¡±

    ¡°Far away.¡± Nathan resisted asking if ¡°monkey spider¡± was a brand or if there really were spiders that looked like monkeys out there. He¡¯d rather not know.

    A thought hit Nathan. A tiny bit of curiosity. He¡¯d figured that food would get better tasting the longer people were here, but the food was too good. That fish sandwich had tasted like it was real fish. But there were no ¡°real¡± fish here. All the artificial flavors and other wizardry of the TAW had been able to make foods taste close, but never perfect. That fish had been pretty darn perfect.

    But it was still a fish sandwich, which by definition were still a little nasty and drowned in mayonnaise. The one thing Nathan remembered that they¡¯d never even got close¡­was tea. Especially something like Earl Grey, with its very mild citrusy hints added to the black tea leaves.

    Nathan grabbed a cup and opened the tin of Earl Gray to grab a satchel and put it in the cup. As he poured steaming hot water from the red spigot on the dispenser, the curiosity that had inspired this experiment slowly changed into apprehension. He really missed good tea. All the drama and confusion and insanity aside, he really wanted some real tea. He fiddled with the watch, finding a stopwatch built into it. He started it with a beep.

    ¡°You time your tea with a watch?¡±

    Nathan frowned at the woman. ¡°How else would you know if it¡¯s ready or not?¡±

    She snorted and shook her head.

    As he watched the water darken, and caught a whiff of the aroma, his apprehension deepened almost into fear.

    There was no way it was going to taste right. It was impossible. The TAW could never replicate that level of subtlety. You didn¡¯t rescue humanity from extinction by creating a new cosmos without losing a few things. It was the cost of survival.

    He waited, listening to the high fantasy radio drama going on behind him: ¡°How can you be worried about stability? How will my nation respect me, how will they follow me, if I won¡¯t demand justice? You saw what she looked like.¡±

    Nathan¡¯s head started to ache as he watched the time. Maybe humanity wouldn¡¯t want to be rescued from the prison the TAW had built for them. If it wasn¡¯t flawed the way he remembered, it might be impossible to convince them to leave.

    Three minutes had passed. He lifted up the cup to his lips and took a sip. Rich aroma flooded his sinuses as the mix of bitterness with citrusy goodness filled his mouth and went down his throat. He was shaking now, and his eyes were watering up. It was perfect. It was cheap, stale tea with way too much bergamot, but it was real. Real, not some fabrication of arrogant men that had turned themselves into gods.

    He set the cup down and leaned against the door frame, feeling weak. He was crying, maybe from the memories of real food and real drink and the wonderful realization that he had access to it again. Or it could have been because he was absolutely terrified.

    ¡°Where the hell am I?¡±

    ***

    ¡°Jasmine Avenue! Jasmine Avenue!¡±

    Aramis¡¯ mind seemed to stick to the loud words that drifted past her. She wasn¡¯t sure why, then she snapped awake and almost jumped out of her seat.

    Other people looked at her as she noticed the bus they were all on hadn¡¯t stopped yet. She calmed down. They were still approaching the wide cross-street.

    The scenery had changed drastically since Aramis had started the trip at four in the morning. By the Banks train station the roads had been dirt paths surrounded by evergreen woods. But the train didn¡¯t make it all the way south to Hempstock, so she¡¯d got out at North Station, which was surrounded by little farms with irrigation piping standing idly out in fields. There she¡¯d got on a bus and drifted off to the rhythmic trotting of its multiple legs. The one thing that was the same throughout the whole trip was the Alanessa river running along the left side of either railroad tracks or street, though it was must wider and deeper here.

    The road was now stone-paved with two lanes and hard concrete strips down each lane to handle the tough feet of the buses, which had to handle any terrain. Between this side of the road and the river were shipping offices and businesses all the way to the bank.

    Past the river was the dense downtown of Hempstock. Buildings were crammed together in a seemingly chaotic tangle, little order put into the arrangement of the streets. The densest part wasn¡¯t very big, just a triangle of land formed by the Alanessa meeting the Thyme, the third side boarded by an ancient wall. Each side was only about a couple kilometers long, but there was a lot going on in that triangle.

    On the right side of the road, hills rose up and away from the riverbank, the green slopes covered in houses that became larger and more beautiful the further up they went. Those hills were mirrored on the other side of downtown, past the bigger Thyme river, by other hills similarly dressed with slightly denser, slightly less rich housing. But still really nice.

    All of this made for a downtown that was surrounded by the affluent, who got to look down upon it from their lofty dwellings. And here, on the bus, the other passengers and the driver seemed to be looking down on Aramis as she struggled to get her heavy tool cart to follow her down the aisle without running over feet or banging into knees. That, and having her bulky clothing bag draped across her shoulders, made for awkward and slow going to the door.

    The bus stopped and she made it to the stairs leading to the door and stumbled out of the bus, the metal wheels of her tool cart rapping on each step behind her. Once she was out, the driver hastily pulled the lever to close the door and the bus rattled off down the road on twelve low, stubby legs moving with an insect rhythm. It resembled two ants marching single-file, carrying a tall, angular lozenge together on their backs.

    Aramis took her bag off her shoulders and set it on the tool cart, wrapping the shoulder strap around the cart¡¯s handle, and set off south down Jasmine Avenue¡¯s sidewalk toward the center of Hempstock. After she crossed the bridge, which looked too streamlined and modern compared to the neighborhood she was approaching, the sidewalk became cobblestone and her going became very loud. The tool cart¡¯s wheels clattered behind her, echoing off the wood and stucco buildings packed together. Hopefully no one was trying to sleep-in this morning.

    She¡¯d been to the city a few times before, but not enough and not recently enough to have very good bearings. She remembered that she just needed to take the first diagonal street coming off of this one to get to where she needed to go, but every time she came here she got confused by the road layout and the repetitive patterns of the buildings.

    It was too early for afternoon shoppers and too late for morning commuters, so at least the streets weren¡¯t full of people. Lots of people were still out and about, wearing long, heavy coats. Men wore fedoras, even though last Aramis had heard, they were supposed to have gone out of style. Apparently, that was only for women, who now mostly wore knitted hats or just had well-styled short hair.

    Aramis came to a lamppost standing in the center of a five-way intersection. It had over a dozen arrows tacked to it, pointing down the streets, one of the ones pointing at Aramis saying the bus stop was down the way she¡¯d come.

    One arrow, pointing to the right, the first diagonal street, said ¡°Kettle Square,¡± so she went that way.

    She ducked under a towel drying on a line stretched between two windows. The buildings around her, a mix of houses, apartment, and shops, were between two and five stories tall, with gardens on top of most of them. She looked at each one, at each building and each arrangement of plants on top and each little pocket park nestled in between buildings here and there. She looked at everything carefully, partly so she could learn her way around and partly because it was all lovely.

    Aramis frowned as the buildings around her, on average, were getting larger and larger. Now most were about four or five stories.

    She passed under an archway and entered Kettle Square. It was a big, open area encircled by taller buildings with fancy shops in their first-floor units. There were benches and narrow trees all around, with a fountain in the center, and people scattered all over. Most sitting, reading. And the square wasn¡¯t actually square. It sort of looked like a tea kettle when you looked at it on a map.

    Aramis had her eyes in every direction except where she was going when someone yelled at her: ¡°Excuse me, miss.¡±

    She frowned and tried to see where the voice had come from. It seemed like it had come at her from several different directions, echoing off the stone and stucco of the buildings surrounding the square. Then she saw a chubby, uniformed woman charging toward her and figured that she was the source.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    The woman was wearing a light-blue uniform and a dark-blue helmet and looked very impatient. And she was pointing at Aramis¡¯s tool cart. ¡°You better have a permit if you¡¯re going to be selling anything from that out here.¡±

    Aramis frowned, confused, and shook her head. ¡°No, I¡¯m not selling anything. I¡¯m looking for Cedric¡¯s Machining.¡±

    The women frowned, staring at Aramis for a moment. Finally, she pointed to the farthest corner of the square. ¡°Over there. Make it quick.¡±

    Aramis nodded and went on. Before going around a narrow stand of trees, she looked back at the police officer. She was standing in the same place, looking around with an expression of both boredom and suspicion.

    Aramis navigated around benches and trees, then moved around that large fountain in the center. There were two terraces to the fountain, with a bronze sculpture at the top with three women standing back to back, facing out. Water poured out from something each held in their hands. One seemed to be squeezing a piece of fruit, another seemed to be emptying a sack, and Aramis was on the wrong side to see what the third was holding.

    By the time she was past the fountain, she thought she could make out her destination. There was a rusty, metal sign hanging above a doorway with a large gear as part of the design. A couple moments later she could make out the words as ¡°CEDRIC¡¯S MACHINING.¡±

    She turned around to see if she could now make out what the third women in the sculpture was holding. She still wasn¡¯t at a great angle, so she wasn¡¯t sure. It looked like she was holding a dog and slicing its throat. The water was pouring out of the cut.

    While being grossed out by this, she ran into someone.

    As she lost her balance and struggled to not fall to the ground, she let go of her tool cart, which for a moment seemed to hesitate over whether it wanted to fall over onto its long side or tilt back and right itself. Aramis ended up landing hard on a knee, then grumbling as she stood up.

    With the loud clanking of the multiple tools contained within the wooden box, her tool crate decided to right itself and stand up calmly. But the person Aramis had run into was not calm. He was a big man, a young and attractive man, standing with his hands held slightly out away from his body, looking at her with his brow furrowed.

    Aramis turned to face him. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about that. I got distracted.¡±

    ¡°You touched me.¡±

    Aramis took a step back. ¡°I¡¯m¡­sorry. I didn¡¯t hurt you, did I?¡±

    ¡°And what the hell is in that box, anyway?¡± He pointed at her cart. ¡°Why would a water whore need luggage?¡±

    Aramis narrowed her eyes. Most people were ignoring the scene. It wasn¡¯t their business, and minding your own business was extremely important business in Hempstock. Still, some were watching. Some watched while trying to not make it too obvious they were watching.

    She stepped toward her cart. ¡°I¡¯ll just get out of your way.¡±

    But the man kicked her cart hard, knocking it over. The cover snapped open, sending drill bits, punches, counter-sinks, clamps, files, chisels, and plyers spilling out over the cobblestones. Some of the smaller pieces fell down into the cracks between the stones.

    Aramis went to her hands and knees beside the mess, trying to pick everything up as quickly as possible.

    The man only looked angrier now. ¡°You stole that, didn¡¯t you. Little water whore probably thought she didn¡¯t get paid what she deserved, so she stole some man¡¯s livelihood. Trying to pawn it off now?¡±

    Aramis didn¡¯t look up. She was too busy putting the tools away. She wasn¡¯t afraid of him hurting her. She was strong, and even if he pulled a weapon on her she would still be able to take care of herself. The fountain was close enough that she could use the water in it very effectively. But it would look very bad. How was she supposed to get a job at a place that was fifty meters from where she¡¯d beat up some random person?

    That¡¯s how it would be remembered. The fact that the police officer hadn¡¯t stepped in, and was probably ignoring the scene, implied that the law would not be on her side.

    The man stepped closer, standing over her. ¡°What? Not going to defend yourself? You a whore and a coward?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a machinist.¡±

    ¡°The hell?¡± he laughed. ¡°I thought all you little water girls either come here to make men your slaves or to go work at the casinos. You think you¡¯re better than all the others or something?¡±

    Aramis finally looked up. She¡¯d misunderstood the situation. He wasn¡¯t alone. He had two friends behind him that she hadn¡¯t notice before. She scrambled for ideas. Some way to get out of this situation. ¡°I couldn¡¯t do that work anyway. I didn¡¯t get dished out the best looks.¡±

    He knelt down. Aramis didn¡¯t like the look in his eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t need looks for some work.¡±

    She held his gaze, not flinching and hoping she didn¡¯t look as worried as she felt. ¡°Please leave me alone.¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°You already touched me. You¡¯ve probably already enslaved me anyway. Used that bond magic to make me do whatever you say.¡±

    Aramis went back to picking up tools.

    She jumped to her feet and stumbled back as she felt his hand touch her chin.

    Her blood was boiling now. Her hands clenched in fists and her breathing went fast. She could feel her sense of touch reaching out to the water in the fountain. The water felt as close as his hand had been to her face. She desperately wanted to make the water turn into ice and become even closer to his face. At very high speed.

    ¡°Hey, don¡¯t complain. You¡¯re the one controlling me now.¡± He was still kneeling down by her tools and smiling at her. His two friends were smiling. Aramis wanted to do one of two things: Run, or beat these three idiots to within an inch of their lives. She couldn¡¯t do either, because she needed this job.

    This was the only machinist shop that she had a lead on. The owner knew her and Ignacio, and had come out to the commune multiple times to sell them new tools and to buy parts. If she didn¡¯t get this job, she was screwed. And he was the only person she knew of in the whole city who had any semblance of a belief in Seven, though he wasn¡¯t practicing. He would at least be able to let her know if there were any Remnant study groups meeting nearby.

    The man kneeling by her tools shook his head. ¡°Only one way for me to break the spell.¡±

    Aramis looked at him. His snide smile locked on to her as he took an expensive micrometer out from the open tool crate. He turned the delicate, precise instrument over in his hands, waiting. She calculating her options. She had to put them down, get her tools, and run before the police could come up with an excuse to grab her. Losing the job sucked, but she absolutely could not afford to lose her tools. Maybe she could go to another city, one that didn¡¯t have as many bigoted creeps.

    She took in a deep breath and forced her body to relax. Lowering her chin to guard her throat, she slid her left foot forward to take a ready stance. ¡°Please leave.¡±

    All three of them laughed. ¡°Listen, girl, you¡ª¡±

    One of the friends in the back was shoved forward by someone and sent tumbling down the cobblestone like a sack of potatoes.

    Then the other friend was shoved in the other direction, more upward than outward. After landing on his arm pretty hard, he recovered quickly, getting back to his feet while nursing his arm to face whoever had just attacked.

    He and the one holding Aramis¡¯ micrometer turned to face a tall, muscular man with a mess of kinky brown hair and furious, black eyes. He looked very strong, but not strong enough to have thrown either of the men as easily as he had. Only water or stone preyvedes could show that kind of effortless strength, but he didn¡¯t look like either. Granted, she couldn¡¯t really tell the difference between dark brown skin and dark gray skin, but he still didn¡¯t look like a stone. Regardless, he was that strong.

    He could be an Aleph, but they would never display their power in a crowded place like this. He reached out a hand toward the man holding Aramis¡¯ micrometer.

    The man frowned. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Give me the micrometer.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Because I¡¯ll break your nose if you don¡¯t.¡±

    The creep stood up and handed him the tool. He then kicked Aramis¡¯ tool cart over again, spilling even more contents out this time. He smiled at the strong man, who then jabbed his fist into his nose, knocking him backward. It was a very subdued hit. An effortless punch, leaving the creep¡¯s pride more wounded than his nose.

    His hand over his nose and his eyes red, he tried once more to stare down the dark, strong man, then shrugged, cursed under his breath, and walked off. His two friends followed and the people pretending to not be watching stopped pretending and went back to not watching.

    Aramis let out a huge sigh of relief and returned to picking up her tools. The man who¡¯d rescued her held out her micrometer. She looked at it, then looked up his arm, noticing first the muscles of his shoulders showing through his jacket, then at his tone, solid neck. Usually, men were only this gorgeous and cut if they were stone preyvedes, but on occasion you found a regular person who was really good at working out.

    She half expected him to be smiling, the sun shining behind his hair to give him an angelic glow. She¡¯d sort of hoped for it. Being rescued by a dashing hero on her first day into the city would have been a nice bonus. Instead, he just looked frustrated and tired.

    She took the micrometer. ¡°Thanks.¡±

    He nodded. ¡°I¡¯m Paul. And, I think I need to apologize.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re Aramis, right?¡±

    She frowned. ¡°How did you know that?¡±

    He shrugged and looked behind him, at Cedric¡¯s shop. ¡°I think I stole your job this morning.¡±

 Chapter 6

    Aramis walked into the tiny apartment that smelled of bleach and let go of her tool cart¡¯s handle. It slammed to the softwood floor with a clank and rattle of all the tools she was able to recover. There were a few screwdriver bits and punches she couldn¡¯t find even with Paul¡¯s help.

    Remembering him, Aramis took her duffle bag full of clothes off her shoulder and threw it against the wall. It hit the wall and bounced off, landed on the bed, and rolled off onto the floor right in front of her.

    She turned around, shut the door behind her slowly even though she wanted to slam it, and sat on the bed in the dark. She could hear the chirps and buzzes of bugs outside, because the door and the walls were thin. She made a mental note to stuff a towel in the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor, so multi-legged visitors wouldn¡¯t come by while she was sleeping. The fact that there was a mosquito net folded up on the tiny nightstand on the corner opposite the bed was evidence that it would be a good idea.

    She sat on the bed and caught her breath, her body calming down even though she didn¡¯t want to calm down.

    She was supposed to be at Cedric¡¯s right now, working, probably helping close up for the day. But she¡¯d come here a day late and a beautiful boy had arrived before her who was more qualified and had snatched the job away from her.

    She was supposed to get an apartment near Kettle Square. She would have got one of the traffic reduction apartments, only needing proof she had a job in the area. Then, after she got her first pay, she could get a nicer place. That had been the plan.

    This was supposed to be the beginning of moving forward with her life. But now she was in one of the Social Services Guild apartment compounds, five kilometers outside the city center. Past the ancient wall on the eastern edge of the downtown triangle, past the industrial parks, past the low-income housing, etcetera, etcetera.

    This compound was one of the tiny ones, set up to encourage people to get jobs as quickly as possible. The apartments were barely larger than prison cells. They only provided a meal of rice and beans, once for breakfast and again for dinner. She¡¯d have to go to the SSG¡¯s headquarters building in the middle of downtown to get lunch, which was usually a much better meal, sometimes donated by a restaurant down there. It was all part of the program to get people out busy looking for work. If they offered lunch here at the compound, some people might never leave. Some probably still didn¡¯t.

    She¡¯d had nothing to eat but rice and beans before. Thinking about it made her sick.

    But, despite how angry she was, her nerves continued to calm. She reached over and opened one of the side pockets on her duffel and pulled out a small bag of trail mix. The lingering fear of rice and beans faded as she chewed on peanuts and dried cranberries.

    There was always a risk she wouldn¡¯t have gotten the job anyway. It was never for sure. And, even though that guy had stolen her job, he had saved her from the embarrassment of beating up those guys. And from the risk of getting arrested for it. And from the possibility of losing all her tools. And he had been gorgeous. That was why she was so angry now. She hadn¡¯t been able to get angry around him before because she was too distracted.

    And he¡¯d been really nice: ¡°We can talk to Cedric. I don¡¯t need a full-time job yet. I¡¯m sure he could work something out so that he hires both of us and we split the hours until one of us finds something else.¡±

    It had been a cute sentiment, and he¡¯d been desperate to try and make it right with her, as if he owed her something. But he didn¡¯t owe her anything, so she¡¯d politely told him she¡¯d look somewhere else and then had stormed off straight here. So she could mope in peace.

    The light from under her door was beginning to fade. She could almost see the blue in it. She decided to go for a walk.

    This was all because she¡¯d been woken up in the middle of the night. Standing up, stuffing the trail mix in the pocket of her long coat, she thought about the other bag she had stuffed away. One filled with gold salt, which she¡¯d spent a lot of money to buy two years ago. Two years ago, when she was first being annoyed by Ignacio¡¯s midnight caller visions. He¡¯d told her how to build a Merlin¡¯s Music Box, which if she wore around her neck, would keep her from being touched at all by his clients. Or any sort of mental intrusions caused by any other kind of mazai machines or potions. She¡¯d bought the gold salt right away, spending a week studying mazai machines, but then had become preoccupied with building her machinist tool cart.

    She opened the door and stepped from her apartment into a little courtyard. It was just large enough for about twelve of the small apartments, plus the bathroom off in the corner, to from a perimeter around it. The floor was gravel compacted into hard dirt, but with grass growing around the couple trees rising up from the center. Simple wooden furniture was set up.

    No one was here at the moment. She was alone in her kingdom of the poor. She turned around, reached deep into a pocket, and pulled out her pocket watch. She set it against the side of the door over the gear-lock contact and twisted, hearing the lock snap.

    She walked out of the courtyard, passing outside the walls that were just stretched canvas, onto a narrow, gravel street with overgrown trees on either side. Past those trees were cheap, small houses that had, probably, also been built by the Social Services Guild. The tiny yards out in front of each were interesting assortments of dirt, rocks, and weeds.

    A pedicab, driven by a lanky guy wearing a tall, narrow-brimmed hat, rolled by Aramis with its signature tick-tick-tick and then stopped. The guy smiled and waved at her. ¡°Going downtown? I can offer a discount if you¡¯re headed to the Moldy Knuckles.¡±

    Aramis shook her head.

    ¡°I also provide a laundry service. Good prices.¡± The guy handed Aramis a card and continued on down the road, his bike tick-ticking to advertise his business.

    The road opened up to a roundabout with an island in the center that had a pocket park complete with benches and a bulletin board. Curious and bored and grumpy, Aramis went over to check out the bulletin board.

    There were a few people hanging out in the circular park. An old, wrinkled man smoked a pipe, staring off at nothing. A couple middle-aged people were sitting together and reading one of those mainstream news zines. An older woman stood out on the curb, watching down the street, probably waiting for someone.

    Aramis moved past them and felt a wonderful sense of invisibility at not having anyone stare at her. Not that people had stared at her while she was downtown, but after the experience with that creep, she¡¯d felt eyes on her.

    She didn¡¯t feel that now. She walked up to the bulletin board and looked over the postings. Some fliers were hand-written, some were printed, others had that dot-dash appearance of having been auto-written with a pen reader. Aramis took her time examining them¡­

    ¡°LOST! Our Buddie. Brown shiatsu. Reward¡± (this one had a dot-dash pointillist picture of a dog auto-written above the large letters)

    ¡°Piano, guitar, and mandolin lessons. 654-Lanning-132. Sat & Sun 11-2¡± (this one had little anthropomorphized cleft notes dancing around the info, hand-drawn)

    ¡°Discussion Dinner, here! Friday at 7:30. Addresses ends in 1-3: bring a meat, addresses ends in 4-6: bring a drink, address ends in 7-0: bring a side. Topic: Justice of the Alephs: do the existence of preyvedes display their mercy, or their corruption?¡± (this one was printed in rounded, friendly letters)

    ¡°Improv class. South Dist Library multipurpose room. Wed. 9pm. ?20 per person.¡± (this one was printed also, with silhouettes of two people having an animated conversation)

    ¡°Live music. The Gaff: Coffee and Tea House. Every Tuesday at 7 p.m.¡±  (this was a small, rough copy of a professionally printed original)

    ¡°Want out of SSG housing? Good money/traffic reduction apt/flexible hours. Send watch address to BETTERWORLD99¡± (This one was written with a fat, felt-tip marker)

    ¡°Topical reading group. Location TBD. Time TBD. June topic: Bigotry toward preyvedes. July topic: Rumors of work camps for the poor actually death camps. August topic: Censorship of gray market items and secret arrests of excessive offenders.¡± (this one was printed on very rough security paper, the multi-colored fabrics and random strands of blue thread pressed into the material almost making it difficult to read. And it had no contact information).

    There were more notices about missing cats, lost dogs, and pet vaccinations. More about music, voice, and stage acting lessons. There were a lot of older, faded ones talking about yard sales that were half, or more, covered up by newer postings. There were pins stuck to orphaned scraps of paper. There was a flier about a book club meeting at a bookstore, ¡°Ayakashi Stories,¡± with really complicated instructions for how to get from the front door back to the meeting room. They were going to discuss a book called The Dispossessed and ¡°how both world governments critique Pan¡¯s leadership.¡±

    There were a few more of the scam ¡°miracle job¡± notices. Aramis was enjoying looking at the different drawings and artwork and what colors she could make out when she noticed a small, glossy business card, stuck to the lower corner.

    She knelt down to look at it. The artwork on the little business card was nice, with¡ªas far as she could tell¡ªa green vine against a black background.

    ¡°R<sup>3</sup>: The Remnant Reading the Remnants. Come celebrate Seven with us!¡±

    She studied it a few more minutes and figured it couldn¡¯t hurt to check it out. She had been hoping Cedric would let her know about a meeting like this, so this was a lucky find. She fished through her coat pockets, first grabbed her pen reader as if to take a picture of the card, but instinctively let go and instead pulled out a scrap of security paper.

    She hadn¡¯t grown up on Pan, obviously, but the cultural pressure to never let one¡¯s business be made electronic was already very strong in her. She wrote the details of the meeting on the scrap. The next meeting would be tomorrow night, meeting in the back room of a bakery/restaurant called Jack and Ben¡¯s. She put the paper back in her pocket and continued on her walk, holding her head a little higher.

    She had something interesting to look forward too.

    ***

    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°You look terrible.¡±

    Soma leaned forward and loomed over the baby-faced receptionist at the desk. ¡°I¡¯m done calling and listening to excuses for why she can¡¯t meet with me. Tell her that I will see her now.¡±

    The kid frowned, the wrinkles from the action somehow not even quite looking like normal-person wrinkles. It annoyed Soma, especially now that she knew it was all fake. He was just a doll fabricated for the pleasure of an Aleph. Or an upgraded regular person for the same purpose¡­if all that Ignacio had said in her dream was true¡­in the dream conjured by a magic potion where she¡¯d had a conversation with a supernatural being from the land of the tragic dead.

    The intolerable perfection of the receptionist¡¯s face was almost evidence enough that all this insanity was really happening. Impatient with his silence, Soma leaned in even closer. ¡°I know what Viki is. I¡¯m here to make a deal.¡±

    The kid held her gaze for a moment before answering. ¡°Ma¡¯am, I¡¯m going to call the police if you don¡¯t leave.¡±

    Soma lowered her voice even more. ¡°I¡¯m here to make a soul deal with the Aleph.¡±

    The boy¡¯s eyes flashed wide, but only an instant. He leaned back and cleared his throat. ¡°I¡¯ll¡­see if she can spare you a moment.¡±

    ***

    ¡°Can¡¯t sell you a ticket to there because there isn¡¯t a train that goes there. It¡¯s way in the Annuaki Valley wildlife refuge. It¡¯s illegal. Some sort of rare moths that people were poaching as aphrodisiacs or something.¡±

    Nathan cursed under his breath. If that was the case, he¡¯d need a dirt-bike, but his pen wasn¡¯t able to create one. It could make a few other different types of motorcycles, but those wouldn¡¯t work. And he could make a Land Rover, apparently, but that would stand out here on Prometheus. Those few people here who had personal vehicles either had weird tricycles or trucks. It was kind of depressing. He was actually hoping for more hover vehicles, it being the distant future, after all. ¡°What kind of vehicles can a person buy with shekels?¡±

    The guy at the train station¡¯s customer service desk, probably in his early twenties, shrugged. ¡°A bike, I guess?¡±

    ¡°Bicycle or motorcycle?¡±

    The guy frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    Nathan threw up his hands. ¡°So either one of them doesn¡¯t exist anymore, or you came up with some stupid, sci-fi word for one of them, and now I have to figure out what it is! Do people drive two-wheeled, motorized devices? Or hovercrafts? Do they drive¡ª¡±

    ¡°Sir, I know what those things are. I know what a bicycle and a motorcycle is. I just don¡¯t know if you can get either with shekels. Maybe used, I don¡¯t know.¡±

    Nathan felt himself calming. He nodded. ¡°Sorry. I¡¯m having a really weird week.¡±

    Nathan remembered working crappy service jobs like this before, so he knew that just apologizing would set him apart from most of the irate customers. He still felt a little bad for losing his temper. ¡°What¡¯s the closest you can get me to the valley?¡±

    The kid turned around to look at the map of what he, and everyone else, called the Domoy Continent. Nathan couldn¡¯t remember if they had a name for it yet before he was put under, but it was as good a name as any. It probably meant ¡°continent¡± in some random language.

