by Drew Avera
“You did well, Pollux,” a voice said, tucked away inside my head. The voice was mine, but the operator was someone else, something else.
“Who is this?” I asked. My fear paralyzed me as my horrific morning turned darker and I realized my nightmare of losing control was turning true. Was I finally cracking under the pressure, and the torture of my previous life? Or, had the programming reached its ultimate conclusion and cast me into the oblivion of psychosis?
“Who I am does not matter. Who you are does,” the voice said, “More importantly, what you can do matters greatly to me; are you ready for the next part of the plan?”
No, I thought, but that word was cut off from my lips. Instead, I answered, “I am,” without meaning to. I cringed as the words escaped my lips, but worse was the wave of acceptance as if something inside of me broke and there was no way to fix it. I envisioned another part of me coming to the forefront of my mind, a separate personality, a darker one than I was ever made to be. I wished that I could cut it out of me, then kill the voice that answered against my best interest, the world’s best interest.
“Good,” the voice said, settling into a soothing tone. “This is what I need you to do.”
Twenty-One
Akran
There was a buzz in the air as anticipation for Pontiff Scrimpshire’s arrival loomed over Clenist. I could see it in the eyes of my colleagues as I walked down the hallways of the World Council Building, the barely contained composure of those whom had never met the man, and perhaps the furrowed brow of those consumed with jealousy of his station. I met many of those types since becoming a member of the World Council, but that was the essence of humanity as far as I was concerned.
Truth be told, I hadn’t felt this excited in far too long, but there was a burr in my enthusiasm, and that was the fact that mine and Halem’s relationship was forcibly ended. If our love had simply fizzled out, then I don’t think I would have felt this way; but knowing that the fires of passion were still embers in our hearts gave me pause.
At least it still burned within mine.
How will he act around me? Am I expected to pretend what we had never happened?
The anxiety of thinking this way sent chills down my spine. I wanted to enjoy his company, not dread it. Though, it would be difficult to have those fleeting moments with him as this trip was scheduled for business, and not pleasure. I wondered if he took time to account for a rendezvous for old time’s sake. Wishful thinking, I thought, rolling my eyes at myself as I shoved my cold hands deeper into my pockets.
“Akran, I didn’t expect you to be here, how are you feeling?” Micah asked as he stepped out of his office. He was dressed to the nines for Halem’s arrival, more than likely hoping to overshadow the Pontiff to get more eyes on himself, no doubt. He was so predictable.
“I’m feeling much better after you insisted on taking the time off from work. I really appreciate your concern,” I replied, shifting into a polite smile. I hoped he didn’t notice the slight twitch of my eye, a nervous habit from when I was less than truthful. In all honesty, I felt like a rat in a cage and couldn’t wait to get back to work, but Roslyn insisted I take the time for self-care, a mental health day. As much as I loved him, it seemed that even my best friend didn’t fully understand what made me tick. Between Micah’s and Roslyn’s insistence, I felt powerless to say no. Now, I felt guilty for not getting the things done I had intended before the attack. I felt wholly unprepared and strangely out of place.
Time off was the bane of my obsessive tendencies.
I was addicted to my work. It gave me purpose. It gave me something to look forward to. It filled the void left behind by him.
I wasn’t aware of how deep in my thoughts I was until Micah spoke, lulling me out of the haze of misrepresented memories. “You don’t need to thank me for doing the right thing. I know how hard you work for the people of Clenist. If anything, I want to thank you for making it so that we missed your absence. That’s not something I can say about all of our fellow councilmembers,” he replied, half under his breath as the sound of footsteps approaching resounded in my ears. He turned to see Khari scurrying down the hallway with a stack of folders tucked under his arm. He looked frantic, but then again, he always looked like that for as long as I had known him.
“Akran, I’m glad to see you back,” he said before looking to Micah. “Everything is prepared for the Pontiff’s visit. I have the reports you requested. Would you like me to place these on your desk, sir?”
“Please,” Micah answered, nodding as Khari took off, walking at a rate of speed that surely would result in shin splints.
Good thing we have medical benefits, I thought with a smirk before picking up where we left off. “I’m sure you don’t mean that,” I said, nudging Micah’s arm and drawing his attention back to me.
“What, the comment about not noticing if some people here didn’t show up to work? I meant every word. I have no doubt that most of their work is done by their support staff while they spend their time golfing, or drooling at the mouth,” he said sarcastically. I thought it was ironic that he wiped his mouth with his thumb and index finger after saying that. I couldn’t tell if it was part of his jest, or something he did subconsciously. I decided not to mention it as we began walking towards the atrium together.
“I have my itinerary, but I’m willing to bet Halem isn’t going to want to stick to the plan,” I said, mostly trying to keep the conversation active. I hated dull moments.
“I forgot you had a little bit of a fling with him. I could have used some advice on ways to sell my idea for bypassing the World Council votes to get the funding we need to hire our own law enforcement. I hate seeing the Archean badges out at night. To me, it feels more like an invasion than a humanitarian effort. Do you know what I mean?”
