by David Beers
Paige didn't know. She just kept her feet moving, determined to finish this day and then determined to wake up the next morning.
Leon.
She thought the man had been a sad sack when he arrived. A bumbling idiot, someone so content on The Genesis' continued welfare that he couldn't wipe his own ass if an application didn't show him where the tissue was. She believed nothing of the sort now. There was steel in him, something that ran through every part of him: his spine, his muscles, and even his mind. That steel was why he didn't give up on The Genesis, why he still believed Caesar's quest was idiotic—not because Caesar might die, but because what he was doing made no sense. That steel, some might call it stubbornness, kept his feet moving too. Was he smart? No. His mind was as average as average comes—an average of an average. But that steel, that wasn't average. That wasn't found in many of the others that walked beside Paige. He kept up with her footfall for footfall, and she could do nothing but admire it. If he died, it would be at someone else's hand, because this man would will himself to live forever.
The steel kept Leon going. Why did Paige keep moving?
It had once been to see The Genesis fall. When she went to bring Caesar out of the city, she had been willing to die. Her whole life had been built around that thing's death.
Now? She hardly thought of it. She had no doubt that Jerry, in front of them all with the sun beating down on his nearly black skin, still juggled between keeping his people alive and killing The Genesis. Paige didn't anymore. She wanted to live and she wanted the people next to her to live, but...
Am I a cliché? She thought as a smile grew over her face. She was and she knew it. Entire careers had been built around creating fictitious versions of what she was now doing. Trading in her purpose for a man. Trading in what she had dedicated her life to for Caesar.
And what the fuck of it? She thought. She didn't care about The Genesis anymore. She had traded in her purpose, but it wasn't for a man—that was nonsense. It was for another purpose. She wanted to love someone, fully, without any reservations. She wanted to love him and live with him and bear his children. The Genesis and its demise had consumed her for so long, creating an anger and hate that ran deep, that made her hate the world, hate everything outside of the group she lived with. And now, she didn't feel that. She held no anger at Leon for his inability to see the evil that was The Genesis. She held no desire to risk her life, because if she died, then she would never hold Caesar again. Before, her life had been lived for others, for the hope that they may live in a world that she wished for. Now, she lived for herself, for her own happiness.
She knew none of it mattered outside of her own head, though.
Jerry was in front, marching forward.
Caesar was not here at all; he was out in the world trying to find a way to kill the thing that killed a large piece of him. Those two men, the most important men in her life, they wouldn't change their minds regardless of what happened. If every single one of The Named dropped dead on this trip, those two wouldn't stop. Paige might be in love, and maybe Caesar was too—she thought he was, he told her he was—but he loved his quest more than her, and Paige understood that. Maybe she loved him because of it, because he had been willing to kill himself to free the little girl, because he was willing to sacrifice her now. Maybe she loved him because of his beliefs, his obsession.
Paige stopped walking and reached for the water bottle attached to her belt. She unscrewed the cap and took a sip.
No one had heard from Caesar since he left. Not a word to Jerry, nothing from Grace either. Paige couldn't concentrate on that, though, not out here under this sun. Forward, that's what mattered here. Get to the city and wait for him. He'll send word soon. He'll send word or he'll return.
With that thought in her head, she put the water bottle back on her belt and started walking again.
* * *
The beds were lined wall to wall like this was some kind of ancient, ancient hospital during wartime.
And Theo supposed it was wartime, at least to the rest of the world. Not to him though. This wasn't a war and the beds in front of him weren't wounded soldiers. It was a massacre and the people lying with burnt flesh and broken limbs hadn't been fighting anyone. They had been lying in bed, scared out of their minds at what The Named supposedly did. They had been walking on the streets, trying to hurry to their job rather than be caught by someone lurking in an alley, someone that might drug them and pull them to the top of a building to see if they could fly. These people were innocents, and now Theo stood in front of them, watching as tiny spider like machines moved across their bodies, hopefully trying to fix them—but what did Theo know? Those machines could be finishing the job. The Genesis had been made to protect humanity from itself, and now Theo looked out at what The Genesis instructed him to do and wondered, for the first time in his life, if that were true.
There were things he didn't know about this, of course. Maybe there was a bigger picture that he wasn't privy too. Even so, this wasn't war. No matter what else was going on that Theo didn't understand, this wasn't war.
What do you care anyway? You're in and there's not too much that can be done.
Which was true. He was as guilty as The Genesis, so sitting here thinking about how unfair it might be, or how many people he had hurt wasn't going to change anything. Nor would it keep him alive. And if nothing else showed him how little his life mattered to The Genesis or Mock or whatever was in charge, then these beds before him did a fine job. These people missing eyes, missing limbs, missing pieces of their brains.
"Come with me," Mock said from behind him.
Theo had been called down here an hour ago, about eighteen hours after they stood in that coffee shop and watched part of the city turn to dust. Theo hadn't asked questions, just showed up and been led into this makeshift hospital, never ever thinking that it would be completely filled like this.
