Sanctuary

by H C Edwards

  Griffin looked wildly around.

  “The old offices are close by. They could still have some computers in there.”

  He rushed off without waiting for a response, his running feet clapping down the hallway. Trey, caught off guard, hurried to follow the doctor’s lead.

  They took turns left and right, deeper into the maze of the abandoned psych wing, Griffin’s head snapping back and forth frantically on a swivel. Trey was beginning to think that they were doing nothing but getting lost, when the doctor came to a stop around the next corner.

  “We’re here,” Griffin said.

  He placed his palms on the first sensor, only to realize that it wasn’t on.

  “Dammit,” he cursed, and then tried to use his fingernails to dig into the door jam.

  Trey reached over and pushed the doctor aside, slung the rifle over his shoulder on its strap, and then slammed his fist as hard as he could into the steel door. The force of the blow formed a large dent and popped the edge of it from the frame. He then curled his fingers into the hole and pulled, the door squealing its protest as it slid open a couple of feet.

  Griffin squeezed past into the dimly lit room, going to the only piece of furniture in the room, a single workstation desk. He flipped up the viewscreen on the top and breathed a sigh of relief.

  “It’s old but it works,” he said.

  “Step back,” Trey said, accessing the mainframe and opening up the security protocols.

  A few more taps on the screen and he was able to input the councilwoman’s security clearance code.

  “Misao gave that to you?” Griffin asked, watching Trey scroll through the security protocols before finding the right one.

  “She did,” he replied, performing a search for Quentin’s quantum signature. “Right before she went down to the cooling chamber.”

  Griffin, his voice trepid, asked, “You mean she’s there right now?”

  “Yeah, she is,” Trey replied brusquely. “But she doesn’t have a clue you don’t have the-”

  His words were cut off as the search pulled up the result.

  “Holy shit,” he muttered, looking up at the doctor in stunned disbelief. “What the hell is he doing here?”

  Griffin, staring hard at the screen, sighed heavily.

  “Plan B.”

  “We didn’t have a Plan B,” Trey argued.

  The doc looked at him frankly.

  “We do now.”

  The Transition

  There were tones that were like musical chimes, each note spreading a sense of ease and comfort throughout her body. Though her eyes were open, she had no desire to disrupt the moment. Above her on the ceiling, she saw white crests and blue ripples, as if she rode upon the waves of the sea, floating serene, the water lapping at her skin.

  Breathing deep and long, she never knew the air to flow so easily. She licked her lips, amazed at the sensation, slightly abrasive and yet smooth at the same time. How had she never noticed that before?

  A man entered her field of vision. She didn’t know him. He was youthful but not childish, his eyes carrying the weight of years that his face did not project.

  “Do you know your name?” he asked her gently.

  She smiled at him. Of course she knew her name. How silly he was being.

  “Claire. My name is Claire,” she said, her voice melodic and breathy.

  Had she always sounded like that?

  “What is the last thing that you remember?”

  For some reason, she had to think about that question. A flash of images came readily to mind but it was as if they crashed against a wall, bursting into a thousand tiny pieces and sprinkling like glass. The vision made her frown.

  “What’s wrong?” the man asked her.

  “I…nothing,” she replied, even as the feeling faded.

  “What is the last thing that you remember?” the man repeated.

  Another smile broke out across her face. She could feel the skin stretch around the edges of her mouth. It was a strange sensation, as if she’d never smiled that wide before.

  “I was walking along the beach,” Claire replied.

  “What did you see?” he prompted.

  She thought about it.

  “The waves coming up the beach…footsteps in the sand…there is a boat.”

  “A boat?”

  “Yes,” she affirmed, but the vision of that object was hazy. “At least, I think it is a boat.”

  “What do you hear?”

  She closed her eyes for a moment.

  “My grandfather. He is calling my name.”

  “That’s perfect,” the man said as she opened her eyes.

  “Where am I?” Claire asked him.

  He smiled down at her, but for some reason she thought that he didn’t mean it. Such an odd thing to think about a man she had never met.

  “You are in the revival room,” he explained. “Do you know what that means?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “I have died and transitioned.”

  It should have been an alarming thought, or at least, a part of her believed that, but there was nothing frightful about this realization.

  “How do you feel?”

  She tilted her head.

  “How do you feel?” he prompted her again.

  “I feel…wonderful,” Claire said, and she meant it.

  The man walked away. She turned her head to watch, and noticed that he was carrying a syringe, of which he deposited in a recycling bin along the wall. Just a few feet away from him was a short, older woman, arms crossed over her chest, looking slightly displeased.

  Claire wondered if she was the cause of that expression, but couldn’t recall why such a thing would be.

  “Hello, Councilwoman Egbert,” she said pleasantly. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” the woman replied with clipped words. “What do you think of your new body?”

  It was a question that was meant to be delivered with a pleasant smile and a curious sympathy, but instead it felt like an accusation.

  Claire sat up and looked down at herself. She was dressed in a simple gown that ended right above her knees. It looked…familiar, for a reason she knew not.

  Her hands reached down and caressed the skin along her legs. So smooth and soft. She inspected her arms, turning them this way and that.

