by Darr, Brian
“What do we got? The Surfer and Wigeon are out of the fight, The Troll was useless, there’s no revolution left, everyone’s got Psi…We’ve never had an advantage Iris. I’m sorry, but that’s the reality.”
“We still have our interrogation,” she said, with some hope. They were awaiting their “trial” which was a watered down version of justice held by The Moderator, who would be coming by to talk to his prisoners.
“I hate to point this out, but maybe The Troll was right about you appealing to your father. He’s going to kill millions of people. I doubt The Troll will turn himself in. The only chance we have at stopping this is you to confront him.”
Iris laughed. “I don’t think so Guide. For one thing, I was a fat little girl the last time he saw me. My hair’s different, I’m twenty years older…he won’t recognize me.”
“So tell him…”
“No. I never intended on revealing myself and I never will.”
“Not even with millions of lives at stake?”
“Even if I did, he wouldn’t cave. You know how stubborn he is. In his mind, he killed me along with everyone else, and it didn’t bother him at all. He’s not going to listen to anyone. He’s set his terms and that’s what he’s going to do, because that’s how he is.”
“Then what’s your suggestion?” The Guide asked, at a loss.
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but it’s times like these that I wish we did have Troll here. You saw him at the bounty hunter dinner, and he did that while he was still in love with Psi.”
“All he does is insult people.”
“No Guide, you still don’t get it. He exposes people, and that’s what we need. The public will never know that you brought down a helicopter because Circular Prime doesn’t want to be seen as anything but perfect. Once you expose imperfections, you cast doubt. I watched The Troll in so many exchanges on-line where the issue stopped mattering the moment he discredited the user on the other side of the debate.”
“Well, The Troll’s not here, and if he was, he wouldn’t go up against The Moderator. He had his chance and passed.”
“He wasn’t angry enough.”
“He’s very likely dead or on his way there. I doubt he’ll ever be angry enough.”
“I’m just saying: I admired The Surfer and Wigeon when they managed to hack the airwaves, but I never agreed with the tactical approach. It was all about recruiting, but no one’s going to join you when everyone thinks The Moderator is invincible. They’ll join you when they realize he can be defeated.”
“So how do we troll him? How do we expose him?”
“You force him to slip up. You corner him, baffle him, make him falter or snap or lose his cool. All you have to do is take control out of his hands for a second and he’ll be weakened, and if he’s weakened, if only for a moment, people will see that and it will make them wonder, even if just a little, if one day there will be a world without Psi.”
“That’s not what I do,” The Guide said.
“I know. You’ll threaten him and lose your temper, but that won’t get you anywhere. It will make you seem hostile. You know, everyone goes by labels now, as if they're all just one thing. The Troll, The Moderator, The Guide...it's as if you all think you can only play one part.”
“If you know so much about it, why don’t you do it?” The Guide said.
“I intend on, but I need you with me, because like it or not, right now, you’re the face of this, and you need to be smart. You said it yourself: winning isn’t going to come from fighting. We need to use our brains.”
“Alright,” The Guide said, suppressing all anger he would have upon seeing The Moderator’s face. “How do we troll him?”
“We just don’t care,” Iris said. “We make him understand that we can’t be beat because we have no interest in anything he has to say…”
“I am letting them sweat while they wait,” The Moderator said, sitting cross-legged on the parking garage cement across from The Surfer.
“Why?” The Surfer asked, his voice raspy and weak. He’d lost definition in his face and his eyes were sunken and hidden by strands of hair which hung over his face.
“Power move,” The Moderator said. “Always leave them waiting, especially in moments of anxiety.”
“You’re evil.”
“This is just business,” The Moderator said. “So tell me about this Guide. Was he your first lieutenant?”
“He's a friend.”
“Then, surely you will be distraught when he dies.”
“Take me instead.”
The Moderator laughed so hard that his neck jerked almost painfully. He recovered quickly. “I find it interesting that you’re bargaining, as if you have something to bargain with. As if you have anything I even partially want.”
“I’m asking you as a human being.”
“That’s too bad, because I’m slightly above human Surfer. I’ve turned a billion people into puppets, so I’m going to go ahead and operate under the assumption that I’m not just one of you.” His words came out as almost disgusted when he said ‘you’ but he couldn’t contain it. The Surfer knew he really did see himself as a god—as a puppet master of the people. He would have given anything just to have the chance to take him down a peg, but it seemed The Moderator’s power had no limit and it was impossible to reason with him.
“Do you need me to beg?” The Surfer asked. “Is that what you’d like?”
“I’ll decide after I talk to The Guide. How’s that sound?”
The Surfer closed his eyes. The last thing he wanted was The Guide talking to Moderator. Though he thought highly of his friend, The Guide would likely lose his temper and threaten him. Then, it would be over. He watched The Moderator set up a screen, his eyelids fluttering as he navigated on-line. Then, he set a transmitter down, repositioned the screen so it was directed on his face, and hit ‘transmit’.
The world watched the broadcast.
