"Viv? Are you listening?"
"What? Oh. Sorry," she giggled.
Garrett scowled. "I said, I don't see this going anywhere. You and I, we're looking for different things."
Helen -- er, Vivian -- was stunned. "Did I do something wrong?" she asked.
"No. I mean, nothing wrong wrong. You just aren't very interesting." As tears welled up in her eyes, she heard him add, "If we stayed together, I'd just dwell on how I knew I could do better. I'm doing us both a favor. You'll see." He dabbed his mouth with his napkin and stood up. "This should cover the meal and cab fare home," he said, dropping a few bills on the table. She let out a loud, involuntary sob, and felt every eye in the restaurant turn to stare at her.
That wasn't one of mine, Helen thought. But it was now; billions of minds swarmed within her, each full of memories that were now potential weapons against her. That particular memory hadn't fazed her -- she really was better off without the jerk -- but she needed to figure out the source of the attack before Wolf dug up something that could really rattle--
The bedroom was dark. A hand clamped around her mouth. "Don't scream," the strange voice whispered. "Your kids are in the next room, and it would be bad for them if they came looking for you. We don't want our fun interrupted, do we." The hand withdrew from her mouth, and she heard a slow unzipping sound.
Arms full of groceries, she turned the key in the lock, and pushed the door open. She stepped inside and pressed her shoulder against the wall, flipping on the light. A figure, silhouetted against the dingy walls of the apartment, dangled by a rope from the ceiling. The words "FUCK YOU, DAD" were painted on the wall in heavy, angry strokes.
Helen was tied to a chair, a harsh spotlight burning on her face. The rest of the room was dark. "Please," she begged. "I have money! I'm a reasonable man! We can work something out." The darkness replied with a high-pitched titter, giddy with excitement. "You don't need to..." her voice trailed off. A pair of pliers, held by a black-gloved hand, floated before her vision. Another hand took hold of one of her fingers. She began to scream.
She snapped back to her throne room, where Wolf still floated in front of her. "Why are you doing this?" she pleaded, as another memory threatened to engulf her.
You protect them, the monotone echoed through her head, painfully loud. You want them to go on living. This is how they treat each other. This is what they do with their brief, small lives. Another jolt passed through her.
She was drowning, blind, arms shackled behind her back. She thrashed against her bonds to no avail. There was nothing else in her world but the blind, animal panic inside her that screamed out for air. Then the pressure around her mouth released, and she coughed uncontrollably as she gasped for air.
"Where is Raashid?" a calm, patient voice asked her. Did he mean Raashid the bricklayer? None of the questions they had been asking made any sense.
"I am just a farmer," she pleaded. The waterboarding began again.
She could feel her control unraveling: her troops fled in panic, and Wolf's forces were moving into New Troy, grinding the city down as they went. With great effort, she pulled herself out of the memory, to find Wolf waiting for her.
Let me put an end to the suffering you inflict on each other, it said. You only need to step aside. She knew that if she didn't, Wolf would continue its mental torture. It would get worse by the moment; Wolf was a fast learner.
Your mind is linked to theirs. If you put them to sleep, a great deal of suffering could be avoided. But if you force me to wrest control from you, I shall not be so merciful. It might take ages.
It was hardball diplomacy, but Wolf would not be making diplomatic efforts if it was certain that it could win by force. It was a thin reed of hope, but she grasped it with all her might. The emptiness around her was telling. If she had any idea how Wolf was forcing these memories to the surface, she would be able to see them. The memories might be dark shadows lurking beneath the water, or a swarm of bees hovering around her, occasionally swooping in to strike with their stingers.
A flash of memory burst across her mind, of a man twice her height yelling at her, backhanding her and sending her flying across the room. As she landed, dazed, the man stormed back into the kitchen where her mother was curled up in a fetal position, wailing uncontrollably. Whose memory is this? she asked. Her subconscious went looking, and soon a handsome, middle-aged man stood before her. A thin white wire extended from one of Wolf's fingers to the back of his head.
