Alternity

by Mari Mancusi

  The crowd erupts into more cheers. They’re loving this. If only they had any idea of the truth, where their friends and family really ended up after visiting this so-called Garden of Eden.

  “People of Terra,” Duske shouts, then pauses dramatically. “I give you … Mariah Quinn!”

  And here I thought they were loud before. Now the crowd goes truly crazy. Their applause and screams are deafening. Unnerved, my heart beating a mile a minute, I step out onto the stage. My knees are wobbling, my hands are shaking. But I swallow down my fear and join Duske by the podium. He makes a grand show of bowing low to me when presenting the microphone. Then he steps to the side of the stage, leaving me in the spotlight.

  I glance behind me and, sure enough, just as Duske said, my photos of Earth are projected onto the wall. Currently there’s a shot of Central Park on a sunny afternoon. People are lounging on blankets, sampling picnic goodies. Two softball teams compete on the field. A man stands frozen in motion, tossing a Frisbee to his girlfriend. I have to admit, it does look a lot like paradise. And then I remember that none of it is real.

  So, now what? I glance around, looking for some sign, some hint that the Eclipsers are in the house and ready for action. The doctor told me there was a plan in place; I just wish I were clued in on what exactly it entailed.

  The spotlight shines down on me. The crowd stirs, restless. Duske frowns from his position at the side of the stage. I realize I’d better get this show on the road or people will start getting suspicious.

  “This is a picture of what they call Central Park,” I explain, pointing to the photo behind me. “As you can see, it’s an aboveground park right in the middle of the city. New Yorkers like to come here on their days off, to read and eat and play ball or just hang out. They have a zoo and exhibits and lakes, and in the summers they perform Shakespeare in an outdoor theater.”

  The crowd oohs and aahs, clapping politely. I click to the next slide, feeling more confident. At least I know what I’m talking about. And when the Eclipsers decide to make their presence known, I’ll be ready for them.

  Suddenly, the applause dies midclap, a dead silence falling over the room. I glance behind me at the slide presentation, wondering what on earth has shut them up. It’s then that I realize it’s something not on Earth at all.

  Projected on the wall behind me, in startling living color, is one of the photos we took in the morgue: a naked, bloated Indy lying on a slab. So, this is what the Eclipsers have planned. They must have hacked into the slideshow somehow.

  “No!”

  I whirl around to see Duske charging at the slide projector, face enraged. But before he can reach me, he’s tackled by two of the onstage guards—evidently Eclipser plants—and sent flying to the floor. They club him, then clamp handcuffs over his wrists and drag him offstage. I watch, shocked, stunned, not sure what to do next. I glance around the room wildly, wondering if any other guards will suddenly burst through to interrupt the presentation. It’s then that I catch sight of Hiro, standing at one of the exit doors in the crowd. At the next is Kayce. At the next, Tayrn. All three nod to me, prompting me to go on. I realize the Eclipsers are not only in the house, they’ve got complete ownership of it.

  Time to get this show on the road.

  “But I’m here to tell you not to be fooled by such luxurious lies,” I say into the microphone to my horrified audience. Their panicked murmurs die away and they listen with rapt faces. “Moongazing is not a journey to a new world. It’s not a one-way ticket to paradise. In fact, Earth doesn’t really even exist. Well, not anymore.” I click the remote and the slide switches to a view of the computer control center. “This is where they create Earth. It’s a virtual reality simulation. A game, if you will, based on what Terra looked like before the war tore it apart.” I click the slide again, to another computer room shot. “That’s why you need the drugs. They trick your brain into believing this video game—this illusion—is reality.”

  My audience is silent, their faces pale and shocked. I’ve got their complete attention now, that’s for sure. Time to move in for the kill. “Problem is, your bodies aren’t able to handle this simulation,” I explain, clicking the slide again. We’re now back at the morgue. “A few weeks or months after you go on your so-called pilgrimage, your mind begins to decay. Your eyes burn out of your head. You’ll die. And the government will dump your body into this morgue and likely harvest your vital organs.”