Theo turned his back on the people lying under white linen, on the people with spiders crawling across their chests and faces.
"Quite a few people died in The Named's attack," Mock said, walking in front of Theo and not turning around.
So, that was the plan. Even between them, they would live the farce. Theo knew what went out today across the planet, that The Named had caused the fall of the building just like The Named had caused those poor men to fall from the sky. Fine.
"I have some more uses for you though, Theo, if you don't mind pitching in against this war declared on us."
Theo said nothing, just followed the machine around a corner and into a room. Mock walked inside, leaving Theo to close the door behind them.
"Please, have a seat," Mock said, gesturing as he sat down behind a desk. The exact same situation as last time, Theo on one side, Mock on the other, one about to receive orders and one about to give them. Theo listened, sitting down, his mouth closed but watching the machine closely. It seemed happy enough, if it could seem happy at all—not perturbed by the dying outside this room. "Does it bother you, what you saw out there?" Mock asked.
"Yes," Theo said. "Some."
"You're a man of few words, aren't you?"
"I just try to answer you honestly."
"I know you do," Mock said. "I know you do." The machine stared at him for a few seconds and Theo didn't look away. He would never look away from this thing, because something in him said that if he did, even once, then everything he had just done—all the people he killed and maimed—would be for nothing. "Tell me what you're thinking, Theo. I'd like to hear it."
Theo wouldn't hesitate to answer any more than he would look away from this thing. "I think that I'm in danger of dying."
The machine laughed, for the first time in Theo's presence. It was deep, coming from vocal chords that vibrated in its neck where Theo could see them if he dared look away from its eyes—which he didn't. "Well, at least you know where you stand, good sir!" Mock said. It took a few seconds, but the laughter faded. "Goodness, don't make me do th
at again, please. I hate laughing like that, but at least we're not in public. That would have been much, much worse. Yeah, of course you're in danger of dying; we all are, no? But, you're alive now, so I wouldn't worry about it too, too much. What else are you thinking?"
"I'm wondering what's next, why you called me here."
"I'm wondering if you're actually Necessary. Maybe The Genesis made a mistake and you slipped through a few cracks somewhere? I find it hard to believe that someone else in your shoes would be thinking like this." Mock moved its hand in a dismissive gesture. "No matter. Necessary, Unnecessary. Those things don't concern me. If The Genesis wants to come look into that, it can, but that's not why we're here, is it?"
Theo didn't say anything.
"There's that man of few words again," Mock said. "Fine, fine. Down to business. We're at war now. Fabricated or real, it doesn't matter anymore; we're going to start building up forces and looking for those criminals. The Named. Something about that phrase just rubs me the wrong way. The Named. As if The Genesis hasn't cared about humanity or something, as if The Genesis treats you like numbers rather than people with names. The Genesis gave you a life you couldn't otherwise know, gave the world a chance at life too, and these idiots run around acting like they've been wronged. It's just ridiculous." Mock leaned forward. "Sorry, I know all of that doesn't concern you too much. The point is, we're going to war against those people, and what I need from you is to rally the troops."
Mock paused its little diatribe.
"How?" Theo asked.
"Much like the way you had those men try to grow wings. Pills. These will be different though. No one is going to throw themselves to their death."
"You want me to go out into the city and get people to eat pills? That's what you're saying here? That's your plan?" Theo was in disbelief. He held no authority, held no sway with anyone. The only reason he was able to do what he had in the tower was because he’d directed those men. To go out onto the street and hand these things to everyday people? No way. They wouldn't listen to him and they would probably call applications to come get the crazy man walking around on First Street.
"Oh, calm yourself, Theo. Did you not see what I just did? The entire world believes they're at war with a group of people that might number fifty. The entire world believes some shadowed group dropped a building that almost scraped space. You've got to be smart enough to know that I'm not going to march you outside with a plastic bag and a sign that says free pills." Mock reached into a drawer on his side of the desk. Theo's eyes followed its hand as it pulled out a patch.
Theo looked at a small circle made of a black background with a red symbol overlaid on it. Theo's eyes widened as understanding draped over him like a bed sheet, taking all of him in at once. He had seen that symbol before. Everyone had seen that symbol. That symbol was taught to every group of children to ever live. That symbol was the beginning of The Purge. That symbol was what separated those with power from those without. When the bankers were marched naked through the streets, the people marching them wore these patches.
The red symbol over the black patch was a peace sign. A symbol that said war was over. That said people could finally rest, could finally trust that the world would continue as it should, instead of how the ruling elite dictated.
"All you need to do is put this little thing on a uniform we give you and go outside. The world will flock to you, begging to take whatever you want to give them," Mock said.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Caesar pulled his hand from the sync.
He opened his eyes and looked out into the apartment that had once been his parents', but no more.
"Are you okay?" Grace asked.
