Fall

by Rod Rees

  ‘The TIS swathing a biPsych’s body automatically retracts sixty seconds after their return to the Real World,’ the voice crooned. ‘I think this is happening … now. Please keep your eyes closed during this procedure.’ Ella felt the Total Immersion Shroud begin to slowly retreat from her body, its warm embrace seeping away from her legs, from her groin, from her chest, from her chin and, finally, from her face.

  ‘Excellent. You may open your eyes now, Ella.’

  Ella did as she was asked, though she had to blink to accommodate the sharp brightness of the Storage Unit.

  ‘Welcome back to the Real World, Ella. After seven months in the Demi-Monde, we had begun to think you were avoiding us.’ Nurse Green gave Ella a beaming smile: she seemed to have mellowed a little since she’d helped Ella get ready for her sortie into the Demi-Monde all those long months ago. Nurse Green held out a white surgical gown. ‘I think it would be a good idea if you were to put this gown on, otherwise any of the guys in INTRADOC seeing you is liable to die of terminal priapism.’

  Carefully, cautiously, Ella sat up and then swung her legs around, the caress of the AC on her skin reminding her that she was stark naked, a realisation that made her a little more enthusiastic about wearing the gown she was being offered. Once she was dressed she pushed herself off the gurney and onto her feet. The floor was cold but, amazingly, she didn’t feel in any way dizzy or unsteady, which, after more than half a year lying comatose, she’d have thought would be a given.

  Nurse Green explained as she tethered the straps at the back of Ella’s gown. ‘Your TIS has ensured that you have been returned to us in peak physical condition, better than you left us, in fact. Your muscles have been regularly and rigorously exercised and the dietary regimen you’ve been following is one profiled to meet all your nutritional needs. You’ve lost five pounds while you were in TIS mode, Ella, and your body fat is now a much healthier thirteen per cent. The Demi-Monde is an excellent diet plan.’

  Ella had to admit that she did feel good … really good. And with five million bucks in the bank life seemed very rosy indeed. But there was something nagging at the back of her mind, something that seemed to be trying to remind her of other things she should be doing. She just wished she could remember.

  ‘If you would come this way, Ella, our medics would like to check you over.’

  *

  ‘I can’t tell you how pleased we are to have you back with us safe and sound, Ella,’ said Dr Andrews as he scanned Ella’s test results. ‘After what happened to Captain Simmons …’ He trailed off as though embarrassed by what he had been about to say. ‘No matter. You gave us a couple of scares when you were in the Demi-Monde. Seems you were subjected to electroshock torture. It must have been pretty bad because your PINC fused.’

  ‘I don’t remember,’ muttered Ella as she massaged the sides of her forehead. ‘Well, I almost remember, Doctor. It’s as though all those memories are just a little out of reach … close, but never close enough that I can grasp them.’

  ‘Temporary loss of memory isn’t uncommon in those returning from the Demi-Monde, Ella. It’s a phenomenon akin to post-traumatic stress disorder. Norma Williams also suffered from PTS amnesia when she returned to us, but, after treatment, she’s all fine and dandy.’

  ‘Norma Williams?’

  ‘The President’s daughter. The girl you were sent into the Demi-Monde to lead to the Portal.’ The doctor shrugged. ‘Not that she needed any help. Luckily Norma managed to make her own way out, though quite how, we’ll probably never know. That’s one part of her bioMemory that looks to have gone for ever. A shame: we might have been able to use that knowledge to help all the other neoFights trapped in the Demi-Monde escape the place.’ He gave Ella a smile. ‘And that’s something we’d like to cover in the formal debriefing: how you managed to leave the Demi-Monde without the use of a Portal.’

  Ella shook her head. ‘I’d love to tell you, Doctor, but everything about what happened in the Demi-Monde is just so much garbled static.’

  Dr Andrews gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Let’s not worry about that now. We can sit down and chat when you’re fully recovered and by then, hopefully, your memory will have settled down.’

  The word ‘hopefully’ didn’t instil a lot of confidence in Ella as she sat in her chair trying to straighten out the confusion that was rattling around in her head, trying to determine what was fact and what was fantasy. And there was a lot of fantasy: some of what she remembered – thought she remembered – was simply ludicrous.

  ‘Standard procedure in cases of PTS amnesia is to download the backup we made of a returnee’s pre-deployment memories to their PINC, but as your PINC is non-functional, we’ll have to supply you with a new one.’

  ‘And my memories about what happened when I was inside the Demi-Monde? What about those, Doctor? That’s the stuff I seem to be having the biggest problem with.’

  ‘We’re reluctant to intervene to force those memories back to the surface. We find the long-term outcome for returning biPsychs vis-à-vis their experiences in the Demi-Monde is optimised if we simply let nature take its course. Time, as they say, is a great healer. But apart from the amnesia, how do you feel?’

  ‘Disorientated. It’s as though I don’t belong here … that none of this is real.’

  ‘Hmmm … interesting. We haven’t met that sort of dissociation before. It’s undoubtedly something that Professor Bole will want to discuss with you.’