  “But why would they do this?” cries a teenager in the front row. “Why would the Circle sponsor a program that kills its citizens?”

  “Easy,” I reply, clicking the slideshow to reveal yet another burned-out body in a drawer. “We have an overpopulation problem, and the Circle of Eight’s figured out a method of genocide that no one will object to. Not to mention it’s a great moneymaker for them.”

  “What about you?” demands an older woman a few rows back. “You went. And you didn’t die.”

  I swallow hard, but as I flip the slide, I find my answer: Mariah’s corpse flashes on the screen. The crowd gasps. I stare at them, still too unnerved to look at my own dead body.

  “This is what happened to the real Mariah,” I say. “She became addicted to Moongazing and it led to her own death. You think I’m Mariah, but you’re wrong. I’m simply an nT, produced by the government to trick people into thinking your precious princess is still walking around and enjoying life on Earth.” I glance at the Eclipsers, still guarding the doors. “But thanks to a few brave rebels who refused to give up, I know what side I’m really on.”

  The crowd erupts in murmurs, the Indys anxiously discussing all that has just been revealed. Satisfied that I’ve done my part, I walk offstage and locate the Eclipsers, who are holding Duske captive.

  “By the way, I have my memories back,” I inform him as I approach. I resist the urge to make “nyah-nyah” noises.

  “So I see,” he says, not looking very happy. “Not that they were ever your memories to begin with. But how lovely that you’re able to take ownership of them all the same.”

  Furious, I slap his face as hard as I can, my hand making a loud noise as it connects with his cheek. “That’s for trying to turn me into someone I’m not,” I spit at him.

  He narrows his eyes. “Please. You were never anyone to begin with.”

  “That may be true,” I agree. “But I am someone now. Someone important. And you know what? I like that person. I wouldn’t trade who I’ve become for any alternate reality in the world.”

  “Neither would I,” says a voice behind me.

  I whirl around, my eyes widening and my mouth dropping open in shocked joy. “Dawn!” I cry, running to him—Duske forgotten—and throwing myself into his arms. He twirls me around, squeezing me tight. “You’re here! You’re okay!” I bury my face in his shoulder, wanting to cry and laugh, sing and scream, all at the same time. “I thought maybe you were …” I trail off, unable to finish.

  “I told you I’d find you again,” Dawn reminds me, setting me back on the floor. “Though, maybe you don’t remember.”

  “Oh, I remember,” I assure him, a huge grin on my face. “I remember everything. And I’ll remember it all forever. I promise.”

  “I know you will, Skye Brown,” Dawn says, leaning down to kiss me. “Because I plan to remind you every day for the rest of your life.”

  EPILOGUE

  Three mornings later I wake up in Dawn’s arms back at my house. Our house. We’ve decided there’s no reason to keep separate residences anymore. After all, we don’t want to spend any more time apart from one another then we have to.

  Dawn sits up in bed, glancing at his watch. “We should get moving. We have a big meeting with the Eclipsers in an hour,” he reminds me.

  I yawn, stretching my hands above my head. “Let them wait a few more minutes. I’m too comfortable to move.”

  He kisses me softly on the forehead and lies back. “Me too.”

  “Besides, I know what they’re g
oing to say,” I groan. “That we need a new plan. Something to follow our glorious victory.”

  “You’re starting to learn. An Eclipser’s work is never done.”

  “It seems a shame we can’t just rest on our laurels for a bit,” I joke. “After all, we did destroy the government’s number-one moneymaking program and unite the Indys against them.”

  Dawn chuckles. “It was great,” he agrees. “But it’s only a start. While we did get the Indys to rebel against the Moongazing project, it’s not like we took down the Circle of Eight. You saw the newsfeed last night. The Circle’s spin doctors have already started working. Senator Estelle, Mariah’s mother, vilified Duske and blamed the entire Moongazing fiasco on him, not to mention her daughter’s death. She made it seem like the whole program was his brainchild alone and nothing to do with a government conspiracy.” He gives a rueful smile. “Now all the Senate has to do is stage a trial and execution, dismantle the ‘Gazing booths and suddenly they’re big heroes to the land. The Indys will be grateful as their grand and glorious government saves them once again.”