“Good evening,” The Moderator said, addressing the cameras instead of his captives. “Tonight we will be discussing and determining the punishments that the terrorists known as Iris and The Guide deserve. As you all know, The Magician is heading the hunt to capture the terrorist known as The Troll, so I will be conducting tonight's interrogation. We will now begin.”
The Moderator turned to the screen and took a long look at Iris first. Her hair hung in front of her face as if to conceal her identity. “This is the infamous Iris. Tell me Iris: How do you feel about how your challenge played out?”
Iris wanted to scream, to give him a piece of mind, but she resisted and instead played the game they’d agreed they would play. “We did much better than I expected,” she said.
The Moderator was taken aback. He laughed to himself cleverly and leaned toward the screen. “Is getting caught so soon better than expected?”
“My candidate is still out there,” she said.
“But we have Rainbow,” he shot back.
“We didn’t have all our eggs in that basket,” Iris said, bluffing carelessly. To her side, The Guide’s eyes shifted toward her, slightly amused at what she was trying to do. “I think your downfall will be your confidence and belief that you've thought of everything,” Iris added.
“And what haven't I thought of?” he asked, calling her bluff.
She forcefully laughed. “I'd be stupid if I told you,” she said. “I may not live to see it, but you're downfall is coming.”
The Moderator paused, carefully controlling his movements and facial expressions. He turned to The Guide instead.
The Surfer leaned forward, searching his friend’s eyes for any hope that this wasn’t over. It made him sad to see The Guide so helpless.
“Guide,” The Moderator said. “Where did you come from?”
“I was chosen to watch over The Troll,” he said.
“Chosen by who?”
“The leader of the resistance,” he said.
“How big is the resistance?”
“
I couldn’t speak for other chapters, but we’re a few thousand strong in the Midwest.”
“Oh, please,” The Moderator said. “Give me a break. You speak as if you have organization and numbers, but there’s no evidence of this other than your words. With thousands in number, we surely would have seen an attack by now.”
“I don’t really need you to believe me,” The Guide said, maintaining all self control. “You’re asking questions and I’m answering.”
“This is also an interrogation in which your answers could mean the difference between life and death.”
The Guide laughed. The Moderator waited silently, but at his side, The Surfer watched in fascination, shocked that his friend was so calm and collected and clearly trying to scare the man.
“You shouldn’t insult me or the viewers,” The Guide said. “The world isn’t actually as dumb as you assume. I think we all know I’m going to die tomorrow. This is just foreplay for you.”
“I don’t enjoy this any more than you do.”
“Again…you’re insulting your audience. Of course you’re going to kill me. Iris and I have done far too much damage to this game. I understand it was supposed to be simple: You pretend Iris propose a game that you staged at Surfer’s trial. You pick a guy who loves Psi and offer him a spot in Chicago if he transmits and betrays the mission, but he never does. Instead, he joins the resistance and kidnaps The Acrobat and brings down a helicopter operated by The Pilot. We spared his life because we’re not killers, but I don’t blame you for being embarrassed about how things turned out. From your vantage point, killing us before this goes any further makes sense. I’m not even going to try to make a case for myself. But most importantly, when you kill us, and when you killed everyone else, you enjoyed it immensely. You can't even fake sadness well when you talk about how you murdered your daughter and wife.”
The Moderator's jaw was down. He couldn't understand how The Guide had learned so much, but he'd also mixed it with false statements. He'd said so much that The Moderator didn't even know where to begin in defending himself. This case would need some major PR later, but all he could do was try to turn the conversation another way.
Iris couldn’t help but smile and from off the camera, The Surfer watched proudly as well. The Moderator was at a loss for words. His neck twitched and he gathered his composure. “I don’t even know what you are talking about,” he said simply. “There was no downed chopper. I never spoke to Iris in my life. I’ve always been a man of my word and I’ve proved that time and time again, and I grieved plenty over my family. You don't know what I've been through.”
“I'm not sure you're allowed to grieve over people that you yourself needlessly killed,” The Guide said.
The Guide understood why they were doing what they were doing. The Moderator was on the defense, a position he wasn’t used to. Even if people believed him, somehow the conversation was making him look like a fool. He was backed into a corner.
“That’s okay,” Iris said, interjecting again. “We would say the same thing if we were you. We don’t want innocent people to die, so we are willing to retract our claims if it will save those you intend to murder in the morning.”
“Please…” The Moderator said, growing frustrated. “I am punishing the actions of The Troll. Please don’t twist my intentions into such a negative light.”
“I apologize,” Iris said. “I didn’t mean to imply that ending the lives of random innocent people was murder. You are right.”
The Moderator opened his mouth and closed it again, suddenly aware of what they were doing and eager to end the broadcast. “I see we are not taking this seriously,” he said.
“A day from now, we won’t be alive,” The Guide said. “What would we find important enough to take seriously? If anything, Iris and I were enjoying our conversation until this broadcast. You're wasting the only time we have left on unimportant things.”
“Then let’s get down to business,” The Moderator said. “Because I'm a man of compassion, I will allow you to choose the death you would like.”
“You say you’re a man of your word?” The Guide said.
“I am.”
“I choose a murder suicide by your hands,” The Guide said, smiling cleverly.