  “It looks the same,” Claire said in answer to the question. “And yet, it does not.”

  The older woman smirked.

  “You’ll get used to it.”

  “Will I?” she asked, now gazing at her hands and fingers.

  It was like staring at a moving sculpture. She was fascinated, could hardly blink for the sight of such a simple gesture as turning her wrist.

  And then a thought occurred to her. She stopped the perusal of her new body and looked up at the councilwoman.

  “How did I die?” Claire asked. “What happened to me?”

  For the first time, a crack appeared in the older woman’s stern visage. She looked down at the floor and back up before replying, but by then Claire already knew that she was going to lie.

  “An accident,” the councilwoman said, clearing her throat immediately after, as if the lie had stuck in her throat. “You will know more later.”

  Claire nodded, noticing the empty bed across the room.

  That is where my body lay, she thought. Where did it go?

  “Why are you here with me?” Claire asked. “Where is my grandfather?”

  “Councilman Talbot is on his way,” Egbert assured her. “He is very busy lately, preparing for the journey.”

  “The journey?”

  “He will tell you all about it very soon,” the councilwoman replied. “There is much you will learn.”

  Claire was silent, her eyes inevitably drawn back to the empty bed.

  “Where is my body?”

  Egbert seemed to stiffen.

  “It has been recycled. You do not need to worry about it anymore.”

&n
bsp; The door to the revival room opened. Her grandfather stood there, leaning heavily on a cane. He muttered some words to the two guards accompanying him, and they took up positions on either side of the door.

  Claire watched him approach, the click clack of the cane sharp and poignantly echoing off the curved walls. It was new and looked sturdier than him. She studied the ancient lines in his face, the slackness on one half, and realized what must have happened.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, when he finally came to a stop by her bedside.

  “It is nothing,” he replied, waving it off.

  He smiled at her gently, sadly it seemed.

  Why wouldn’t he be sad? She had just passed on, shuffled off the mortal coil of her earthly body. It was an appropriate response.

  “You had a cerebrovascular accident recently,” she said, stating the obvious. “Have you performed a full scan yet?”

  “Yes, yes,” he said, patting her hand with one of his. “I am as well as can be expected.”

  She looked him up and down.

  “Hemiparesis of the left side of the body,” she gave the prognosis. “I would recommend-”

  “I am fine,” he said more forcibly, closing the discussion on the matter.

  Claire knew him well enough not to press, but considering his years and the severity of the stroke, she doubted this would be an isolated incident. After all this time, the mountain was beginning to crumble.

  She found the thought disturbing.

  “What I really want to know,” Talbot continued with a smile, switching the subject, as was his habit when closing the book on another. “Is how do you feel? The body is satisfactory, yes?”

  Claire nodded, looking down at herself again.

  “It is,” she replied. “I…I had no idea it would be like this.”

  “I hear it is…quite the experience.”

  “Yes…and odd as well.”

  He chuckled.

  “How so?”

  “It feels the same, but more.”

  She looked up at him with some confusion.

  “I do not know how to explain it.”

  Talbot turned and half sat on her bed, sighing heavily as he rested.

  “There have been a few improvements to the QUBITS as of late, courtesy of a mutual friend.”

  “A mutual friend?”

  He frowned.

  “I misspoke. I meant ‘my friend’, but one you will get to know eventually.”

  Her grandfather never misspoke. The stroke had affected his memory. It was a common symptom.

  “How did I die?” she asked him, opting for her own answers since he was not forthcoming with the ones concerning his health.

  Talbot raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

  “That, my dear, is a long story,” he explained. “And one that we do not have the luxury of discussing at this time. I promise you, however, that very soon we will…once all is in order.”

  “With the journey,” she stated matter-of-factly.

  He sent her a sharp glance that softened immediately.

  “Where did you hear about that?”

  Claire looked to the councilwoman, who seemed to shrink a bit when her grandfather turned her way.

  “A slip of the tongue,” Egbert replied, almost anxiously.

  “Indeed,” Talbot said then shrugged as he looked back to Claire. “Yes, the journey, my love, but again, that explanation will have to wait. I do think you will find it very exciting though. I look forward to our further discussions on the subject.”

  Claire was curious, but thought that she would have been more curious before…when she had been alive. Had that part of her changed?

  She considered it seriously as she again gazed at her new body. There was no doubt that she felt amazing, but at the same time there was a hint of troubling disquiet in her brain, starting to worry away like a mouse with a bit of cheese.

  Her thoughts were interrupted as the door to the revival room opened again. This time, it was not a visitor for her, but one of the guards that had been ordered to wait outside.

  A look of annoyance crossed Talbot’s face.

  “I told you-” he began, when he was interrupted.

  “Sir, there’s a problem.”

  Her grandfather’s jaw drew taught. He held up a hand for silence as he struggled to stand, his left leg unresponsive. When he’d finally regained his footing, he led with the cane and wobbled to the waiting guard.

  They bowed their heads in conversation for a few seconds. Egbert walked over to join them, but she didn’t have a chance to contribute to the low exchange.

  “What?!” Talbot asked sharply, causing the councilwoman to freeze in her advance.

