by Drew Avera
I was their weapon.
I was yanked from my thoughts as Halem's heavy foot disrupted me more than he could have known as he stepped on my toes in his haphazard attempt at leaving the assembly. He was smiling before I looked up at him. I knew without a doubt that he recognized me, regardless of if he could place me or not. That realization shone on his face and reflected brightest in his eyes. But it was impossible for him to know my true identity for it had been years seen we had encountered each other in my "past" life.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. The apology was accompanied by his heavy hand patting my shoulder, a not so unfamiliar touch from a former brother in arms. The smell of his cologne wafted in the air around me as he passed by; walking to the lavatory I was sure. I turned enough to watch his silhouette fade away before disappearing behind a closing door. It was then I dared another glance at his wife Marada.
She sat facing forward, eyeing the assembly without the typical bored expression of someone disinterested in the goings on of government. I could tell she loved her job, her seat of power, perhaps too much given the circumstances. It was that love that could not be allowed to exist if my benefactor was to have his way. Every hero was met with opposition, and Marada was much more than merely an opponent to the necessary change those in the World Council demanded.
She was an advocate who must be silenced for the common good.
"There will be none of that," he had said in the video as he turned the silver ring on his middle finger. The image was burned into my mind and my heart. "She will halt all progress we have made because she feels her integrity is more important than the advancement of humanity on this planet. She has tied our hands enough. We must push forward."
This was wrong, but I had no choice. They had taken it away from me when they stole my former self. My second chance at life was meaningless without free will.
I was meaningless.
"No," I whispered through my teeth as another shot of pain stabbed behind my eye. A part of me knew my consciousness was rejecting what I had to do; that former part of me trying to stop fate in its tracks. But it was too weak to pose a threat to my programming. The Agency's noose was too tight on my neck for me to stray too far.
There was no alternative. There was only the mission.
The warmth of steel in my hand from hours of caressing the gun in waiting reminded me of my purpose, but I was conflicted. Marada was not my enemy any more than Halem was, yet I was bound to carry out the sinister deeds of someone holding my life in their wicked hands. I would surely die if I failed, but it seemed a noble thing compared to what was planned. Somewhere in my subconscious mind I reset the safety of my weapon and discreetly placed it back in the pocket of my coat, draping it over the arm of the seat next to me and I stood up to leave.
Every fiber of my mind screamed, "Do it!" But I could not pull a trigger and take her life any more than I could do the same to myself. Call it love. Call it compassion, but I couldn't call it anything other than repulsion to taking life.
At least not this one.
I was broken, fractured of mind, yet bound by lawless duty. I could not bear to leave a heinous mark upon her delicate skin, to stain Halem's thoughts to torment him for the rest of his life as I destroyed everything he held dear. But there was more at stake than just human life.
I stepped behind the row of seats where she sat and removed another device from my pocket; an unnamed weapon designed for a quiet death. The compressor inside the device held five-thousand pounds per square inch of nitrogen in a cylinder no bigger than my palm. Every bit of it would be released in a needle the size of an ink pen tip.
The kill would be clean and efficient; yet recognizable by her husband.
This was the conflict.
The message was a simple, damning hello from the past. "Your brother in arms killed your wife, Halem, and you had no idea he still existed." My face was different, scarred with the flesh of another man, unrecognizable even to myself. Everything changed except for my eyes, those windows to the soul. Mine was corrupted, defiant, dead. I was a tool for something much darker than the shell of humanity I became.
This death would seal the deal, especially in Halem's eyes. The torment of years gone by would screech to a halt as I brought his beautiful world crashing down upon him. I found no pleasure in it, but I did find release. My death and my redemption would be found tonight, and I was grateful. I needed an end to the torment that even death could not bring.
I hoped beyond hope that my mind would become a quiet place once more. They told me I would find peace after tonight. Could I believe them?
I stepped within range and aimed the needle for her neck. The sound of my footsteps stirred Marada from the assembly and she looked up at me, our eyes meeting for the last time. I could tell by the sadness in her expression that she understood what was happening before I drove the needle into her neck. It was as if she expected it, as unnerving of a sentiment as it was.
She sat unmoved. She recognized me for what I was. Not a former friend, but a monster, a killer. Marada should have screamed before I squeezed the activator, sending five-thousand psi of nitrogen into her bloodstream and killing her instantly. She should have shrieked for help, but for the life of me, it felt more as if she welcomed her death with far more eagerness than I was willing to administer it.
How I could snuff the life out of a genuinely gracious human being was not something I could reconcile as I looked on. My mind screamed in protest as my body did as it was commanded. The act felt like an out of body experience set to the backdrop of a bad dream.
It was a nightmare, and it was over.
Marada's head fell forward in eternal slumber, a victim of my second life. I brushed her hair around her neck to hide the wound where blood began to seep with no more room in her veins. I knew the gases in her body would eventually repel her blood through her pores before finally dissipating, but by then I would be gone, and Halem would be alone to suffer the misery of her loss; that all-too-familiar feeling that I called life.