    The kid turned back around. ¡°The closest I could get you there is Wide Valley Station in Jicheng. Trip is about six hundred kilometers. Have to go south up Hundred Mile Pass, then double-back to get to Jicheng.  There¡¯s one transfer to another train at Khoikhoi, so the entire trip will take about six hours. Once you get to Jicheng, you can probably find someone there selling some sort of off-road vehicle. Maybe. Just don¡¯t tell anyone where you¡¯re going.¡±

    Nathan¡¯s face fell the zig-zagging route was explained. ¡°How come there aren¡¯t any commercial airplanes?¡±

    The kid looked at him like he was joking. ¡°I mean, there are private planes. Those rides cost a fortune. And our trains are pretty fast. And, technically they are flying. Just...only a couple meters off the ground.¡±

    Nathan couldn¡¯t resist: ¡°You know, I¡­read in a book that on Earth, they had commercial flights down to such a science that it would cost the same to fly across a continent as to take a train.¡±

    The pimpled face scrunched up with wrinkles. ¡°That sounds like one of those dumb fairy tales.¡±

    Nathan shook his head. ¡°Economy of scales, man.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no way they could make it that cheap.¡±

    Nathan studied the kid¡¯s face, fascinated by the earnest bafflement. It reminded him of when one of his professors in college had talked about Alexander the Great, about when he was the young son of a gruff Macedonian general. How he had looked on the ruins and remnants of civilizations that had disappeared hundreds or thousands of years before he had been born. How he had reflected on the loss of technology and art, which he would eventually rediscover and reinvigorate after he had conquered the world.

    But Nathan was not reflecting on a loss of technology or art. Prometheus had nearly all the scientific principles and engineering knowledge that had existed when he was on Earth. They had a few additional advances at their disposal, though fewer than what eight centuries should have yielded. He was instead musing a loss of logistical prowess. That was what fascinated him: A society could be held back, not by seeing the technology as impossible, but by seeing the administration as impossible.

    Nathan sighed and figured he should write some notes about this problem of lost logistics during the train ride. ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll take a ticket to Jicheng.¡±

    ***

    ¡°This is my fault.¡± Viki paced behind her desk. Soma stood across from her, leaning against a bookshelf. Viki stopped, looked at her, and folded her arms. ¡°I was trying to test your resourcefulness, but I forgot that you¡¯re a mother in distress. Your priorities are very different from the average person.¡±

    ¡°My priorities are for my children. Does being an immortal demi-god make you that disconnected from humanity?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure where you¡¯re getting your information, but I¡¯m not a demi-god. Definitely not immortal. Really, all I do is keep an eye on the school here. Try to spot candidates. Make sure people don¡¯t figure out things in the wrong order, you know?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡± Soma was lying. She was curious to know what she was talking about, but she didn¡¯t want to let Viki get off track. ¡°I know what you are. If you¡¯re really¡­an Aleph. From fairy tales, then you can help me without me having to spend a fortune on ingredients for your magic telescope.¡±

    Viki looked at the spyglass sitting on the shelf. ¡°That would have been much less costly.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡± Soma kept to the script Ignacio had given to her. ¡°I¡¯ll give you ten percent.¡±

    Viki looked Soma in the eye, holding the look for a long moment. ¡°You won¡¯t be a good detective anymore. You¡¯ll have to rely on other people to solve problems you¡¯d normally take care of yourself. Even crossword puzzles, life-and-death problems in igo. You¡¯ll start forgetting things. Leaving your watch at home. Forgetting to lock doors. Forgetting your home address. It¡¯s hard to tell what you¡¯ll lose, but you will lose something. And it will hurt.¡±

    Soma was shaking now. ¡°I have to find my girls.¡±

    Viki kept looking at her, but finally nodded.

    She opened a lower desk drawer, typed a beeping code into something within the drawer, and something clicked. She pulled out an old, thick piece of yellowing paper. She set it in front of Soma.

    It was a contract, all hand-written except for the words ¡°AC PAPER¡± burned, like with a branding stencil, into the top margin with a starburst logo next to it. She¡¯d see that logo before, when some stuffy suits from the MOA had come through Helison PD to do some obscure inspections. And the MOA was nothing more than an auditing agency that the city governments all basically ignored.

    At least, that¡¯s what she used to believe. Soma read through the document carefully, but it was straightforward. It said that a deal would be struck between an Aleph and a ¡°Child of Mebar,¡± (hereafter referred to as ¡°COM¡±) to provide ¡°Soft Rule Violation Services.¡± If both parties were satisfied with the details, the COM would render payment of __% of their soul space within the Essesin. There was some language at the bottom about, ¡°If there is a dispute, after services are rendered, as to whether or not services were satisfactory, two other Alephs lacking personal relationship with the signing Aleph will review the case and render judgement as to whether or not the services adequately fall within the parameters of the agreement. If that still remains not satisfactory, any party may appeal to the Assembly, following regulation 87, governing all disputes related to transmundane interactions between Alephs and non-Alephs.¡±

    The Assembly. Another fairy tale, but one that was also a favorite of conspiracy theorists. A shadow government. The mysterious, powerful oligarchy hiding behind the impotent fa?ade of the MOA. She set the piece of paper down on the desk, looked up at Viki, and nodded.

    Viki handed her black pen to Soma. It was heavier than it looked.

    Viki pointed on the paper. ¡°Write in ¡®10¡¯ here, for the percentage. Under ¡®services requested,¡¯ write in ¡®determine location and condition of husband and two daughters using the Clausius Bypass of Irse.¡¯¡±

    Soma wrote it all down. Then Viki pulled the paper to herself, asked for the pen, and signed it. She then slid the paper back to Soma, handed her the pen, and Soma signed.

    ¡°So, I¡¯m a Child of Mebar?¡±

    ¡°We all are.¡± Viki set the document down on the center of her desk. She pressed a button on the side of the pen and a screen appeared above it. So, it was some sort of odd pen reader. But the menus and layout were all completely different from any Soma had ever seen. Viki navigated through it quickly. ¡°Except for the TAW. But no one ever sees them. They¡¯re all in their sanctuaries.¡±

    ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    Viki didn¡¯t look up. She just kept tapping through menus, occasionally typing something in with a miniature, glowing keyboard that appeared in the air. ¡°I wanted to recruit you to become one of us, actually. You have the intelligence and inquisitiveness that¡¯s necessary. You would have never wanted for anything. Except your family of course. Which I realize is a hollow offer.¡±

    Soma nodded. ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Oh no.¡± Viki¡¯s face filled with wrinkles and she put her hand over her mouth. Her eyes were still fixed on the pen¡¯s menu, which was fuzzy from Soma¡¯s angle.

    ¡°What?¡±

    Viki shut off the pen and looked up at Soma, her mouth open. ¡°Oh, I¡ªuh.¡±

    Soma frowned. ¡°What?¡±

    Viki looked down at the contract. Her hands were shaking. She put her pen away. After a moment of hesitation, she grabbed and tore up the contract. The sound of ripping paper filled the silent room. ¡°I can¡¯t¡ªI can¡¯t help you. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    Soma took a step toward her. ¡°What did you find out?¡±

    Viki looked up at her, then absently crumped up the torn pieces of the contract. It formed a sort of non-cohesive ball of strips that she kept trying to press together into a single whole. She fell forward to prop herself up on her arms, her head hanging limp between them, the shreds sitting on the desk below. ¡°Nothing. I found out that I can¡¯t help you.¡±

    ¡°Viki. What did you find out?¡±

    Her eyes were red as she looked at Soma and then over at the wall. ¡°I can¡¯t help you.¡±

    Soma felt her entire body shaking. ¡°Tell me.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re,¡± Viki licked her lips. ¡°They¡¯re gone.¡±

    Soma fell to her knees. Four days. Four days of horror. Four days of fear. Of working so hard. ¡°What do you mean they¡¯re gone?¡±

    ¡°Gone. Very gone.¡±

    Soma was shivering. Staring at the thick carpet. Her voice was almost indiscernible as it shook and her breathing shuddered. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    Viki fell into her chair with a wump of air escaping between the seams in the leather. She let out a loud sigh. ¡°It was¡­an error. A maintenance error in the Essesin.¡±

    Soma sucked in a breath. ¡°A maintenance error?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how¡ª¡±

    Soma got to her feet. ¡°My kids were killed in a maintenance error?¡±

    Viki turned her face up to her. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry.¡±

    Soma leaned forward on the desk. She was empty. A complete shell held up by nothing. ¡°Whose mistake?¡±

    ¡°Just¡­a glitch. In the Essesin. This never happens.¡±

    Soma took in few breaths. Short and shallow. She gripped the edge of the desk, trying to rip the wood apart with her bare fingers. She clenched her teeth, her entire body tightening. Her fingers hurt, but she clenched down tighter. Then she screamed until there was no air left in her lungs.

    The door to the office opened, the pretty doll-boy sticking his head in. ¡°Ma¡¯am, do I need¡ª¡±

    Viki waved him away. ¡°Just, go away, Brett.¡±

    He nodded at his boss and slowly re-shut the door.

    Soma¡¯s grip relaxed and she breathed, a mix of exhaustion and relief coming over her as she felt all her fingers and thumbs throbbing from bruises. She stepped backward and leaned against the wall, looking at the floor. ¡°Somewhere, there¡¯s a machine where you keep peoples¡¯ souls. A machine that failed, and robbed my two girls of all the days they were supposed to get. Going to school. Getting jobs. Somewhere, you keep a machine that can do this? Why?¡±

    Viki frowned. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Why!¡±

    Viki shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t know. It¡¯s just how it is.¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t souls supposed to be just some¡­emergent phenomenon of a higher-order brain? Quantum dynamics in the synaptic¡­interactions?¡±

    Viki opened and closed her hands, looking at the shreds of the contract piled up in the center of her desk. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    A thought came to Soma. It made her laugh. ¡°I want to go to Pan. Now. There¡¯s someone there I need to meet.¡±

    Viki frowned. ¡°I¡­I do owe you something.¡±

    Ignacio had told Soma to ask her for help, but he had probably meant for her to find another dream-meeting potion, but she wasn¡¯t interested in that. ¡°Do I have to sign any more contracts?¡±

    ¡°No. Ironically, doing this is easy. Just go to bed tonight, and when you wake up, you¡¯ll be in Pan. And you¡¯ll be a preyvede. I¡¯ll make sure they don¡¯t fog your memories either.¡± Viki paused a moment. ¡°Unless you want them to fog your memories.¡±

    ¡°No. I want to remember everything.¡±

 Chapter 7

    Mount Alanessa is a semi-active volcano. It spews very little lava¡ªmostly out of a slow vent on the cold, north side¡ªand not often. However, on the west face near the summit, fire almost constantly burns out of a gas vent.

    This is the Red Flue. Very little grows in the area around it and nothing grows next to it. The rock is black from soot or white from the bleaching heat. The fire is not always intense, but it can erupt at any time with heat that would burn to blisters the skin of any person foolish enough to come near. Often, this is because a pocket of natural gas has broken free from an underground chamber and reached the surface.

    Sometimes it is because a fire preyvede is being born.

    In the middle of the night, on May seventh, year M seven sixty-nine, while most people in the two mirror worlds of Pan and Prometheus were sleeping, one of the greatest eruptions of fire since the advent of the preyvedes burst out of the Red Flue. The tongues of flame twisted out, rippling in the air like any flame would. At first. They twisted together and, at the flickering tips of orange and yellow, lips peeled back over white-hot teeth of burning vapor.

    The roar of the flame was joined by a roar of pain. The fire twisted around behind the mouth, forming the round shape of a head, but parting and dividing behind the shape into a mad whirl of what almost looked like hair.

    More quickly now the flames wound around and around. Neck, shoulders, arms, torso, waist, legs. Then the screaming mouth drew in a breath, and a black cloud drew down over the figure and itself joined the vortex of formation. The smoke became fabric over flaming skin.

    Then the eruption calmed, the torrent above the vent returning to a faint wisp of yellow and barely visible blue. And the figure, sculpted from fire and clothed in smoke, fell to the hard rock.

    She opened her eyes. Eyes that still contained all the madness and fury of the fire that had created her. She breathed, and the heat and deadly gasses still present next to the flue did not bother her. They were hers. She felt her strength and lightness and realized she had a body of flesh, not just fire. The fire had not transformed into flesh. It was still fire, but was contained within the flesh.

    But those were just impressions. Thoughts. Shock and confusion. She pushed herself to her feet and looked out at a dense evergreen forest down at the base of the mountain she stood on. Beyond the forest was a lower mountain range covered in the gray haze of rainclouds. She could not see anything beyond the endless gray.

    She folded her arms and looked down at herself. Her skin was a deep, earthy red that wasn¡¯t drastically different from the olive brown it had been before, but red seemed to glow through from underneath. The thin, short hairs over her arm were the faintest blond. From her head the red flames had cooled into wavy, thick, jet-black hair flowing down all the way to her waist. The black clothing, a coat of heavy fabric, was cut in overlapping, swirling lines that looked like it had been perfectly fitted for her. It felt cool against her hot skin.

    Then her eyes cooled and watered and turned to brilliant black-cherry red as the shock faded. The rest of her cooled in that moment, as if just so the tears would not steam away. As if the need for them to run down her cheeks carried more authority than the reality of what she now was. The cooling matched that of her heart as shock was pushed out by a descending reality.

    She was Soma, but she was no longer human. That meant everything Ignacio had said was true. That mean Viki really was a powerful demigod. That meant all the fairy tales were true. That every living person in the world¡ªin the universe¡ªhad their souls stored in tanks in Threshold, the hidden world of the TAW. That humanity had become the creators of a new universe.

    Her husband and two daughters really had been erased. Culled from their tanks in Threshold.

    It was all madness and theory yesterday. Now, Soma stood near the peak of Mount Alanessa, on a world called Pan, reborn out of fire, listening to the rumble of the flue behind her and the whistle of wind before her. If she doubted any of this, she only had to look at her arms and her disbelief would burn away.

    They were gone. They were dead. Killed because of a clerical error. Mankind had become Creator, and now human souls could be erased by accident.

    Soma chuckled as her eyes continued to produce water to drip off her nose and chin, drops that flashed to steam the moment they touched the rock below her feet. She was partly ashamed at herself for finding it amusing, partly horrified at¡­everything. She knelt on her knees, facing the forest, thinking of her daughters¡¯ faces. She saw them smiling. She saw them sleeping in their beds, full of dreams. She saw her husband laughing. She saw him holding her hand when she was afraid about something. She had never been in love with him, but he had been kind. He¡¯d kept her strong, even though he¡¯d never been in love with her either. He¡¯d always been there.

    Gone.

    Soma hunched forward over her knees and cried, drooling on clenched hands as she screamed, her throat going raw. She shivered as she cried and coughed, calling out her children¡¯s names. Her wailing was drowned out by the dull, constant rumbling of the Red Flue behind her, which offered no warmth.

    ***

    ¡°End of the line!¡±

    Nathan snapped awake in his seat on the cramped train car. The word JICHENG glowed in blue letters over the stairway leading down to the train platform.

    Groggy and grumpy, Nathan stood up, grabbed his small bag from the overhead shelf, and stepped out of the train. He was blasted by brilliant afternoon sunlight and hot, dry air and the deep, rolling hum of the train. It was hovering just inches above the old, wood floor of the platform. So much stimulus at once immediately knocked the sleepiness out of him. On a very old wooden plank hanging by thin chains over the platform were Chinese characters, probably saying the name of the city. Everyone around him moved with purpose and bland expressions, on their way to jobs, homes, whatever.

    Yawning, he walked to a railing and looked out over the city, nestled in the open end of a wide box canyon that looked like it was mostly otherwise filled with pine trees and sage brush. The train platform was up on the side of a hill, so he had a nice view. He turned a moment as the train¡¯s hum rose in pitch and it took off with surprising speed, leaving the platform suddenly silent. It sped up even more as it moved from hovering over magnetic things in the ground to hovering under the magnetic things suspended from a row of pillars that drew a pointillist line from the city to the horizon.

    He had to admit that super-fast maglev trains were cool, but they still didn¡¯t count. Not futury enough.

    Unlike Helison, this city looked a lot different from when he¡¯d last seen it, eight hundred years ago. The older buildings were in the center of the city, bits of them visible through the forest of metal and glass skyscrapers. They were all very ¡°ancient Chinese¡± in design, with their terraced stories and sweeping, tiled roofs. Jicheng was supposed to be the city that represented East Asian architecture and culture, which was funny because it had been designed mostly by Keane Milton, a White gal who, like Nathan, had lived in Los Angeles most of her life. Nathan didn¡¯t know if it had ever been populated primarily by Asian folks, but from the variety of hues and shapes in the faces around him at the moment, it wasn¡¯t now.

    But, there¡¯d be time to muse about the misplaced intentions of city founders later. Nathan was more concerned with what was a hundred-K north of here, up in a draw along the west side of the valley.

    ***

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    Soma felt cold almost immediately after starting down the mountain. She was wearing both a dress and a heavy coat, both of the same black material, so she pulled the coat tight around herself as she walked bare-foot over ice-cold rock. Her feet seemed to have built-in callouses, so it didn¡¯t hurt walking like this, but the ground leeched all the heat out of her.

    Her teeth had been chattering for almost an hour by the time she stepped out of a dense spot of dark-green fir trees and into a clearing of tall grass. She stopped as she saw a tall, bald man wearing heavy, dark-green canvas clothing standing in the center of the grass.

    His skin was mottled orange and red, so he was probably the same kind of creature Soma was now. He was smiling, with his long, slender arms folded and his fire-orange eyes staring at her.

    Soma cleared her throat. As she spoke, she was relieved that her voice was the same. ¡°You¡¯re waiting for me, aren¡¯t you.¡±

    He nodded as she walked up to him. He fell in to walking alongside her before reaching into his jacket and pulling out a pair of slip-on shoes.

    He chuckled as Soma snapped them out of his hands and put them on, hopping on one foot as each went on. Soma then stood there and sighed, warmth and relief rushing up from the thick, soft soles. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    He nodded and held out a hand. ¡°I¡¯m Ed.¡±

    She took the hand. He squeezed hers with a medium pressure. Out of habit, Soma squeezed back hard. ¡°Soma.¡±

    He resumed walking. Soma followed. He pointed at her head. ¡°You have black hair. That¡¯s pretty rare.¡±

    Soma reached up and touched her hair. She twisted it around her fingers absently, her eyes on the ground, often looking at the shoes. Now that the distraction of being cold was gone, her mind could wander. She felt light, free. It was extremely strange, because she felt like she should be sad. She was, but the crushing sorrow she¡¯d felt this morning was¡­different. It was still very tangible and real, but the paralysis and panic were gone. The urgency that had brought her to this point was gone as well.

    The gaping hole in the center of her, left by her family, was definitely still there, though.

    ¡°Your eyes are unusual as well. If you ever visit Sun Rocks, you¡¯ll have all the men fighting for your attention. Well, those that are past the Curse, anyway. Otherwise only the fire preyvedes will even be able to tell.¡±

    ¡°What curse?¡±

    ¡°Some call it the Thirteen Year Curse. We all return not being able to see colors very well. We can usually only see those of our element. That¡¯s probably why all the trees and the sky look gray to you right now.¡±

    They left the clearing and walked back into the shade of the forest. Soma looked around, seeing brown and orange in the dry fir needles covering the ground, but also the infinite varieties of green in the trees, the sapphire blue in the sky, and the faintest lavender in a few little flowers blooming alongside the path. ¡°Everything looks normal.¡±

    Ed¡¯s forehead wrinkled up. He squinted at her. ¡°You were birthed out of the Red Flue just this morning, right? We saw it flare up, so we knew we had a new one. It usually takes about five years for people get past it. It takes that long for people to accept what caused their deaths and to settle into their new life.¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± Soma¡¯s back straightened out as she quickly ascertained a theory: ¡°Coming out of that fire was very¡­cathartic. If you knew what I¡¯ve been through¡ª¡±

    Soma stopped herself. She remembered that Viki had told her they normally fogged people¡¯s memories when they made them preyvedes. She realized she may not want to tell everyone about her special treatment.

    Fortunately, Ed misinterpreted her hesitation. ¡°That¡¯s normal. Some memories will come back, others won¡¯t. Just don¡¯t tell everyone how quickly you lost the Curse. It will make some of them jealous. But, if you ask me, I think you got those dark, ruby eyes as some sort of gift from the Alephs because of how quickly you knocked the curse.¡±

    They walked along the path is silence for a while. Ed apparently was here to answer questions, but he didn¡¯t volunteer any sort of orientation.

    Soma might have to pull one out of him. ¡°So, where are we going?¡±

    ¡°A little settlement call Banks. There you can clean up, get new clothes if you want. You can head to the fire preyvede commune from there.¡±

    Soma¡¯s eyes were still on her sandals. ¡°Will water preyvedes be at Banks?¡±

    ¡°Yep. All four elements.¡±

    Soma readjusted her cloak, feeling a bit warmer. She needed to find Ignacio. As soon as she got to Banks she¡¯d find someone who could tell her how.

    ***

    Soma spotted the over-sized tent right on the boarder of the commune¡¯s tent city with the forest, right where everyone said it would be. There was a wooden door built into the side of the tent with IGNACIO¡¯S painted on it.

    She sighed in relief and sped up toward it.

    But just before she was about to reach out and knock on the door, a tall, gangly man with gray-blue skin burst out of the door, almost knocking her over. She remembered him vaguely from the dream. He ran out past her in a blur, his head stooped forward on his long neck to look down at a holographic screen projecting from a pen. It looked just like the one Viki had used to figure out what had happened to her family.

    ¡°Excuse me, I¡ª¡± Soma started, but the man was oblivious to the world.

    He charged through the knot of tents, Soma following. He finally stopped once he reached a clearing with a large brick fire pit in the center. He kept looking at the pen¡¯s screen, muttering to himself.

    As Soma approached him, his head snapped up to look at her, then returned to looking at the screen. He took a few more steps away from her, shook his head, and stuffed the pen in a pocket.

    His head remained stooped as he looked up at the sky.

    ¡°Excuse me, may I have a moment to talk with you about something?¡±

    He turned his whole body to face her, glaring at her like she was some sort of oddity. ¡°Yes? What do you want?¡±

    The slightly awkward rise and fall in the pitch of his voice brought back clear memories of her conversation with him in the dream. ¡°You told me to come to you for help if I found out my family was dead.¡±

    His mouth cracked open, but his eyes squinted, as if he was considering this. ¡°Oh. Okay. You¡¯re that woman, then. You gave Aramis quite the headache.¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s Aramis?¡±

    Ignacio flared a nostril, looking up a moment, then sauntered over to her. ¡°You didn¡¯t kill yourself, did you? How¡¯d you get here?¡±

    ¡°Special offer.¡±

    He frowned. ¡°From whom?¡±

    ¡°Viki Akhmatova. An Aleph working at Helison University.¡±

    Ignacio looked down and shook his head. ¡°Don¡¯t know her. I¡¯m kind of behind on who all the Prometheus Alephs are.¡±

    Ignacio studied her a moment, then pulled out a bag and grabbed a few sunflower seeds to throw into his mouth. He chewed on them a moment, turning to the fire pit and folding his arms, hunching over it as if there were a fire there warming him. He spat out a seed husk into the brick pit.

    Soma studied the man. He was awkward and nervous, and he knew something. Or everything. If he had a black pen like Viki¡¯s, it probably meant he was an Aleph as well. She had a feeling it was unusual for an Aleph to also be a preyvede, though. He might be an outcast. The fact that people said that all he did was sell gray market ¡°mazai gadgets¡± reinforced that theory.

    Soma made a decision. ¡°I¡¯m after something important. And I need your help.¡±

    ***

    Nathan flicked out the kickstand of the dirt-bike he¡¯d bought just hours ago and stepped around to the back of it to pull the saddlebags off and throw them over his shoulder. Standing by the bike, he turned and again stared at the blank, rock wall where the door was hiding. There was a clearing cut in a half-kilometer-wide, half-moon around the cliff-side, where nothing but a few short weeds grew.

    He¡¯d just remembered that the relief carving, which was somewhere on the rock wall at the center of the clearing, only appeared during the day when it was hot. There was this obnoxious process of waiting for a silvery haze of a mirage to appear on the clearing, and you were supposed to walk out and step onto the mirage, and it would transform into real water, and then the carving would appear. All these stupid puzzles were meant to hide the narthex door.

    But it wasn¡¯t hot right now. It was night and it was chilly out, so no magic relief carving. Without the carving, it would be time consuming finding the door. With the carving, it was marked and centered between the feet of Pan. And there would be some overly-dramatic poem about Pan taken from the Homeric Hymns written on the door. It would still open without the carving being visible, just as long as Nathan could find it. He walked out into the clearing, headed toward the center as best as he could estimate.

    He cursed as he reached the rock and put his hand against the rough surface. Wherever it was, it was seamlessly integrated into the cliff face. He could just walk along, trying to lift up from the ground at every point all along the whole length. Which, was probably what he was going to have to do.

    He threw the heavy saddlebags to the ground and squatted down by the rock. He stuck his fingers under a shallow overhang near the ground and pulled up. Nothing. He shuffled to the right and tried again. Nothing.

    He went a few yards, feeling ridiculous and glad no one was watching him. He paused to stand up and stretch his back, then crouched down and continued in this routine over and over. He got maybe a dozen yards from where the saddlebags were laying, then decided to walk back over and go to the left of them.

    Fortunately, the rock gave a little on his third try on that side.

    ¡°Finally!¡± He walked over, threw the saddlebags back over his shoulder, and squatted down at the point where the door was. He dusted his fingers with dirt and griped the overhang and grunted to lift up with all of his strength.

    Which was the extent of the security system: ¡°Make the door really heavy.¡± That way, only people like TAW and Alephs with augmented bodies could open the door. The door would only let human fingers lift it. Machines wouldn¡¯t budge it.

    He got his legs straight and grunted as he readjusted one hand at a time so that he was holding it with more than just his fingertips. Then he yelled and threw it up all the way into the pocket above the doorway. It would hold there for about ten seconds.

    He stepped into the dark hallway and reached into one of the bags to get a flashlight. Fortunately, he found it quickly and pulled it out just as the door fell and slammed shut behind him with a singular boom.

    He clicked the light on and whistled, hearing it echo loudly up and down the long, dusty tunnel. He headed inward and toward answers only this bridge world of Threshold could give him.

 Chapter 8

    Aramis, breathing heavy and sweating, charged inside Jack and Ben¡¯s Bakery¡¯s front dining room. And immediately she was hit with a warm wave full of the scents of fresh breads and dough. There was a handful of people there, scattered around the three tables and five booths, eating sandwiches. A young man was standing by a mechanical cash register behind the bar, looking bored. Behind him a middle-aged woman was moving from station to station, checking ovens and readying pans.

    The young man noticed Aramis and nodded. He still looked bored. ¡°Can I get you anything?¡±

    Aramis squinted an eye and looked around. She waited to catch her breath. ¡°I¡¯m here for a meeting in the back? I¡¯m late, though.¡±

    The man gestured to a hallway.