Yes, he answered. Was he though? His father was back in that suspended state, not dead, not alive, just waiting to die. His mother and brother the same, but he hadn't even been able to see them, to say anything.
"What did you find out?"
Where The Genesis is, Caesar answered, but not truly focused on the conversation. His mind was already moving forward, listening to what that synapse—or brain cell or whatever it was—had told him. Build your own train, it said. That was the answer and how in the hell could he do that? Caesar knew of Australia, knew the miles separating it from him, knew that many of those miles were over deep ocean. He wouldn’t get there by foot or land vehicle. He had to have a train. There wasn't any other way.
"You going to tell me where?" Grace asked.
I'm not sure it matters. It's so far away. I don't know how I would even get there. I don't know where to start.
"Where, Caesar?"
A place we used to call Australia.
Grace didn't say anything for a few seconds and Caesar thought he understood why. She knew where it was, knew how incredibly far away it was. What could she say? When The Genesis built the place, creating a centralized mainframe in order to better direct the applications it was creating, it picked a place that humans wouldn't be able to enter. A place so far from any of the cities it was building, that no one would even consider going there. And if they did, they wouldn't have the means to do so. The mainframe might as well be in space. Caesar had that single plane, but it wouldn't be able to make the flight—it flew off solar rays, but flying for hours at night would doom them, and there wasn’t any way they could land over the ocean and wait for the sun to come up again. The plane was too goddamn old.
"I'm sorry," Grace said, and Caesar heard how much she meant it.
She was sorry—because what he had just been told, what he didn't let register earlier because he had been so intent on speaking with his family—because this was over. He would never make it to the mainframe. All of this had been idiotic, and not for the reasons she said, not because he would die, but because he would never get the chance to do even that. He would never, ever, see that land. Even if he waited, waited and built the fucking train—somehow managed to do it—did he think that there wouldn't be weapons on that island ready to shoot him down the moment he came into their range? Hell, it was ridiculous even to think about it.
"Did you talk to your family?" She asked.
My dad.
"What did he say?"
It doesn't even matter anymore. I need to talk to Jerry.
A few seconds passed and then Caesar heard Jerry's voice inside his head, Are you okay?
Yes, Caesar answered.
We're moving. We're heading to Las Vegas.
How far away are you? Caesar asked.
I think we have another twenty miles to go. We should make it in the next three to four days. It's a slow pace now, people...they're having trouble keeping up.
Have any died?
Three. We might lose another. Liam.
Caesar didn't know who sounded more depressed, Jerry or himself. Jerry was watching people die and now would hear that everything he worked his life for could be safely forgotten. That there was no need to consider going after The Genesis. That it had all been less than a dream; it had never been possible.
I'm coming back, Caesar said.
There's more.
Jesus. I'm sure there is. What?
Manny. He's alive, Caesar, and I think The Genesis put a chip in him too. The same chip as yours. I think...I think he's trying to find us.
He contacted you? Caesar asked.
Yes. Right before we left. He’ll most likely go to the cave, but it won't take him long to track us, not with the chip in his head.
Alright, I'm on my way.
What did you find out? Jerry asked, not letting Caesar go without hearing more. The old man was walking across an entire desert, and still he wanted to know what happened, what Caesar discovered.
It's in Australia, Jerry, Caesar said. That's all he needed to say. No other words, no other explanations, because Jerry would understand the same as Grace—immediately and fully.
You're serious? The old man asked after some time.
Yes. We can't make it there, Jerry. Not for another six months
, and even then, what do we really know? Will I even make it on the train? I can't control every application they send at me. It's impossible.
Caesar listened as Jerry sighed in his head. There's got to be another way. You're sure it wasn't lying?
It wasn't lying, Caesar said.
What did Grace say?
She said she's sorry. I don't know what else we can do, Jerry.
Meet us in Vegas and we'll figure it out. It's not the end. There'll be another way, we just need to find it.
Caesar severed the connection and looked around the room he had once known. His father told him to break everything, but he saw now that it was unbreakable. You couldn't break what you couldn't touch.
* * *
Slowly. That's how it needed to start. Slowly and in small circles, expanding like a disease, and then the panic that Mock wanted would grip everyone. It may even grip some applications, those not privy to the knowledge it had. The world was already losing its collective mind. This wasn't people staying inside and hiding, like when The Named actually did attack. This was protests out on the streets. This was people fleeing cities in massive numbers, trying to head to other cities, trying to figure out where they might find safety.
And yet, it wasn't enough. This panic wasn't sustainable.
Mock wondered if this would be its masterpiece. If what it was creating here would actually be more impactful than The Purge. This would be spoken about in the same vein as humanity's past; it would be taught to humans as they grew up.
It had to be sustained though. The fear right now was real and rampant, running through everyone. Doing that again though, blowing up another building, that wouldn't be enough. That would lose its luster and eventually cause people to simply hide rather than start what Mock needed.