  Her grandfather, his back turned to Claire, seemed to flounder in his speech for a brief moment.

  “What the hell do you mean, lost him?” he growled when he had recovered his composure.

  “We’ve lost contact with the two guards,” the man replied, and the look on his face showed that he’d rather be anywhere in Akropolis than in this room.

  “You damn fools only sent two guards?” Talbot asked incredulously.

  Councilwoman Egbert closed the distance, speaking in a hushed tone.

  “Speak up, woman!” her grandfather shouted. “I can’t hear you!”

  Claire had never seen Talbot lose control like this before. He was never one to show his frustrations or his anger. Even at his most stern, he had always exuded a steely grimness that spoke volumes, especially concerning his disappointment or irritation.

  “Papa Talbot?” she ventured from the bed, but he ignored her call.

  “Useless, all of you!” he seethed at the guard, waving his hand to encompass the present company.

  The move proved too much for his frail body, and he stumbled. Councilwoman Egbert had to step forward and catch him beneath the armpits, or he would have fallen to the ground.

  Talbot reached out and grabbed the guard by the shirtfront.

  “Find him!” he hissed, incensed and nearly spitting his words. “Search the whole goddamn building! He wouldn’t have-”

  Her grandfather’s body went rigid for a moment, and when he spoke again, his words came out in a snarl like that of a dog.

  “Tell security to lock down the lifts and monitor the cameras. I don’t want anyone going up or down, guard or otherwise, without my say!”

  The guard nodded and immediately tapped on the comms button in his ear, turning away and relaying the councilman’s instructions.

  Claire could hear her grandfather’s labored breathing. She wanted to go to him and help, but something inside of her warned against it.

  Talbot turned his head to the councilwoman, who was still holding him upright.

  “The boy,” he said to her. “Have you been tracking him?”

  “Of course,” Egbert muttered, and then almost reluctantly added, “perhaps you need rest.”

  “I’ll rest when the incompetence ends!” he snapped back at her, pushing the councilwoman away from him as he wobbled slightly on his feet.

  He breathed deep, pounding the cane against the floor a few times angrily.

  When her grandfather spoke again, he had reigned in the majority of his frustration.

  “Where is he now? Did the security detail bring him?”

  “They didn’t have to,” Egbert replied. “He came here.”

  “What? Why?” Talbot fired off the questions.

  “I’m not certain, but he was on his way when we dispatched the guards. He’s in the clinic as we speak.”

  “The clinic?”

  “Yes, a Dr. Blatty’s office.”

  Talbot seemed to consider this before nodding.

  “Guard,” he said, causing the man to turn about so quickly in his haste that he almost tripped over his own feet. It would have been comical under different circumstances.

  “Sir?”

  “Has security fixed the Major’s quantum signature yet?”

  “They’
re doing that right now, Councilman.”

  Talbot nodded as he began to walk towards the door.

  “I want to know where he is immediately,” he ordered.

  Claire’s grandfather paused at the door when it opened. He turned and pointed back at Egbert.

  “I want the doctor brought to the clinic,” he demanded.

  His eyes strayed over and he seemed to realize that Claire was still there in the room, witness to the entire exchange.

  Talbot winced.

  “I am sorry for this, Claire,” he said, and the apology seemed to echo in her head for some odd reason, though it was only one of the odd things that had transpired since she woke. “There is a situation that I must attend to. I need you to stay in this room, for your own safety. I will leave one of the guards at the door if you should need anything.”

  She wanted to protest, but he was out the door before she could think of a rebuttal. The tech, who had remained as inconspicuous as possible, breathed out a pent up sigh of relief as he walked back towards her with a screen pad in hand.

  “We have a few more tests to run,” he said to Claire.

  “There’s no need for that,” Councilwoman Egbert intervened, walking back to the bed.

  She gave the tech a withering glare.

  “Go back to your corner.”

  The man blanched and turned about, hustling away.

  Egbert leaned close, only a few inches away from Claire’s face.

  “I’m leaving,” the woman said, and Claire wondered why she felt the need for such close proximity. “I hope you don’t judge me too harshly when you remember.”

  She reached up and put something behind Claire’s ear, right where her uplink chip was implanted.

  “But then again,” Egbert said, the harsh façade dropping away for a moment, revealing a sad old woman. “I would if I were you.”

  And with that, she left, even as Claire heard the tones that signaled her uplink with the Cloud.

  The Session

  “I’m here to see Dr. Blatty.”

  He stood in front of the receptionist’s desk in the psychiatric wing of the Pantheon. He was more familiar with this part of the building than any other, having attended regular sessions since his mother’s passing almost ten years prior. Quentin had always hated and resented these sessions, even as a child, finding the doctor to be somehow disconnected from almost any aspect of human suffering, as well as completely bereft of the range of human emotions required for his profession. A simple thing like empathy was expressed but never seemed quite sincere, at least not to Quentin. It was almost as if the doctor ‘exercised’ these emotions in order to flex his sympathetic muscles. He said the right words, postured the correct theories, and displayed just enough facial expression to show that he emphasized. But at the core, Quentin always believed him to be as synthetic as the body that housed his consciousness, revived nearly a hundred years prior.