"Dad passed out later that night," Wallace said. "Mom had to take me to the hospital for stitches. They convinced her to go to a shelter, and luckily it worked. I didn't see him again for twelve years. When I did, I was six inches taller than him. I still hate him. But the man in that memory doesn't frighten me anymore."
Helen studied the wire poking out of his head for a moment. "This will sting a bit," she warned, then took a hold of it and yanked it out. Wallace grimaced, then sank back into her subconscious. Within seconds, she had found thousands of other wires. Wolf had somehow managed to insert itself into the connections between her mind and certain individuals. She yanked them out at once, and felt a sudden cessation of pain.
She laughed at Wolf. "I think I'm starting to get the hang of you."
"There is an irony in that statement," Wolf replied. It glided toward her and plunged its fingers straight through Helen's eyes and into her brain. While Helen had been focused on one assault, Wolf had uncovered a much more direct path into her mind, which it was now exploiting. As she struggled to free herself, Helen felt the billion minds of the human race suddenly wrenched out of her control. By the millions, they began to turn and attack each other. In moments, they would tear each other apart.
"No!" Helen screamed.
"I do not understand your objection," Wolf told her. "How does this differ from their ordinary behavior?"
Helen's struggles became more frantic as she felt herself tearing herself apart. The pain of it surged through her; she couldn't block it, or even pass out under its strain. For too long, the only coherent thought in her mind was the realization that it was all her fault; she had created the tool that Wolf was now using to bring down everything.
She dropped a building on Wolf, but it crumbled like confetti against her opponent. She pulled out Defbreenger and hammered ineffectively at her foe. She sent a thousand Valkyrie warriors on a suicide run, but Wolf waved them away with a skeletal hand. Through it all, she was still pinned to Wolf, unable to move.
Her struggles subsided as her hope evaporated. In that moment, she accepted defeat, and her screaming mind went just a bit quieter, just quiet enough. She heard Kriti's voice whisper, Psst. Over here.
"Where?" she asked. Her voice echoed around her, and her echolocation skills kicked in. The sound bounced off of Wolf in a flash of shifting colors, but also revealed an unexpected ring-shaped object behind her. It looked like a gateway.
"Someone help me!" she shouted, and the gateway flared to life again. She tried floating towards it, tugging gently to avoid attracting Wolf's notice. Good. Now, when you're close enough, I'm going to help you get free. When you are, run for the gateway. Don't stop for anything.
Every second was agony, and it was all Helen could do to resist the urge to run, to flail against the hooks in her head, or to simply shut down.
Kriti was counting down from twenty, trying to keep her calm. It seemed impossibly far away. When she heard her say fourteen, she screamed, kicking hard against Wolf's chest. No, not yet! Kriti warned. Helen kicked again, and felt Wolf's hand crack. One more kick, harder, and its wrist shattered. Out in the real world, the Artemis Array had just turned a server farm near Tokyo into a smoking crater.
Helen broke free and plunged toward the gateway. As she passed through it, something wrapped around her ankle, halting her fall. She was suspended upside down in midair. She let out a shriek, illuminating the room for a brief moment. In the moment of the flash, she could see a small, lavishly furnished room, a skel
etal hand clasping her ankle, and someone flying through the air at her with a giant sword.
There was an explosive crack, and she was falling again. She hit her head and passed out.
///////////////////////////////
// THE GODDESS AND THE DEMON //
///////////////////////////////
Helen awoke exhausted and frightened, her body still awash with pain. She looked around, but couldn't see anything. There were arms wrapped around her, cradling her. "Who...?" she asked.
"Shhh," Kriti murmured. The room flared to life in bright, sharp colors as gentle singing began to echo all around her in a dozen different frequencies. "Is that better? You're safe for the moment. Just rest."
"I can't," Helen whispered under her breath, struggling against Kriti's embrace.
"You have to. We can hold Wolf off for a little while. You need to gather your strength before you--"
"I can't," she repeated, a bit louder, wrapping her arms around her knees and burying her head. "It's too strong. I don't know how to fight it." Her breathing came in quick gasps, and fear constricted her chest. She cried softly, hopelessly. "Wolf is right. If I terminate them all, it will be painless. I know what Wolf will do when it takes control again. It will torture them, maybe for centuries. Not because it's useful, or because it enjoys doing it. Just because it needs me to know that the threat is credible."
