by Dima Zales
I gawk at my surroundings for a few moments; then the people behind me push me against the Forebears in front of me. The hall is really filling up, with the last people arriving through multiple doors and open windows. Some are even flying down through an opening in the ceiling.
There are too many people to count, but if I had to estimate, I’d say there are a few thousand Forebears here—more than I would’ve expected. I’m about to comment on it to Phoe when I access Jeanine’s memories and learn that not all Forebears originated as Oasis Council members.
“Haven would be a tiny community if that were so,” Phoe says.
She’s right. In Jeanine’s memories, I learn that originally, Haven was seeded by nearly everyone who went on the “great journey into space”—Jeanine’s term. I try to recall more about that time period, but I can’t.
“It’s interesting, isn’t it?” Phoe thinks. “Jeanine has a gap in her memories. More interesting still is the fact that she was aware of that gap. She thought of it as something she needed to forget and never worried about it.”
I access the memories to verify Phoe’s words. Indeed, Jeanine felt that the gap was part of some larger plan for the greater good.
“I’m certainly curious,” Phoe says in my mind. “Something must’ve happened in Haven a long time ago—something that got covered up by Haven’s version of Forgetting. Since I can’t undo this Forgetting without more resources, let’s hope the Circle members know what that gap is about. They are, after all, comprised in part from former Keepers of Information—people who didn’t partake in Forgettings in Oasis.”
I don’t respond because my attention is stolen by the crowd’s staring at something in the front of the room. When I peer over the heads of those in front of me, I see that they’re looking at a contraption Jeanine fondly called “the magic mirror.”
The nickname suits the object on the wall, because it is a mirror, and it’s showing a video stream, similar to the Screens back in Oasis.
My mouth opens as Jeanine’s memories add context to the beautiful images on the screen. These are the highlights of the biggest accomplishments in art, sculpture, architecture, music, and many other pursuits that Haven citizens care about. The images and sounds are beyond sublime. I’m so entranced by the mirror I don’t even notice how the man and his Guardian entourage make it onto the stage.
Once I notice them, I scrutinize the group, especially the person who’s about to speak.
Jeanine knows his name: Benjamin. She’s heard him speak at these events before. He was already old back on Earth and joined Haven when the first wave of Forebears died. Jeanine and Benjamin had a common interest six hundred years ago. She wanted to master Xiangqi, also known as Chinese chess. Benjamin would play with her when he could get away from his Circle duties, which was rare.
Benjamin’s body is more luminescent than any I’ve seen so far, but his face is less perfect—almost weasel-like. His wings look abstract, as if they’re made of tangible smoke. He spreads his wings and raises his hands, palms up. Jeanine’s memory tells me that this is his signal for silence.
The crowd quiets down, and Benjamin says, “Citizens of Haven, I come to you with a heavy heart.”
The silence in the room thickens. Bad news is never delivered at these meetings.
“I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll go ahead and say it plainly.” Benjamin clears his throat. “The ancient evil we left behind has reawakened. It has taken the lives of every citizen in Oasis. This is what remains.” With tears gleaming in his eyes, Benjamin gestures at the magic mirror and images of what’s left of Oasis appear.
The mirror shows thousands of bodies floating in the air, still without gravity. They’re now covered completely by frost. Even the red lights I remember are dimmed in this more recent image, as if even the alarms are dying.
My chest tightens as I relive the horrible hours before my biological death.
“I’m sorry, Theo, but you can’t fall apart,” Phoe says. “I think I have a plan of action. Look around you now. It’s very important.”
I do as she says.
The people around me are showing a full spectrum of emotions, ranging from shock to complete devastation. Some people are outraged, while others look fearful or mournful.
Benjamin recites the bullshit story similar to what Wayne told Brandon. He tells everyone how the Circle learned of a threat and how their valiant efforts to save Oasis failed, leading to the evil AI taking retribution.
Jeanine’s long nails are piercing my palms. I guess people who keep their nails long like this have to be careful when they clench their fists.