    Aramis headed down it, hearing a deep voice from within become louder as she went. She followed the voice past a storage room and to an overflow room.

    ¡°What does this tell us about false gods? Gid¡¯on defied Ba¡¯al, knocking down and burning his altar, at great risk, because the Name commanded him. But look at what happened.¡±

    Aramis found the door the voice was coming from and cracked it open. Fortunately, the speaker was at the back of the room, so only that one big man with long hair, saw her.

    He smiled at Aramis, just a moment¡¯s pause. Only a couple of the fifteen or so people sitting in the room turned to see what the speaker was looking at. Those that did turned around with enthusiasm, but turned back to the front with muted disappointment. Maybe they were expecting a friend that was late.

    ¡°Gid¡¯on wasn¡¯t struck with sickness or given bad luck. He¡¯s confronted by the people of the city. They¡¯re going to kill him!¡±

    Aramis sat down in the very back, then felt her neck go hot as she realized that the guy from yesterday, who had stolen her job, Paul, the gorgeous boy with the mass of tightly circled hair, was sitting in the meeting. She muttered ¡°Crap¡± under her breath as she pulled her out copy of the Remnants. She did not need this distraction.

    ¡°Gid¡¯on is saved by his father, who makes this amazing speech. Jared, you want to read verse thirty-one again?¡±

    A chubby man, probably in his thirties, looked down at his copy of the Remnants, cleared his throat, and read with a deadpan, monotone voice. ¡°Okay. Thirty-one. ¡®But Yo¡¯ash said to all who stood against him, ¡°Will you content for Ba¡¯al? Or will you save him? Whoever contends for him shall be put to death by morning. If he is a god, let him contend for himself, because his altar has been broken down.¡±¡¯¡±

    The leader with the long hair nodded at Jared. ¡°Gid¡¯on¡¯s father knew who the one true god was. That this Ba¡¯al was nothing but a wooden statue. Now, we can show the same kind of defiance in our own lives, by not being afraid of all the nonsense gods people nowadays believe in. Alephs, Irse, the TAW. If someone ever confronts you for saying you don¡¯t believe in them, you can make a speech like Gid¡¯on¡¯s father. ¡®Let the Alephs contend for themselves. Why are you defending them?¡¯¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but,¡± A teenage girl up near the front, who was chewing on a pen previously, lifted up a hand as she interrupted. ¡°Nobody worships the Alephs or the TAW. Most people just think the TAW were sorcerers. You won¡¯t really find that many people who reallythink they became gods.¡±

    The leader looked at the ceiling a moment. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s true I guess.¡±

    The guy named Jared cleared his throat, the same way he had before he¡¯d read the passage. ¡°Some people do. Worship them, I mean. I know some who practice asceticism, in secret, trying to trick the Alephs into giving them more ¡®suffering points,¡¯ so they can become preyvedes after they die.¡±

    The leader laughed. ¡°That is pretty crazy. So, they worship the Alephs, by trying to trick the Alephs into thinking they¡¯re worthy of a second chance? And, basically waste the life they have right now?¡±

    The teenage girl chuckled. ¡°That¡¯s not what Seven tells us to do. Nothing at all like his instructions for getting eternal life.¡±

    Aramis watched all of them carefully. They continued to debate this, talking about the odd and mostly subtle ways different people showed homage to the Alephs and the TAW, as well as the managers: Irse, Merlin, Clausius, Cephas, Artemis, and Onweume. It seemed like the consensus opinion was that most people just followed the principles of their favorite of the TAW, since even in the most secular dispositions of the people, they were saint-like historical figures. They worshiped the idea the person represented, even if they didn¡¯t worship the persons themselves.

    Aramis also noted that Paul was just as quiet and focused on the others as she was. That was, until he finally did speak.

    ***

    Paul had had enough of this. He didn¡¯t want to offend these folks, because their hearts were sincere, but they needed to get past this ridiculous ignorance. He waited for a moment of silence in the discussion and spoke up: ¡°There¡¯s a big problem with everything you¡¯re saying.¡±

    Everyone turned to him. He looked back at them, then heard a chair behind him squeak. He turned around and saw the blue-skinned girl he¡¯d ran into the day he¡¯d come to Hempstock¡­the one that he¡¯d stolen the job from. He stared at her with his jaw hanging open a moment. She stared back, blank-faced and unflinching. He turned back to the rest of the room. ¡°Uh, um. Oh yeah, the Alephs are real. So are the managers.¡±

    Most of the people in the room didn¡¯t look happy that he¡¯d said this. Some turned away. Some frowned. One older woman smiled pityingly, as if she was eager to pull him aside and correct his silly statement. The leader had his regular, calm expression on his face, showing honest interest in what Paul had to say. Paul didn¡¯t turn around to check, but he was pretty sure that blue girl was still staring at him with that blank face.

    Paul frowned back at the group. ¡°But they¡¯re all just humans. People. Well, the Alephs are. I don¡¯t know about the managers. I¡¯ve only met one of them. And she didn¡¯t seem very normal. But there¡¯s only one of her, and she can only be in one place at a time. The Alephs are just¡­people who have some sort of inside access into how the world works. But they¡¯re not gods. They¡¯re mortal and they make good and bad decisions just like everyone else.¡±

    The room went silent again. He felt himself starting to sweat. He even looked back at the blue girl, whose expression, as he¡¯d expected, was completely blank.

    Finally, the ditsy-looking teenage girl up front raised her eyebrows and broke the silence. ¡°You¡¯ve met one of the managers?¡±

    Dead silence as everyone waited for Paul to respond. He nodded.

    The girl frowned. ¡°Which one?¡±

    ¡°Irse.¡±

    The blue-skinned girl looked to the side and nodded. Almost everyone else turned away, rolled their eyes, or laughed softly. It was like he¡¯d just told them he¡¯d met Santa Claus.

    The room remained silent, except for several people, mostly groups of two or three sitting further away from him, muttered to each other under their breath. No one was paying attention to Paul now, but he was still sweating and felt horribly embarrassed.

    He heard the rich voice of the blue girl sitting behind him: ¡°Pragmatically, it doesn¡¯t matter if the Alephs or managers exist.¡±

    Now everyone turned and looked at her. Paul felt all his embarrassment switch to a mix of anger and confusion as he looked at their faces. Most of them looked her up and down, as if she had just said something even more ridiculous than what Paul had said.

    Paul had a feeling that their skepticism concerning the existence of the Alephs and the managers meant that they had serious trouble sitting in a room with someone who was basically living, breathing evidence. Her existence was an offense to them.

    But she didn¡¯t seem to realize this. She shrugged at their subtle, judging examinations and continued. ¡°Gid¡¯on was told by the Name to destroy the Ba¡¯al altar and then Asherah fertility poles and use them as firewood. It didn¡¯t matter whether Ba¡¯al existed or not. It didn¡¯t matter if Ba¡¯al was actually some minor god, like the Ben El, some demon, or some figment of the peoples¡¯ imagination. Gid¡¯on¡¯s dad could have been totally wrong, and maybe the Ba¡¯al these people worshiped was the most powerful spiritual being in that region. It didn¡¯t matter, because the Name told him to defy him. Gid¡¯on obeyed him. He trusted that the Name would protect him. He trumps everything else, no matter how powerful some lesser god might be. Same applies to Irse, Onwueme, whatever.¡±

    The leader smiled and looked around at the others. ¡°Nice answer.¡±

    ***

    ¡°You¡¯re terrifying everyone.¡±

    Nathan dropped the book he was holding onto the floor, the THUD echoing dully off two tall stories of wooden arches and shelves and books. His hands shaking from adrenaline, he cleared his throat and looked around. He was standing next to a display with a large book under glass in the reproduction of Trinity College¡¯s Long Room library.

    It was one of thirteen recreations of famous libraries that surrounded a lake, plus a few other buildings, including a castle up on a high outcropping of rock that had unofficially been considered a copy of the Hogwarts castle. All of this sat on an island with their properties linked by pretty roads and parks and a large railroad loop, serviced by a steam engine train.

    The island was the Full Library, and was exactly what happened when you let nerds build the headquarters of a new universe.

    This island was also one of the only accessible parts of Threshold that was outdoors. The room he was in right now was partially illuminated by a crescent moon shining in from tall windows. Through them Nathan could see the golden glow from the windows of the replicas nearby, none of which he remembered the names. One was a famous Chinese library, another a famous Japanese one, and another Russian. Well, and he could also see Hogwarts in the distance because it sat so high above the lake.

    There were also a bunch of new buildings along the edge of the lake, and one floating, or standing, in the center of the lake. But none of their lights were on, so they were just dark silhouettes right now. They hadn¡¯t been there the last time Nathan had been here.

    Most of Threshold¡¯s actual administrative and inter-universe linking facilities were made up of concrete hallways and compartments buried deep below a hidden fourteenth library. That fourteenth one, which was also from a fairy tale, like the Hogwarts one, was the largest single enclosure in all of Threshold. In all of Mebar, actually. The lobby for that library was located directly under one of the other Trinity College buildings. It was his next stop if he couldn¡¯t find what he needed here.

    He¡¯d rather not go down there. It gave him the creeps. And he was already getting creeped out up here.

    All these pretty buildings here on the surface, bathed in moonlight, seemed completely deserted, but this one wasn¡¯t dusty. That meant someone was visiting on a regular basis. It was probably the same person that was whispering into the air somewhere nearby Nathan right now.

    He knelt down and picked the large book back up. ¡°I hate being in this place alone¡­or THINKING I¡¯M ALONE! When¡­I¡¯m not.¡±

    He again looked around, walking down to the middle of the Long Room. As he passed each pair of aisles he passed a pair of white marble busts that stared blankly at him. Still, theirs were the only faces he found. He made it to the end of the room, checking every aisle, finding no one.

    He cursed and opened up the book, resting it on the glass of one of the displays. It was a live-update catalogue, which would tell him the general direction he needed to go in to find what he was looking for. As he flipped through the pages, he grumbled, wishing they¡¯d just used a computer interface for this. Once he figured out which of the libraries he needed, he could use the computers in it. But first, everyone had to start with this book, and this book was always located in the Trinity College Library, because this was where the elevator from the concrete hallways deep below opened up. Because the Mebar project had been started by four white people. And, the bossiest of them being Dawson, who was British.

    ¡°Food¡­food development in Mebar. Come on¡­¡± he sighed as he searched the pages.

    ¡°Everything related to Mebar is in Babel.¡±

    ¡°Damn it!¡± Nathan turned, red-faced, to see an old woman standing next to him, laughing. She smiled at him with big eyes surrounded by countless wrinkles. He still recognized her immediately, despite her advanced age. ¡°I knew it was you.¡±

    As she spoke now, no longer whispering, her softened Italian accent came through. It brought back memories of what she¡¯d been like when Nathan had first met her when she¡¯d been almost twice his age, but had still one of the most enchanting, lovely, and beautiful women he¡¯d ever met. ¡°It¡¯s been a long time, Nathan.¡±

    ¡°Hey Carini. You know, libraries are creepy enough already without you doing some poltergeist routine.¡±

    ¡°Takes practice. Lots.¡±

    Nathan breathed out loudly through his nose, then folded his arms and he stared down at the book. ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re the first one I ran into. I don¡¯t know how everyone else would like seeing me.¡±

    ¡°I told you already. They¡¯re all terrified, including all the little Alephs that have risen up to take away our seats on the Assembly.¡± She was still smiling, as if this was all a game. The lofty, joyful melody of her accent only enhancing the juxtaposition. ¡°You must not have noticed. Look at your Aleph key.¡±

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Nathan frowned, then dug out the maroon pen from a pocket. He turned it on and the screen flashed to life in the air, flashing red. He touched the screen and a picture of him appeared, with the words: ¡°TAW NATHAN SANCHEZ HAS INFULTRATED THRESHOLD.¡±

    All the blood drained out of his face. ¡°Oh. That¡¯s unfortunate.¡±

    Carini grabbed a plush, wing-back chair and pulled it over close to the glass display case. She sat down in it slowly, only betraying a little of her age. ¡°Whatever advantage you hoped to have by keeping a low profile is gone now.¡±

    ¡°No kidding.¡± Nathan stuffed the key back into a jacket pocket. ¡°Why haven¡¯t I been dragged away, kicking and screaming yet?¡±

    She shrugged. ¡°Because I made the whole of this island a dead zone to all their intrusive sensors and magic. This library is my realm. They¡¯ve locked down all the sensitive areas below us, though they haven¡¯t thought to bother with Babel yet. And they probably don¡¯t know what to do with you anyway. They figure you probably didn¡¯t have time to build any of those nasty bombs like before, but they don¡¯t know if you know how to use your deeper powers. The ones added when the Second Life laws were made. So, they just post guards all over and stand back, afraid to face you, hoping you won¡¯t break anything.¡±

    Nathan would ask about those ¡°deeper powers¡± later. ¡°Makes sense. But you knew where I¡¯d be.¡±

    Carini shook her head. ¡°Nope. I¡¯m just here. Someone has to dust all these lovely halls. Saw you come in with my eyeballs.¡±

    Nathan leaned forward over the catalogue book. He looked and felt very tired. ¡°Carini. Something¡¯s wrong. Irse said something that makes me think that something happened. That no one knows about. Even you.¡±

    Carini looked at the catalogue book with a shallow smile. She drew in a breath, then a whistle filled the air. It sounded like a tea kettle. ¡°I¡¯m going to make us some tea.¡±

    ¡°You have a stove in here? In a library. You do realize that books burn, right?¡±

    She laughed as she stood up. ¡°I told you. I live in here.¡±

    ***

    TAW Rossa Carini and Nathan were sitting on opposite ends of a red velvet couch in one of the cozy reading rooms of the Trinity College replica, drinking the tea she¡¯d made. ¡°I know something happened. I know the quality of many things increased exponentially.¡±

    ¡°Like tea tasting correct for the first time ever.¡±

    Carini pointed a slender finger at Nathan. ¡°Music was the big one. We quickly figured out that Mebar¡¯s biggest weakness was replicating the subtleties of musical instruments. Which is one reason why such a strong culture of venerating twentieth-century music recordings formed, because we thought the recordings from that era would always be better quality than anything we could ever make. But now, a beat-up, old stand-up piano has all the infinite levels of quaintness and charm that it would have on Earth.¡±

    Nathan frowned. ¡°But all those crappy wraps and sandwiches that we used to create out of thin air, during the first few years here, those are still here. And they still taste like cardboard. Exactly the same. How the hell is that possible? How could both be true?¡±

    Carini set her mug down on the ground, then leaned toward Nathan with her hands folded. ¡°For centuries, I would keep myself in stasis for all but one week out of every year. Mebar was my vision, so I wanted to see how it would progress. But then, after something called ¡®The Silencing,¡¯ everything changed. The biggest one is in something you¡¯ve already seen, but probably didn¡¯t notice.¡±

    Nathan lowered his voice. ¡°What?¡±

    Carini leaned in close and spoke with barely more than a breath. ¡°Irse.¡±

    Nathan leaned back a little, feeling almost uncomfortable with their faces so close together. ¡°What about her?¡±

    Carini somehow spoke even more silently than before. ¡°She¡¯s human now.¡±

    Nathan fully recoiled back. ¡°That¡¯s impossible. I mean, I remember being at the meeting when we decided on her personality. Not that she followed any of our original ideas. She always was more human than any of the other mangers, but¡­that¡¯s just a gestalt we¡¯re forcing onto something. Like a piece of shadow art made out of random bits of stuff arranged in just the right way.¡±

    That wasn¡¯t Nathan¡¯s metaphor. One of the other TAW, one of the actual smart ones, had told that to Nathan.

    Carini¡¯s pose didn¡¯t change as she shook her head. ¡°She is human now. I haven¡¯t the heart to tell you why I know.¡±

    ¡°You know she¡¯s human, but you won¡¯t tell me why you know she¡¯s human. Do you know how she became human?¡±

    Carini finally leaned back, her eyes widening. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I think it¡¯s all been burned.¡±

    ¡°Burned?¡±

    She nodded. Her voice turned darker: ¡°All of the answers to all the new secrets. An entire wing of Babel. Gone.¡±

    ¡°How could anyone burn¡ª¡±

    ¡°The world changed!¡± Carini¡¯s face filled with wrinkles as she said it. She looked away as if she¡¯d just heard something. Or was trying to remember something. ¡°The world changed and they could burn things inside Babel. Irse doesn¡¯t let them burn things in there anymore. And I do not let them burn things here anymore. Still, they¡¯ve done far worse damage.¡±

    ¡°Like what?¡±

    Carini glowered at Nathan. ¡°After everything was settled, after we¡¯d moved everyone we could move, we got rid of those heavy doors at the Narthex. We let people into Threshold. They could wander to any worlds they wanted. They could make new worlds if they wanted. None of that was secret. This whole island, all these libraries, were filled. With children.¡±

    Her eyes turned red and she turned away. ¡°Mebar had some really good years. You missed them. They built museums here, around the lake. It¡¯s too dark right now to see them, but there¡¯s an aerospace and nautical science museum with a nuclear submarine. There¡¯s a botany museum build under a giant waterfall not far from the castle.¡±

    ¡°You mean Hogwarts.¡±

    Carini grimaced a second, then continued. ¡°There are seven museums. But, in the center of the lake, they built an island. Of solid marble, sculpted to look like a fully-rigged sailing ship. Three towers rise from it, shaped like wind-filled sails that are filled, story after story, with Earth¡¯s most precious paintings. The Full Library, this entire island, became a symbol. The outer ring of the thirteen libraries? Knowledge. Then, along the edge of the inner lake, the seven museums. Science and technology. Then, in the center, Art. The raw knowledge, the application that facilitates life, and the transcendence.¡±

    Nathan waited. Carini took several difficult, slow breaths before continuing. ¡°Now, the museums are overgrown and infested with damned monkey spiders.¡±

    ¡°Monkey spiders again,¡± Nathan mumbled under his breath, shivering. Again, he chose to not ask what they were.

    Tight wrinkles cracked Carini¡¯s forehead. ¡°There are only so many hours in a day. I can keep the main rooms of the libraries and some of the rooms in the art museum from being buried in dust and cobwebs, but not everything. Keane Milton is here too, and sometimes they help. Mostly they just haunt the museum of industrial science. They enjoy making the pipes creak and filling halls with steam and whispering the date of your birth in your ear and then vanishing. They think it¡¯s all a game.¡±

    ¡°What¡ª¡± Nathan wasn¡¯t sure if he wanted to ask about Milton either. He was worried the answer about what had happened to her was worse than the other about monkey spiders. He remembered Irse saying that one of the TAW had split into two people. It could be that was why Carini was referring to Milton in the plural.

    All of a sudden, Carini looked a little lost. The sharpness of her eyes was gone. But then she noticed the look on his face and smiled. ¡°I lost my discipline a while back. I tired of living only a week per year here and there and sleeping the centuries away. I¡¯ve faded somewhat.¡±

    ¡°Faded?¡±

    She leaned in as her forehead tightened and her voice lowered. ¡°I¡¯m very old. Our faces and our minds fill with wrinkles and cracks. But that¡¯s not the biggest problem. Things become especially bad for us, the TAW. The Assembly does not tolerate such things. Not after¡­¡±

    ¡°After what?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t like thinking about it, but,¡± she shook her head, her eyes on her teacup. She remained that way for what felt like a long time. ¡°Do you remember how pretty I was?¡±

    ¡°Um.¡±

    She looked away from him and spoke as a matter of fact. ¡°I remember being pretty. I remember Tanaka looking at me. He was so hungry, but I liked letting him stare. I tormented him for a long time. I don¡¯t remember why.¡±

    ¡°You guys built the entire world of Pan together. As far as I could tell, you two were a thing for at least a little while.¡±

    ¡°I remember the way you looked at me. But you were a child then.¡± She frowned and adjusted herself on the couch and took a drink from her tea.

    ¡°Well, I mean, I was¡­twenty-eight when you met me. Not exactly a child.¡±

    She looked up and closed her eyes. She drew in a long breath through her nose, let it out through her mouth, and she changed. Her skin smoothed. Her wrinkles vanished. Her hair thickened and shined.

    Nathan¡¯s mouth dropped open as this happened, as she transformed from a woman that looked over eighty to a woman that looked twenty. He jerked back as she turned to him, smiling with gorgeous eyes. He wanted to ask how she¡¯d transformed, but felt too uncomfortable.

    She looked at him, up and down. ¡°You look younger than you¡¯re supposed to also. I don¡¯t know why you¡¯re judging me. We could¡­we could pretend we¡¯re both teenagers, if you want.¡±

    ¡°Carini. Are you okay?¡±

    She looked at him again, but she wasn¡¯t smiling now. Lines formed between her eyes, as if worried about something. ¡°I¡¯m considering making¡­making you bond with me. That would keep you safe, at least. That¡¯s what I tell myself as I¡­well, that¡¯s what I¡¯d tell myself as I trapped your free will in a velvet cage. I¡¯ve done it before. I can. So I¡­so I do.¡±

    Nathan just sat there, confused. Carini twirled a finger through her short hair, her other hand unbuttoning the top two buttons of her blouse. She relaxed on the couch, reaching a hand out to touch his shoulder. His body filled with fire. It was a weird mix of being creeped out and aroused. He was mostly hoping Carini would do something even stranger so he could be turned off. The whole thing was very awkward.

    There was also something uneasy in the way she was lounging and moving. It felt forced. Or resisted. Her voice was soft as she spoke without looking at him, her thumb rubbing against his shoulder. ¡°I could do it, you know? I¡¯m stronger than you. I can make you touch me the way I want, make you whisper your love. The never-no bond the preyvedes have at their disposal is a¡­is a teenage crush compared to the power the TAW gave ourselves. Years ago. There was the one boy that came to visit me, and¡ª¡±

    And as she stared off into space, looking sad, the lines of her frown settled into her face. Her whole body seemed to relax and be more at ease as she transformed back into her aged self.

    Nathan waited a moment. He had the most unnerving combination of fear and elation and horniness he¡¯d ever experienced in his entire life, but at least it was all fading away now. He needed to get her back on topic. He took in a deep breath and cleared his throat. ¡°Carini.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± she said, looking at him with wide eyes. Her tone and expression looked more lucid.

    ¡°Do you think Irse would tell me what happened if I ask her?¡±

    Carini studied his face. She looked to be the most lucid thing in the universe in that moment. Then she looked terrified. ¡°Did I just¡ª¡±

    Nathan shook his head. ¡°You didn¡¯t do anything. Well, you touched my shoulder.¡±

    ¡°Shit. I¡¯m so sorry.¡± She put her head in her hands. ¡°What was your question again?¡±

    ¡°Irse. You said she knows what happened to Mebar. Do you think she¡¯ll tell me if I ask the right questions?¡±

    Carini let her hands fall away from an embarrassed face. She noticed her blouse and rebuttoned it. ¡°Perhaps. But that¡¯s not what you should be primarily concerning yourself with. Irse will not betray you, but she also cannot protect you. You need to ask her exactly why she freed you from your sleep. And you need to remain unseen. The Assembly will do everything they can to capture you. They want your seat.¡±

    ¡°My seat?¡±

    She nodded and reached out to take both of his hands in hers. ¡°They will offer you a deal. They will offer great gifts and powers. You lost your brother before we could bring him over, right?¡±

    Nathan nodded.

    She frowned at a nearby wall. ¡°The Assembly is a collection of dickhead politicians with less than half a brain between the lot of them. But they have terribly clever people at their disposal. They can offer you family members, lovers, back from the dead. They¡¯ll claim they found them, rescued them, had them kept in stasis for a rainy day all this time. You must not give in to them. Your seat is beyond value. Especially now.¡±

    Nathan looked down at their hands, hers white-knuckled in their grip around his. ¡°What can I do with a seat on the Assembly if they¡¯ll just capture me the moment they find me? It makes it pretty difficult to vote on anything.¡±

    She shook her head. ¡°I said already. You went to sleep before we created the magics. You don¡¯t know. You have the authority to make and unmake people, cities, and worlds.¡±

    Nathan frowned. ¡°Not in that Aleph pen, I don¡¯t. I can make a lot of random stuff, but I can¡¯t build worlds like we used to.¡±

    Her forehead tightened up and she opened her mouth, but for a moment she seemed too overwhelmed to speak. She calmed and said, ¡°It would be better for you to live a life of silence, hidden. The Auditors cannot find you, but¡ª¡±

    Her eyes lost focus again. Nathan waited. She looked to the side, drew in a slow breath, and pulled her hands away from Nathan¡¯s. ¡°They¡¯re murderers and criminals, holding the powers of gods. And half of them are mad, as I am. Well, not exactly as I am, but still. They do not tolerate madness in the Assembly, but some are able to hide it for a time.¡±

    Nathan stood up, picked up his tea, and paced a little way away from her. He turned and faced her, holding his teacup in both hands. ¡°You said you could stop them from doing anything up here, but they might be able to find me down in Babel.¡±

    Carini¡¯s eyebrows shot up. ¡°The secret of how I know Irse is human is hidden in Babel. How she became human is not. But the questions you need to ask her are down there.¡±

    Nathan shook his head. ¡°I hate that maze.¡±

    ***

    ¡°So¡­what do you¡­do?¡± asked the teenage girl, Erica. She was frowning, as if afraid of the answer.

    Aramis stared back at her a moment and then looked away. ¡°Nothing right now. Trying to get a machinist job.¡±

    Erica¡¯s eyes widened and the rest of her face relaxed. ¡°Oh! Oh, cool. I don¡¯t even know what a machinist does.¡±

    ¡°Makes tools and specialty parts for machines.¡±

    Erica smiled. ¡°That makes sense.¡±

    They stared at each other, smiling a moment. Aramis thought that maybe she should ask the question back, but just didn¡¯t want to for some reason. Eventually, the two of them just walked away from each other. Erica trotted over to another girl who looked a little older than her.

    Aramis walked over to a folding table set up against the wall that had some sandwiches. She grabbed a sourdough roll stuffed with turkey and provolone and munched down, closing her eyes and sighing in relief. When she opened them, the leader of the group was standing in front of her, smiling.

    He held out his hand. ¡°Kamel.¡±

    She smiled and took it. ¡°Aramis.¡±

    He folded his arms and frowned, looking at the ground. ¡°I gotta say, it¡¯s great to meet a preyvede that not only believes in Seven, but knows the Remnants really well.¡±

    Aramis wanted to say, ¡°Why? Why are you saying it like that? Why are you assuming all preyvedes are sex-craved heathens that killed themselves and don¡¯t deserve the second chance that a bunch of corrupt, self-appointed demigods gave them?¡±

    She wanted to kick a hole in the wall and tell these people that they were a bunch of bigots that didn¡¯t show any of the true love of Seven. That they were all shallow, pathetic xenophobes that barely knew anything about the Remnants. But she swallowed it all and instead said, ¡°Yeah, I didn¡¯t have a lot of people I could talk to about my faith in the commune. It wasn¡¯t easy.¡±

    Kamel shook his head. ¡°Can¡¯t imagine. I applaud you for sticking it out. It looks like you¡¯re better for it.¡±

    Aramis nodded, accepting the compliment, even if it was dripping with condescension. She was still pretty angry, thought Paul being here was probably a part of that.