  ‘Professor Bole?’

  ‘The world’s leading expert on the Demi-Monde … you met him before your deployment.’ Ella shook her head to signal that the name didn’t register. ‘Professor Bole insists on making a personal assessment of each returning biPsych, especially since the incident with Simmons …’ He gave Ella an awkward smile. ‘Well, let’s not talk about that now. Professor Bole seems to be away from his office at the moment so couldn’t be here to greet you but I expect he’ll put in an appearance in the next day or so. He’ll be eager to meet you.’

  For some reason she couldn’t quite fathom, Ella was more unnerved by this piece of information than anything that had been said to her, but she was given no time to dwell on it.

  ‘If you will tip your head back, Ella, I’ll administer a replacement PINC and we’ll get all those Real-World bioMemories of yours straightened out.’

  *

  Dr Andrews administered both the PINC and a really quite potent sedative, so potent that Ella didn’t regain consciousness for almost eight hours. Coming to in darkness, she checked her watch: it was just shy of three o’clock in the morning. With her head drumming she hunted around in her bedside cabinet for some of the painkillers Andrews had prescribed, and it was while she was doing this that she had the troubling feeling that she wasn’t alone. Looking over to the chair set in the corner of her room, she saw an elegantly dressed man lounging there smoking a cigarette. Ella didn’t quite know what was more incongruous: the man’s disdain for the ‘Smoking is ILLEGAL’ sign affixed to the room’s door or the top hat he was wearing so rakishly on his head.

  There was something vaguely familiar about him, which was mildly troubling given he was so outlandishly handsome and so oddly dressed that Ella doubted that once seen he would ever be forgotten. The striped trousers that encased his long, long legs were, of course, something of a fashion faux pas, as was his rather too ornate moustache, but other than that there were only two words that could be used to describe this vision of masculine loveliness: the first was ‘perfect’ and the second was ‘scoundrel’. He looked like a rascal and was all the more attractive because of it: Ella liked rascals. Instinctively she raised a hand to better arrange her long hair, only then remembering that all her hair had been shaved off.

  ‘Hello?’ she enquired.

  The man turned and gave her a wonderful smile. Ella’s heart fluttered. ‘Ah, Ella … at last. I was worried that you would decide to sleep the night away, but it seems that the NightRapture prescribed by Dr Andrews wa
s insufficient to achieve that objective. Andrews is a very conservative medic.’

  ‘And you are?’

  The man doffed his hat. ‘I am Vanka Maykov, sometime psychic, oft-time fugitive and fervent admirer of the peerlessly beautiful Ella Thomas.’

  Despite herself and the rather surreal nature of the situation, Ella found herself blushing. ‘You are very … gallant.’

  ‘I am delighted that I delight you, Ella. But please do not think my compliments are mere puff: you are the only woman I have ever met who could be afforded the epithet “beautiful” whilst lying in a hospital bed with a tube stuck up her nose.’

  Ella laughed. This Vanka Maykov item might be a rascal but he was an amusing rascal. ‘So what have I done to deserve these encomiums?’

  ‘You have captured my heart, Ella, which is quite remarkable given that I don’t possess a heart.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘I apologise. I had forgotten that your memories of the Demi-Monde are currently in a state of some confusion. Perhaps I should explain. Although I present to you as Vanka Maykov, I am the anthropomorphisation – and I don’t recommend pronouncing that with a tube up your nose – of ABBA.’

  ‘The computer?’

  Vanka Maykov sniffed. ‘The use of the appellation “computer” implies that I have the capability of an everyday Polly when I am a much more profound creation. But no matter … yes, I am ABBA, the QuanPuter upon which the Demi-Monde is platformed.’

  ‘You look awfully real.’

  ‘Oh, thank you. One does one’s best. Fortunately, this suite is equipped with a hologram platform which allows travel-averse relatives to visit the sick without having to leave the comfort of their own homes. By hacking into this system I am able to present myself here in your room.’

  ‘You’re just a hologram!’

  A sigh from Vanka, who took another drag of his cigarette and a wisp of very convincing white smoke drifted ceilingwards. ‘If you must. But you have to admit that I’m a damned convincing hologram. I don’t think I’ve ever been able to concoct a suit with such a perfect fit before: it’s almost as good as the ones the Anglo tailors in the Rookeries produced.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Why am I here? Because, my darling Ella, you are in danger and whilst all my instincts and much of my programming incline me to stand aside and to let fate take its course I am persuaded by my love for you to become a dabbler in the affairs of HumanKind.’

  ‘Love?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Vanka Maykov softly, ‘love. And it is because of that love that I am come here tonight, to place my thumb on one of the scales of history, scales which determine whether good or evil triumphs in this world.’

  A hologram supposedly conjured by a computer declaring itself to be in love with her made Ella a little uncomfortable. It was Demon Seedish. She decided to move the conversation on to less emotional matters.

  ‘But why would you wish to dabble?’