6
Halem
As I stood, facing the mirror to see my reflection looking back at me, I thought about the drastic life events which brought me to this point. It wasn't that I was ungrateful for my current station in life. But it did come with stressors and inconveniences no one could have told me about growing up in lower-middle society. Becoming a policeman was a fluke, a twist of fate which fell in my lap unexpectedly. Very much, in the same way, Marada's future fell into her lap.
My grandfather intervened on my behalf to give me a better life. His friendship with Marada's family led to our marriage and ultimate ascension, hers much more so than mine. It came at a time when neither of us had much of a future to look forward to. The expansion and recruitment of the World Council provided her an opportunity to rise high enough to bring me with her after marriage. We both jumped at the opportunity, knowing that our children would be set up for a brighter future.
That was the plan at least. Nearly a decade in and we still did not have children as restrictions on members of the Council were implemented the very next year. A part of me wondered if we made the right decision to stay, though it was too late now.
Our past was filled with ghosts, many of which we were never able to say goodbye to. Cutting ties was the only way for us to move forward, and to get ahead. Looking back at me, I saw my father's eyes. Sad, blue-green, and weary of life. It was exactly the way I felt.
I turned on the faucet and splashed water on my face, stalling for as long as possible, certain the speaker was still kissing up to the rest of the World Council seats before making an offhanded comment against his opposition. He would ultimately say nothing of importance. The grandstanding was exhausting.
I pulled a paper towel and dabbed it on my face, careful not to leave pieces stuck to my face. The last thing I needed was to embarrass Marada during the meet and greet at the end. It would be worse standing before her opponents with me looking like I didn't k
now how to keep myself presentable.
"The meaningless things we focus on," I muttered as I checked the mirror once more before tossing the used paper towel into the recycler. "Time to get back to it."
I left the restroom and rejoined the world of bustling activity. Based on the number of people on the top tier, it appeared a recess was in session. If only they did this twenty minutes ago, I thought with a roll of my eyes.
It took a few minutes to cut through the crowd, each person feigning offense as I brushed elbows with them in my effort to get back to my wife. I stopped saying "excuse me" after the fifth time, instead opting to nod my head apologetically. To hell with them anyway.
I returned to the assembly and saw Marada slumped in her seat as the next speaker prepared his notes on the podium below. I thought it odd considering she never fell asleep at public events. Though, if she felt like me, the speakers probably bored her into submission. I couldn't blame her.
I plopped down into my seat and leaned back with a sigh, the sound of whispered chatter coming from the lower level. "You want a drink or something?" I asked, looking over at her, unmoving. "You're not asleep, are you? What would they think?" I said jokingly, but still, she did not stir. The situation moved from odd to wrong. "Marada?"
I placed my hand on her arm and she felt different. That was the only word I could think to describe it, though a more fitting one had to exist.
"Marada?" My voice rose as I touched her again praying silently that my worst fear wasn't playing out before my eyes. My fingers trembled in horror as the realization that something was terribly wrong coursed through my body. I had seen numerous dead bodies in my line of work, but never someone I knew, at least not in person. "Marada, wake up." My voice croaked, the sound of fearful dread oozing from my words.
I brushed her brown hair away from her neck to feel for a pulse and that was when a thin trail of blood caught my attention. "What the hell?" I shot up from my seat and looked around in a panic. The world seemed to stop as I looked on, horrified by the sight. "Someone, help! My wife—" My voice trailed off as I returned my focus onto her. I noticed the mark on her neck and it was eerily familiar.
No.
As I stood there, dumbfounded, others rushed over. I stepped back as best I could, hoping one of them checking over Marada could perform a miracle. But as their eyes turned to me, I saw they came to the same conclusion I had.
My wife, Marada, was dead.
No. She was murdered, and the evidence dripped down her neck.
"Sir, what happened?" A man in a red vest asked as he placed his hand on my shoulder, fighting to get my attention. I noticed him, but I was already fading from reality as my mind raced, trying in desperation to figure out what happened and what I could have done to save her.
This was impossible. This could never happen in such a public event. The World Council had security crawling all over the place. Who would dare attempt such a thing against my wife?
The conclusion in my mind was simple. Tetrim had to be involved. I didn't know how, but as I gazed over the edge of the balcony overlooking the assembly, I saw his smug face beaming out over the crowd in all his indignant glory. If not him, then who?
I turned away before I lost my mind and jumped over the rail to choke a confession out of him. "I need air," I said, brushing past a few faceless strangers, failing to answer any of the questions bombarding me from all sides. Only minutes after discovering my wife dead, the upper balcony became a circus as I walked out. Dazed.
"Sir, we can't let you leave." A voice said, grabbing hold of my shoulder.
I spun on my heels, ready to voice my opinion when I noticed it was not one of the hosts, but a Guardsman. "I need to find help," I said, the words falling from my lips without my knowing why. The balcony was full of people who could do nothing for her.
No one could.
"We'll get you help, sir. But first, I need to cuff you."
