by Vincent Vale
We approached the rear of the module and came to a dining room, where sat a family of four Miners eating dinner. The man of the house—a humungous Miner—rose to his feet and angrily protested the intrusion.
“Our apologies,” said Orsteen, who then addressed the Scion of Sensimion who’d led us within. “Why do we disturb these people?”
“Don’t worry over this man’s feelings,” said the Scion of Sensimion. “He’s programmed to carry on with such a performance.”
“What do you mean?” asked Allienora.
“None of these people are real. They’re simulacra.”
Morion approached the massive Miner and, out of nowhere, grabbed his nose.
“He’s telling the truth,” said Morion. “His nose is the texture of nano-intelligent matter.”
Orsteen stiffened. “Are you saying this community of Far Reach Miners is fake?”
“It’s been the perfect camouflage for our secret outpost. Now, follow me.” The Scion of Sensimion walked to a wall of shelves holding ornate dishes, crystal goblets, and an assortment of curios. Without hesitation, he walked, unhindered, through the mass of the shelves and disappeared.
The rest of the group followed him through and arrived in a secret cavern. At the center sat a stunning spaceship plated in radiant scales. About its perimeter were people with pale faces, thin limbs, and hyper-blue synthetic eyes.
Orsteen pointed a scolding finger at the Scion of Sensimion. “This is illegal use of Mercurial territory. Unlicensed excavation of underground territories is a very dangerous and careless crime.”
“Justifying this outpost would take too long. I can only offer my apology.” The Scion of Sensimion stepped into a simulacrum holding cistern.
“You too are a simulacrum?” I asked.
“Not altogether.” His face and body began to lose color and cohesion as an outer layer of nano-intelligent matter melted away, revealing a frail female figure within. She removed a mask that allowed her to breathe, speak, and see, and exposed the synthetic blue eyes and pale features of a Scion of Sensimion.
Morion licked his lips. “Such an ugly disguise for such a strangely beautiful woman.”
“My name’s Rozlyn,” she said, ignoring Morion’s creepy comment. “Since Sensimion’s death on the Brahman Station, I’ve been in charge of the efforts against the Fume.”
I took a step toward the ship. “Will this ship avoid detection when we near the alien vessel?”
“This is the Fractal Skylark. It’s equipped with an advanced cloaking technology we’ve been developing for the past decade.”
“How is it,” asked Allienora, “that your little group has achieved so many technological advancements? Surely such pursuits aren’t cheap.”
“Everything we’ve accomplished can be credited to Sensimion. He was brilliant. If you posed him a problem, he could summon a solution by desire alone. In addition to being the source of our intellectual inspirations, Sensimion also financially supplemented our efforts against the Fume. I’ll let you in on a secret. Before Sensimion discovered the Fume, he developed the biotechnology of neural implants, which all of us use for an easier life. Still, to this day, the proceeds from this achievement are the source of our financial independence.”
One of Rozlyn’s colleagues approached the group. “Are these the devices to complete the weapon?”
“They are,” said Rozlyn. “Take them aboard the ship, verify their quality, and then couple them to the auxiliary unit.”
Thirm Bastile held his diamond-fiber case tightly. “What of my payment?”
“Don’t worry,” said Rozlyn. “My colleague will bring your money when the device is verified.”
Thirm breathed deeply and finally released his case. “Very well.”
Orsteen scowled as he scrutinized the secret base. “What else goes on in this place besides the construction of awful weapons?”
“I’ll show you. Follow me.” Rozlyn gave us a tour of the secret outpost. It was bigger than I initially thought. She led us into another cavern full of people sitting in front of view-panels. “This is the heart of our intelligence, where we monitor the Fume’s eighty-six manifestations presently on Earth.”
“How do you obtain such thorough surveillance?” asked Allienora.
“We’ve hidden numerous telescopes around the solar system, all with sights on Earth. Additionally, we’ve infiltrated nearly every computer system on Earth, giving us eyes and ears into any location with some level of technology.”