I groaned, even if it was silent, at the fact he would toss mine and Halem’s past at me like that. Nothing was ever proven, but that didn’t mean someone hadn’t leaked the rumor, based in truth or not. “You won’t get anywhere with me like that,” I warned. My voice was tight, and I was sure he thought I was fighting back tears as I spoke when all I was really holding back was rage and a tendency towards shouting matches at improper times. If not for the rest of the members gathered in the building, I would have torn into him relentlessly.
I still might, I thought as I bit my lower lip. It was certainly tempting.
He glanced down with a smirk. “Are you sure? It looks like I got under your skin just a little.” His tone insinuated a playfulness, but his smugness had a hint of conviction behind it, like a cat toying with a mouse. I was sure he thought of most of us as scurrying little rodents in his life. He might not come out and say it, but I could read it on his face.
The bastard.
“Can we move on to something else?”
“Certainly,” he said with a shrug. As we walked into the large atrium with the gleaming light refracting blue and purple hues from the tops of the windows, I took note of those in attendance. Only a few were allowed to gather in wait for the Pontiff’s arrival. Ironic that those few were only media and councilmembers. I would have appreciated having at least one staff member beside me, instead of the fake peers with whom I worked, present company included. Roslyn would have done a much better job of consoling my nervousness than Micah, who appeared hellbent to cast me into the deep end of my self-inflicted anxiety.
How did he know so much about mine and Halem’s past? It was supposed to be a secret. Even in the beginning, there were no specifics putting he and I in the relationship together romantically. There were more names than mine tossed into rumor mill. I know Halem didn’t say anything, and I sure as hell kept my mouth shut too. Only a few people knew of what happened between us, and one of them was dead, a fact which put me at ease more than it should have.
I watched as Micah stepped onto the short platform and tapped the microphone with his finger. The boom of his touch reverberated on the atrium walls, but not too lou
dly, just enough to stir some attention from those in the back who hadn’t noticed anyone was about to speak. The crowd settled without further acknowledgement and it made me think that this was Micah’s true show of leadership; silencing a bustling crowd with a simple tap of the microphone.
“Good morning, everyone. I hope everyone is as excited as I am that Pontiff Scrimpshire will grace us with his presence today. He’s scheduled to arrive in a couple of hours, and we have been instructed not to give too much pomp and circumstance with his arrival, but I think the shiny welcome banners are appropriate,” Micah said, eliciting a laugh from the crowd. “I have a meeting with a few heads of committee to ensure we have everything in place for our presentation to the Pontiff. I’m expecting the rest of you to not trash the joint before his arrival. I assure you, we will put our best foot forward with this monumental moment for Clenist.”
Applauds followed Micah off the platform as he stepped back to me. “Great motivational speech,” I said. “Let’s hope it carries them until the Pontiff’s arrival or else you’ll have to do it again.”
Micah smirked. “Next time, you’ll give the speech. If you’ll excuse me, I was serious about the meetings. Do you care to join us? I wouldn’t mind having your input on some of the proposals, maybe you can give some insight on the best way to pitch it.”
I knew this was another jab at mine and Halem’s previous courtship and my jaw clenched. I wanted to poke the smug councilman in the eye, but I knew it wouldn’t get either of us anywhere. Politics was more about taking it on the chin and moving on than it was about walking unscathed from every offensive instance. Besides, I had a thick skin. Just not thick enough to want to be in a room with “his self-appointed highness”.
“I appreciate the offer, but I need to catch up on some of the work I missed while I was away.” It was a bald-faced lie, but he didn’t need to know that.
“Suit yourself,” he replied, patting me on the shoulder and stalking off with a nonchalant gait.
“I will,” I whispered to no one.
Twenty-Two
Micah
The four heads of departments sat across from me at the crescent-moon-shaped table. The top was completely clear, save for a few scattered notecards which bombarded me with a sense of clutter. I quickly swept them up and trashed them before my assistant entered the room.
“I apologize, sir,” Khari said as he clumsily dropped his tablet to the desktop before passing around steaming cups of coffee, saving mine for last. When I took it in my hand, I noticed a lightly written note “ahead of schedule”.
My lips tightened into a chagrin expression.
“Is something wrong, Micah?” Varsus asked, pulling me from the edge of pre-panic I felt on the verge of. I thought I had a better poker face than that.
“You know what?” I started without thinking about it. “I think this pageantry, regardless of how little effort he wanted us to put into it, is a waste of resources. The citizens anticipate his arrival as if it means their lives are about to be rewarded somehow. But the truth is, his visit doesn’t mean anything other than an opportunity for us to sell him on providing more resources to dig us out of the situation befallen us. We can wax poetically about Clenist’s supposed superiority, or we can lay it out as it truly is. We need funding to maintain our infrastructure. We need an emergency power grid to keep us from robbing Peter to pay Paul when a future event takes place. We need to be recognized as equals to our Archean counterparts.”
“You make a fair point, but how are we to lay it out there with the media tracking our every conversation with him? If the people heard each flaw in our city, then they would rise up in short order and move back to Archea in droves.” Serand replied, his elbows on the table as he leaned his chin on his hands to the point it made him appear to have jowls.
“Excellent question. Perhaps if we removed the media presence altogether then we could say what was necessary.”