    Aramis looked at the row of sandwiches. She realized that Kamel had probably paid for all of them. It made her feel more obligated to feign interest. ¡°So, are you a pastor? Teacher?¡±

    He nodded. ¡°I run a Saturday Remnant study at a community center east of town. If you ever want to come by, feel free. I know not¡­everybody here agrees about all the same details as you do. But that¡¯s the beauty of real community built on Seven! We don¡¯t have to agree on everything, but we can be united about what really matters.¡±

    Aramis¡¯ mind filled with more rants that she was pretty sure she shouldn¡¯t say. Most of them were about how a true, unified community probably should not be weird to people because they have greenish-blue skin. Or even if they might have killed themselves once, for reasons they may or may not remember. It all sounded pretty clich¨¦ in her mind, which helped her keep herself from saying any of it.

    Kamel smiled brightly and slapped her on the shoulder as he walked off. ¡°Hey, feel free to eat as much as you want!¡±

    Aramis went back to looking at the sandwiches. ¡°Well, this isn¡¯t going so well.¡±

    ¡°I feel terrible.¡±

    Aramis turned around to see Paul standing there. ¡°Hey.¡±

    He nodded. ¡°I know I said all this already, but, I feel terrible about swooping in and taking your job before you had a chance to get it. You must have spent a fortune on those tools of yours.¡±

    Aramis shrugged. ¡°You did say all that already. I¡¯ll find something. I mean, because I have all those tools, I could easily go freelance.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s an amazing set you have, though. It looked like they¡¯re all Grennich.¡±

    Aramis nodded. ¡°Took a while, but I got everything at wholesale, so it was a lot cheaper than normal.¡±

    Paul folded his arms. ¡°Yeah. Hey, maybe Cedric knows of another shop somewhere else it the city that needs work. I figure that if anyone knows he does. I mean, he even knew about this study group.¡±

    That explained to Aramis why Paul was here. ¡°I was thinking. If he picked up you right off the street, you have to be a lot more qualified than I am.¡±

    Paul frowned. ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s your background?¡±

    He looked at the ceiling. ¡°Ah, just¡­maintaining five-axis CNC machines and laser cutters for a medium-grade watchmaking shop.¡±

    Aramis laughed. ¡°Well that explains it. No one here works with anything anywhere near that precise. You¡¯re like a¡ª¡±

    The smile on Aramis¡¯ face faded. ¡°Wait. They don¡¯t have stuff like that over here.¡±

    Paul¡¯s face fell. ¡°Yeah. About that. You know how I said I¡¯ve met one of the managers? Well, it was only a few days ago.¡±

 Chapter 9

    Aramis and Paul were walking down the narrow streets of Hempstock, side by side, hands in their jacket pockets as they moved through the cold air. Aramis was still processing Paul¡¯s story.

    She was suspicious that he didn¡¯t want to talk about it around the other people from the meeting because they might think he was crazy. She couldn¡¯t really hold that against him, but it did hurt her a little that he wasn¡¯t willing to join her in being seen as ¡°frustrating evidence,¡± the way they did her. He had outed himself as a person who believed the Alephs and the mangers were real, and that was something. But, it was still a little unfair that the two of them carried similar burdens of truth and experience, but he still got to look human and blend in if he wanted.

    And he was a good-looking human. It could be a problem. Similar interests. Strong faith in Seven. Stubborn, calculating personality.

    She pushed those thoughts from her mind by reminding herself of a particular, important detail in his story. ¡°So, are you going to try and get back to your girlfriend?¡±

    He frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I¡¯ll still propose to her, but I have to get back. She¡¯ll probably end up thinking I was murdered. Even¡­though I was. We had some pretty big theological disagreements, but it¡¯s not like you¡¯re going to find someone who agrees with you about everything. I think it¡¯s just that the two of us are too alike in personality. Stubborn, calculating.¡±

    Aramis¡¯ heart clenched up for a moment. She nodded, keeping her face expressionless. ¡°What were some things you had problems with?¡±

    He clapped his hands together. ¡°I don¡¯t know if you¡¯ve heard of it, but it was something called double-predestination.¡±

    Aramis pulled her hands out of her pockets and folded her arms. At least she could distract herself from her annoying emotions by discussing controversial topics. ¡°Oh yeah. I know what that is.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s really convinced that it¡¯s true. I don¡¯t like it. At all.¡±

    They passed an alleyway and Aramis caught sight of a few posters taped to an old, brick wall. One was all black and white showing a man with hard shadows and sunglasses and ¡°RAA¡± written below it. Another showed a field of raised fists holding up various tools with ¡°Demand the unions and guilds renegotiate!¡± Aramis¡¯ arms tightened around her.

    There was no escaping some arguments. ¡°You run into a lot of problems if you try to use scripture to justify the Name creating certain people just for hell. Human will just plays too important a factor.¡±

    Paul looked even more upset by this. ¡°But I have problems with the whole idea of hell anyway. And it¡¯s not even that I think everyone should go to heaven or whatever. I just don¡¯t know if I believe that the Name would bother bringing any of us back to life. I know that¡¯s bad. I can¡¯t explain it.¡±

    ¡°I get what you mean. I don¡¯t have any cool, smart answers for all the hell stuff. Not yet anyway. Though, I definitely do tend to lean on the side of wishing everybody would get into heaven.¡±

    They walked in silence for a moment. A thought started gnawing on Aramis¡¯ mind: ¡°I¡¯m actually an annihilationist. Technically, that makes me a heretic, but there is some scriptural justification for it.¡±

    Paul¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°Means I don¡¯t believe people stay in hell forever. Instead, they¡¯re just destroyed at the final judgement. It¡¯s not exactly a great alternative to the classic view on hell, but at least souls aren¡¯t burning forever and ever.¡± A cascade of principles and apologetics passed through Aramis¡¯ mind after she said that: The need for justice. Her own rage over the fact that children are abused, and that the abusers needed to be punished so they¡¯d understand the horror and pain they¡¯d caused. The weight of the Name¡¯s anger over the general rejection of humanity toward his son¡¯s sacrifice. Assorted arguments rattled around in her head, but all of them felt empty and ineffective as justifications for hell.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t even know that was an option.¡± Paul shook his head. ¡°How did you keep your faith after you found out that some mystery men living in another world decided to resurrect you, instead of the Name?¡±

    Aramis drew in a breath, at first not feeling upset by the question. But as she breathed out, an uncomfortable heart palpitation made her wonder if she was more bothered than she realized. ¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think Susie would believe any of this. I don¡¯t mean the annihilationist stuff. I mean the stuff about preyvedes and Alephs. Even if I came back from the dead and told her.¡±

    Aramis coughed out a laugh. She¡¯d just remembered one of the parables in the Good News of Lucas. About how people wouldn¡¯t put much weight in the story of a poor man who¡¯d come back from the dead. ¡°People believe what they want to believe.¡±

    ¡°Guess it doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯m not going to see her again anyway.¡±

    Aramis had a very strange combination of misery and determination come over her as she heard this. She both didn¡¯t want Paul to feel bad and wished she didn¡¯t have a solution for him. ¡°You don¡¯t have to be an Aleph to move between worlds.¡±

    Paul stopped walking. ¡°Really?¡±

    Aramis stopped and turned to face him. ¡°Two ways: teleportation stones and getting into Threshold through the narthex. A teleportation stone from here to Prometheus is outrageously expensive and illegal for anyone but an Aleph to even be within ten meters of, so that won¡¯t work. And if you¡¯re a preyvede caught with one, you can get executed.¡±

    ¡°Executed?¡± Paul¡¯s forehead filled with wrinkles. ¡°I¡¯m starting to wish I could go more than two days without finding out everything I think I know about the universe is wrong.¡±

    She smiled. ¡°The only option we really have is to get to the narthex and then cross over through Threshold. But, first we need to know where it is. I know someone who probably knows where it is, but I doubt he¡¯ll tell me. Then we need to have someone with Aleph-level physical strength.¡±

    Paul stuck out his lower lip. ¡°I know where it is. It¡¯s north of Chrysoprase. I was just there.¡±

    ¡°You came here directly from Threshold? You didn¡¯t tell me that.¡±

    ¡°I told you Irse told me to tell everybody the Alephs are evil, and she told me how to get out, and that I eventually found my way here.¡±

    ¡°I thought she teleported you. Why else would you come all the way here?¡±

    ¡°There were no machinist jobs available in Chrysoprase.¡±

    Aramis squinted an eye. ¡°Well, huh, I guess we have one thing figured out.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m also really, really strong. But, well, I couldn¡¯t open the door.¡±

    Aramis smirked. ¡°Well, I can¡¯t either. Alephs are twice as strong as the strongest stone preyvedes. You said you were supposed to be a stone, but there was no room for a new one, right?¡±

    Paul nodded.

    Aramis chewed on her lower lip as she thought the details through. And the options. Warmth rose up and flooded her head and shoulders as she did, because she already knew what they needed to do. Well, what she wanted to do but didn¡¯t want to do. She thought she could see the yellow glow of the streetlights for a second as the thoughts battled in her head. Probably just her imagination. Or her brain filling in the gaps in the darkness. ¡°There are two ways to boost your strength enough to open the door. If your base strength is enough, anyway. One, Atlas Cocktail, is almost as expensive as the teleportation stone. Well, not really. But it¡¯s really expensive.¡±

    ¡°Well, I have no money, so yeah. What¡¯s the other way?¡±

    Aramis stared at him with her mouth cracked open. This was definitely a night of having things to say and not actually saying them. There was another way to make an Atlas Cocktail, besides paying for it, but she was pretty sure she wouldn¡¯t be able to do that.

    The other way to boost his strength was for Paul to form the slow bond, or the never-no bond, with a preyvede. And, seeing as she was the only preyvede he knew¡ª

    Her mind froze as they walked under a cluster of tungsten bulbs hanging from an archway spanning the road. She thought she could see the tone of his skin for a moment. Dark chocolate, with nearly black eyes with a shimmer of amber at the bottom of the iris reflecting the light of the lamps. But then they moved past the arch and Aramis was sure it was just her imagination again. ¡°I¡¯m too tired to explain it right now.¡±

    Mercifully, he nodded. ¡°I¡¯m pretty tired too.¡±

    A few minutes in silence and they came to an intersection and Paul turned to the right. ¡°Well, I gotta head home.¡±

    ¡°Me too.¡± Aramis walked sideways to the left, smiling back.

    Paul¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°Are you going to keep coming to the study? I know they¡¯re shortsighted and kind of¡­prejudiced, but I think we could soften them up a bit. You definitely know your stuff, they can¡¯t deny that.¡±

    Aramis drew in a long breath. ¡°Oh, maybe. It¡¯s been a while since I¡¯ve been around anyone who believed in Seven, so I might as well.¡±

    He smiled big. ¡°Cool. Well, see you around, Aramis.¡±

    They walked off in their respective directions.

    But not in Aramis¡¯ mind. She fought back a fantasy where Paul would insist that she come over to see his place, then he would talk about how his girlfriend was, after all, a mean and terrible person. Then the lights would go down, and they¡¯d be sitting close to each other on the bed. In her fantasy, all the colors were there.

    ¡°No,¡± Aramis hissed out as she crossed a street, no one nearby to hear her. ¡°Get out of my head.¡±

    She beat down the fantasy in the way she always did those like it, which was to think she was doing one thing but was doing something else.

    She thought she was meditating on the fact that she did not need a dashing, strong boyfriend to hold her close at night and whisper soft words of desperate love into her ear. She only needed Seven¡¯s presence to comfort her. She only needed to meditate on the promises of rest and peace given in the Remnants. She didn¡¯t need a human to comfort her. She didn¡¯t need. Need was not a part of her life. Not right now.

    She recited these things in her head as she walked the streets, going quickly to the Social Services Guild complex and to her tiny apartment that smelled like bleach. Where she¡¯d be alone. Where she¡¯d be up for hours trying to fall asleep and trying to convince herself to stop needing.

    ***

    The stale, still air in the underground library was ice cold.

    Nathan hugged himself as he entered the blocky, dull atrium, lit with the purple-green light of overhead florescent lamps. The walls were gray concrete and the bookshelves, stacked on flour floors that encircled the open atrium ground floor, were black. The only color in the chamber came from the spines of books. The best word he could think of to describe the look of the place was ¡°communist,¡± though he remembered Keane telling him that officially it was called ¡°brutalist.¡± Keane hadn¡¯t liked it down here either.

    It was a hexagon. The wall behind him was the entrance with the elevator. The other five walls had hallways leading to five different sections. One had all the details on how Mebar had been created and how everything was currently holding together. Another tracked every single law and all minutes from every government meeting, including the Assembly and other Aleph bodies. Nathan couldn¡¯t remember what the other three were supposed to hold. Each had a white and navy-blue directory plaque next to the openings, though, so Nathan would figure it out soon enough. Well, except for the wall that was charred black. The one the Assembly had burned.

    ¡°Remember, I wasn¡¯t able to kill the sensors at the doors to these sections.¡±

    Nathan looked around, searching for Carini. Her voice was nearby, but again she was unseen.

    Until she suddenly appeared standing next to him. She was holding a small, black cylinder with a red button on the top. She stepped up and handed it to Nathan. ¡°Tanaka made this for me a while back. I think you¡¯ll need it more than me now.¡±

    Nathan gingerly accepted the device. It was heavier than it looked, in the same way his watch was, and had finger grooves along the grip that appeared to be carved out of a solid piece of obsidian. The red button was actually a disk of perfectly cut rose quartz.

    Carini¡¯s eyebrows went up. ¡°Don¡¯t lose it!¡±

    Nathan shook his head. ¡°No. No, I won¡¯t. Probably the only way I¡¯ll get out of here alive.¡±

    Carini nodded. ¡°I suggest you get a pen reader and fill it with as many records you think may have anything remotely useful to you. The next time you want to come, they may be more ready for you, and it will be more difficult to get what you want.¡±

    Nathan nodded, then froze. ¡°Uh. I don¡¯t know what a pen reader is. Is the key Irse gave me one?¡±

    Carini shook her head and walked over to the counter in the center of the atrium. She stepped around an opening to stand within the circle, reached under and lifted up an odd, fat pen. She tossed it to Nathan, who caught it and almost dropped it, since he was still holding the invisibility device.

    She spoke while he stuffed the invisibility gadget in a pocket and turned the two-piece pen over in his hands: ¡°Just tap it against the spine of any book or volume, and the pen will store an electronic copy of it. You can read it either with the little holographic screen, or by placing the pen against something flat and it will project the words onto it.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s handy.¡± Nathan put it in a pocket.

    Rossa¡¯s face slowly rested into a thoughtful frown before she turned and walked toward the very center of the room. ¡°Come with me.¡±

    Nathan stepped past the circular counter and up next to Carini. She was looking down at a book placed under glass, sitting on a stone pedestal that was positioned dead center in the room. She opened the glass, pulled out the book, and handed it to Nathan.

    Unlike the invisibility device, this was much lighter than it looked. It appeared that all the pages had been ripped out of the narrow binding. There was nothing printed on the ancient-looking cloth cover except for the words on the spine: ¡°SAGRADAS ESCRITURAS¡±, and the by-line: ¡°¨C MIGUEL CAN¨¦.¡±

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    Nathan opened the book. There were only about twenty or thirty pages, all of them covered in text that was too small for him to read. But the last page made his eyes open wide. Printed at the top of the page, like a silver-leaf letterhead, was the blocky ten-point starburst-and-circle logo that had been the signature of the Mebar project. Next to it was written ¡°DC PAPER.¡±

    ¡°Oh!¡± He looked over at Carini, who nodded.

    She pointed at the page. ¡°This book will give one page to a person each year. I¡¯ve already taken my page for this year, so it doesn¡¯t have any for me.¡±

    Nathan smiled. ¡°Is this like ¡®The Last Crusade,¡¯ where if I take the page out of this room, the whole place will collapse?¡±

    She shook her head. ¡°You can take the page with you, but if you try and take the book, it will vanish from your custody and end up right back here.¡±

    Nathan gripped the page in one hand and the spine in the other and, after a moment of hesitation, carefully ripped the page out. Rossa took the book from him and put it back in its display case. ¡°Don¡¯t tell anyone about this. Those damned Assembly members have their own allowances of DC paper, and endless supplies of AC paper, somewhere down in the center of Threshold where they do all their plotting. They don¡¯t need to know about this one.¡±

    Nathan folded up the piece of paper, again feeling odd for treating what appeared to be an ancient relic in such a dishonorable way. He knew what the page really was and knew that a couple creases would not diminish its potency. He cleared his throat as he stuffed it in a pocket. ¡°This could get me out of some really bad situations.¡±

    She was looking at the pocket where he¡¯d put it. ¡°I know I said not to lose the cloak, but really¡­really make sure you don¡¯t lose that.¡±

    ***

    ¡°No. Can¡¯t make espresso right now. Not for¡­at least an hour. I always wait until the sun is fully up. It¡¯s too noisy. Downside of having a coffee trailer in a community where everybody lives in tents. The brewed coffee is really good, though. I can whip some milk and make you a poor-man¡¯s latte, if you want.¡±

    Soma wasn¡¯t expecting such a long explanation and was too tired to really care about any of it. The inscrutable, stern face of the woman at the trailer, the sign saying ¡°Phyllis¡¯ Coffee¡± in block letters, looked far too awake for this pre-dawn hour. ¡°I¡¯ll just have black coffee.¡±

    Phyllis, if she was the namesake of the shop, shrugged and filled a paper cup with the steaming black beverage. Soma took it, then felt worried as she remembered she only had a few shekels, given to her in Banks along with a couple changes of clothes. ¡°How much?¡±

    Phyllis made a non-committal grunt. ¡°Had a feeling you were new. I¡¯m an SSG vendor. So, brewed coffee is free. As long as you¡¯re a preyvede, anyway. Don¡¯t get me wrong, I wouldn¡¯t be able to run this place if people didn¡¯t actually buy other stuff.¡±

    Soma looked at the tip jar on the counter, fished out a shekel, and dropped it in. It was odd looking at it as it clanked into the almost empty jar. The coin looked nearly the same as a Prometheus version of one.

    She sipped the scolding coffee, which didn¡¯t burn her mouth at all, thinking about this. She wondered about all the things that were different here in Pan. She actually felt excited about the prospect of starting a new life on a new world. Except that there was still the priority of somehow finding justice for her family.

    After she¡¯d drank about half of the coffee, she felt more awake. No one else had come by to get any yet. ¡°Excuse me, do you know anything about Ignacio?¡±

    Phyllis snorted. ¡°Yeah. Everybody knows about him.¡±

    Soma had been up almost all night talking with him, asking him about Aleph laws, Assembly judicial procedure, and inter-world politics. He had been shy at first, but Soma had figured out pretty quickly that a large part of it was that he was very attracted to her. So, as they talked, and Soma had made it clear she wanted to spend a lot of time around him, his shyness had turned into a boyish eagerness to impress her. And he seemed incapable of lying.

    He had offered to let her stay in his tent, on a cot separated from his by a cloth partition.

    ¡°He isn¡¯t a creep, is he?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Phyllis drew out the word into a long sigh. ¡°He¡¯s just old, weird, and socially awkward. Some people think he¡¯s a creep because, for a while, a friend of mine was staying at his place, but she said he was just like a doting uncle to her. Possibly because neither of them was attracted to each other, so, take that data how you will.¡±

    Soma considered her options. Ignacio knew so much about the Alephs and the Assembly. He would answer any question she threw at him with authority and honesty. And still Soma was sure he was holding things back. She figured it would take some time, but if she was patient, she could learn everything she needed from him.

    ***

    ¡°This is going to take years.¡± Mumbled one of the suit-clad goons as he and an equally goonish woman¡ªthought all of them had perfectly chiseled faces¡ªwalked right past Nathan. He was leaning against the door to one of the tiny apartments attached to one of the hexagonal room-cells of Babel. Nathan dared not breath until they were a couple meters past him.

    The invisibility gadget had been working perfectly and had bought Nathan maybe an extra half hour of collecting documents. Carini had warned that the moment he entered Babel¡¯s maze, he might have two or three hours before guards would be in after him to try and find him. The endlessness of the maze had been helpful in evading them, but the time between escape and running into more kept getting shorter.

    It was probably time to leave.

    ¡°Wasn¡¯t this placed designed by someone who was afraid of infinity or something?¡± asked the woman as they went into the hex-room and looked at the shelves holding volume after volume of Assembly meeting notes. Nathan had just been copying those notes to his pen reader seconds ago when he heard the rattle of the rickety elevator these two had arrived on.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. They definitely aren¡¯t giving us enough people to find this guy. But if he¡¯s just a crazy aleph they want taken in alive, I don¡¯t understand why¡­¡±

    They walked out of the hex-room and across its adjoining bridge to another seemingly identical hex-room.  Nathan ran down the opposite bridge, over the bottomless abyss of countless identical bridges stacked below it and countless stacked above it. Well, he speed-walked, because running would be too loud. He moved through half a dozen rooms until he felt far enough away, then pushed a button to call up an elevator.

    Somehow, the cloak kept him safe and he made it all the way back to the atrium and even into Threshold¡¯s main elevator. Catching his breath inside the elevator car, he adjusted the saddle bags hanging from his shoulder. He watched the floor indicator count down, TL-2, TL-3, TL-4, and so on.

    The elevator floor indicator changed to MF and the door opened, revealing a wall of six large figures, four bulky men and two bulky women, who stared right through him. Not knowing he was right there, holding his breath, they all looked disappointed and frustrated at the seemingly empty elevator. Some of them had tattoos with tiny text spiraling around their necks and/or wrists.

    ¡°Is there a stairwell somewhere that he might be coming down? Maybe he pushed the button and stepped out to distract us.¡± asked a slightly shorter one standing in the back. Right after, two of them cursed and ran off down the hallway.

    Nathan cursed inside his head, wondering why he hadn¡¯t tried doing something like that. Instead, he had to squeeze against the wall as one of the larger men stepped into the elevator with him and looked up at the ceiling. Nathan tried to move around him and out the door without touching anyone.

    The man pushed up on the ceiling of the elevator, checking to see if any of the tiles opened, making Nathan again feel dumb that he hadn¡¯t thought of that either. He was about to get around the group of suit-clad searchers when a man covered from head to toe in the tattoos bumped into one of Nathan¡¯s saddlebags.

    Nathan froze and the hairs on the back of his neck all stood up. He held his breath, but the tattooed man seemed to think it was just one of his friends he¡¯d brushed against.

    Soon Nathan was past all of them and standing in the long, straight hallway. He jogged a few paces away so he could breathe easier. He knew that one way would lead to the Pan narthex and the other to the Prometheus one. But he couldn¡¯t remember which one was which. There was a small sign on the wall back over by the cluster of suited goons.

    Nathan held his breath and walked back toward them. He was relieved to find that he was already on the Pan side. He was curious to see how that world had turned out, and didn¡¯t want to use that odd, magic stone Irse had given him just yet. He let out a long breath, as silently as he could, and turned to walk down the hallway.

    BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

    Nathan jumped and began shaking and his heart beat violently in his head and the three pretty-faced goons standing in the hallway turned to stare at him. He looked down, toward where the beeping was coming. It was his watch, but he couldn¡¯t see it because it was invisible too. He hit it and mashed all of the buttons and it finally stopped, but the huge men and women were already running toward him.

    ¡°He must be using an invisibility cocktail.¡±

    ¡°Those don¡¯t work in here!¡±

    ¡°Get him!¡±

    Nathan ran, the four figures chasing after. He looked back, seeing them catching up. There was no way he was going to get to the door and lift it open before they caught him.

    ¡°Time to get clever, I guess,¡± he mumbled to himself before stepping to the side and pressing himself up flat against the wall.

    The four kept going and passed him. He stepped backward with slow, soft footsteps at first until he felt he was far away enough from the pursuers that they wouldn¡¯t hear him running. He ran fast, his saddlebags jostling loudly on his shoulder.

    He lifted the heavy door leading to Prometheus open. He heard the guards yelling just before he dove under the opening and it slammed shut behind him.

    As he ran to his motorcycle, which was waiting for him not too far away, ready to take him to safety, he turned off the cloak. Nathan looked down at his watch, trying to figure out why it had randomly gone off like that. Glowing on the face behind the hands were the words: HNM CLEANING DETAIL ONE DAY LATE.

    ***

    Paul threw his shoulder against the front door of Jack and Ben¡¯s, sending it swinging violently open as he heaved and panted his way past the cramped dining room, ignoring the awkward looks from customers, and into the hallway leading to the back room where the meeting was last week. He was at least fifteen minutes late. He got to the door and entered, but then frowned. The tables and chairs were all scattered in a mess. And the room was empty of people, except in the back corner, where Aramis was sitting.

    She was reading from a little booklet, maybe just a stack of rough-looking paper folded in half and then stapled along the fold. She looked up at Paul and gave a flat smile.

    Paul walked over, confused and still breathing heavy, and fell into a chair in front of her. He twisted around in the chair to face her. ¡°I thought I was late. Doesn¡¯t it start at seven?¡±

    ¡°No. Eight.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Well, I guess that means I¡¯m not late.¡±

    Paul paused to look at Aramis¡¯ thick-papered booklet. The title on the top of the cover was ¡°WEEKLY SQUIRREL ZINE,¡± and below that it said: ¡°This Week: Experts weight in on the MOA¡¯s update to ¡®Silencing¡¯ media lists¡ªFears rise that many favorite gray books will be ¡®upgraded¡¯ to black.¡± The print¡¯s ink was heavy and bled a little, especially where thick fabrics and cords were mixed in with the paper. It looked like a slurry of different kinds and colors of paper had been stirred together and hastily pressed into sheets.

    He looked at the back cover. There were little ads for all sorts of things he didn¡¯t know anything about. The ¡°Premium Aljinn Potions¡± were each listed with a color and a location: ¡°Black-Cathedral¡­Red-Abandoned Pub¡­Blond-Tropical Beach¡­Brunet-Mountain Tea House¡­.¡± Next to that was an ad for a ¡°Mazai Potion-Making Starter Book¡­learn at home, on your own!¡± Below that were ads for ¡°Mazai Raw Materials,¡± with a bunch of prices for blood and scales and bone and hair taken from bizarre animals he¡¯d never heard of before: mountain wasps, granite sharks, glass wolves, dust ants, and so on. Some of the materials were outrageously expensive. Probably the Atlas potion Aramis had mentioned last week was made from some of those. Below that was something he did recognize, though: Bricks of marijuana.

    Aramis flipped to a different part of the booklet. Paul finally became uncomfortable in the silence: ¡°How was your week?¡±

    Aramis answered without looking up. ¡°Boring.¡±

    ¡°Have you found any work yet?¡±

    Aramis shook her head. ¡°Not really. One job on Monday that only took a half hour. Refilled my bus money, I guess.¡±

    ¡°Oh. That¡¯s lame.¡±

    Her eyes darted up to look at his and then back to the pages.

    Paul wanted to talk to her more, but wasn¡¯t sure what else to talk about. He looked around the room and found an odd pamphlet sitting on a chair nearby. This was printed on normal paper, and in big letters it said, ¡°Welcoming a New Boy into the Family.¡± He leaned over to grab it.

    Aramis looked up to see what he was holding. He held it flat between them so they could both look at it. Under the title it said, ¡°Understanding the ceremony and celebration of the brit milah.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s a brit milah?¡±

    Aramis¡¯ eyes widened. ¡°Oh! It¡¯s a pamphlet talking about a bris.¡±

    ¡°That thing where they cut off the¡­thing?¡±

    Aramis nodded, as if not noticing the hesitation in the question. ¡°I always knew there was a ceremony, but I don¡¯t know anything about it. Other than it happens eight days after birth.¡±

    Paul turned it over, looking at the dense writing on the back, then turned it back to the front, then shrugged and handed it to Aramis. She took it and opened it up and went completely silent as she scanned it carefully.