“I’m going to disguise your voice,” Phoe tells me. “As loudly as you can, I need you to say, ‘How could you let this happen?’”
“Okay,” I think back at Phoe. Then I scream loudly, “How could you let this happen?” My thunderous voice reverberates through the hall with such bass that my insides vibrate.
I look around to see if anyone noticed me speaking. No one is looking at me, but my words had an effect. The crowd turns angrier, their voices growing louder with each second.
“Order,” Benjamin shouts. “Quiet down and listen to me!”
His response further aggravates the people around me. They’re becoming the type of mob I’ve read about in ancient media.
“We let the Circle have power, and you failed,” someone screams in a voice that sounds like a violin.
“Next, they’ll make us forget this,” someone else yelps in a harmonica imitation.
Benjamin’s face turns white despite its bright luminescent shimmer. The Guardians surrounding him keep their cool, but one of them whispers something in Benjamin’s ear and the others inch toward the crowd.
“What happens now?” someone else chimes in as a dozen other people scream questions at the same time.
People begin to move frantically. Some head toward the stage, while others yell louder and louder.
“Start flying,” Phoe urges when two of the Guardians lead Benjamin to the back of the stage.
I try to spread my wings, but it’s impossible with all these people churning like in a mosh pit.
“Quick, access Jeanine’s memories,” Phoe says. “She helped build this place, remember?”
As soon as she says it, I recall the decades it took to craft the frescos and the ceiling. More importantly, I remember the backstage area and how it leads to the southern spire.
That means I know where Benjamin is heading, but if I don’t fly now, I won’t reach him in time.
What I do next is the most unladylike behavior Jeanine has ever displayed. I dig my nails into the shoulders of a shorter woman and a portly man and haul myself off the ground. Grabbing the head of the guy in front of them, I climb atop people’s heads and shoulders. Without giving them a chance to register the indignity, I spread my wings and fly for the nearest window—which happens to be a decorative one with colored glass.
I crash through it, ignoring the pain from the glass shards cutting me.
“You need to be more careful,” Phoe warns me. “I can’t speed up your healing right now.”
I grunt an acknowledgment—only my grunt comes out sounding melodious because of Jeanine’s vocal cords.
My owl wings beat faster than any bird could manage. Up and up I go, spinning in the air as I torpedo toward the southernmost spire while chanting in my mind: Please be there, please be there.
Behind me, people from the crowd start flying out of the hall as well, but I ignore them.
With a sharp slowdown that makes wind tug painfully at my feathers, I land on a terrace that surrounds the spire’s exit.
Before I can calm my frantic breathing, Benjamin steps onto the terrace.
I stare at him, and he looks back at me in surprise.
Afraid to spook him and working on pure instinct, I bow in that special way Haven protocol requires when standing before a member of the Circle. As I do that, I memorize the directions Phoe is
barking in my mind. Then, like a robot, I begin to execute Phoe’s instructions.
“Hello, Benjamin,” I say. “Sorry to corner you like this, but have you heard from Brandon?”
Benjamin shakes his head. He looks a modicum more relaxed now that he has a reason for my presence.
Capitalizing on that, I move closer to him, speaking casually. “He hasn’t reported back—”
Without breaking eye contact, I gesture for my iron fan.
As soon as I feel the weight of the weapon in my hand, I swing my arm in an arc, unfolding the fan.
The blades of the fan slice through Benjamin’s throat with the ferocity of a starving shark.
He tries to scream, but that only causes blood to ooze violently from his multiple throat wounds.
I watch, hardly breathing, as the Circle member stumbles and disintegrates in a poof of Limbofication.
With Benjamin no longer blocking his line of sight, one of the two Guardians who led him here looks right at me. When he sees the weapon in my hand, his jaw tightens and a trident appears in his hands. In a blur of white knuckles and gleaming metal, he brings it down in the direction of my thigh. Jeanine’s muscle memory—specifically, her dancing experience—comes in handy. I move my leg away faster than I would’ve believed possible.