I approached one of the monitoring stations. An attendant studied the image of a man engulfed in the sapphire-blue aura that betrayed his human disguise. The attendant logged the Fume’s every word and action.
My stomach twisted. The Fume. My torturer. My nemesis. I need my drug.
“What of the Fume’s human minions?” asked Allienora. “Do you track their movements as well?”
“We do,” said Rozlyn. “However, they prove more elusive, since, unlike the Fume, they’re able to travel beyond the dimension around Earth. If we can’t track them by passive means, we send out field agents.”
“What of the nature of these minions?” asked Morion. “Are they human?”
“Honestly, we don’t know,” said Rozlyn. “Yet, we do know the most essential aspect of their nature—they bleed and die like men.”
I studied the Fume’s many manifestations, whom I knew from experience didn’t die like men. Some, as expected, were prominent figures in government and industry, while others were insignificant people commanding little influence on the world.
“What have you learned about the Fume’s manipulations?” I asked. “Are there any indications of his motive or design, Rozlyn?”
“A difficult thing to figure out, given our brief surveillance. Compared to the grand scope of the Fume’s time on Earth, we’ve seen only a fraction of his manipulations. Nevertheless, over the last three decades, we’ve seen strange behaviors from the Fume. Nearly all his recent manipulations have promoted the success of the dimensional gateway. This has been confusing, since, after all his efforts, he sabotaged the gateway. Such counterproductive behavior boggles the mind. What did the Fume accomplish? Who knows?” Rozlyn looked to me with something like optimism. “Many of us here have been waiting for you to join us, Theron. Sensimion always felt that your memories burdened upon you in the sanitarium were the key to further understanding the Fume’s greater scheme. However, Sensimion was hesitant to interfere with your work on the dimensional gateway, since the Fume seemed so intent on its completion. Before asking you to join us, he wanted to see why the dimensional gateway was so important to the Fume. When we detected that brief burst of exotic energy on the Brahman Station, Sensimion was eager to contact you and gain access to the station, so to more closely observe what was happening.”
“What’s this about a sanitarium?” asked Allienora.
“Nothing,” I said nervously. I pulled Rozlyn away from the group and spoke to her privately. “Don’t talk about my past in the sanitarium. I don’t want them to know of my close association with the Fume.”
“As you wish, but that list of names Sensimion obsessed over was an amazing assortment of historical figures. If they are indeed memories of the Fume’s past manifestations—”
“They are his memories,” I said. “I verified this much on my last encounter with him on Earth.”
“Astonishing!” said Rozlyn. “You must tell us about every last memory. Better, we can connect you to a neural interface, which Sensimion developed. We’ll suck every one of those memories from your head.”
There was a sudden commotion among the attendants monitoring the Fume’s manifestations.
“What’s going on?” asked Rozlyn.
A man at the nearest station worked deft fingers on a control pad. “We’ve lost all surveillance feeds. Notice how all the images are frozen in a single frame.”
“It’s impossible,” said Rozlyn. “All the telescopes send out independent sign
als. How could they have failed at the same time?”
An older gentleman, overseeing the stations, approached Rozlyn. “Everything’s functioning properly. These images are accurate and to the moment.”
“Then why aren’t we seeing the surveillance?”
“We are.”
“I don’t understand,” said Rozlyn.
“Observe.” The older gentleman went to one of the surveillance stations and, manipulating the telescope’s view, zoomed out so the entire Earth was displayed. “Notice the satellites orbiting the Earth. They move smoothly, in a steady, unhindered fashion.” He then zoomed in on a MegaCity of Earth and panned through the streets. We saw inhabitants of the city standing still, as if they had turned to stone. “This may sound impossible, but it appears the Obelisks have placed Earth in a field of temporal stasis.”
Everyone gazed in amazement at the view-panels.