    ¡°They had a bris in here?¡±

    But Aramis didn¡¯t seem to hear him. She was enveloped in the pamphlet. ¡°Probably not. They probably just had the feast here after. This is fascinating.¡±

    Paul waited, watching her and feeling lazy. Somehow, he knew she¡¯d read it, process it, and then explain everything she found once she was done, saving Paul from all of that effort. He wasn¡¯t sure at first why he knew this. But then he realized that Aramis reminded him a lot of his mom.

    But it might have been more than that. Right now, everything Paul had experienced told him the Name wasn¡¯t real or at least wasn¡¯t involved in his life. All evidence was against his faith¡ªexcept for Aramis. She was the one shadow of doubt holding him back from being bleached blank.

    ¡°Dang. Listen to this prayer.¡± Aramis spoke without looking up from the paper. ¡°¡®Master of all universes, may it be your will that he be worthy, favored, and acceptable before you as if I had offered him before the throne of your glory, and may you, in your abundant mercy, send through your holy angels a holy and pure soul to Yehuda my son, who has now been circumcised for the sake of Your Great Name, and may his heart be as open to your holy Torah as the entrance of the Temple, to learn and to teach, to observe and to perform. Give him long days, long years, a life of fear of sin, a life of wealth and honor, and a life in which you fulfill all the wishes of his heart for good. May such be your will.¡¯ That¡¯s a bad-ass prayer.¡±

    Paul nodded. He jerked his head back as Aramis lifted up her head and stared at him with wide eyes. ¡°Apparently, many Jewish families don¡¯t tell anyone the boy¡¯s name until they say it in a prayer like this. That¡¯s incredible. See, this is like¡­I don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°Like what?¡±

    Aramis was staring at the paper again. ¡°Tradition. It has so much power. I don¡¯t agree with everything in this prayer, doctrinally. Like, I don¡¯t think you should ever ¡®fear¡¯ sin, but that¡¯s probably just semantics. But man, it¡¯s amazing how tradition can clear out a path for people. As opposed to sola scriptura, where people fumble through holy texts, trying to rebuild on their own what forerunners have already laid out.¡±

    Paul didn¡¯t know what ¡°sola scriptura¡± meant but could figure it out from what else Aramis had said. ¡°Maybe fumbling is good. I mean, I grew up believing everything my parents told me. Now, all the stuff I knew for sure is wrong. Maybe if I¡¯d had to do all the studying and fumbling myself, I¡¯d be better off.¡±

    Aramis returned to reading. ¡°I think there needs to be a balance. If you don¡¯t have any tradition, or any continuous chain of teaching, people will come up with really weird interpretations of things. They don¡¯t have other people¡¯s analysis to compare against. They may miss a detail that someone else already carefully studied. But yeah, just leaning on tradition will make you lazy and your convictions may not have any foundation.¡±

    They sat in silence a moment. Aramis stared at the wall and Paul waited, expecting her to start talking again. Finally, she sighed and did so. ¡°I wish someone had said a prayer like this for me. Think about the kind of confidence you¡¯d have, knowing your parents believe this about you.¡±

    ¡°You say that like you can¡¯t have that confidence.¡±

    Aramis continued staring at the wall. ¡°I can¡¯t use scripture to justify believing for all that. These parents are making declarations of faith because they love their son. They have special authority, because they¡¯re his mom and dad. You see that in the story of Ya¡¯akov stealing the father¡¯s blessing from Esav. And when Ya¡¯akov blessed Yosef¡¯s sons and made him angry by giving the younger one a better blessing. I can¡¯t just believe I¡¯ll have a good life because I want to. If there isn¡¯t some kind of authority behind a promise, I don¡¯t have faith for it.¡±

    ¡°Maybe your parents did bless you like that and you don¡¯t remember. You guys forget a lot of things when you become preyvedes, right?¡±

    ¡°But that¡¯s just hope. Not faith.¡±

    ¡°Why do you think tradition would make it easier? Isn¡¯t that just people pretending they have things promised to them? It seems like that would just be deluding yourself.¡±

    Aramis¡¯ eyes narrowed and she slouched back in her chair. ¡°I don¡¯t think so. I think that¡¯s unfair to people who¡¯ve been teaching the same doctrines for thousands of years and have perfectly sound justifications in scripture for them. Maybe we¡¯re getting off topic. I mean, I still have hope for things, just not faith. I have faith that Seven will take me into heaven after I die, but not that he¡¯ll fulfill my dreams and desires. But I can hope he will. He doesn¡¯t promise it, though. Sometimes it¡¯s good to believe in something even if there¡¯s no clear promise, but¡­I don¡¯t think I can do that anymore.¡±

    Paul didn¡¯t like the dark turn Aramis seemed to be making in her rambling. He needed to change the subject. ¡°The remnant study that my family and Susie¡¯s family went to had all the typical traditions. Celebrated the four covenant days, believed the Creed, that stuff. This remnant study doesn¡¯t seem to have any traditions.¡±

    It worked. Aramis¡¯ eyes opened a little more and her face relaxed. ¡°They do. They¡¯re just awkward. Meeting at the same time once a week is a tradition. Having one person lead the discussion is a tradition. And they have some¡­strange ideas.¡±

    ¡°Did you know they used to meet on Friday nights? Ivan said they stopped because everybody was going to the Lower Empire shows instead.¡±

    ¡°Which one¡¯s Ivan?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s the one married to Maria. She¡¯s pregnant.¡±

    Aramis processed this, then threw the pamphlet on a nearby chair. ¡°That show. I know it¡¯s not fair to call it pornographic, because everything that happens ¡®drives the story,¡¯ but¡­I don¡¯t know why they have to show people being raped.¡±

    Paul frowned, then stood up. The one thing, oddly enough, that had bothered him the most about being in the mythical mirror world of Pan was finding out that the most popular radio show in Prometheus was actually a re-worked recording of a live-action performance that was just as popular in Pan. People here would fill black-box theaters on Friday nights and drink potions so that they¡¯d see the theater transform into the set of the show. And they could watch magical projections of the actors and everything that happened. ¡°I¡¯m not used to the way things are here.¡±

    Aramis looked at him, then at the floor. ¡°A lot of people at the commune would ask me to come watch it with them. They¡¯re always saying the show is really well written. I have a feeling that if I get to know the people at this study, they¡¯ll probably end up asking me too.¡±

    Paul put his hands in his pockets. ¡°You don¡¯t have to watch it if you don¡¯t want to. I¡¯m not going to. There are enough things we all get pressured into.¡±

    Aramis looked up at him, her eyes locking on to his in a way that made him uncomfortable. They were maybe a little red around the edges. Paul wasn¡¯t sure what he thought of this woman, but he knew he needed to stick with her. The people in the remnant study, even the leader, didn¡¯t have the answers he needed. They still held on to the nonsense he had before coming here. But this one, this blue lady wearing red glasses, was a cool spring in a wasteland.

    Finally, she nodded and looked away. ¡°At least I have people to talk to now. It¡¯s been a long time.¡±

    <hr>

 Interlude One

    Assembly Member Negri was a man who wanted things kept in order. His father had been a stern but fair man. Negri had feared him, but had quickly learned that being disciplined, keeping things in order, would keep him on his father¡¯s good side. And keeping things in order often required going to great lengths.

    It was this need for great lengths that had brought him here, standing deep under the campus of Helison university, in an underground chamber that had a huge device stuffed into it. He didn¡¯t like it down here. The air smelled¡­metallic. It made his beard feel itchy.

    ¡°That¡¯s the new BEAR detector. Did you know they actually had it up and running for a whole week before we could even get around to nerfing it?¡±

    Negri turned to see Viktoria Akmatova coming from around the curve of the huge tunnel leading to the chamber. It was like they were in an unfinished station for an unfinished subway line. One that was just a three-kilometer-long circle under the campus. A subway line filled with, what was to Negri, a metal pipe with nondescript science stuff around it.

    As Viktoria approached, she looked tired. He was expecting her to be more nervous for this meeting. He lowered his voice. ¡°A week ago, you violated one of our most important laws, and you greet me by telling me of another incident where you didn¡¯t do your job?¡±

    Viktoria smiled, but it was a tired, mirthless smile. ¡°Data has to be verified. Initial results are never trusted. We rarely interfere right away anyway. Keeping a loose grip on things like this keeps paranoia to a minimum. It¡¯s what keeps Prometheus happy and placid. Unlike Pan.¡±

    Negri turned to the BEAR detector, its name being an acronym for something. It was a three-story-tall, octagonal mass of sheets of metal and ceramic insulators and kilometers of copper windings. It looked like it was made to resemble an occultist summoning circle. ¡°I thought devices like this were the greatest threat to maintaining the laws around the Silencing.¡±

    Viktoria folded her arms and sauntered up to the device. ¡°We thought they would be. Before the Silencing, we were sure Irse and Clausius wouldn¡¯t be able to give us data for these experiments. But, every time they throw a new detector module down in this ring, they just work.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean they work? They aren¡¯t finding out how Mebar is put together, are they?¡±

    Viktoria turned to him. ¡°In a way. It¡¯s as if someone created a new manager who has all the knowledge of quantum mechanics we had before we entered Mebar¡­plus everything else. Everything we could ever know. We thought supercolliders would show people the ¡®bottom¡¯ of Mebar. But, there is no bottom.¡±

    Negri frowned and held up a piece of metal that looked like obsidian, but was heavy and cold like cast iron. ¡°But these have always worked?¡±

    Viktoria walked over and took it from him. Negri had sent an assistant to buy it from a black-market vendor who had smuggled it over from Pan. Because that was currently cheaper than trying to mine, purify, and alloy it here on Prometheus. Even though there was just as much of it here as over there.

    Viktoria climbed up a rolling staircase set in the center of the chamber, unlatched and pushed a segment of the science pipe away, and set the mazai metal in the small opening in the BEAR testing module. ¡°It¡¯s only because of the off chance someone might bring in something like this that we¡¯ve had to nerf any of the detectors.¡±

    The black ice steel sample now in the detector, Viktoria walked back down next to Negri. She hadn¡¯t replaced the pipe she¡¯d moved out of the way for some reason. He looked down at her. ¡°Can you tell me what it was it about that woman which made you think it would be at all acceptable to violate protocol?¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    She didn¡¯t react. She remained looking at the BEAR device a moment, then walked over to a locked panel along the wall. She sighed as she pointed her aleph key at it and it clicked open. ¡°You know why. Sir. She deserves a lot more from us than just getting to keep her memories.¡±

    ¡°It has nothing to do with what she deserves.¡± Negri¡¯s tone darkened, only a little, but it was enough for lines to form on Viktoria¡¯s face. ¡°She¡¯s intelligent and driven. And now she¡¯s armed with memories and agendas from the world she came from.¡±

    Viktoria, staring at the control panel that had been hidden behind the little, locked door, drew in a long breath. ¡°I know. I did what I did.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not on probation. Yet. But if anything comes of it, you¡¯ll risk exile. You know we have enough problems to deal with right now.¡±

    ¡°Yep. Which is why we¡¯re down here. Performing this silly ritual.¡± Viktoria studied the control panel a moment, turned some dials, and said, ¡°Ready.¡±

    Negri put on a set of goggles that he didn¡¯t really need, but which made him feel more comfortable. He couldn¡¯t argue with what Viktoria had said; the ritual was silly. Some ancient Aleph had decided to make a fairy tale about Irse true. To make it so that, if you could ¡°fool¡± her, she would be forced to appear before you and answer any question you asked. He turned to Viktoria and nodded: ¡°Do it.¡±

    Viktoria also put goggles on. ¡°No metal on you? Just in case?¡±

    Negri shook his head.

    Viktoria pressed down on a red button as big as her palm. There was first a crack, then a hum that slowly rose in volume. Then she pressed another button like the first, and the lights in the chamber turned off. Then she pressed another and a flickering, purple-blue beam appeared in the air, shooting out from the part of the pipe where Viktoria had removed a section. It shot into the BEAR, just barely missing the hunk of black ice steel.

    The humming continued to rise and the flickering beam became brighter. Then Viktoria pressed one last button. ¡°Diverting beam!¡±

    Both of them hunched down a little in reaction to the BANG that reverberated harshly in the chamber. The glowing blue beam was gone. There was something spinning up where the hunk of black ice steel had been. Or a few things were spinning, but it was too dark to tell.

    The lights came back on, revealing that reality had been broken. Literally. Up in the center of the BEAR, pieces of it and the hunk of black metal were kaleidoscoping around. Negri had seen many strange things since becoming a Seated member of the Assembly, but still he felt his stomach clench up every time he saw this happen. It was like big chunks of glass and polished metal were twisting around and within and through each other. As the pieces of distorted space lazily rotated around, they occasionally showed reflections of Negri and Viktoria. But not just the two of them.

    In the ¡°reflections,¡± they also saw Irse, standing next to them. But she wasn¡¯t actually there. Negri cleared his throat and called out. ¡°Irse. We¡¯ve summoned you here¡ª¡±

    ¡°Just shut up and ask your question. Though I have a feeling I already know what it is.¡±

    Negri and Viktoria looked at each other, then back up at the pieces of broken reality. ¡°Why did you¡ª¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you still use this old loophole to contact me. You could just ask nicely, you know.¡±

    Negri felt himself getting hot under the collar, but chose to swallow his pride. As much as he could, anyway. His anger still came out in his voice. ¡°Why did you release TAW Nathan Sanchez?¡±

    She smiled. ¡°I¡¯d think you would have figured that one out already.¡±

    The three of them stood there in silence. At least, the images of all three of them rotated around in silence, while Negri and Viktoria looked on, waiting.

    Finally, Irse sighed and folded her arms. ¡°You really can¡¯t tell? I want him to kill all of you.¡±

    BANG. The chamber returned to normal. Irse was gone. The spinning distortions of reality were gone. The only sound Negri could hear was his own angry breathing.

    ¡°Well,¡± Viktoria said, ¡°That¡¯s not very comforting.¡±

    Negri turned to leave. ¡°I¡¯m transferring all your lieutenants to Threshold guard duty. If your little science experiment doesn¡¯t actually need supervision, then your subordinates can do something useful. Like stopping the end of the world.¡±

 Chapter 10

    six months later

    Soma¡¯s plan to take a few weeks to gather her bearings had turned into half a year. Now it was getting close to the dead of winter and she was currently living in a canvas tent with a fallen demigod. She had been the one to initiate the relationship with Ignacio. At first, she was sure she was doing it just to get more information, taking advantage of obvious attraction toward her out of some new callousness she¡¯d gained. But as the months had passed, she¡¯d realized it was more than that. There was something very comforting about being with someone who, well, wanted her.

    There was also the distinct possibility that it was because he was the polar opposite of her husband. He was never sarcastic. Never rude. Never lied. He was paranoid and didn¡¯t know how to talk to people and walked around with a slouch. But spending time with him had made her comfortable and calm. It had given her time to be lazy and to think. But the deep, wet cold of Pan¡¯s winter was helping break her from this laziness.

    She hadn¡¯t exactly been idle all this time, though. She¡¯d been asking Ignacio questions, asking the commune leaders questions, asking the Aleph proxies questions, and asking questions of anybody else patient enough to put up with her. But today, with it sunny but still very cold, it felt like a good time to get to work.

    Wrapped in a heavy wool coat that reached almost to the ground, she walked out of the tent onto the half mud, half gravel path leading to Ignacio¡¯s work tent. She went through the wooden door build into the side of the canvas and found him spinning something on the lathe. Knowing better than to interrupt him, she waited, standing close enough to the heat box glowing in the corner to warm up but not close enough to block its heat from reaching Ignacio.

    It was oddly comforting to watch him like this, listening to the whistling and whining of metal cutting metal. His piercing eyes above gaunt cheeks and behind safety glasses looking intently to his work. Glancing over his shoulder, it looked like he was working on building the core of a blue coal regulator. They helped control mazai machines, and one could buy such regulators mass-produced, but they didn¡¯t work as well as a hand-made one.

    Learning about mazai arts had been one of the most fascinating parts of living in Pan. Apparently, most of the materials required to build the unique gadgets and potions existed in Prometheus as well, but the art had been either lost or pushed both into obscurity and the black market. Being in the homicide department, she¡¯d never encountered any of them¡ªbecause murderers in Prom preferred regular guns¡ªbut she¡¯d heard lots of odd rumors from other departments. She¡¯d never taken them seriously before, grouping them alongside stories of psychics and ghosts.

    She refused to call it magic, because they were clearly just machines that required unusual materials. She now knew how Viki¡¯s telescope worked, and why she had asked for so much money to get it working. Viki had been honest; she hadn¡¯t actually been trying to rip Soma off at all. Which was, apparently, unusual for an Aleph. From what little Soma had found out from Ignacio¡¯s occasional remarks about the Alephs, she had been lucky in stumbling upon Viki. Or, more importantly, Travis was a very good judge of character. He may have been a treacherous bastard for cheating with her husband, but sending Soma to Viki may have saved her life.

    In addition to learning about things like the telescope, she also now knew how the Midnight Caller potion worked and that Ignacio had made the very potion she¡¯d used. He made a good deal of money having vials of it regularly smuggled into Prometheus by some of his old friends. So that he could give advice to people in a world without unusual crafts on how to deal with unusual situations.

    But as far as those ¡°old friends¡± went, Ignacio didn¡¯t talk about them much. He told her anything she wanted to know about Pan and mazai arts, but he didn¡¯t talk about why he was an Aleph in exile. Or how it was even possible for an Aleph to become a preyvede. Soma had decided to be patient about it, because she felt the answers she wanted likely lay in these secrets. They were worth waiting for.

    But not forever.

    ¡°Ha. Done.¡± Ignacio cleared his throat loudly and dropped a cutting tool with a sharp CLANK into a pile of other tools. He turned around and jumped at seeing Soma standing behind him. ¡°Oh hey.¡±

    She nodded. ¡°I¡¯m ready now.¡±

    He frowned. ¡°Ready for what?¡±

    ¡°To bring the Alephs to justice.¡±

    ***

    Nathan hummed the tune to ¡°Gold Dust Woman¡± while pulling his and Valerie¡¯s laundry from the small closet washer. Behind him, on the other side of the living room, his dog Silver snorted in his sleep and shook one of his three legs. Valerie¡¯s dog, Schrodinger, walked over to sniff Silver¡¯s leg, then jumped up onto a chair to also snooze. Nathan wasn¡¯t exactly proud of it, but he had indeed succeeded in hooking up with the woman he¡¯d ogled his first week back in Prometheus. By making a three-legged border collie with his Aleph pen. He¡¯d taken Silver to the same dog park Valerie frequented, struck up a conversation after getting comments about his dog, and one thing had led to another. Now he was sorting his darks from hers.

    He frowned as he pulled out Valerie¡¯s jeans and tossed them into her basket. ¡°Hey Val? You sure you want the machine drying your jeans? Dryers are vicious on denim.¡±

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± she yelled back from another room in the apartment. Another perk: Valerie had more than one room where she lived.

    ¡°I know this thing washes and dries, which is really cool, but you could still stop it after the wash and take out the jeans to hang-dry.¡±

    Valerie walked into the room in pajamas, frowning. ¡°Why would the dry cycle ruin jeans? I have never heard anyone say that before. This isn¡¯t another one of your weird ascetic preferences, is it? You know, it is okay to let machines do the menial work.¡±

    A wrinkle formed on Nathan¡¯s forehead as he turned away from her. He had expected people to consider him odd and awkward because he was eight centuries behind culture, but not for that to be so annoying. Valerie kept accusing him of being some sort Luddite. Or Mennonite. Or some other ¡°ite¡±. Just because he knew a lot of random life-hacks that weren¡¯t useful anymore. He¡¯d tried once to explain to her that just having old tricks for doing things, when he didn¡¯t know there were already better alternatives, didn¡¯t mean he¡¯d made some conscious decision to only ever use old tricks. But she had already made up her mind what kind of person he was.

    And for some reason, even though he knew that, he kept getting into arguments like this. ¡°I¡¯m serious. The heat and tumbling or whatever thins the fabric, making your knees get holes faster.¡±

    She shrugged and walked over to fall on the couch. ¡°It doesn¡¯t use heat. It has some sort of dehumidifier in there.¡±

    Nathan frowned at the cubical box sitting on a counter in the closet that still had a dozen or so shirts and pants in it. He stared at one of his pairs of slacks hanging out of its circular door. He was still convinced he was right, but he didn¡¯t know how this thing worked, so there was a chance he was wrong. He shrugged and resumed sorting.

    When done, he picked the two baskets up and went to the bedroom to put the clothes away. Six months of her awkward criticisms. He was worried the only reason he hadn¡¯t broken up with her yet was because he didn¡¯t want to go back to the HNM center. Well, there was the fact that she was incredibly beautiful and hot and the sex was usually really good.

    Still, about twenty percent of the conversations he had with her was pure frustration.

    He folded clothing and put them in their appropriate drawers. ¡°Rock on ancient queen, follow those who pale in your shadow.Wait, ¡®follow those?¡¯ Is that right?¡±

    The awkward pattering of three legs signaled Silver entering the room. Nathan lost motivation to fold laundry and sat on the floor to scratch the scruffy fella behind his ears. He felt guilty looking at the dog after reflecting on his relationship with Val. He¡¯d used his key to create the dog, hoping that having a three-legged dog would make women think he was a kind-hearted soul. And it had worked immediately on Val.

    Valery definitely like Silver better than Nathan. To the point that he wondered if the only reason she kept him around was because of the dog.

    Silver seemed to sense that Nathan wasn¡¯t really focused on the task of showing him affection and trotted off. Nathan sighed and pulled out the pen reader Carini had given him and opened the next file he had to read. He hadn¡¯t just been sitting around, playing house for half a year. The hundreds of thousands of pages of records he¡¯d downloaded from Babel were torture to dig through, and after all these months he was now barely starting to get a vague idea of what was going on in Mebar. None of the biggest questions on the list he¡¯d been making for Irse had been answered, but a lot of smaller and related ones had.

    Valerie had always been subtly worried about this odd ¡°job¡± Nathan did every day. Things between them had happened fast, so a lot of the gradual lying about¡­everything that Nathan had expected had never really happened. Nathan could tell she was sort of back-peddling when she¡¯d ask casual, awkward questions about all this stuff he was reading and why he seemed to have unlimited shekels but no fractions. He¡¯d said he was doing research for the MOA, which was sort of true, considering he was technically still one of the bosses of what the MOA really was. That explanation had seemed to satisfy her at first, but she wasn¡¯t stupid.

    He shook these frustrations off as he finished scrolling past the fifteen-page table of contents of the document he had opened and zipped down to the meeting minutes. The document was a record of a meeting that had taken place a year after the end of the so-called Silencing event that Carini had mentioned. There were a lot of official records where some of the TAW and some higher-ranking Alephs had decided to cook up two fake histories. Both dealt with two different styles of something they¡¯d titled ¡°Hidden Knowledge.¡±

    One of the histories was the one he¡¯d seen explained in the museums here in Helison. It dealt with generational ships traveling to a star system call Mebar. The Hidden Knowledge here was the lost technology used to terraform one of the planets. Apparently, Prometheus had adopted this story and believed they were now living on that terraformed planet.

    Nathan looked up at the shelf in the corner of the bedroom, where Valerie had a little shrine to one of his colleagues, Sharon Okamura. It had a steel-engraving print of her face, sitting to one side of a little oil lamp and a framed drawing of Da Vinci¡¯s Vitruvian Man on the other side. He¡¯d asked her about this once, and she¡¯d said Okamura was the patron TAW of nursing, so she got the ¡°memorial,¡± as she¡¯d called it, as good luck during her residency to get her RN license. She claimed it was just for looks now.

    Apparently, offering prayers to the TAW was a thing even here on the more ¡°scientific¡± world of Prometheus. Nathan had looked this up and discovered that he was the patron TAW of diplomacy, which was incredibly boring. It seemed like that sort of superstitious stuff would fit better on Pan, where they¡¯d adopted the more fantastic of the two false histories.

    That one talked about the TAW being godlike sorcerers. The Hidden Knowledge instead consisted of arcane arts used for reshaping reality. An entirely new universe had been crafted according to the will of the TAW and then named Mebar.

    Weirdly, that one was closer to how Mebar had actually be built. Well, at least the Mebar Nathan had helped build. Not this creepy, upgraded version he was now in.

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    The TAW and Alephs had also decided to tell both worlds that it was the improper delving into Hidden Knowledge that had led to the Silencing and all its side effects. The changes to Mebar, however, were attributed to someone named Onweume making some alterations and then naming the master manager of the universe after herself. But Nathan was missing any documents with the details on that particular story.

    The new Assembly that had put all this nonsense together had decided that they would lock away most artwork and media. The stuff from Earth was labeled gray-media and the stuff made during the pre-Silencing centuries was labeled black-media. Their argument was it had all been lost in the disaster.

    But, in reality, nothing had been lost, except for the records the Alephs had destroyed in Babel. And most Alephs just found their favorite gray-listed media and leaked it. They¡¯d been doing that gradually for the last three and a half centuries, creating the market for ¡°found-items.¡±

    Valerie had ten or twenty gum-pack-sized gadgets of various colors, stacked on the shelf right below the TAW shrine. They were all basically MP3 players holding her collection of gray market music. She had almost two thousand songs, most of them from the 1960¡¯s and 70¡¯s.

    Below the stacks of music was a third shelf. There, Val had a locked wooden box. Inside that box were rows and rows of glass vials with red-tinted liquid in them. Aljinn potions. That was the upgrade to TV and movies he had expected. Well, not aljinn potions specifically, but the style of potions themselves. Val wouldn¡¯t talk about what was in the box, and curiosity had driven Nathan to pick the lock and look inside and do his own digging on what they were. They were consciousness transfer devices, meant to transport a person¡¯s mind into another universe, sometimes for entertainment. Aljinn potions, specifically, were this world¡¯s go-to version of porn.

    People in Prometheus did not talk about such things. Nathan had a feeling these were considered ¡°hidden knowledge¡± items, so they kept them secret. Talking about aljinn potions seemed to be nearly as awkward as talking about Pan. It had taken quite a while for him to figure all this out, but for very specific personal reasons he refused to use them himself.

    He got bored pretending to read the minutes of that document and returned to sorting clothes. But then he finished them. And wasn¡¯t in the mood to go into the other room to talk to Val. So, he picked the pen reader up and opened a new document and stared at a new table of contents, and quickly went cross-eyed.

    He yawned again as he finally saw something of interest: a transcription of a meeting where they discussed the changes to Irse, post-Silencing. How she was behaving more and more human in their interactions with her. Tears leaking at the edges of his eyes from the long yawn, he frowned as he saw something he hadn¡¯t seen before.

    Nathan got off the floor and sat on the bed. He read more slowly. There was a vague discussion of an experiment involving trying to clone the Managers. But he noticed an underline under the name given to the project: Immortals. He touched it with the pen.

    A new file came up. Nathan read the table of contents, his eyes widening and his jaw dropping as he went over the titles of the different sections. Then he read everything. He sat on the bed and read, not moving at all as his back ached as the sky outside darkened.

    ¡°Babe, are you okay?¡±

    Nathan looked up to see Valery leaning against the doorframe, frowning at him with concern. Nathan didn¡¯t respond.

    Val gestured at Nathan¡¯s pen reader. ¡°I figured you were working, so I ran some errands, but¡­you haven¡¯t moved at all since I left like, four hours ago.¡±

    Nathan stared up at her, at the young woman he¡¯d manipulated, using supernatural powers, into sleeping with him and welcoming into her home. Because he¡¯d liked her long, slender legs. And because he¡¯d wanted to be comfortable while plotting how to strip away the supernatural powers of the world¡¯s corrupt leadership.