“I see,” The Moderator said, nodding thoughtfully as Iris tried not to laugh. The Surfer was on his feet, aware they’d somehow verbally beaten The Moderator at his own game. “Then I will allow your captors to choose for you.” He turned to the camera and addressed the audience with a smile. “Thank you for tuning in,” he said. His voice shook unexpectedly before he ended the broadcast.
“He didn’t recognize you,” The Guide said, quietly.
“I told you he wouldn’t.”
“Are you angry about that?”
“Leaving me to die along with millions of people is why I’m angry,” Iris said.
“Right…”
“It went well,” Iris said.
“It was fun. I’ll give you that. But in the end, it won’t change anything.”
“Maybe not, but I like to think that we just exposed a piece of him tonight, that all over the world, people are reminded that he’s an evil man. When we die tomorrow, we can die knowing that maybe we helped jump-start the revolution. It's not much, but we have to assume that we've set something in motion.”
The Guide nodded with a smile. He watched clouds cover the sky and began to shake as he became suddenly aware of how cold he was.
“The Surfer is very proud of you,” Iris said.
“He’ll be disappointed at the outcome of all this, but it’s no one’s fault. This was always uphill. I’m happy I got to fight the good fight and not be killed hiding or running. We faced this. That’s going to have to be good enough.”
Iris watched the remainder of the sun disappear in the distance. The shape of the bridge began to fade in the dark and the only sound they could hear was the Mississippi in the distance. They’d gotten so close to a waterway. It didn’t feel like it should be over yet. “I wish I could see you right now,” Iris said.
“Me too,” The Guide said softly.
Chapter 4
The Troll had about three days of catching up to do to make it to The Guide and Iris. Luckily, The Acrobat and the powers that be at Circular Prime had plenty of luxuries squirreled away to make life easier for themselves.
The Troll had seen each bounty hunter carry a hand-held computer for tracking and communicating. Not long after The Troll and Acrobat set out, The Acrobat retrieved his own device and displayed a map which had small red dots all over the state, each one representing a hidden mode of transportation. The Troll’s mind spun. He always knew things like this existed, but to see proof…he wondered if he could have actually gotten somewhere with Rainbow if only he had this knowledge before. There were certainly a lot more modes of transportation than he expected. A quick glance at The Acrobat's map opened a lot of other questions up. There were all kinds of icons and colored areas on the map. It seemed the geography of the land had a few secrets.
There was a bus and a compact car in the vicinity, but they walked an extra five miles so they could grab a couple mopeds. The Acrobat insisted they draw as little attention to themselves as possible, and wanted to stay off the main roads. Another setback occurred when The Acrobat realized The Troll had no idea how to work an automobile and spent the next hour teaching him how to drive, and another two, stopping constantly along the way as the moped kept tipping over. By the time darkness started to fall, The Troll had a rhythm and was driving along the prairie, the wind in his hair as he kicked up dirt behind. With nothing but time to think and drive, he couldn’t help but smile. He was free of the cell, still alive, and driving—which he’d only heard about as a thing of the past.
The Acrobat led the way and The Troll followed, daring himself to trust that The Acrobat wasn’t just going to turn him in. Somewhere along the way, there seemed to grow a mutual respect between them. Maybe it was that he spared Th
e Acrobat’s life, or that they spent days in a cell together, that The Troll released him, or maybe The Acrobat didn’t truly respect The Moderator—that it was a long time coming for him to finally stand up.
But if The Acrobat was anti-Psi…then anyone could be. The Troll allowed himself to rethink Psi again but came up with nothing more than his creed not to fight battles that you can’t win and to try to get through life without falling victim of corruption, whether it was The Moderator or in the time before him. The same problems and fears always existed and most of the world tried to navigate around those issues and turn a blind eye when their neighbor fell victim to them. It was normal to want to live, be happy, to simply not fall victim. People like The Surfer were a rarity. The unique individual who didn’t fear death or give up when the odds were against them. For The Surfer, it was about principle first and his own life second. The Troll could never accept that creed. The alternative was his own. But what had once seemed impossible had taken The Troll further than he expected and forced him to do things he never thought possible.
The Acrobat’s moped skidded to a halt and a cloud of dust puffed up in front of The Troll. He halted abruptly and the moped jumped a little as it came to a stop. He turned to The Acrobat to see why they were stopping and saw he was facing to the left.
“We have time,” The Acrobat said. “I want to check something out.”
Half an hour later, they pulled into a small town and The Acrobat led The Troll on back roads until they were outside of the town where the land was outstretched for miles of nothingness. It was one large plain, except for a giant circus tent. The Troll stared at the Acrobat as he slowly climbed off the moped, hypnotized by the tent. He walked slowly toward it, without any concern as to whether or not The Troll followed, but he did.
The smell of burnt tires lingered in the air and as they got closer to the tent, The Troll could taste it in his mouth. He followed The Acrobat into what was once presumably a very meaningful place to him. It didn’t look like much to The Troll’s eyes though. He could only imagine the colors that were once displayed throughout the arena and the smell of popcorn and cotton candy. It was now covered in dirt and dust and everything was tossed on its side or pushed into a corner haphazardly.