A round of scoffing filled the near empty room, the sound reverberating on the beige walls.
“How do you propose that?” Varsus asked.
I grinned. “Pontiff Scrimpshire is slated to be in Clenist for forty-eight-hours. I propose we give him the guided tour with media riding his coattails to the point it becomes overwhelming, then, at his own bidding, we remove the cameras and prying ears. At that point, we can show him the truth.”
Josalom leaned back in his chair. “You know I put most of my support behind any idea you have. I believe in your leadership. But this half-cocked idea doesn’t provide us a means to sell him on our plight. He needs to see the underbelly of what is happening in this city. Without the dark truth of what we’re up against, he isn’t going to see it.”
Serand and Kyrie nodded approvingly as Khari glanced up at me from his position next to me.
“So, you propose taking the pontiff to the seedy underground of criminal activity in Clenist?”
“I do,” he replied confidently, much to the dismay of the others seated before me.
Perfect, I thought.
“Then you lead him down there,” I said, drawing the concerned gaze away from Josalom and back to me.
“Micah, are you serious?” Varsus asked, his voice up in pitch.
“Absolutely. You want him to know what we’re up against just as much as I do. Why not show him what we’ve learned when the lights go out in the Southern Sector?”
“And put him in danger?” Varsus added. “That hardly seems like a responsible tactic to win him to our side.”
A sigh escaped my lips as I finally took my seat and leaned over the desk. “We’re all in danger, Varsus. The real question is what are we going to do about it?”
“Be reasonable, though. Dragging the leader of the World Council into the Southern Sector at night is an unnecessary risk. We have enough accounts of what goes on to give an elaborate report on the matter. One of our own was attacked down there. Feed him information from the comfort of these walls, not out in the open and vulnerable.”
“You’re right, yet those reports go largely ignored, Varsus. I believe it’s time to remind Pontiff Scrimpshire what crime looks like. Perhaps his time away from the life he used to live has clouded his perspective. If we remove the blinders, then there will be no denying that the primary body of the World Council has abandoned us,” I said, minding my tone. The words pouring from my lips were borderline mad, but the conviction of my tongue was persuasive enough to reveal the element of truth behind them.
“It sounds like you already have a plan, Micah,” Kyrie interjected.
A smirk formed on my face without delay. “I always have a plan. The only thing I don’t have is a justification not to use it,” I replied, courting the room seductively with the secret craving to be exposed.
“Then why don’t you enlighten us instead of forcing us to listen to one another dance around the situation?” Kyrie said as he crossed his arms over his chest, looking down his nose at me. “Based on reports I’ve received; the criminal activity has dwindled considerably since the mass casualty attack from a couple of weeks ago.”
“That’s by design,” I let the words escape my lips, not meaning to reveal so much so soon.
“How so?” Varsus asked, his jaw slack and worry lines forming on his face.
“I’ve said too much already.”
He leaned in, his piercing eyes gazing at me with enough conviction to convince me I made a mistake speaking about the plan. “I might agree, but now I want to hear more. Spill it.”
I glanced at Khari as he sat nervously beside me, his tablet clenched in white-knuckled hands. “I— I have something for you to see,” Khari finally let out after a dramatic pause. Everyone gathered to look at the tablet as he sat it in the center of the table. A chubby finger pressed the play icon on the screen and revealed a bird’s eye view over a dark area of the Southern Sector where surveillance was minimal. As the image zoomed in, the mayhem of weeks prior came into view, revealing what was thought to be gang on gang
violence. Instead, the lone attacker stood over the crippled and dying men with rage in his eyes as he glared up at the camera that there was no way he knew was there.
“Is that who I think it is?” Serand asked, his voice on the verge of cracking.
“Pontiff Scrimpshire’s right hand, Pollux,” I said, easing off of the sardonic tone I felt compelled to use. “It appears the Pontiff, in his infinite wisdom, put this level of evil on our streets. Then, he planned to send Archean policemen into our city to combat what he placed in our midst. It’s a conspiracy, but one in which we can use against him.”
“One man did all of that?” Varsus asked, but the questioning tone was muted to the point it came across as more of a statement.
“He did,” Khari answered, “and he can do so much more if we use him in the plan Councilman Troth has drafted.”
Four sets of eyes set on me at once and I knew in that moment that I owned the room.
“Like Khari said, I have a plan to use Pollux to convince the World Council that we need help restoring order to our city. The increased funding will benefit us greatly. The question I have for you, is are you willing to concede to my plan in order to secure that funding?”
“Do we have a choice?” Varsus asked.
I leaned back in my seat and smiled wickedly, not even trying to hide it. “No, you do not.”
Twenty-Three
Halem
The sub-rail eased to a stop, the sound of screeching metal barely audible over the air conditioning blasting through the vents.
Despite having the car to myself, I felt claustrophobic after hours of travel. Of course, part of it could be the anxiety I felt with not knowing what I was stepping into. Two weeks had passed, and I heard nothing from Pollux. He was supposed to be my eyes on the ground, but instead, he ghosted me, and I had no idea why. Not knowing was possibly the worst feeling about the situation because I knew at any moment that the other shoe could drop.