    And during the last several hours he had discovered where the slippery slope of their power had led them. He looked down at Val¡¯s multicolored socks, which he found adorable.

    ¡°I have to go.¡±

    ***

    One month later

    ¡°Maybe I¡¯m just being idealistic. Or, optimistic, I mean.¡± Aramis tried to speak in a way that was confident but not arrogant. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe I need to be idealistic, because most Seven followers fixate on how we¡¯re all supposed to be suffering or whatever.¡±

    Kamel frowned and nodded, scratching the back of his head. The Remnant study group was currently meeting up at his nice house in the northern hills overlooking the city. They were having a dinner party for Avraham¡¯s Day, so they should all be relaxing and eating barbeque out on Kamel¡¯s deck under the stars and freezing half to death in the early December air, as tradition sort of demanded. Not debating theology. Maybe debating Advent traditions, worst case scenario.

    Kamel finally cleared his throat and responded, ¡°Yeah, I get what you¡¯re saying. It¡¯s fair. I mean, a lot of people do insert the Name into preyvede resurrection beliefs and live the same sort of silly ascetics.¡±

    ¡°Which is crazy,¡± Aramis said, ¡°because that doesn¡¯t even work. The Alephs will not resurrect someone who they know was intentionally torturing themselves to get resurrected. In fact, that¡¯s the only time when Irse will share information about a person¡¯s private life to verify that¡¯s what they were doing. They called it ¡®baiting the Alephs.¡¯ If you can¡¯t fool them, why do you think you can fool the Name?¡±

    Kamel squinted his eyes and pointed at Aramis. ¡°Yeah. But we¡¯re not talking about the same thing. You have to remember¡ª¡±

    ¡°Hey, Aramis.¡±

    A thrill shot through Aramis at hearing Paul¡¯s voice. Before she turned around, colors came. She¡¯d discovered the horrible reality that when Paul made her feel happy, her Curse Blindness would fade. It was an extra incentive to fight back the warm fuzzies that being around him gave her. Because it was all fake. A false cure to the curse. The curse would always return when the true reality of the situation asserted itself.

    But sometimes it was too strong to fight off. She turned away from the dark hazel of Kamel¡¯s eyes framed by his olive face and looked at Paul. His coffee-brown face frowned as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. His dark eyes were like gems. Her heart leaped as she looked into them, losing herself for a short, stupid moment. Regaining control of herself, she nodded to him, her face blank, oddly calmed by the return of gray all around her. ¡°Hey.¡±

    Paul waved at Kamel as he joined them in the cramped kitchen. ¡°Hey Pastor Kamel.¡±

    Kamel smiled, winked at Aramis, and walked away. It made Aramis furious and nauseated, seeing Kamel presume that something was going on.

    Paul stepped in close to her. She felt herself starting to sweat as colors flashed inconsistently, reds one moment, greens another, the deep brown of Paul¡¯s eyes lingering the longest. She clenched a hand into a fist until the colors went away.

    ¡°I finally put together how much that Atlas Cocktail costs,¡± he said. ¡°There¡¯s¡­no way I¡¯m ever going to be able to afford it. Even if I just bought the ingredients and had you make it for me.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. The main parts come from a granite shark, and they die in captivity. They have to come from one caught in the wild. Which is really dangerous.¡± She paused. ¡°It¡¯s not impossible, though.¡±

    Paul looked over at Maria and Ivan, who were now talking to Kamel, who kept laughing loudly at their jokes. Maria¡¯s belly was getting huge. Paul spoke while still looking at them: ¡°I don¡¯t know how I¡¯m ever going to get back. I¡¯m starting to understand why you waited so long to tell me about the other option.¡±

    After months of coming to this group and getting to know Paul better and better¡ªbeing around him and having him want to talk to her all the time¡ªhe never stopped making her both excited and miserable. But talking about the bond was worse.

    Paul continued talking. ¡°I¡¯ve heard they¡¯re not always done for romantic reasons. Sometimes people who are like siblings do it. If that¡¯s true, that means you and I could do one, easy.¡±

    ¡°Hey guys! Let¡¯s get a game going on,¡± Kamel called out, gesturing for everyone to come over to the living room.

    Aramis rolled her eyes. ¡°I hate games. I don¡¯t know how to tell Kamel that, though.¡±

    Paul shrugged. ¡°Well, just make sure to vote for a game that¡¯s less annoying to you.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but I¡¯d rather vote for no game.¡±

    ¡°Maybe¡­you should vote for a game you¡¯re terrible at. Then you can lose really quickly and be done?¡±

    Aramis¡¯ eyes widened. ¡°That¡¯s not a bad idea.¡±

    ¡°What game are you absolutely the worst at?¡± Paul stepped forward, leading them toward the living room.

    ¡°Risk. I get belligerent. Makes me hate everyone around me and probably makes everyone hate me.¡±

    Paul laughed. The rich sound made the hairs on the back of Aramis¡¯ neck stand straight up. He turned to her and smiled. ¡°I don¡¯t think there¡¯s anything you could do to make everyone hate you. Or even not like you.¡±

    Aramis smiled back, even though the comment splashed vibrant color all over the room. The dark walnut coffee table. The cream fabric couch. The stained oak chairs. The scarlet area rug. The golden, ornamental lamps. They didn¡¯t go away.

    She joined the group and Paul loudly suggested Risk, smiling at Aramis as he did.

    Aramis sat across from Paul and the gameboard for Risk was set up. She wasn¡¯t aware of anyone else but him. He would smile and smirk at her after anyone would say anything funny, wanting to share the moment with her. And every time he did it, the colors around her brightened and sharpened. And her heart felt like it was encased in an ever-shrinking box.

    She played the game, finding herself avoiding conflicts on the board with Paul as much as possible. This made her sloppier and more passive than normal, which lead her forces into a slow, depressing death.

    As Aramis made a comment about this and Paul laughed richly at it, her insides twisted up as the mad desire inside her swelled and made her hands shake. She could never tell him that he was doing this to her. She could never hurt him by letting him know how much he was hurting her. She buried, buried, buried it all. And the colors around her finally faded, but there was no relief in the gray this time. She had to endure for now.

    About half way through the game, everyone realized that Paul had been carefully setting them all up.

    ¡°The hell?¡± Kamel said, making everyone laugh. ¡°I mean¡­heck. What the¡­how did you do that?¡±

    Paul moved what had seemed like overly-spread-out forces from the Americas into Eastern Asia and decimated Kamel¡¯s control. The game then continued on with Paul gobbling up territory after territory. Aramis, mostly holed up in Australia, become nothing but a minor annoyance to the others as they all scrambled to avoid annihilation. To no avail.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m finally dead.¡± Aramis stood up and headed to the French doors along the back of the house, anxious to be alone and take a few breaths of cold air. She pulled her coat around herself and stepped out onto the narrow deck. From the balcony she could look down at Hempstock, its tungsten bulbs and light-stone torches twinkling kilometers below in the valley. All of them would be glowing gold if Paul was out here, so her eyes fixated on the silver. She wondered what the point of color was in the first place.

    She was cold. She went over to a chair on one side of a fire pit and began sorting out kindling to get a fire going. She absorbed herself in the task, stripping fibers from the staves. She only partly noticed when Paul sat down across from her.

    ¡°You¡¯re ripping that wood apart like its celery.¡±

    Aramis chuckled. ¡°I can¡¯t see the color yellow or red, but I can rip wood apart with my bare fingers.¡±

    She assembled the strips under an A-frame of kindling. Paul watched her as he sipped from his drink.

    She pulled out a lighter and got the fire started. She spoke without looking up, instead staring at the silver flames. ¡°You can to. Your fingers are just as strong. It may take a while to build the callouses.¡±

    ¡°So,¡± Paul said, clearing his throat. ¡°About this bond. I know the Never-No version is super creepy. And I¡¯d never¡­ask you to do that. But, I don¡¯t know if I want to wait for a slow bond to form. It¡¯s already driving me crazy that I¡¯ve been away from Susie for so long already.¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± Aramis said, a color fantasy flashing through her mind. Of him finding out Susie had already moved on. Of him holding Aramis and pressing his forehead against hers. Heat shot through her, anger and jealousy making her feel almost drunk. She pushed the thoughts away. ¡°We¡¯ve probably already started the slow bond.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    Aramis nodded. ¡°It normally takes a year or two for it to finish forming.¡±

    But it was happening in her faster than that. They had been growing close for half a year. She guessed that within a few months the slow bond may form, and Paul would gain the boost in physical strength that came with it.

    The sooner she got this stupid boy back in Prometheus and back with his stupid girlfriend that he had stupid, wonderful memories about, the sooner she¡¯d be free.

    Paul frowned. ¡°Are you okay? You look upset about something.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±

    Paul shook his head. ¡°You don¡¯t look fine. I heard the bond make people able to feel hints of each other¡¯s emotions.¡±

    ¡°There isn¡¯t any actual evidence of that.¡± Aramis kept her eyes on the fire. The two of them sat silent for a moment.

    ¡°Have you been getting enough work lately? I can probably convince Cedric to send you more of the smaller contracts.¡±

    ¡°No, work is fine. I¡¯m staying busy. I¡¯m learning more about mazai machines in my spare time. Probably can start getting some contracts for that on the side.¡±

    ¡°I have to thank you,¡± Paul said as Aramis leaned forward to grab a piece of wood that was just outside of reach. He instead grabbed it and handed it to her. ¡°I¡¯d be a mess if I didn¡¯t have hope I could get back home. It means a lot that you¡¯re helping me.¡±

    Aramis nodded, eyes on the fire, wondering how much longer she could put up with all this.

    ***

    Nathan pried himself off his bike as he reached the top of the hill. Helison didn¡¯t have a lot of high hills and most of the ones in the city limits were covered in mansions, condos, and golf courses. He¡¯d ridden over a hundred and twenty kilometers north, through sporadic rain, to find one with no people nearby.

    It was early morning and he was alone at the edge of a grassy plateau encircled by evergreen and fruit trees. He¡¯d heard this hill used to be a dairy farm and an orchard. It was completely silent and very, very cold.

    Nathan stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets and looked up at the brightening, red sky. ¡°Alright, Irse. We need to talk.¡±

    He stood there and waited. He¡¯d been sitting around reading records and waiting for Irse to come to him for over half a year. That was long enough. He had days¡¯ worth of food and a tent and a sleeping bag in his saddlebags.

    He¡¯d told Valery he had to be out of town for a while, and asked her to watch Silver, but she¡¯d seen right through it. She could tell he was leaving-leaving, and he¡¯d been too ashamed to tell her he wasn¡¯t sure why he wasn¡¯t coming back. An argument had ensued because of this and now he was pretty sure she didn¡¯t want him to come back. At least she was happy to take care of Silver, who might not like Nathan¡¯s new nomadic lifestyle.

    He leaned against his bike and folded his arms. ¡°I know you can hear me. And I know what the Alephs did to you.¡±

 Chapter 11

    ¡°It¡¯s been weeks since I mentioned my ultimate goal, Ignacio.¡± Soma stared at his face, which was turned forward in the direction they were walking instead of looking back at her. ¡°I feel that if we delay any longer, it¡¯s going to be impossible for me to motivate you to begin. Or to bond with me.¡±

    Ignacio waved his free hand around in the air as if punctuating something he was saying. Even though he didn¡¯t say anything. Not until after he let the arm fall limp at his side. ¡°It¡¯s not what you think.¡±

    They were on their way to Hempstock to sell some of his mazai materials, bags over their shoulders and in their hands, and Soma had seen the long walk from the commune to Banks¡¯ train station as a perfect time to talk to Ignacio without him being able to find any distractions.

    ¡°Listen.¡± Soma tried to soften her voice. ¡°I know they did something to you. They sacked you or exiled you. Now you go behind their backs to help people in need.¡±

    He squinted, still not looking at her. ¡°Well, I wouldn¡¯t give me that much credit.¡±

    She didn¡¯t break her stare. ¡°You¡¯ve told me about the corruption in the Assembly. Things like paying poor women to abort their babies so the soul space can be auctioned off for a hundred times what they¡¯re paid. Work camps for homeless people that promise quick money, where the mortality rate is mysteriously through the roof.¡±

    She kept staring. He kept looking forward. Finally, he drew in a breath. ¡°I know. And I still think that Aleph who talked with you was lying about your family ¡®accidentally¡¯ being annihilated. Soul space is the only thing that has true, intrinsic value.¡±

    ¡°What about Aleph ink?¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°Just the Aleph version of shekels. They only care about Fractions. Before people, friends, or family.¡±

    Soma looked away from him and sighed. Both here and in Prometheus, Fractions were used to purchase ¡°fertility medicine.¡± It was really just a cover up for giving people a slot in the Essesin for conceiving a child. Every woman in Mebar was entitled to have at least one child. Then, each man and woman were given, at birth, a thousand Fractions. Two thousand Fractions could be exchanged for one Credit, and that Credit could buy an extra dose of the fake medicine, so that another child could be raised.

    Since Fractions were the gold standard, breaking them into smaller denominations, called rubles here on Pan, made a lot of sense. But apparently, that had only happened here, where a person can¡¯t buy anything of real value without rubles.

    Soma chewed on her lip. ¡°I was a police officer for fifteen years. I know what corrupt government leaders look like, and I can¡¯t believe that the Alephs are merely a brood of belligerent dictators sneaking around behind each other¡¯s backs.¡±

    ¡°Why not? That¡¯s exactly what they are.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re misunderstanding what I¡¯m saying. They can¡¯t let themselves appear to be that.¡± She looked up at the gray sky. ¡°They have to have a code they tell everyone to follow but don¡¯t actually follow themselves. What they actually do is agree to look the other way, even if it¡¯s an unspoken agreement. Leave me alone, I¡¯ll leave you alone, something like that. At least, that¡¯s how this kind of corruption usually takes place.¡±

    ¡°Or they gain enough status and no one questions them.¡± Ignacio stopped walking. He looked around as if he needed to make sure no one else was listening. His insecurity was a little silly, since they were walking on a deserted path surrounded by dense greenery with no sound but leaves rustling in the wind. ¡°But yes. There are rules.¡±

    ¡°And they probably operate on a ¡®don¡¯t get caught¡¯ system of enforcement. Breaking the rules isn¡¯t actually discouraged, just doing it in such a sloppy way that you¡¯re noticed. Then, a person deficient in cunning gets the hammer. As an example of everyone¡¯s fake allegiance to the rules.¡±

    Ignacio set one of his bags down and folded his arms. ¡°Well, yes. There¡¯s¡­there¡¯s Stove.¡±

    ¡°Stove.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a prison for Alephs and preyvedes and other things. The Assembly will organize a court hearing and, if there¡¯s evidence they can¡¯t ignore, they¡¯ll throw someone in Stove.¡±

    Soma resumed walking, thinking. That was it. She needed evidence and a way to approach the Assembly. ¡°Where would one find evidence of what the Alephs are doing?¡±

    Ignacio picked up the bag and jogged to catch up with her. ¡°It would all be down in Babel, but if they found out I was in Threshold with a preyvede, they¡¯d try to kill both of us, probably. Keeping preyvedes out of Threshold is one of the rules they¡¯re actually strict about. There are some back-ways in that most people don¡¯t know about, but still.¡±

    ¡°If you bonded with me, you wouldn¡¯t have to worry about me as much.¡±

    He shrugged, which looked odd because of the bag he had strapped across his shoulders. ¡°I told you, that¡¯s not what it is. I want to. I really, I really do. I really want to. But the state you¡¯re in, it could be dangerous. You¡¯ve barely gone to the fire preyvede commune at all. They¡¯re the best ones to teach you how to use your abilities. Fire preyvedes are powerful. If you bond with me, your strength and your powers will more than double.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t need to learn how to throw fireballs around like¡­some sorcerer on that Lower Empire show. Besides, I hate going there. The men flirt like idiots.¡± She frowned and folded her arms tightly as she looked at the path. She remembered a couple of dirtbags at the fire camp asking if she was doing charity work by dating Ignacio. ¡°Don¡¯t you want revenge?¡±

    He frowned. ¡°I want to be left alone. I know that makes me sound like a coward, but, I¡¯m used to people thinking that about me.¡±

    They continued on in silence for a moment. Soma looked at her own feet, trying to think of more questions to ask, either to convince Ignacio or to ween more information.

    But he broke the silence. ¡°I wish I could say that the slow bond was already starting between us, but it isn¡¯t. I know that¡­you¡¯re only with me because you want revenge. It¡¯s okay. I¡¯m happy to be helpful. But, I do want to be with you, and that puts us out of unity. As long as we¡¯re out of unity, the slow bond can¡¯t form.¡±

    Soma frowned, feeling a bit lightheaded. She wanted to deny what he was saying. They walked along, Ignacio¡¯s head drooping forward more than normal.

    He again was the one to speak. ¡°You¡¯ve probably heard of the ¡®never-no¡¯ bond. It¡¯s instant. I don¡¯t like it because it¡¯s¡­it¡¯s kind of vile. Especially among water preyvedes.¡±

    Soma¡¯s voice was weaker than before. ¡°I though the bond was supposed to be a promise of devotion.¡±

    ¡°The whole preyvede resurrection system is garbage. Being brought back to life after trauma, being given super strength and a sexy body, only causes problems. Some of them will find a human and fall in love. But they¡¯re often too afraid to pursue them honestly. Or, they get rejected. Some water preyvedes set traps.¡±

    Soma watched Ignacio as he walked. This was the first time she¡¯d ever seen him genuinely angry. His heavy brows hung over his eyes in a way that made his face almost frightening.

    Soma knew enough about the bond to be able to guess what he meant by setting traps: ¡°I imagine by that you mean they set a scenario up so that the ¡®object of their desire¡¯ is seriously injured, then they come out and offer the never-no bond in order to heal them?¡±

    Ignacio¡¯s eyes were turning glassy. ¡°Sometimes, because water preyvedes are so strong, they assault the person openly, then offer the bond. I¡¯ve known preyvedes that have killed people because they refused the bond. Then they just find somebody else to go after. The human they bond with, well, they end up doing almost anything the preyvede tells them.¡±

    Soma frowned. ¡°I¡¯d heard of that, but it didn¡¯t make sense. Does the bondee lose their free will? They become some sort of mind-slave?¡±

    Ignacio shook his head. ¡°No, that¡¯s just the rumor people tell. It¡¯s an addiction. Obedience becomes a narcotic.¡±

    ¡°A narcotic?¡±

    Ignacio looked at her and took on his calm, ¡°teacher¡± face. ¡°The bondee will feel an urge to do whatever the preyvede tells them, but that¡¯s not the problem. When the bondee obeys, they¡¯ll feel a deep sense of elation. It¡¯s so strong that they become addicted to following commands. It can be very disturbing. And it gives the preyvede a huge amount of power to manipulate. The only counter is that the bondee gets to make three conditions.¡±

    He held up three fingers and his face regained some of the brooding expression from earlier. He continued, ¡°Some die before they can accept the bond because they don¡¯t understand, or because the preyvede gives bad instructions on stating the conditions. Sometimes the preyvedes confuse people on purpose. Some don¡¯t want to be bonded with someone who might say, ¡®you can never hurt me in any way¡¯ or ¡®you have to let me go home whenever I want to.¡¯ The conditions are very, very powerful to balance out the compulsion for obedience.¡±

    ¡°Do the Alephs stop preyvedes that try to abuse the system?¡±

    ¡°Sometimes. Same thing as with Alephs that break their laws. They¡¯re taken to Stove as examples.¡± Ignacio resumed looking at his feet. ¡°The three conditions can be anything. They can actually be placed on the bonder or the bondee. But the bondee has free choice in making them, so they usually limit the bonder. If you and I bond, I will be the bonder and you will be the bondee.¡±

    ¡°Because you¡¯re an Aleph.¡±

    He nodded. ¡°But if we bond, I want one of the conditions you make to be placed on you.¡±

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    He looked at her, his face finally softening. ¡°You must tell no one, ever, all the things I¡¯ve told you about the Alephs. If you do, the Alephs may find you and kill you. They won¡¯t bother with Stove.¡±

    Soma thought about this a moment. She couldn¡¯t at that moment think of what specific things he¡¯d told her that would make her all that dangerous. Most people won¡¯t believe the more extreme things anyway. ¡°What conditions should I ask for? You¡¯ve never been abusive in any way. You¡¯re probably the most gentle person I¡¯ve ever met.¡±

    He breathed out loudly through is large nose as his face twisted up in concentration. ¡°Ask that you will receive all my authorities and augmentations if I die.¡±

    Soma looked away from him and folded her arms.

    ¡°You don¡¯t like that one, do you.¡±

    She didn¡¯t respond.

    ¡°I can tell that you won¡¯t stop. The last months, I hoped you¡¯d moved on, but now I know. I¡¯m going to do anything you need to help you.¡± He laughed his awkward, completely unmusical laugh. ¡°We¡¯re a pair, the two of us. I¡¯m with you because I find you¡­so damn beautiful. And most people are very impatient with me. I¡¯ve never found someone as patient as you. And you, you¡¯re with me because you need justice and I¡¯m the only one that¡¯s willing and able to help. We¡¯re just¡­we¡¯re both just¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not really true.¡± She needed to say something to lift him up, but it needed to not be a lie. ¡°Most people aren¡¯t very patient with me either. I mean, it requires a lot of patience to put up with me. You think I¡¯m perfect and wonderful, but I¡¯m not.¡±

    He smiled. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I think you¡¯re perfect, but it doesn¡¯t matter. Maybe I don¡¯t want to bond with you is because I know that it will just get you closer to your goal. And that means that, probably, both of us will get killed.¡±

    Soma¡¯s eyes felt warm and went out of focus. She knew he was right. She also knew that she¡¯d never truly loved anyone except her two girls. She did not love this broken, lonely man, Ignacio. She knew this for sure because of one important fact.

    She knew she might die in her attempt at justice. She didn¡¯t mind that, but what she was ashamed of was that she knew, in the core of herself, that she did not care if Ignacio died. Her girls were gone. She didn¡¯t care who else died. ¡°Ignacio. I want to go to Threshold tomorrow.¡±

    ***

    Nathan returned to his camp on the top of the hill, dropped his bag of groceries next to the ice box, and sat on his stool to stare at his little stove. It was getting darker and colder and he wanted either tea or coffee. But he didn¡¯t want to bother boiling water or cleaning out his tea pot or his French press.

    He instead pulled a beer out of the bag and opened it and drank half of it in one pull. Most people, when they waited for an omniscient being to meet with them--and they didn¡¯t show up right away--gave up. Move on and do something else. Especially after three weeks camped out on top of a hill in the dead of winter. It was close to Christmas. He wondered if there were people celebrating Advent while Nathan was on top of a hill waiting for the advent of a little, god-like child.

    He giggled at the silly coincidence as he took another drink. He was like one of the shepherds. Sort of. Random memories of going to mass during December popped up in his head. People talking in Latin. Extreme boredom, enhanced by impatience over waiting for presents and feasts.

    ¡°I hope some people still eat turkey for Christmas, since there¡¯s no more Thanksgiving anymore,¡± he mumbled to himself. ¡°Not that I¡¯d get any, since apparently this is my life now. Sitting on hills, waiting.¡±

    ***

    ¡°Well, we might as well get ready.¡± Ignacio reentered the apartment, carrying a stained, wooden case.

    Soma looked out the small window of the room the two of them were sharing at a small hotel in Hempstock. People were walking past on the narrow street. The jackets and coats were heavier and warmer here than on Prometheus. Maybe longer and more ornate. No zippers. But Soma was never that good with fashion. She liked uniforms, because then she could just follow a standard someone else had already figured out. She had liked her detective uniform in Helison, which was mostly just a black cotton suit with a long duster. She¡¯d somewhat subconsciously tried to replicate that look during her time here in Pan.

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°If we¡¯re ready, should we bond before we go?¡±

    Ignacio undid the latch on the wooden case. ¡°I got something for you, since you haven¡¯t had a chance to master your powers yet. Call it an Advent present.¡±

    Soma came over next to the bed as Ignacio opened the case. Inside were what looked like two double-barreled flintlock pistols, but with a grated metal vent on the handgrips. He took one out and held it out, grip toward her. ¡°They¡¯re Henry Stacks. Element Lock pistols.¡±

    ¡°What are they for? I don¡¯t know how to load a muzzle-loader. Are there no real guns in Pan?¡±

    He smirked. ¡°There are plenty of guns. But these use your powers. When you pull back the charging dial, the gun draws in elemental magic from your hand through the vents here and here.¡± He pointed at the grated vents on either side of the grip. ¡°Until you learn how to fast-charge them, it takes a second or so to ready each blast, so it¡¯s best to ready one ahead of time if you think you¡¯ll be in trouble. Otherwise it might not be a lethal shot.¡±

    She took the pistol and examined it. It was very heavy. The stacked hexagonal barrels looked like they were made of matte-finished obsidian and the other metal parts looked like brushed bronze and nickel. The grip was a dark hardwood. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful.¡±

    He nodded as he put his hands in his pockets. ¡°We can go to a leather place I know in town and get you a set of holsters if you want. They¡¯re just as accurate as a regular gun, but a hell of a lot more powerful.¡±

    She found a deep pocket inside her jacket and put the pistol there as Ignacio closed the case with the other one and put it in his bag. She folded her arms, feeling the weapon pressed against her side. ¡°Thank you, Ignacio. So¡­does that mean¡­¡±

    He nodded again and cleared his throat. ¡°Alright. Just make sure to keep a handle on your emotions. The intensity of your powers is going to double. Or more. So, if we get into trouble, and you feel yourself getting panicky, grab the gun and charge both barrels to take the edge off. Otherwise, you could take out a city block.¡±

    Soma frowned. ¡°I¡¯m not going to accidentally let fire explode out of my pores if a mouse jumps up behind me.¡±

    He nodded and held out his hand. She reached over and clasped her hand around his wrist as his hand gripped her wrist. His palm was sweaty. And he was looking at the floor.