  I make a face, knowing he’s right. “Then I guess we just have to keep fighting.”

  “And we will,” Dawn says resolutely “And so will the Eclipsers. And the Dark Siders. And I think this time we’ve managed to sway quite a few Indys to our side as well. And more will come every day. Slowly but surely, we’ll win this war. Someday we’ll be a free people again.”

  “And you and I will be together. No matter what,” I say. Right now, that’s what matters most.

  He smiles. “Truly a force to be reckoned with.”

  There’s a small woof of agreement as Noah leaps onto the bed. The dog wags his tail, his mouth open in a lazy pant. Pushing his furry body between us, he curls up on top of the blankets. Laughing, we reach out to pet him, running our fingers through his impossibly soft fur.

  “I think Noah is pretty happy we moved him from the animal shelter here to your house,” Dawn notes.

  “Lots more begging opportunities up here with us suckers.”

  “And lots more doggie cuddles for us.”

  “You know,” I say. “That should be our next mission. Find old Noah here a mate. Maybe we can start a whole new breed of companion animals. I think the Dark Siders would like that.”

  “What do you think, Noah, old boy?” Dawn asks, scratching the pup behind his ear. “You want a girlfriend?”

  Woof! Noah barks in affirmation, wagging his tail eagerly. He jumps on me and laps one cheek. Dawn leans over, presenting me with a far less sloppy kiss on the other. I giggle and return kisses to both of my boys, more content and happy than I’ve ever been.

  After all, with this kind of light in my life, who needs the moon?

  An excerpt of Mari Mancusi’s

  TOMORROW LAND

  As Peyton stepped out from the underground bunker, she was immediately struck with wonder at the outside world. After four years inside, she’d forgotten how vast it was, how beautiful. The sky was painted a vibrant blue, sprinkled with puffy cotton-like clouds. Wildflowers tumbled across sagging porches and poked defiantly through cracked pavement. Her favorite oak tree was still standing, strong and majestic in the center of their front yard, its branches stretching high into the sky, as if to worship the heavens.

  The scent of honeysuckle tickled her nose and Peyton sucked in a large breath, delighting in the fresh, clean and warm air that seemed so much sweeter than the stale re-circulated stuff she’d been stuck breathing for the last four years.

  It was strange. For some reason, down in the shelter, she’d always envisioned the outside world to have become a gray wasteland, strangled by stormy clouds that mirrored the loss of humanity below. She’d expected a graveyard, a desolate landscape, a world with acrid winds and a sepia palette. But, it turned out, nature hadn't mourned man's destruction after all. If anything, it appeared to be celebrating its newfound freedom from gardeners and landscaping, a once tamed suburbia transforming into a feral forest full of emerald life.

  She stuck out her arms, feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin for the first time in four years. She wanted to skip down the street, dance, cartwheel. Run for ten miles without stopping. Enjoy a world without boundaries after years in a cage.

  After doing a little shimmy of joy on the front porch, she stopped herself, looking around, self-conscious, even though she knew there was no one to see her. The thought sobered her a bit. This beautiful world would most likely be empty. Or practically so. And now she didn't even have her mother by her side. A new emotion gripped her heart: sadness, the beauty of the world fading as reality sank in. Though she’d mourned her previous life for four years on the inside, it was different to suddenly experience its loss firsthand. Back in the shelter this reality had seemed unreal, distant. Like something from a film. Actually stepping out into the world and seeing the empty, debris-filled streets, the houses crumbling from years of neglect, made the whole situation a lot more real and a lot harder to swallow.