I gawked at him, the nerve of a guard to try and charge me with this heinous crime. "Do you not know who I am? I'm a policeman," I said, flashing my badge as I pulled the lower portion of my jacket to the side. Without intending to, I revealed my weapon as well.
A split second later and the Guardsman has his weapon drawn. "Get your hands up. You're under arrest."
"I didn't do anything," I replied. It was the truth, but I also brought a firearm to a gun free zone. A felony offense regardless of who you were. Present company excluded.
"Get on the ground before I put you on the ground," the guard said, his shoulders heaving as he sucked in a breath, his adrenaline obviously coursing through his veins. It was no secret they were augmented to allow them to react in certain ways. High-pressure situations stemmed an adrenal rush, increasing their strength and speed. I was just the poor chump getting all the attention while whoever killed Marada got away.
I had to stop them.
I canted my head towards the door and shifted my weight on my back leg, ready to make a run for it. "You don't understand," I began, but before I finished what I had to say I was dropped by a heavy hand coming across my face. I looked up to see two more Guardsmen looking down at me, their tasers at the ready, and then everything went black.
7
Tetrim
There was a chill in the air as those gathered dispersed for a quick recess. After several hours of speaking, I grew tired of the charade as each member of the World Council tried to outdo the other with their ass-kissery. Each councilmember waxed on and on, kissing up to their superiors, while politely kicking dirt at their opposition. It was to the point it was hard to pick sides as both sides of the aisle meandered around the point until it was eventually lost.
"It's nights like this I regret I quit drinking," Pontiff Cherum said as he leaned close to me.
"The world doesn't like quitters, my friend," I replied sarcastically. Truth be told, his abstinence was to assume the position as Pontiff, not out of some moral choice. Imagine the figurehead of our society falling into a scandal because he was too inebriated to control himself. That was what set Mars apart from our predecessors on Earth; self-control. Albeit a forced version of it.
"I wouldn't say I quit," he replied with a smirk. "There are other ways to lose ourselves that don't involve fermentation." He gripped the ring on his finger and began turning it again, the habit becoming more of a caricature as time went on.
"Are you speaking to me as a friend, or as the Pontiff?" I asked, a simple warning due to the company within earshot.
"As a friend. Always."
I sighed, leaning back in my seat as I watched the assembly escape through the doors in the back. They were all pawns in a society that did not need them. The dozen or so members who ran the World Council merely put together the gala to give the impression of democracy. The truth was, everything was already planned for the future. The unfortunate truth was some people could not let their hope for change die long enough for us to get past it.
"As a friend, I want you to know that I secured a means for us to get over the immediate roadblocks concerning the artificial atmosphere project."
Cherum leaned closer. "You convinced her to end her campaign, so we can use our people?"
"Not exactly," I replied. "But it shouldn't be a problem after tonight."
He scoffed and shook his head. "What did you do?" Cherum asked. His smile faded, and concern oozed from his voice.
I turned and looked down my nose at him with a grim smile. "What had to be done. That is all you need to know. Besides, you're my alibi. I've sat here all night right beside you."
"Oh God," he whispered harshly under his breath. His face turned white under the bright lights and for a moment I thought he might faint. Luckily, he was already seated. "Do I even want to know?"
His response elicited a smirk from me. "You know there is no room for God in our modern society. You're wasting your breath."
"Old habits are hard to break," Cherum replied, pulling at his collar as sweat beaded on his brow. He
had the poker face of a child which caused immediate regret in my confiding in him.
"Indeed."
"Excuse me, sir. I have some news," my secretary said as she approached my seat from behind.
I gazed up at her as she leaned over my shoulder. "Marada Scrimpshire was found dead on the balcony. It appears to be a homicide." Her voice was tight as she whispered the news. I hadn't expected it so quickly.
"Thank you for telling me. Please keep me informed of any information and pass along to the Guardsmen that we need an immediate investigation."
"Would that not be in police jurisdiction?"
"It happened in this building. I want us to lead the investigation," I replied. "I'll extend the recess another day to allow the Guardsmen to conduct their investigation unimpeded.
"Yes, sir," she replied before darting off the stage to do as I commanded.
"I suppose that is handling it?" Cherum asked indignantly. His face was two shades whiter than before as he covered his eyes with his trembling hand.
Get a grip, I thought as I rolled my eyes.
"I needed a permanent solution to the problem, Cherum. You can't say I didn't produce the desired result," I replied sardonically. I rose from my seat to address the assembly as they filed into their seats.
"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen," I spoke into the microphone, my voice booming louder than I expected. On the balcony, the commotion continued until I cleared my throat. The loudness of the room died down and I continued, "I regret to inform you that a tragedy has befallen our Council and we must go into recess until a later time to allow the situation to be resolved. Unfortunately, you are not free to disperse until I get the all-clear from the Guardsmen. If you will please socialize quietly amongst yourselves, I will update you as I am briefed further on the situation."
The room sprang to life with shouting as I stepped away from the mic. I knew where the evening was going, and it was a necessary pain to move forward. I just hoped it wouldn't take too long.