    He lifted up his eyes and stared at her. His expression became very serious and much less distracted than it usually was. ¡°You don¡¯t need to come with me. I already know how to navigate Babel. You can just tell me what to look for.¡±

    She shook her head, matching the intensity of his gaze. ¡°I know what damning evidence looks like. I don¡¯t want you risking getting attention only to come back with something that won¡¯t hold up in a court.¡±

    He held her gaze a moment before again looking at the floor. ¡°Do you, Soma Dan, agree to bond with me, an Aleph of Pan?¡±

    She nodded. ¡°Yes.¡±

    He drew in a long breath. ¡°Alright. Name your conditions.¡±

    She looked at the cracked paint of the ceiling as she went over the list in her head. ¡°First, that I will receive all your powers and authorities if you¡¯re killed by¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªkilled or¡­emasculated. Or, whatever stripped of all powers forever, means. They may just lock me up in stasis forever.¡±

    Soma squinted an eye. ¡°I don¡¯t think ¡®emasculated¡¯ is the word you¡¯re looking for.¡±

    A tight wrinkle formed on Soma¡¯s forehead as she tried to think of another word. ¡°I¡¯ll receive all those things from you, if your former associates kill or¡­destroy you. Second, that you can never do anything to stop me from pursuing justice. Third¡­that I¡¯m not allowed to tell anyone all the secrets you¡¯ve told me.¡±

    He nodded. ¡°I accept your conditions. Do you accept my bond?¡±

    ¡°I do.¡±

    Immediately, their hands and arms where they were gripping glowed white and then went back to normal. Soma took a step back, looking at her hand. ¡°Is that it?¡±

    Ignacio sighed. ¡°Yeah. The light means that Cephas believes he can hold us to those conditions.¡±

    Soma, still looking at her hand, clenched it into a fist. ¡°Alright. Let¡¯s go.¡±

    ***

    Paul was heaving as he ran around the corner and up beside Aramis. She was standing in front of O¡¯Malley¡¯s Shop O¡¯Magicks, waiting and carrying a toolbag. Her eyes brightened as she noticed him.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± he said. ¡°I got lost on the way here. The streets still confuse me.¡±

    She shrugged. ¡°Well, she isn¡¯t here yet, so you¡¯re okay.¡±

    He noticed an odd look on Aramis¡¯ face. ¡°You okay?¡±

    She adjusted her arms. ¡°Yeah, I just saw something odd on my way here. My old boss was with some fire preyvede woman. And¡­she was really, really beautiful. I think she was bonded to him.¡±

    Paul frowned. ¡°How could you tell?¡±

    She turned toward the street and opened her mouth but didn¡¯t speak right away. ¡°Well, it¡¯s really hard to describe, but I¡¯ve seen it so many times that I can usually spot it. What¡¯s weird is seeing him bonded to someone. He doesn¡¯t like the practice very much.¡±

    ¡°Huh. It is because of the thrall issues with the Never-No bond?¡±

    ¡°Not exactly. He doesn¡¯t like how preyvedes are all expected to find someone to bond with. The fact that he¡¯s an Aleph and a preyvede makes people expect him to not be very nice about how he¡¯ll find someone. And he wouldn¡¯t ever do that.¡±

    ¡°People are dumb.¡±

    Aramis looked at him, then away again. Paul was noticing the odd discomfort she showed at times. It was something he didn¡¯t quite understand. It seemed like she was carrying around the weight of the things they were discussing, as if she was responsible for them. Or responsible for fixing them.

    She shoved her hands in her pockets. ¡°There are some bars along the Thyme River¡¯s waterfront, just south-east of here. People go there to meet preyvedes. It¡¯s just a couple steps up from prostitution. Just, no money exchanged. Just drinks and promises. Lots of people go to those bars specifically to bond with a preyvede.¡±

    Paul was about to reply in Aramis¡¯ pause. But as he opened his mouth, Gael O¡¯Malley finally came around the corner.

    She smiled, dimples forming on her freckled face. ¡°Oh, Paul. There you are. Is this the young lady-preyvede you spoke of yesterday?¡±

    ¡°Yep.¡± Paul smiled as the frizzy-haired woman brushed past them and unlocked the front door of her shop. ¡°I don¡¯t know anything about mazai machines, but she does. She trained with some big-wig.¡±

    O¡¯Malley turned to Aramis and smiled tentatively. It sent a tinge through Paul to see it, because it seemed like the woman might be prejudging Aramis because she was a preyvede. At least there wasn¡¯t any prejudice in O¡¯Malley¡¯s voice as she opened the door. ¡°Well, come in. I¡¯ve got a lot for you to get started on.¡±

    Paul waved to Aramis as she followed the woman into her shop. Paul watched her go, then had a thought. He¡¯d been trying to get more information out of Aramis for weeks about the mechanics of the bond, but she¡¯d been dodgy and uncomfortable and he didn¡¯t like to make her feel dodgy and uncomfortable.

    But now he knew where he could go to find people who knew a lot about it.

    ***

    ¡°Why are we in the children¡¯s section?¡±

    Ignacio ignored Soma¡¯s question as he glanced around the shelves filled with colorful books of many widths and heights. He stopped as he noticed a small girl sitting on a cushion, reading a bright-yellow book with a blue cartoon dinosaur on the cover. He stared at the girl a moment, until the girl noticed and looked up at him with a blank stare.

    Ignacio¡¯s eyes bounced off of her as if he was deeply embarrassed. His reaction was so comical to Soma that she couldn¡¯t help but smile. She leaned in close to him and whispered in his ear. ¡°You look like you¡¯re afraid she¡¯s a spy for the Alephs.¡±

    He shook his head, his face humorless. ¡°I¡¯m just waiting for her to leave.¡±

    ¡°Why not just go into another room?¡±

    He pointed at a bookshelf. ¡°Old books, filled with pictures and stains and creases. They help conceal what we¡¯re about to do.¡±

    ¡°Conceal from what?¡±

    ¡°Not from what; from whom. Clausius. You can use magic to get him to track people. And to detect when someone¡¯s about to use an Aleph key.¡±

    They stood there in the back corner of the children¡¯s section, awkwardly doing nothing and waiting for the girl to leave. Eventually she did, taking the book and a couple others with her.

    Soma noticed that Ignacio was now sweating. He stepped over into a corner where two bookshelves met and retrieved his Aleph pen from a pocket. He took the cap off and began to draw a silver line right on the bookshelf.

    Carefully, he drew out a rectangle right on the wall and bookshelf and books. Soma¡¯s eyes widened and her jaw dropped the moment he closed the line. The space within the silver rectangle blinked away with a CRACK, replaced by a wooden door with a heavy latch.

    ¡°What the hell?¡±

    ¡°Shh.¡± He opened the door to reveal a small room. With another door at the opposite end.

    A finger pressed to his lips, Ignacio held out his hand to Soma. She took it and he led her inside the black box. Once they were standing inside, he pulled the door closed. It shut with a click and a lamp on the ceiling came on. In front of them was a door with two horizontal dials in the center.

    Ignacio hunched over the dials and Soma heard them clicking as he spun them, but the writing was small, so she could see the top one. The one Ignacio landed on was ¡°Babel Redundancy.¡±

    After not too long, Ignacio grabbed the door handle and pulled down. The door cracked open with a SLAM that made Soma jump back. He pulled the door open, and Soma caught what was written on the bottom dial: ¡°Atrium Broom Closet.¡±

    Ignacio stepped through the door into, shockingly and obviously, a broom closet. With a broom and a mop and containers of cleaning solution sitting on shelves and a large sink on one wall. And a squat little cylinder on wheels sitting in the center of the room. Probably a cleaning robot. It was all lit by a dull light on the ceiling.

    Ignacio stepped out after her, shut the door behind him, and it vanished with another CRACK.

    ¡°That¡¯s pretty handy.¡±

    He chuckled. There was a door opposite the sink, a normal door, that he walked to and opened. He stepped out, Soma coming up behind him, but then he stumbled back, knocking Soma into one of the mops. He shut the door and turned to her, his eyes wide with horror. He spoke through clenched teeth. ¡°They¡¯re here!¡±

    The door was ripped right out of the frame. Soma reached into her jacket and took the grip of the pistol in there.

    The person holding the now-removed door was a gorgeous woman with snow-white hair and wearing a very profession suit. She looked at them a moment, frowning with disappointment, then tossed the door to the side. ¡°It¡¯s just Ignacio.¡±

    ¡°Who? He¡¯s still around?¡± said a man¡¯s voice further into the large hexagonal room.

    The woman in the suit nodded. ¡°What are you¡­ah, shit.¡±

    She had spotted Soma. Her disappointment switched to frustration. ¡°I can¡¯t cover this up for you, Ignacio.¡±

    Ignacio looked at Soma, then back at the woman. ¡°We¡¯ll go. Just¡­don¡¯t do anything to her.¡±

    ¡°I just said we can¡¯t.¡± Her expression softened a little. ¡°Well. I guess we can throw you on one of the exile worlds. We¡¯ll can say¡­she came her to ask for asylum. That¡¯s the best I can do. If I don¡¯t, the Pan Sub-Assembly will kill both of you.¡±

    Soma ran her finger along the stubby trigger of the pistol in her pocket as she watched the expressions on Ignacio¡¯s face and on this woman¡¯s face. Soma had an idea. Something she remembered from that contract that Viki had written up and then torn up. She didn¡¯t want to play this card now, but Ignacio looked a lot more relieved by this woman¡¯s offer than disappointed. It could be the bond, or the fact that she had him pretty figured out, but she had a feeling he saw one of these ¡°exile worlds¡± as a welcome retirement, not a major set-back.

    ¡°If that¡¯s all you can do, I guess¡ª¡±

    Soma cut him off. ¡°I appeal to the Assembly.¡±

    Even through the blue color of his skin, it was clear all the blood had rushed out of Ignacio¡¯s face. The woman¡¯s forehead wrinkled up, confused. ¡°No, I¡¯m not going to do that. If you knew the paperwork¡ª¡±

    Soma took her hand out of her jacket, leaving the pistol there in the pocket, and stepped around and in front of Ignacio. ¡°I appeal to the Assembly. I want to talk to them now.¡±

    ¡°Soma! Stop it!¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Soma turned back to Ignacio. ¡°I didn¡¯t give you that condition for no reason. We¡¯re going to go through with this. For my justice as well as for yours.¡±

    The woman watched this exchange, confused and worried. ¡°I don¡¯t give a rat¡¯s ass about whatever little lovers quarrel you two are having right now. I¡¯m dropping you off on Hail.¡±

    A short man, very handsome and wearing a very nice suit, walked up to them. ¡°She has a right.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ll just kill her!¡± The woman glared at her companion, showing shock for the first time in the conversation. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter whatever ridiculous agenda she has or why she¡¯s here. The Assembly doesn¡¯t screw around with the Second Life laws.¡±

    The man shook his head. ¡°She looks pretty adamant. She¡¯ll just break back into here eventually. She already figured out to how once. She¡¯ll just find another loser like Ignacio to get her in.¡±

    Ignacio¡¯s forehead was covered with sweat and his skin was turning almost gray. Soma felt more than just a little guilt at dragging him into this, but she was also angry at him for being so willing to let this woman throw them under the rug.

    The woman¡¯s hands clenched into fists at her sides. ¡°Fine. Get someone to contact Negri.¡±

    ***

    ¡°You don¡¯t know anything about what happened to me.¡±

    Nathan, sitting on the ground in front of his tent, looked up as the child¡¯s voice woke him. He saw Irse standing in front of him, but she wasn¡¯t smiling like before, when she¡¯d first woken him up after all those centuries. He slowly stood up and stuffed his ice-cold hands into the pockets of his jacket. He¡¯d fallen asleep sometime in the afternoon sun and now it was dark and freezing.

    Irse didn¡¯t move as Nathan took a step toward her. She was wearing the same light, colorful clothing but didn¡¯t look cold at all. Nathan opened his mouth to speak, but before he could she held out a piece of paper. It was that rough kind with fibers and colored strands in the texture. It had a list on it. The top said, ¡°Nathan¡¯s vocab study list.¡±

    ¡°I should have made this for you first off. But, now you have it.¡±

    Shaking the sleepiness from his head, Nathan looked down the list, which was broken down into categories: Money, augmented persons, magic, etc.[1]</a> He looked up at Irse. ¡°I¡¯ll look at this later. I need to know about what happened to you. I¡¯ve been waiting a while.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve only been here three weeks. I¡¯ve been waiting centuries.¡± She folded her arms. ¡°What the Alephs did to me was hell. Worse than the hell the god of the old universe invented for his demons.¡±

    Nathan nodded and hugged himself as a breeze sprung up. ¡°I know they made clones of you, cut out parts of your brain, and tried to reprogram your clones into sex slaves.¡±

    She shook her head. ¡°They didn¡¯t just try.¡±

    Nathan¡¯s fists tightened. ¡°I know they called it Project Immortals, and I know that no one punished them for it. Is that why you woke me up?¡±

    Irse turned to look at Nathan¡¯s fire pit, at the ashes and cinders of dozens of fires Nathan had set night after night. She looked back up at Nathan. ¡°If you want to find out more, it¡¯s all there in Babel. The Assembly tried to change those rules about documenting all their actions, but I stopped them. Everything¡¯s there.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll be able to get back into the library any time soon. They¡¯ll be waiting for me.¡±

    Irse shrugged. ¡°Use the key.¡±

    ¡°The key?¡±

    ¡°The one I gave you. Draw a door on a wall and it will become a door to a small hallway and you can step inside and choose where in Threshold the hallway leads. I¡¯ll transfer some back doors they don¡¯t know about to your key so you can get in without being caught. A few even Carini and Tanaka don¡¯t know about yet.¡±

    Irse turned to walk toward some trees. Nathan watched her a moment, then yelled out in near panic. ¡°Wait!¡±

    She stopped and turned her head to give him a blank stare. ¡°I¡¯m very busy, Nathan.¡±

    Nathan raised a finger, but his hand was shaking. He needed to ask his question, but he was afraid to. ¡°Carini said you¡¯re human now. How is that possible? How can you be human if they can make copies of you and twist up your brain? You were supposed to just be the cute, clever face of the manager we set up for all sensory input. Granted, one that was so clever that you threw out the face we picked and chose a different one. How can you¡­how can they hurt you?¡±

    Her expression was still blank, but her eyes were getting glassy.

    Nathan recoiled a step, since seeing pain on her face was deeply upsetting. His own breathing became more and more uneasy. Hers remained still despite the tears running down her cheeks. His voice shook as he continued: ¡°Why¡­why can tea taste right, but those nasty wraps we made right at the beginning still taste like cardboard? If we were back on Earth just¡­disguised somehow, those wraps would be impossible. So, unless Mebar had a major upgrade, tea shouldn¡¯t taste right.¡±

    She smirked and relaxed. ¡°Most people didn¡¯t notice that.¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t notice that food finally tastes real?¡± Nathan looked around as he drew in a long breath. ¡°So, is this where you put on cool sunglasses and a leather trench coat and tell me that I have to see Mebar for myself to know what it is? And we go on a cool, visual-effects driven journey through the anatomy of the system?¡±

    Irse looked up at the stars, more and more of them shining as the minutes passed by and the blue faded from the sky. ¡°That would be pretty, wouldn¡¯t it? I take you on a tour of the outside of the cosmos and show you how the reality you thought you knew is all a lie.¡±

    ¡°Is that one gray listed? ¡®The Matrix,¡¯ I mean. The movie. I feel like with this weird culture they wouldn¡¯t want people seeing it. I should sneak it out of the EMA and leak it to one of those little theaters in Helison.¡±

    Irse turned to him, her expression humorless. ¡°This isn¡¯t a computer simulation. It¡¯s real.¡±

    Nathan opened his mouth but didn¡¯t say anything. This wasn¡¯t what he was expecting. Maybe a massive upgrade to the software. Maybe all the hardware had been overhauled. Still, Irse wasn¡¯t above lying. She could be covering something up.

    Her head tilted down so she could look at the ground. She kicked at some dirt as she continued. ¡°Mebar used to be computer generated. A new Noah¡¯s Ark devised to save mankind from the Cull. People here used to be minds that were uploaded into the Esessin, leaving their infected bodies behind.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I know all that.¡± Nathan began, first frowning, then lifting his eyebrows high. ¡°You¡¯re saying that¡¯s not true anymore.¡±

    ¡°Man became god and created a new universe more to his liking.¡±

    They stood across from each other in the deepening darkness for a long moment. Nathan squinted one eye. ¡°Bullshit.¡±

    She shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s going to take some time for you to believe it, so I¡¯ll hold off on explaining the ¡®how.¡¯ For now, you need to get to Pan. Quickly. I have a feeling that something interesting is about to happen at Mount Alanessa. It¡¯s why I came to meet you tonight and not another.¡±

    She resumed walking toward the trees. Nathan felt numb now, watching her go. Her answers were somehow both disappointing and disturbing at the same time. Eight centuries ago he had helped design a collection of new worlds, but they were nothing more than fakes existing inside a huge computer.

    ¡°So, what¡¯s happening at Mount Alanessa?¡±

    She turned and smiled. ¡°Something that hasn¡¯t happened since they put you on ice. Someone is about to call out the Assembly for covering up the truth.¡±

 Chapter 12

    ¡°I¡¯m wanted¡­¡±

    ¡°WAANT-EEED,¡± screamed a crowd from one of the bars up ahead of Paul, their cry ringing out into the night.

    ¡°Dead or alive¡­¡±

    This wasn¡¯t what Paul was expecting. Aramis had painted the area as a gross cesspool of drunkenness and fornication, but the strip of bars and restaurants and shops set up next to the docks were just like any other strip of bars and restaurants and shops he¡¯d ever seen.

    In fact, they were clearly intended to look familiar to him. They were all Promethean in design, which, now that he thought about it, made perfect sense. If this was a part of the city where preyvedes spent a lot of time, of course there would be homages to the world they¡¯d all come from. The architecture was simple and utilitarian and used a lot of steel and concrete and glass. Paul entered the bar and grill that he¡¯d heard the poorly-sang Bon Jovi leaking out from, walking past glass doors propped open.

    The place wasn¡¯t really nice, but it wasn¡¯t terrible. The dark lighting made it hard to tell, anyway. A middle-aged, slightly overweight woman in jeans that had horizontal slashes all up and down the legs and a too-small tank top was running a karaoke machine which an auburn-skinned, weasely-looking man was singing into. The words to the song floated in thin air just above windows facing the street. The guy was putting his all into ruining each of them.

    ¡°I walk these streets¡­a loaded six-string on my back¡­¡±

    Paul walked behind him, past the bar, past women and men. Some were in groups. Some were alone. Some groups were a mix of preyvedes and human but most of them, sitting at booths along the walls or tables encircling the bar, were homogeneous. Fire preyvede with fire preyvede, water preyvede with water preyvede, and so on. The mixing of races was, as Paul expected, mostly between men and women.

    Paul recognized the beer as the pale stuff that he remembered being the norm back home. Conversely, Pan liked amber ales and dark lagers and black smoked beers.

    ¡°Oh, sorry,¡± said an extremely attractive human woman as she leaned back laughing and bumped into Paul as he passed by. She had been laughing at a joke that a creepy-looking fire preyvede had just told her, a preyvede who looked twice her age, which meant he was probably four times her age or more. The preyvede glared hungrily at her as she relaxed forward from laughing and drank more of her beer.

    Paul continued walking deeper into the bar. There was a very young-looking water preyvede girl who was talking rapidly and cheerfully to the seemingly ageless-looking and physically huge stone preyvede man she was leaning against, who merely nodded at the things she said as he idly twisted her long hair around his fingers. She caught Paul looking at her and smiling brightly with her white teeth and white-gold eyes, still not missing a beat in her discourse to her huge boyfriend.

    Paul sucked in a breath and looked away as blood rushed away from his head. Susie. He was here to figure out how to get back to Susie. The image of the water preyvede girl¡¯s eyes burned in his mind, try as he might to shake the image away.

    He sat down at a half-sized table at the very back of the place, next to a table with an older, light-gray-skinned stone preyvede woman who was reading a zine and sipping coffee. She was dressed far more conservatively than most of the women in there, but had the stockings-and-short-skirt look that was very popular right now in Hempstock.

    A man with his hair done up in an elaborate bun walked up to Paul. ¡°Like anything?¡±

    Paul looked up at him. ¡°Iced tea?¡±

    The man nodded and walked off.

    The stone preyvede woman laughed a ragged, smoker¡¯s laugh and smiled at Paul. ¡°Iced tea? Man, that¡¯s boring.¡±

    Paul shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m just checking places out right now. Getting to know the area.¡±

    She raised an eyebrow and drank more of her coffee. Suddenly, the room erupted in cheers and applause. Paul realized that the song was over. He hadn¡¯t really been paying attention.

    But then the weasely fire preyvede man who had been singing walked over and joined the stone preyvede woman. He laughed as he felt into his seat. ¡°Always a crowd pleaser. Even if I sound like a cat being run over by a lawn mower.¡±

    The man and the woman laughed at his joke, his voice and laugh far more ragged and tobacco-stained than hers. Then the man caught Paul looking at them. ¡°Who¡¯s this guy? Hey fella, what are you doing here in the back with us old farts? There are girls in here, you know.¡±

    The woman slapped the man. ¡°Leave the kid alone. Looks like his first time out at the docks.¡±

    ¡°Hey,¡± The man leaned over toward Paul and did a bit of a parody of ¡°lowering¡± his voice, ¡°You here to find a girl you picked out at Sun Rocks?¡±

    Paul frowned. ¡°Sun Rocks. What is that?¡±

    The man laughed and sat back in his chair. The waiter then appeared and handed the man an ale and set a frosted glass of dark tea in front of Paul. The man took a chug from his beer and held out a hand to Paul. ¡°Milton. Pleasure to meet you.¡±

    Paul took his hand and shook it. ¡°Paul.¡±

    The woman stretched her hand over Milton¡¯s back so that Paul could shake it as well. ¡°Aubrey.¡±

    Paul smiled and took a drink from his tea. It wasn¡¯t bad, and he¡¯d forgotten how much he missed ice-cold drinks ever since arriving in Pan.

    ¡°So,¡± Aubrey began, ¡°If you didn¡¯t come here to meet someone¡ª¡±

    ¡°Because if you did,¡± Minton interrupted, ¡°You wouldn¡¯t be sitting back here, out of sight.¡±

    Aubrey nodded. ¡°And if you didn¡¯t come to find a girl you saw at Sun Rocks, then, well, what brings you to a shit hole like this anyway?¡±

    Minton chuckled through his nose as he drank more of his beer.

    ¡°Well,¡± Paul hesitated a moment. ¡°It may sound a little odd. I¡¯m trying to learn more about how bonding works.¡±

    Minton¡¯s eyebrows went up and Aubrey nodded. They waited for him to continue.

    ¡°I¡­I have a ton of questions about it.¡±

    ¡°Well, fortunately,¡± Milton said, ¡°Both of us have been bonded a few times each, so between the two of us, we can probably answer whatever questions you may have.¡±

    Paul nodded, looking from Milton¡¯s red face to Aubrey¡¯s gray face. Another question came to him, though. ¡°Okay, so, wait. First off, where are all the wind preyvedes?¡±

    ¡°Ha!¡± Milton said. ¡°They don¡¯t like it here.¡±

    Aubrey squinted an eye as she shook her head. ¡°Nah, they can pass as human, so they usually just reintegrate. Shelly¡¯s one though.¡±

    Paul looked to where Aubrey was pointing, and it was the woman running the karaoke machine. She looked completely normal. Paul frowned. ¡°Huh. Interesting. So, anyway, the bond. It makes the bondee get stronger and get some powers, right?¡±

    Aubrey was looking at her zine again, but still nodded. Milton was finishing up another pull, but he nodded as he set the glass down. ¡°Yeah. So, each preyvede gives some of the elemental abilities to the bondee, as well as a few other abilities unique to their race. Let¡¯s see, ah¡­¡±

    Milton frowned and held up fingers as he counted off what he could remember. ¡°I¡¯m fire. I give a slight strength boost, good healing abilities, infrared vision, and some mild elemental fire control. Water gives the second biggest strength boost, the best healing abilities, but very weak water control. You can still use an Element Lock if you¡¯re bonded with a water preyvede, though. Oh, and, uh¡­wind gives the bondee this oddball ghost mode that I don¡¯t know much about. And, I don¡¯t know, some wind control.¡±

    Aubrey cleared her throat and pointed at herself. ¡°I¡¯m stone, so I give the biggest strength boost by a wide margin and the ability to harden skin. But that¡¯s about it. We¡¯re pretty straightforward.¡±

    ¡°Wait.¡± Paul¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Harden skin. Do stone preyvedes give people the ability to hear thoughts?¡±

    Aubrey frowned and leaned back as if a bit disgusted by what he¡¯d asked. ¡°No. No, no, no. That sounds more like a wind preyvede stuff, but, I don¡¯t think that¡¯s one of her things.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re probably talking about sub-vocalizations,¡± Milton said, leaning in close and talking even more with his hands. ¡°If a wind preyvede practices for years and years, they can ¡®hear¡¯ what you¡¯re¡­kind of thinking to yourself. But, that¡¯s not an ability they can share with a bondee.¡±

    Aubrey still looked upset, but this comment made her look even more uncomfortable. She tilted her head from one side to the other, then hummed. ¡°Well, that¡¯s not completely true.¡±

    Milton frowned at her, then rolled his eyes. ¡°Oh. Wasted conditions.¡±

    She nodded.

    A flash of recollection went through Paul¡¯s mind. Irse had said something like that. She¡¯d mentioned the sub-vocalizations and something about wasted conditions. ¡°What-what is that?¡±

    Milton waved his hand in the air. ¡°It¡¯s a way to get extra powers. See, the Never-No bond is dangerous, because you, well, you ¡®never know¡¯ how far it goes!¡±

    Aubrey put a hand on Milton¡¯s shoulder and leaned toward Paul, sort of pushing Milton back. ¡°See, they say that, if you Never-No, the preyvede can order you to do anything, but it¡¯s not true. It¡¯s a lot more complicated than that, but it¡¯s still very, very important for the bondee to pick their conditions carefully.¡±

    ¡°Like, to protect themselves so the preyvede doesn¡¯t abuse them?¡±

    Milton and Aubrey looked at each other a moment, now both of them looking uncomfortable. Milton answered, ¡°Well, people grow up knowing which conditions they need to pick. Kids in Hempstock, anyway. I don¡¯t know how it is in the other cities, but we¡¯re right next to the Mountain, so it¡¯s a big part of life here.¡±

    ¡°What do they know? Growing up, I mean.¡±

    Milton held up three fingers and pulled one down for each point. ¡°First condition: that the preyvede will never abuse them. That covers just about everything. Cephas then won¡¯t let them order the bondee to do anything too bad without getting in trouble. Second, that the bondee is allowed to pick the punishment if the first condition is broken.¡±

    Aubrey¡¯s eyes opened up wide. ¡°That one is super important, because otherwise Cephas may wave the punishment or make it super severe. Or, sometimes, it can go all the way up to the Alephs! Especially if someone is stupid enough to appeal to the Assembly. And that can get the preyvede sent to one of their prisons.¡±

    ¡°Like Hail.¡± Milton shivered.

    Paul frowned. ¡°What¡¯s Hail?¡±

    Milton chuckled. ¡°Well, what does it sound like? ¡®Hail,¡¯ ¡®Hell,¡¯ same thing as far as we know. If you don¡¯t make that condition, and your preyvede does something that looks really bad, but you want to forgive them¡ªor it doesn¡¯t bother you¡ªthe Alephs may still take them from you.¡±

    Aubrey nodded. ¡°Or execute them. The Alephs take the laws concerning preyvedes and fair treatment pretty seriously.¡±

    Paul leaned back in his chair, its metal frame creaking under the weight of his back. He stared down at his iced tea, frowning and feeling cold. He hadn¡¯t realized that there was so much risk involved with bonding. Was Aramis afraid to talk about all this because she was afraid of all this invisible monitoring by Cephas, some powerful being that Paul assumed was similar to Irse?