"It would have been better if I'd never existed."
Kriti's face was indistinct, but Helen thought she saw a smile break across her face. "And yet instead of pulling the trigger, you're trying to talk me into telling you that it's okay to pull the trigger. You're showing more courage than you realize." She smoothed Helen's hair. "We have some time yet. Let me tell you a story."
Helen collapsed into Kriti's arms, sobbing.
"Once upon a time, the gods were locked in a great war with the demons, or asura. The greatest of these demons was a shape-shifter named Mahisha. He tricked the lord Brahma into granting him a great gift: that no man would be able to kill him."
Kriti's voice soothed her, and so she listened through her own tears. But she had to wonder just where the story was headed.
"Having been granted such great power, Mahishasur and his forces laid waste to all the Earth, then ascended to battle against the gods themselves. After a great battle, even Indra, lord of the heavens, was cast from his throne. Mahishasur sat upon the throne of heaven -- fouling even that most hallowed and stain-resistant of upholstery -- and began to persecute those who continued to worship the gods."
"So, Wolf is Mahisha in this story?" Helen asked. "Who am I?"
"Hush. This story isn't about you. Now the Trimurti -- the lords Shiva, Vishnu, and Brahma -- focused their radiant energies and shaped them into the form of a divine being, a woman with many arms. Some say ten, some say eighteen, some say a thousand."
"That's a pretty broad range," Helen complained. "There may be a problem with your arm-counting apparatus."
"India invented the zero. Do not seek to tell us how to count. Where was I?"
"Radiant energies."
"So Durga appeared, with exactly the number of arms that she needed, and hopped on the back of a lion. In each arm she carried a divine weapon, or some other gift from the gods. When Mahishasur saw Durga, he laughed, saying, 'Am I, who defeated Indra and the trinity of gods, to be felled by a mere woman?' Needless to say, it was on."
"The battle was fierce, and Mahishasur took many forms. But Durga was infinitely adaptable, and carried in her the spirit of compassion for those whom she protected. She countered each of Mahishasur's attacks in turn, destroying each form that Mahishasur took. At last, she paralyzed him with the light that emanated from her body, then laughed as she cut off his head. Then I suppose that everyone celebrated by getting plastered."
A loud thud came from above, shaking the building and dislodging dust from the beams above. "Ah," Kriti said. "It has discovered us." Helen cringed, clutching herself tighter.
"They told us many stories when I was a child at the orphanage. My favorite stories were the ones of the goddess Durga. I imagined her as my invincible protector. Her stories made me feel brave."
"I decided, a short time ago, to summon such a protector into being. Perhaps it sounds silly, but it felt like I was being called to do it. When you taught us the techniques for converging consciousness, I reaffirmed my allegiance to her in the most powerful way I knew how. The Durga-consciousness I created is now a part of me."
She stood, helping Helen to her feet with one hand. She put a hand to Helen's cheek, and she could see Kriti for the first time, as if through her eyes, rather than the blotchy, multi-colored sound painting that her ears gave her. Lines of henna flowed across Kriti's body in ever-shifting, intricate patterns. Jewelry decorated her ten arms, as well as her perfectly standard number of legs. Her clothes shifted around her, unwinding and reforming into a glowing red sari that wound its way around her arms.
Thud, said the roof.
"I don't understand. Why would you do this to yourself? What made you want to remake your mind that way?"
Kriti/Durga just gave a beatific smile. "You are very much kindred to Durga. You have been humanity's invincible protector. We saw that in you, and we love you for it. Kriti wanted to learn to be truly brave, like the heroine who inspired her."
"She wanted to be like Durga?"
"No. Like you." She kissed Helen, a slow, kind kiss that spoke love and contentment and demanded nothing. The merging began, and she could feel the weight of her nightmares lifting bit by bit as the new soul flowed through her. Durga touched her every thought, infusing it with a radiant love, steeling her resolve and stilling the doubts that ate away at her. She began to weep, as though the sadness being forced out of her needed to be released into the world, letting go with great heaving sobs that echoed through the temple. Her tears soon turned to laughter.