Despite the speed of my reflexes, one of the spikes of the trident punctures my foot.
Before the pain can reach my brain, I throw the fan.
I’m either lucky or reaping more benefits of Jeanine’s muscle memory, because the blades lodge into my attacker’s torso. He grunts and joins Benjamin in Limbo.
My elation is brief, as the second Guardian steps out onto the terrace, his eyes meeting mine. Judging by the barely contained fury on his face, he witnessed me Limbofying his friend and Benjamin.
The shockwave of pain hits me now, bringing with it a swell of nausea and dizziness.
I’m in no condition to fight.
“Right. And going by everyone’s memory, this is Samuel. He is much too good with daggers for you to stand a chance,” Phoe informs me urgently. “You need to escape.”
I blink, trying to clear the haze of agony from my brain. Samuel’s already holding a couple of daggers in each hand.
Pressing my back against the railing, I do something I never thought I could do without Phoe controlling my body.
I lean back so far that I fall over the railing.
And then I plummet.
From a great height.
Like in my worst nightmare.
16
“Resist opening your wings for as long as you can,” Phoe tells me. “He’s gliding, which is slower than you falling like a rock.”
I give it my best effort, but a millisecond later, I reposition my body for flight and spread my wings.
At least my wounded foot isn’t getting in the way of flying.
There’s a crowd below me. People are still streaming out of the castle. My plan is simple: I’m going to hide in the swarm of Forebears.
A dagger whooshes past my leg and lodges in the chest of a round-faced female Forebear. Jeanine’s memories supply me with her name: Vivian. She’s from a different epoch and was fond of pottery, though she wasn’t very good at it. To stay semi-sane, I ignore the other facts flitting through my mind. Vivian’s eyes are wide with shock as she breaks apart and disappears.
My overclocked heart manages to find room to ache for the woman. She was an innocent bystander. There was no reason for her to get Limbofied.
“At least I captured her resources,” Phoe says out loud. “Which, when combined with the other two Forebears we Limbofied, means I can speak out loud as well as help you navigate. In fact, I can even project myself so you can see me, but I won’t do that yet, since—”
I don’t register the rest of Phoe’s statement because a dagger slices the joint of my wing.
Instinctively, I flex my wing to keep moving, but the pain is excruciating. Losing altitude, I focus on not flapping my wings and gliding like a flying squirrel instead.
“Damn it, Phoe,” I yell at her mentally. “Focus on helping me since you said you can. You’re too preoccupied with your damn computing resources.”
Then, suddenly, I scream, “Help!” without meaning to.
The surrounding people look up at me.
“The horrible news was too much for Samuel,” I continue yelling. “He’s lost it. He’s attacking me!”
A dagger stabs me in my side just as I join a large group of Forebears that momentarily block me from my pursuer.
Through the burning pain of my wounds, I hear people yelling angry questions at the Guardian, which means Phoe’s plan is working.
“Consider closing your eyes for this next part,” Phoe says. She sounds as if she’s a few feet above me.
I refuse to close my eyes, and then, with a jolt, I fly upward. Someone is standing there. Ignoring the pain, I spread my wings to block my actions from any onlookers. Without any further ado, I summon a new fan into my hands and stab the man in the eye with it.
Like every other time Phoe took over, I don’t feel her controlling me during this macabre sequence. I assume she makes me do this, because I doubt I would’ve had the strength to move while in all this agony, and even if I did, I’m not sure I could have done something so cold and savage. True, I did get rid of Benjamin by slicing his throat, and I dealt with the Guardian afterwards, but there’s a world of difference between Limbofying a member of the Circle or self-defense and attacking a random bystander. At least that’s what I try to tell my conscience as the man begins to disintegrate.
“I’m sorry,” Phoe whispers. “My only justification is that it’s not the end for him, and we had no other choice.”
I belatedly recognize the man through Jeanine’s memories. His name was Chester. He and Jeanine rarely spoke, but she always admired his culinary skills, something he’d been perfecting for a century.