    ¡°What¡¯s the third condition? The usual one, I mean.¡±

    Milton shrugged. ¡°That one¡¯s not as important. People pick a few different ones. Sometimes they pick that they want to be able to break the bond at a distance, if both people want to. Otherwise, you¡¯ll have to meet up again and hold each other¡¯s hand and say that you both want to break it.¡±

    Aubrey looked at Paul with that worry back on her face. ¡°But that¡¯s why wasted conditions are a really bad idea. Because you have to give up two of your conditions in order to get some other power.¡±

    ¡°Like hearing sub-vocalizations.¡±

    They nodded, but then Milton frowned. ¡°Why are you asking about that anyway?¡±

    Paul chewed on his lower lip a moment. ¡°I ran into someone who could do that. He was bonded with a stone preyvede and apparently did a wasted condition to get the ability.¡±

    ¡°Huh.¡± Milton¡¯s eyebrows went up. ¡°Interesting.¡±

    ¡°So, I have a related question.¡±

    Milton and Aubrey looked at Paul. He took in a deep breath and drummed his fingers on the table a few times before speaking. ¡°If I wanted to find someone. How would a person do something like that?¡±

    Aubrey frowned. ¡°What do you mean? Like, looking up their watch number or something?¡±

    Paul shook his head. ¡°No. Like, I wanted to hunt someone down, but I didn¡¯t know anything about them. Would there be any powers that could help me do that?¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± Aubrey sighed. ¡°Thing is, I don¡¯t really like where you¡¯re going with this. It sounds like you¡¯re thinking of bonding with someone in order to get powers. Sure, a lot of people do that, but it¡¯s¡­it¡¯s not a good idea, kid.¡±

    Milton shook his head. ¡°No.¡±

    Aubrey¡¯s frown changed. Her expression was no longer a blend of worry and curiosity and now was more one of concern. Her voice softened. ¡°Preyvedes are back-stabbing bitches, kid.¡±

    Milton nodded vigorously and finished off his beer.

    Aubrey continued. ¡°And Cephas and the Alephs are worse. You¡¯ve got to protect yourself. And people you care about.¡±

    Paul nodded, his hunger for knowledge about all this only increasing now that he¡¯d had this taste.

    ***

    BOOM¡ªthe narthex door shut loud and heavy behind Nathan just after he slid under it, echoing out into the otherwise still night.

    ¡°Crap crap crap!¡± He fumbled with getting to his feet and getting his Aleph key out of his jacket. He stumbled away from the door and sloshed into the wide, shallow, painfully-cold river running through Pan¡¯s narthex.

    The key had dropped him into a little alcove along the Mirror World tunnel, mostly hidden in the shadows and very close to the Pan-side door, but then he¡¯d accidentally rammed his shoulder into a lamp as he turned to go down the hallway and had grunted in frustration. He¡¯d switched on the cloak before doing that, but a guy and girl in sharp suits had heard him and immediately jumped to the conclusion that something was wrong.

    Apparently, the Alephs had upped security since the last time he was here and had these pretty guards everywhere now. Irse was probably going to be pissed that he¡¯d so sloppily ruined one of her super-secret back doors into Threshold.

    Nathan had had a bit of a head start, but not much as he¡¯d ran toward the door to Pan. In a panic, he¡¯d lifted it up just enough to barely slide under it.

    Now half-way across the width of the dark river, he found his key and continued running as fast as he could through the waist-high water. He couldn¡¯t hear anyone behind him yet, but he knew that any second someone would reach the door. It wasn¡¯t as heavy from the tunnel side, so those guards wouldn¡¯t have any trouble getting through.

    He held up the key in front of his face and sorted through the menu on the ghostly touch-screen. He went to ¡°SPAWN CACHED ITEM¡± and clicked the only thing he had in there: his motorcycle.

    He¡¯d just figured out he could do this with the pen. The bike materialized instantaneously with a crack of air in front of him, a meter above the ground. With a splash its two tires fell into the water. His eyes wide, Nathan dropped his Aleph key and scrambled to his knees right next to the bike to grab it and keep it from tipping over, getting himself completely soaked in the ice-cold water. He cursed again as he reached down to pick the pen back up, all the while trying with his other arm to keep the bike from falling on him. His fingers were stretched out into the mud and half of his face was underwater when the door opened.

    ¡°TAW Sanchez! Stop!¡±

    He grabbed the key and climbed onto his trusty aluminum steed. He flipped on the power, leaned down, and twisted the accelerator all the way.

    He didn¡¯t really launch off, though. There was a sad sort of gurgling sound mixed with the loud spray of rooster-tailed water behind him as the tire spun out and tried to bite onto something in the mud. But he did start moving, and faster than the two pretty guards chasing him. The male one hesitated and looked down at his nice shoes in disgust just before running into the water.

    Nathan laughed as they fell further behind him. But then he looked forward and saw the wall of bushes blocking his path. In every direction. He looked around and saw a few openings and picked the closest one. In the darkness he could just barely see something written on the sign.

    Before he entered the path inside the maze, the back of his neck was scorched, as if instantly getting a sunburn. He turned just in time to see what looked like a miniature sun barreling toward him. ¡°Holy shhhhhh!!¡±

    He dropped under the water and heard the roar of fire and steam over him. The moment it was gone, however, he got to his feet and looked up. The guards were not far behind, sprinting across the wide river, one of them with fire lapping off of her arms.

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    But then he turned and saw that the huge fireball had burned a path right through the wall of bushes. And the bushes were re-growing rapidly.

    His heart pounding hard in his chest, he lifted his bike back on its wheels, threw one of his shaking legs over it, and sloppily took off through the rapidly shrinking gap. The water became shallower as he went, his speed picking up as well.

    Dense trees were before him, hills beyond those, and the tall peak of Mount Alanessa a few hundred kilometers past all that. He breathed out a sigh of relief as he disappeared into the evergreen forest.

    ***

    Mount Alanessa was covered in snow. The silver light of a crescent moon, much larger than the two moons Prometheus had, brilliantly lit up the silent landscape sloping down and away from the window of Soma and Ignacio¡¯s room. The window was along a wall in a lower part of the ancient, circular fortress built right along the timberline of the mountain. The courtroom where the appeal would be heard was on the top floor of the fortress.

    The view out their window was nearly perfect, but was tainted by unattractive amber light cast from lanterns hanging on the outer walls of the fortress. Soma sighed. ¡°I do not like those lights.¡±

    Ignacio, pacing idly past her, looked out over her shoulder and grunted. ¡°Cheap lamp stones. Amber glass stays orange unless you add lead and a few other things to it. This is a government building, after all. No sense wasting money on pretty security lighting.¡±

    Soma frowned as Ignacio paced away. The two of them were ¡°guests¡± of the Alanessa Citadel at the moment, since Soma had appealed to the Assembly. The two of them had been taken, under close watch by multiple guards, from the Babel Library to an exit room inside Threshold. That room had a wide cylinder in its center, covered in doors. A guard had spun the cylinder for a while, then stopped it at a particular door. The door opened up to a tapestried, lobby-like room in the middle levels of this complex.

    Soma turned away from the window and looked at Ignacio, who was now sitting on the bed, stuffing a fine, gray powder under his fingernails.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    ¡°Insurance.¡± He grinned and held up a hand. ¡°Charcoal mash pollen. Negates the special characteristics of mazai, especially the metals and stones.¡±

    Soma looked at a small table in the corner where her twin holsters and pistols sat. ¡°They didn¡¯t take those away, so I have a feeling they¡¯re not all that afraid of us.¡±

    ¡°Not yet.¡± Ignacio wiped the excess residue from his fingertips, trying to make it difficult to tell he¡¯d stuffed the stuff under the fingernails. His dark skin made it difficult to notice anyway. ¡°Besides. The fact that you have those will make them think you¡¯re weak and untrained.¡±

    ¡°Well, one of those is true.¡± She came over and sat next to him. She took one of his long-fingered hands and examined it closely. ¡°Won¡¯t it all rub off while you¡¯re asleep?¡±

    ¡°Want to get some of it to absorb a little under the skin. I¡¯ll add more tomorrow. Every little bit helps.¡± He watched her as she turned his hand over, examining the tough skin and scars. He let out a long breath and hunched forward. ¡°Not the first time I¡¯ve dealt with these crooks.¡±

    She locked eyes with him, staring intently at his face as she gave his hand a squeeze. ¡°It ends tomorrow.¡±

    ***

    Nathan saw lights up ahead. Shivering terribly, he stopped his bike at the top of the low hill overlooking a cluster of buildings build around a river in the bottom of a valley. A couple hours ago he¡¯d come across the river and had decided to follow it, hoping to find shelter for the night instead of killing himself by continuing uphill toward Mount Alanessa¡¯s peak.

    If he¡¯d needed any more evidence that this was no longer a computer simulated world where he was a god, the acute mix of numbness and pain in his fingers and toes and knees and nose and ears and lips were more than enough.

    He dismounted slowly, stepping into soft snow that had started falling about an hour ago. Taking out his Aleph key with clunky, slow-moving fingers, he turned it on and pointed it at his bike. The holo-screen turned to a view-screen for a seemingly invisible camera. He centered his bike on the screen and a box appeared around it with a few buttons appearing next to it: CACHE, MODIFY, and OTHER.

    He clicked on ¡°CASHE,¡± and his bike cracked out of existence in front of him but remained on the glowing screen as if taking a picture of it had stolen it from the real world.

    Fingers still moving in slow-motion, he put the key away and waddled down the hill toward the closest building. His toes hurt terribly and felt colder and colder as he stepped through the snow, his shoes not designed for this. Whatever amazing event Irse had been talking about had better be worth all this trouble.

    A thin man in surprisingly light clothing stepped out of the building, holding up a lantern glowing with an odd orange light. He called out in a clear voice: ¡°Vuee-tyeh? Hola? Hello? Salut? Kon-ban-wa? One of those?¡±

    Nathan waved. He opened his mouth, fully intending to say, ¡°Hello is the right one, thanks,¡± but all that came out was: ¡°Ha¡­¡±

    The man jogged over a little more quickly, chuckling and producing a blanket that he threw over Nathan¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Terrible time of year to be on the mountain, kid. No pretty girls bathing in the river, that¡¯s for sure.¡±

    Nathan grunted an affirmative.

    ¡°It¡¯s just me right now here at the wind preyvede outpost. Everybody else is out, watching the matrices, making sure no new ones show up and freeze to death before they can even begin their second life.¡±

    Nathan chuckled. He wanted to say, ¡°Man, nothing you¡¯re saying right now is making any sense.¡± Soon enough, though, he was in the little, warm cabin, sitting on a chair by the door.

    The little but hearty man who had grabbed him busied himself around the little living room, popping out to grab something from another room and heating up some soup and grabbing more blankets, never standing still. The man had a joyful grin on his face that also helped Nathan feel better.

    Until the man asked the obvious question, ¡°So. What the hell are you doing up here?¡±

    Nathan looked away. ¡°A friend of mine told me to meet her up on top of the mountain.¡±

    The man laughed loudly and for a long while, bending forward a little. ¡°Doesn¡¯t sound like a very good friend.¡±

    ¡°Valid observation.¡±

    The man stuck a finger in the soup, seemed to decide it was warm enough, and poured it into a bowl for Nathan. Nathan held the hot, white bowl with that first thin blanket between it and his hand, a larger, thicker blanket now across his shoulders. He felt bliss wash over him as he spooned some of the steaming, creamy tomato into his mouth and felt it run down into his chilly core.

    ¡°You know, you can sit at the table if you want.¡±

    Nathan nodded and slowly got up and moved to set the bowl in front of him, though he immediately missed holding the bowl and having its warmth reaching into him through his hands. Still, it made it easier to eat it.

    ¡°Why would a friend tell you to meet her up here?¡±

    Nathan shook his head, still focused on the soup. He answered between slurps. ¡°She doesn¡¯t usually explain herself very well. But she usually points me in the right direction. What is this place for, anyway?¡±

    The man finally sat down, right across from Nathan, who could get a good look at him now that he wasn¡¯t moving anymore. He had a mustache and beard and thinning hair, but he looked younger than his voice sounded. There was something unusual about his skin. Not that unnatural porcelain-like quality, like the skin of those guards inside Threshold, but something. Maybe a bit translucent.

    The man sipped a mug before answering. ¡°It¡¯s one of the outposts for the new preyvedes. We¡¯re closest to the wind matrix, so we get a lot of people who¡¯ve suffered a lot during their lives. Lots of them died of starvation, some are drug overdoses, some were beaten to death. Right now, we¡¯re right at the beginning of ¡®peak season,¡¯ actually.¡±

    Nathan¡¯s assault of his soup had slowed more and more as he¡¯d listened, but by this point he was motionless, with his spoon held half-way to his open mouth. ¡°Uh¡­what? What is¡­¡±

    The man squinted an eye. ¡°You look like you have no idea what I¡¯m talking about.¡±

    Nathan¡¯s eyebrows went up as he nodded.

    The man took a drink, chuckling into his mug, then slammed it down on the table and slouched back in his chair. ¡°Well, I¡¯m pretty good at explaining. It¡¯s kind of my job, so I don¡¯t really mind it, if you don¡¯t have anywhere else to go.¡±

    Nathan¡¯s eyes darted up to a window that showed that the snow had picked up outside. He dropped his spoon clanking into the almost empty bowl. He leaned forward. ¡°Tell me everything.¡±

    ***

    ¡°Hey big guy, I heard you want to learn more about bonding with preyvede girls.¡±

    Paul had a pounding headache and was mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausted. He turned from his beer, only the second he¡¯d bought this night, and looked at the girl standing behind him. The fire preyvede girl with fantastic everything was leaning toward him so that her breasts, barely held in check by a thin top, were inches from his face. His eyes traced up her long neck, her pixy cut leaving most of its smooth, maroon skin exposed, then past her smiling lips until settling on her big, dark eyes. Eyes that were casually hunting easy prey.

    He shook his head as images flashed through his mind at light-speed. He leaned over his bottle and closed his eyes. ¡°Uh, I¡¯m good.¡±

    ¡°You sure?¡± Soft fingers gripped his shoulder, heat shooting from them up and down his body.

    His eyes shot open. He stood up and cleared his throat. ¡°I¡¯ve gotta go.¡±

    He bolted toward the door, the girl¡¯s face burning into his mind as he went. Every step of the way he processed through extremely convincing excuses for why he should go back and talk to the girl. Just talk. Maybe. It was late. He was tired. Nothing could happen. Well, maybe something could happen.

    He wasn¡¯t interested in some stupid impulsive fling. Well, maybe a little interested. His blood was boiling. He wasn¡¯t sure how to get himself to calm down. There was one sure-fire way to get himself to calm down. Possibly. He thought about how few obstacles there were in his way. How little clothing she had in the way.

    He was making for the door, every step away from the girl feeling like a bad idea. He felt more and more frustrated with himself because he knew that if he turned around, release from the frustration was waiting.

    He turned around at saw her, sitting on the table he¡¯d been sitting at with her long, lithe legs crossed. She gave him what at any other time would appear to be a kind, warm smile. He smiled back and walked out into the cold.

    The cold air hit him hard and began its work cutting through the madness. A bit. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, his mind filling with images of his hands exploring those long, devastating legs. He shut his eyes and concentrated on nothing. Black. Black and cold and nothing. His body gave off an unusually long shiver and then felt even more tired than it had been a moment ago.

    His walk gradually slowed as he headed through the empty streets toward his tiny apartment near Kettle Square. His empty apartment. He had to constantly keep fighting his mind from drifting back to those images. Red skin and hot fingers and warm smiles.

    He should have called it a night a long time ago. After hours of wandering around asking drunk people countless questions about bonding and preyvede culture, he¡¯d hoped to get more details from the initial info Milton and Audrey had given him. But he hadn¡¯t found anyone nearly as helpful as them. He was depressed and wanted an escape, but even in the midst of all that internal turmoil, he made a mental note to find them again on another day.

    He tried to think about Susie to distract himself, bring himself back to reality. But in every memory she was prudish and mean and unsympathetic. A girl from another world.

    Then he got angry as images began to get all crumbled together in his head. All of that mixed with feeling like a fool for believing that sex was something that sealed two lives together. That it was something special and should only lead to something permanent. There was no way that girl back there was expecting anything permanent. Well, he didn¡¯t know that for sure.

    He wished he wasn¡¯t this bigger, toner, more attractive version of himself anymore. He wanted to be skinny and short and ugly. He wished that girl back there hadn¡¯t looked at him so hungrily.

    He was just tired. His brain was fried and he needed to sleep, that was all it was.

    He took his hands out of his pockets and let the cold air drain the heat out of them. His hands were shaking, but he did feel himself calming a little. Just a little at a time.

    He wondered if he really had been helped by being brought back to life by Irse. That hadn¡¯t been her purpose, though. She hadn¡¯t resurrected him out of mercy or any sort of desire to give him a life of comfort and ease. He was supposed to be her prophet. Tell people that the Alephs were evil. Which wasn¡¯t far off from what his murderer¡¯s goals had been.

    Susie would say that Seven wanted him to lead people to following him so that they wouldn¡¯t suffer in hell. Irse had told him to lead people into defying the Alephs so they wouldn¡¯t suffer under their corruption. Society would say that he should enjoy his new life with abandon, throwing off outdated moralities. His murderer had said to curse the Alephs and die, so he could get some sick satisfaction out of defying them. All these conflicting purposes, all weighing on Paul¡¯s shoulders.

    ¡°Shut up!¡±

    Paul stopped. He heard the woman¡¯s voice coming from around a corner up ahead.

    Another angry voice joined the first, a man¡¯s: ¡°You don¡¯t care about yourself enough to get off the streets anyway.¡±

    There was a cry of pain. Paul¡¯s feet took him quickly toward the sound. He heard someone whimpering, an old man, but couldn¡¯t make out the words.

    ¡°Maybe we should just take him back. We could take him to the Kah cult¡¯s clinic. That would keep him from sitting on the streets and making us look¡ª¡±

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Paul had rounded the corner and spoken before even looking to take in the scene. There was an elderly man in dirty, loose clothes lying on the ground, an orange skinned fire preyvede. Standing over him was a young stone preyvede man and a young fire preyvede woman, both very angry.

    ¡°Mind your own business,¡± snapped the woman.

    Paul didn¡¯t react to this. He turned to the young man, who just glared back with the same venom that had been in the woman¡¯s words. Paul nodded toward the man on the ground. ¡°Why are you attacking him?¡±

    The woman took a step toward Paul and clenched a fist. ¡°I said mind your own business, kid.¡±

    Paul could clearly see tongues of fire rising from her knuckles.

    The man spat on the homeless man. ¡°Because he¡¯d rather drink himself stupid and sleep on the street than let the communes take care of him.¡±

    Paul frowned and walked forward. ¡°Don¡¯t do that.¡±

    The man and women both took a step toward Paul, almost putting themselves between him and the beaten man, but Paul continued his approach until he was just a pace from both of them.

    The young man spoke to Paul through clenched teeth. ¡°This is preyvede business. We have enough shit to deal with without these vagrants out here. Begging for beer money. Freezing to death in storefront doorways and showing up on zine covers, talking about how we should all be shipped off. Dumped off on some island somewhere, where we won¡¯t be a problem. They already do that in Prometheus. We don¡¯t need humans like you seeing this filth and thinking all of us are like this.¡±

    Paul looked down at the man. He figured he should be angry, but that wasn¡¯t the emotion he felt. ¡°When you say, ¡®thinking all of us are like this,¡¯ are you talking about the man your yourselves?¡±

    The woman pulled a leg back to kick Paul in the groin, full speed. Paul lifted a knee, so that her foot hit his shin, which stung deeply. He shook his leg, frowning at the discomfort.

    The woman, however, stumbled back, limping slightly. ¡°Damn it. He¡¯s an Aleph.¡±

    Paul rolled his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m not an Aleph.¡±

    The man and woman looked at each other and ran.

    Paul sighed as they went around a corner and out of view. He knelt down to check the man, who was laying on his stomach, an involuntary fear of touching him making his movements slow. But he put a hand on the man¡¯s shoulder anyway. ¡°You okay?¡±

    The man nodded and sat up, much more quickly than Paul would have expected. He coughed violently and checked himself. He was bleeding all over, especially on his face, but the bruises didn¡¯t look as bad as they should be. ¡°Hey man. You have a ruble?¡±

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t carry much money with me.¡±

    ¡°Have a cigarette?¡±

    Paul shook his head. The man frowned and stood up and stumbled off, coughing. Paul remained there, kneeling on the cobblestone street, alone in the ice-cold darkness as it started to snow. The man was now muttering to himself. Paul looked down at the patches and pools of the man¡¯s blood left behind.

    Paul chuckled at himself. Even if this was a purpose he could decide to be his own, defending hopeless people, it was only half-real. He¡¯d rescued a man who had apparently healed of all his injuries while Paul had been talking to the attackers. A man who didn¡¯t even seem aware of what had just happened.

    It wasn¡¯t very satisfying, but at least it wasn¡¯t something someone else had decided for him. He didn¡¯t know how he was going to do it, or when he¡¯d figure out how, but maybe he would use the strength Irse had given him to defend people.

    He¡¯d figure the details out later. For now, he needed to get into bed and out of this weather.

    ***

    ¡°Hello? Ignacio?¡±

    Soma went to the door and opened it to reveal a chubby man with a handsome face. He was wearing a black suit with a Pan-style long coat over it. He smiled flatly at Soma, then walked past her at Ignacio.

    Ignacio didn¡¯t acknowledge him. Soma watched the man. Two tattooed guards entered after him.

    The man stood in the middle of the room with his hands in the deep pockets of his jacket. The two others walked over to stand on either side of him, each holding a set of bulky, obsidian-black handcuffs.

    ¡°You know how this goes, Ignacio.¡±

    Ignacio nodded at the man¡¯s comment and one of the guards came over to put handcuffs on him. Soma watched with her mouth open. ¡°Wait.¡±

    Everyone, except Ignacio, looked at her.

    ¡°We¡¯re here to appeal to the Assembly. Why are you doing that to him?¡±

    The man¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°You¡¯re here to appeal to the Assembly. Ignacio broke one of the highest laws of the Second Life system. Unless Seated Aleph Negri is feeling graceful and decides to write it off as the two of you making a wrong turn¡ªin an attempt to grant you asylum at an exile world¡ªwell, we have to take precautions.¡±

    Soma looked at the handcuffs the other guard was carrying. ¡°Are those for me?¡±

    The man shook his head. The guard walked over and put them, also, on Ignacio¡¯s wrists, double-hand-cuffing him.

    The man sighed, but then saw Soma¡¯s pistols. ¡°You won¡¯t be taking those, though.¡±

    He nodded to one of the guards, who took the pistols. Then all of them headed into the hallway. It twisted around and inclined upward, passing other rooms before they reached a spiral stairway leading up. Through windows along one side, Soma could see the snow-covered mountain still glowing silver in the low moonlight. It was nearly seven in the morning, but it was near the solstice, so it would still be a while before the sun came up.

    ¡°Wait, stop,¡± said someone after they got to the top of the stairs and turned toward a set of double doors. ¡°You idiots think clamping his hands is enough?¡±

    Soma, Ignacio, and the guards turned to see a tall, irritable woman walk up, holding a hood. Without skipping a beat, she came up and stuck the hood over Ignacio¡¯s head. Then the doors were pushed open.

    They walked into a cross-shaped, lower level of the courtroom, with three ramped aisles rising away from them and up to the wall that encircled the whole chamber. The ceiling was a high dome of bronze with four silver chandeliers hanging from it, dozens of twisted tungsten filaments shining in their glass globes and filling the chamber with warm light. That light blended with the silvery-blue shafts shining in through the tall, narrow windows repeating around the circular wall.

    It was a very nice and lovely courtroom, but Soma was struck by how¡­domestic it felt. She had expected something more grandiose. There were even scuff marks and stains on the stiff, brown carpet.

    The suited guards escorted Soma and the blinded Ignacio about half way up one of the aisles to a booth. They opened the waist-high door and stuck Ignacio in there, then took Soma up almost to the wall and sat her down on a bench. Then the two guards stepped down a few benches and sat between Soma and Ignacio.

    The one that was carrying Soma¡¯s pistols set them down on the bench behind him, but then turned himself so he could watch her without having to look directly at her. Until he caught her looking at him, anyway. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. He¡¯ll be here soon.¡±

    Then a low horn sounded, coming from the windows. There was no glass in the tall, narrow slits opening up to the cold outer air. The warmth here in the chamber didn¡¯t seem to be leaking out, though. Through the windows, Soma could see something approaching the Citadel. Just a black spot on the brightening horizon.

    ¡°Oh, I stand corrected,¡± the guard said, smiling. ¡°He¡¯s here now.¡±

    ***

    ¡°Damn weirdoes with their damn primary color skin and their damn weird money.¡±

    Nathan hissed and shivered as he got off his bike, stored it in his key with a crack of air, and stumbled up the steep, snowy slope leading to the funny little fortress. It was a glowing thimble, maybe half a kilometer ahead. He didn¡¯t see anyone actually walking around outside it, so even though he was leaving the thicker part of the trees he didn¡¯t see any need to go invisible just yet. He would soon.

    Light was shining from the distant windows, in addition to orange external lights. Unnatural lights that reminded him of the parking lot of his dad¡¯s county office.

    That was a familiar sight for what was likely a government building, considering Irse¡¯s tip. What was not familiar were the three boats, of some sort, that seemed to be very precariously hanging from what looked like flagpoles stuck into the ground around the fortress. From this far away, he couldn¡¯t tell how the boats were supported. It was almost like they were blimps, hanging from those flagpole things by big rings attached to the front of the boats.

    He picked up his pace but made sure to walk along in¡ªand jump between¡ªthe shadows of the trees cast by the big, low moon on his left, keeping his footprints hidden in the dark. At least for the moment. As soon as the sun came up on his right, all of his prints would be clearly visible across the virgin snow from a mile away.

    No longer quite as sheltered by the trees, the wind tore at him, making him curse loudly into it. He was freezing, and angry because he was freezing, because he had discovered that shekels were nearly useless here. Sure, the currency was recognized in Pan, but no one at any of the businesses down in Banks would take it. ¡°Not worth much, up here,¡± they¡¯d all said. Not worth jack shit, is what they should have said. So many scarves and hats and gloves for sale, Nathan with a magic gadget that could create money out of thin air, and he couldn¡¯t afford any of them. And no one had bothered to program the Aleph key to create cold weather clothing.

    All he could afford to get were some boots that he traded his watch to get. Apparently, a wrist watch that was free in Prometheus was worth a pair of boots in Pan. It was better than nothing, but he still fumed over his tragic misfortune as he stumbled through powdery snow and jumped from shadow to shadow, climbing higher and closer to the fortress.

    He felt a surge of panic as he saw a hazy spot of light moving toward him from the right. He looked at the building, not seeing a light shining from there, then upward, turning his cloak on at the same moment.

    There was a stained-wood boat floating almost right over him. He stumbled into a notch in the trees as he watched it and the light shining down from windows on its belly approached, silent, smooth. Attached to the front of it and to the prow was a large ring as wide as the boat¡¯s broadest section. Painted on the bows was the name Galleria.

    Mercifully, the hazy spot of light moved in front of him, instead of over him or behind him to reveal his footprints. So, they had flying boats. That¡¯s why the ones already parked by the building weren¡¯t supported by anything but the ring. The newly arriving one pulled a wide, banking turn to head toward the building¡¯s landing platform on its west-facing side.

    He followed the boat until he was maybe a hundred meters from the building and there were no more shadows to jump between. If he went any further, he¡¯d have to hope no one was looking in his direction.

    A door leading to the platform that the boat was approaching opened. A couple people wearing suits¡ªmore of those pretty, secret-service goons and tattooed guys¡ªwalked out to watch and wait for the magically flying boat to arrive. It drifted toward a pole extending from the edge on the platform. As the ring on the front hit the pole, a heavy top-half of a clamp slid down, clasping the ring with a loud bang of metal slamming into metal.

    A ramp extended from the boat¡¯s sundeck to the platform. A handful of people left the boat¡¯s cabin, headed down the ramp, and walked into the fortress. One of them had a pointy beard and the walk of someone important.

    ¡°Well.¡± Nathan folded his arms. ¡°I have a feeling I¡¯m right on time.¡±