“Temporal stasis,” repeated Rozlyn in surprise. “The Fume’s plans are advancing ahead of our counter-efforts. If you’ll excuse me, I must see to preparations.”
“What about my one billion notes?” asked Thirm Bastile.
“Here they are now,” said Rozlyn.
An individual approached, handed Thirm Bastile a bag, and then addressed Rozlyn. “The devices will conform perfectly to our needs. We’ll complete the weapon’s assembly on the way to the target.”
“I must leave now,” said Rozlyn. “You’ve all acted selflessly for the welfare of humankind. Theron, I hope you’ll remain here and tell us about your memories.”
“I haven’t come this far to rehash some bad memories. I’m boarding that ship with you. I want to see with my own eyes the destruction of the planet-sized vessel and the unraveling of the Fume’s plans.”
“I agree with Theron,” said Morion. “I too wish to immerse myself in these grand adventures.”
Orsteen and Allienora acted no less enthusiastic and demanded to be a part of the mission. Thirm, however, stood calmly, with the comfort of one billion notes cradled in his arms.
“And you, Thirm Bastile?” asked Rozlyn. “Do you wish to be part of this? Your knowledge of weapons could be useful.”
“I’m not one to interfere in the affairs of my clients, who usually consider me all grit and greed.” Thirm took a long breath. “Yet, I’m intrigued by what you might find in the alien vessel. Perhaps changes in my rules are in order. Count me in.”
“Very well,” said Rozlyn. “Everything we’ll need is aboard the ship.”
Rozlyn called for the immediate departure of the Fractal Skylark, sending a rush of people in all directions.
Before we boarded the ship, I stopped Rozlyn. “How do you plan to leave the depths of Mercury? This ship’s too large to navigate through the tunnels that led us to this secret outpost.”
“Darkness can be deceptive.” Rozlyn pointed above the ship to the darkness clouding the upper parts of the cavern. Guide lights suddenly ignited, illuminating the mouth of an upward tunnel that appeared to lead to the surface of Mercury.
Orsteen shook his head in disbelief. “We’ll have much to discuss when we return.”
INSIDE
THE SPHERE
The Fractal Skylark embarked on its journey to the edge of the solar system, where the alien vessel drifted. We hit light-speed in no time—Mercury vanished and the sun faded behind us.
The ship’s accommodations were sparse—most of the interior was allotted for the construction of the black hole weapon. Its construction went smoothly and was expected to be completed within the eight-hour trip to the alien vessel.
We spent most of our time talking in a small galley. I sat at a table, swallowing back the urge to vomit. I felt worse than ever. My eyes were like molten balls in their sockets.
I’m coming undone, I thought. I need relief.
I glanced to Allienora, who was talking with Rozlyn. Just looking at her made me feel better. Since we escaped from Vega’s, she hadn’t been the same person. She was more carefree, more spontaneous. Tasting death will change anyone. I continued to watch her.
“What are your goals for the mission, Rozlyn?” asked Allienora.
“Obviously the destruction of the alien vessel,” replied Rozlyn, as she dispensed a beverage from the nutrition unit. “However, before this is accomplished, we’d like to explore its interior. If the destruction of the alien vessel doesn’t stop the threat of the Obelisks, our future efforts will only benefit from additional intelligence.”
“What do you think we’ll find inside?” asked Orsteen.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” said Rozlyn. “Once within, we’re prepared for anything. The Fractal Skylark is full of weapons and survival equipment. If we can’t navigate the ship through the inner realm, we’ll travel by foot and anti-gravity belt.”
I was about to ask a question, but paused—my eyes became unfocused. A chill scuttled up my spine and my head fell to the table. After a moment of pain, I lifted my head with great effort.
Allienora attended me. “Theron, what’s wrong?”
“Possibly death,” I uttered.
“This is the worst I’ve seen you,” said Allienora. “Your face is so pale.”