  It was the silence that felt the eeriest. Not that her middle-class suburb had ever been a bustling metropolis, but there had been sounds all the same: the droning of lawnmowers pushed by dads on their days off, the screams and laughter of kids playing wild games of tag, cars streaming down the nearby interstate, beeping away their road rage. Planes flying overhead. Normal, everyday, take-them-for-granted sounds. All were now swept clear by an overwhelming, almost suffocating silence. There wasn’t even birdsong.

  A realization she had half-suppressed for too long rose up and choked Peyton. Everyone and everything she knew and loved was gone. Her friends, her teachers—now even her mother—had succumbed. Only her father was left. Out there. Waiting for her. Waiting for her assistance in rebuilding the world he’d known would fail.

  She focused on her dilemma. How was she going to get to where he was? His destination had been far, hundreds of miles away, and she truly doubted she could get the rusted old car in their driveway to start. Not that she had any idea how to drive; after the Highway Congestion Act of ’24, you had to be eighteen to take driver’s education in South Carolina, and she’d been way too young when they’d gone into the bunker. Besides, with no working gas stations and the streets filled with debris, it was probably better not to depend on cars. Maybe she could find a bike or something.

  First thing first, though. She should find supplies. And while it was tempting to just hit a few of the nearby houses to see what they had in their pantries, it was also too morbid an errand for her to face. She didn’t want to see the remnants of her former neighbors tucked into their beds or lying sprawled on the floor, thank you very much. She’d try to find a store instead.

  Steeling herself, she stepped from her porch and set off. Something in the middle of the pavement a short distance away made her pause. A small figure, more than half decayed, lay in the street, its skeletal hands clutching something shredded and pink. It was . . . a teddy bear. Peyton fell to her knees, bent over and threw up, suddenly glad her mother wasn't here to see this. Wondering if perhaps she was the smart one after all.

  “God, Peyton, get a grip,” she muttered to herself a moment later, wiping her mouth, embarrassed by her weakness. She’d known it was going to be like this, after all. That she’d have to be strong and push all the horrors to the back of her mind. She didn’t have time to mourn humanity. She couldn’t be distracted by the past. What was done was done, and it didn’t do any good to cry about it. After all, as her dad would say, a Razor Girl didn’t cry. When they were sad, they spit.

  Peyton did exactly that. She felt a little bit better, wiped her mouth again, this time with her sleeve.

  But just as she was about to rise to her feet, her ears caught a sound in the distance. A voice, cutting through the dead air. She froze in her tracks, straining to listen. Was she hearing things? Was it only the wind? Some old holo broadcast set on repeat?

  But no. It came again. Real and human and not that far away either.

/>   “Guy! Where’d you go?” the voice cried. “Hey!”

  People? Real-life people? Had her father been wrong? Had humanity survived, or at least more than expected? She felt a surge of hope rush through her, then forced herself to temper it. She'd been locked inside for four years. She had no idea what the outside world had become. These people could be savages, rapists, murderers, thieves. Doing whatever it took to survive in their harsh new reality, even if it wasn't in the best interests of all mankind. Or to her in particular.

  Yes, they could be trouble. But then again, they could be able to help her. And Peyton had to admit, at this point she needed all the help she could get. And if they turned out to be no good, well, it wasn't as if she was incapable of defending herself, thanks to her dad.

  Having made her decision, Peyton staggered to her feet and set off down the street as fast as her legs would carry her. Praying for the best, but preparing for the worst.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Mari Mancusi used to wish she could become a vampire back in high school. But she ended up in another blood sucking profession—journalism—instead. Today she works as a freelance TV producer and author of books for teens and adults. When not writing, Mari enjoys traveling, cooking, goth clubbing, watching cheesy horror movies, and her favorite guilty pleasure—videogames. A graduate of Boston University and a two time Emmy Award winner, she lives in Austin, Texas with her husband Jacob, daughter Avalon, and their dog Mesquite.

  To Contact Mari:

  Website: http://www.marimancusi.com

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  Email: mari@marimancusi.com

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