In the midst of all the commotion, and with my wings blocking their view, no one seems to have noticed my actions. Everyone is focused on my pursuer, though with him shouting accusations about Jeanine, it’s only a matter of time before their attention turns back to me.
Suddenly, a sense of vertigo overcomes me. Only Phoe’s control prevents me from folding my wings and plummeting. When the world stops spinning, I realize my pain is gone, but my body feels very strange.
The Guardian finally pushes his way through the flying mob. He looks to his right and to his left.
“We have to keep fleeing before he sees me,” I think at Phoe.
She doesn’t respond, but I can almost sense her holding her breath.
Samuel glances at me, then keeps scanning his surroundings as though I’m not the person he’s looking for.
I blink, not understanding, and then I notice that my wings are no longer those of an owl. I think these wings belong to a bird called the needle-tailed swift, allegedly the fastest bird in the Zoo.
“That depends on what you mean by fastest,” Phoe says in that pedantic way of hers. “The peregrine falcon is the fastest bird when it comes to diving, but the needletail is the fastest when it comes to flight. This is another reason why poor Chester was such a good target.”
This is when it dawns on me: I just saw the wings that surround me on Chester, right before Phoe used my hand to stab him.
“I had to shape-shift you into someone Samuel would not suspect,” Phoe explains. “It couldn’t be any of the other Guardians or Vivian, since he might’ve seen her Limbofy. That only left me with one choice: to Limbofy someone new. Chester’s wings will be useful for the next part of my plan, and he was so close… I hope that makes you feel better about the whole ordeal.”
It doesn’t, but I don’t argue. I just want to get out of here.
“Me too,” Phoe says.
I slowly glide downward, amazed at how different it feels to fly with new wings. Then again, my whole body is different.
When I’m completely out of the Guardi
an’s view, I fly in earnest, pushing my way through frightened Forebears when I have to.
A surprising number of Haven citizens are flying in the same direction as me, but I’m going much faster.
As I fly, I see a large flock of Guardians gathered together, discussing something as they glide through the air.
I keep flying up toward the dome.
To my huge relief, no one asks me a single question as I pass them. When I feel the dome’s soap-like texture on my wings, I exhale a breath that I must’ve been holding for half an hour.
I’m not sure if Phoe knows where we’re going. To me, it looks like a randomly selected direction. I try to access a memory to help me figure out where we’re heading, but it doesn’t work.
“I didn’t bother giving you access to Chester’s memories,” Phoe says.
I follow her voice and see that she gave herself a visible appearance again, only this time she didn’t make it look even remotely realistic.
Phoe is miniscule, like a fairy. She’s flying backward, her miniature head smiling at me mischievously.
“I look exactly the way I did before.” The tiny fairy-Phoe strikes a model-like pose. “I reduced my size to lighten your mood.”
“Well, it’s not working,” I lie and resist the urge to touch the tiny creature. “My mood would improve if you told me where we’re heading, and I’d be ecstatic if you also told me we’re safe.”
Besides her size, what makes Phoe’s current look surreal is that I don’t ram into her despite flying at this speed.
“I’m just in your mind at the moment, so you won’t crash into me, and yes, we’re safe.” Phoe fluffs up her pixie hair. “We’re flying toward the Sanctum, where the Circle are. We have to beat the mob and the Guardians there.”
As if on cue, my needletail wings flap faster.
“Wait,” I say out loud. “Isn’t that like the proverbial flight out of the fire and into the frying pan?”
“We have to do this.” Phoe’s tiny face gets serious. “Benjamin’s memories aren’t enough for me to battle the virus. I could only confirm what we already know: that there is a virus.”
We fly in silence as I digest what I’ve learned so far. Phoe has now at least doubled her resources, which explains her ability to create this fairy illusion and control my body while it’s shape-shifted. More importantly, Phoe has retrieved the memories of a member of the Circle in the hope that he’ll know something about the virus—the whole point of our Central Island misadventure.