“It’s a terrible task to carry these eyes,” said Rozlyn. “Don’t worry, there’s a treatment to restore your health. Follow me to the medical bay.”
Allienora helped me along and we followed Rozlyn through the ship’s narrow corridors and into a small nook, where a hospital bed extended from the wall. I crawled onto it and Rozlyn prepared a syringe. Allienora ran her fingers gently through my hair, comforting me.
“What are you giving him?” asked Allienora.
“I’m giving him a dose of sympathetic nanites. They enhance the body’s metabolic rate. This will allow him to tolerate the eyes.”
Rozlyn inserted the needle tip directly into my right eye. I didn’t feel it enter, but watched as Allienora cringed. She squeezed my hand—her pain was apparently greater than mine.
Once the treatment was complete, I slept.
A couple hours later, I woke up. My physical condition had improved, but I was again haunted by the Fume’s memories. They grew in my thoughts like a virus. The memory of my wife’s murder was the clearest and most toxic. I tried to suppress it. I tried to forget.
I am Theron Mobius... I am myself... My mind is my center...
It was useless. I took out my vial of amber narcotic. As I administered a drop into my eye, the medical bay door opened.
Allienora stood there with a questioning look. “More nanites for your eyes, Theron?”
I gazed to the floor, embarrassed by my addiction. “No. This is for my sanity.” I tucked the vial into my pocket. “I have problems, Allienora. I think I need help.”
Allienora’s soft hands touched my face. She tilted my head up and I looked into her blue eyes.
“It’ll be all right, Theron. Why are you so sad? I want to know everything about you. Even the secrets you hide.”
“You might not like what you hear.”
“I won’t judge you.”
I wanted her to like me as much as I liked her, but I feared what she’d think if I told her my secrets.
She held her hand to my cheek. “You can trust me.”
I smiled. She deserved to know who I really was. “I’ll start at the beginning.”
I told her the story of the sanitarium, the doctor, and the treatments in the sphincter beast. I told her of the aftermath of unreal memories and my loss of sanity.
When I finished, Allienora seemed confused. “Why would the Fume want you to know of his past manipulations?”
“I also wondered this—ever since I found out they were the Fume’s memories and not madness.”
“And your drug erases these memories?”
“Well enough,” I said. “Without the amber narcotic, my mind would become muddled with them.”
Allienora crawled into bed with me.
I wrapped my arms around her. “I feel l
ike I’ve known you forever.”
“That’s an old one,” she said, smiling wide.
“The classics are always the best. Did it work?”
“Maybe. But what do you really know about me?”
“I’ve been doing research.” I tapped at the back of my head, at my neural implant. “I’ve been up-linking to the library every chance I get.”
“Textbook reading, huh? The socialite. The scholar. The humanitarian. The prime minister’s daughter turned into her father. Everyone knows that stuff about me.”
“I read your books.”
“My social and political theory won’t tell you much.”
“I read all your books.”
“Really?” She paused.
“Even the one you didn’t write.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” She smiled. “The one I didn’t write?”
“The one written by Olive Forlorn.”
“How did you find out about that?”
“It was something you said when Vega held us captive. ‘The void cannot be filled if nothing fits.’”
“Of course, the last line of the book.” Allienora’s eyes grew large with an endearing sadness. “What does it tell you about me, Theron?”
“It tells me everything. You long for something different, something more. But you don’t know what it is. Every time you find something comfortable, something good, you begin to crave for something better—if such a thing even exists. You’re trying to fill that void, but nothing fits.”
Allienora wept softly. “It doesn’t make sense. I’ve had everything in this life. Why do I feel this way?”
“We’re a lot alike, Allienora.”
“Do you know what it is, Theron? What I’m searching for?”
“I only know we’re all searching for it.” I put a hand on her cheek. “Maybe we can find it together.”
She smiled. “I’d like that.”
I held her tight. This is becoming more? She cares for me. Maybe I’m not alone anymore.
I felt at peace and soon fell asleep.