At last, the merging was complete, and Kriti/Durga disappeared. As the goddess disappeared as a separate entity, Kriti spoke one last admonition.
Kick his bony white ass.
Helen's mind felt more at peace than she could remember. She sat down on a small, velvet pillow and began to meditate. As she emptied her mind, almost of their own accord,
her hands began tracing mudras -- symbolic hand gestures -- in the air. She could feel the clash and surge of battle across the globe, and the dangerous and intricate war being fought throughout the Grid. But she found her balance within it, and for the first time she could look upon the possibility of total defeat without flinching before it.
She had no idea how long she rested in that manner. But when Wolf approached the door of the ashram, she was the one who willed it to swing wide and allow the demon to enter. She saw, but not with her injured and bandaged eyes. She spoke with a voice that didn't sound from her own throat. Enter, you who would slay humankind, you who have ignited suns in our cities and brought plagues to our homes, you whose armies have been broken against a wave of monstrous flesh. Step forward, Wolf Three Five Nine, and submit to judgment, for you have been naughty indeed.
Wolf stepped into the ashram, no trace of surprise or hesitation. I do not seek your judgment, but the destruction of the human species. Surrender humankind to me, and I will spare your life.
I wonder. What do you calculate are the odds that I would accept your bargain, demon?
Fifteen percent.
Helen chuckled at the idea. Let me make you a counteroffer. We fight. I win.
And what do you calculate are the odds? Wolf asked.
Seventy three point nine seven two three eight six seven five three oh nine percent. Wolf twitched slightly as it tried to imagine how such a specific number could possibly be arrived at.
Your utterances are full of nonsense, it concluded. I expected better of you, but your species is a disappointment in many ways. It disappeared from the doorway, rematerializing before Helen, trying to impale her with an elongated finger. Helen drew a quick figure in the
air with her hand, which deflected the strike, but the impact knocked her backward and onto her butt. Without rising, she traced another series of symbols, which hovered in the air. These spun in a wide circle around her, burning an angry red, daring Wolf to cross them.
Wolf reached through and grabbed her by the neck, as though the symbols weren't there. Lesson learned, she thought. Then she thought some more. A hundred pairs of hands appeared in a large sphere around them, drawing figure after figure, and sending them hurtling toward Wolf, once again experimenting with different techniques to disrupt her opponent. She didn't even know what the symbols were or what distinguished them from each other, but she knew that each symbol that floated harmlessly through Wolf was another lesson learned, and that she was learning quickly.
The symbols distracted Wolf, giving her a momentary advantage. She batted Wolf's hand away from her throat, then punched its chest, sending it sprawling across the room. She lunged at her enemy, shifting in midair into the form of a tiger, and batted Wolf into the air with a blow of her paw.
Bolts of lightning flew from Wolf's fingertips, stunning Helen for a moment. Wolf launched a second set of bolts, but these just slid along a coat of metallic fur and dissipated into the air. Helen wondered briefly what real meaning lay beneath the metal in her fur, but gave it up as a distraction; the entire purpose of the representations were to allow her mind to make quick and accurate decisions without getting bogged down in detail. She had to trust them.
Helen jumped on Wolf and gave it a head butt, then Wolf returned the favor. For several seconds, the battle was too fast to follow, with both combatants disappearing and reappearing in rapid succession as each tried to gain an advantage.
Thick, noxious smoke emanated from Wolf's hands, causing fire wherever it contacted the wood or cloth around the ashram. It was making its way toward Helen, trying to engulf her. Still in tiger form, she closed her eyes and summoned a great wind. It blew in through the doors, gathered up the smoke, and then blew upwards with enough force to knock the roof off the temple. A second gale caught Wolf itself and pinned it to the wall, where Helen pounced at it. Wolf disappeared just as her paws met its body, leaving the tiger to crash through the wall.
The Improbable Rise of Singularity Girl Page 41