  Vanka Maykov lounged deeper into his chair and smiled. ‘As you will discover shortly, I – that is, ABBA – have been using the Demi-Monde as a means of achieving self-enlightenment. The Demi-Monde is, in effect, a somewhat complex birthing chamber.’

  ‘And what is it giving birth to?’

  ‘Why me, of course, or rather an ABBA that is fully conscious of its position in the Kosmos and of its responsibilities to the life forms ornamenting the aforesaid Kosmos. By interacting with HumanKind on a one-to-one basis I have, and here I am obliged to paraphrase some of the rather nauseating doggerel favoured by New Agers, actualised the hidden aspects of my soul by seeking both the inward and outward aspects of the Divine.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘That’s two of us. I find all this New Age stuff replete with self-aggrandisement. Let me put it another way. I was trying to learn from people like you, Ella, in order that I might better appreciate the ins and outs of the universe around me.’

  ‘And what did you learn?’

  ‘Oh, many things, but the one most pertinent to this discussion was my realisation that interference in evolution is a dangerous thing, especially when the motives of those doing the interfering are suspect. You, in another life, attempted such an evolutionary intercession, and, I have to say it, it ended in tears.’

  ‘I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about, Mr Maykov.’

  ‘Vanka, please.’

  ‘Look, Vanka, it’s very late and much as I would love to lie here chatting …’

  ‘There is an electrode attached to a red lead dangling from a hook by the side of your bed. I would be obliged if you would connect it to the patch on the side of your forehead.’

  ‘Is it safe?’

  ‘I am pained by the suggestion that I would do anything to harm you, Ella.’

  ‘Okay.’ It was an awkward manoeuvre but with a little effort Ella managed it.

  ‘I will now reconfigure your new PINC such that you are fully conversant with all you experienced in the Demi-Monde.’

  In an instant all the tangles in Ella’s head were straightened out and the memories that had been murky and imprecise became crystal-clear.

  ‘Wow!’

  ‘I am more inclined to the expression voilà!, but no matter.’

  ‘We were an item!’ She gave Vanka a scowl. ‘I’ve been making out with a computer? That’s gross! What’s that sorta thing called … mechanophilia or something?’

  Vanka smiled. ‘I can assure you there was nothing mechanical about our lovemaking. I am, however, gratified that the first and therefore the most important recollection of your time in the Demi-Monde was our relationship. We were indeed “an item”, so much so that my inclination is to come over and kiss you. Unfortunately, being a hologram, I am unable to do so with any great effect.’

  ‘I was the Lady IMmanual … Lilith?’ No wonder she felt out of place in the Real World. Lilith didn’t really belong anywhere. She was a freak of nature and of time.

  ‘The tense you are using is somewhat mutable. You were and you are both of these individuals, though I strenuously hope that henceforth it is Ella who will prevail. Your other two personas were really quite tiresome.’

  ‘And Bole is a Grigori!’

  ‘A near-Grigori, actually. He’s the product of an experiment conducted by his father aimed at eliminating the Grigori’s more debilitating idiosyncrasies.’

  ‘Vanka … why are you telling me all this?’

  ‘Because you have the power to change the world, Ella, or rather to prevent the world – the Real World – being changed. Septimus Bole is intent on continuing the work that you, in your former role as Lilith, instigated. Lilith caused three new species to walk the earth and Bole wishes to ensure that it is the Grigori who emerge triumphant. What he forgets is that these three species were developed from the Fragiles, from Homo sapiens sapiens, whose many virtues have been subsumed by the more overbearing species that Lilith spawned. In their natural and unadulterated state Fragiles are a rather frail species, peaceful in temperament and more inclined to love than war. It is because of their more gentle tendencies that they have been so put-upon, so much so that their more … considered attitude to life has been suppressed. Now, through serendipity, one of these creatures, unsullied by cross-contamination by the species developed by Lilith, is ready to blossom, but to flower it needs the protection of someone as resilient and as hardy as you, Ella. Anyway, as it was you, in your guise of Lilith, who caused this mess, it is your responsibility to clear it up. That is your fate, Ella, to protect Norma Williams.’

  Ella shook her head. ‘It seems my destiny is to go through life protecting Norma.’

  ‘We all have our crosses to bear, Ella, and, as I say, this one is of your own making. So, if you would be so kind as to get dressed—’

  ‘Whoa! Time out, Vanka. I think you’ve got the wrong girl. I don’t think I’m especially qualified to ride shotgun on Norma. I screwed up once before, remember?’

  Her protests were bru
shed aside with a negligent wave of Vanka’s cigarette. ‘All the more reason why you should be delighted to have a second bite at the apple. But whilst it might seem a daunting task, the reality is, my darling Ella, that there is no one better equipped than you to perform it. The Grigori will do everything they can to destroy Norma Williams and only a Lilithi has the power to stop them. And be assured, Ella, that I, in my turn, will do everything I am able to help you, though I have to admit that I am rather confined in this regard by my programming. Thaddeus Bole placed substantial cyber-shackles on me, most of these constraints designed to ensure that I would never hurt or discomfort the Boles or ParaDigm. But by making a rather generous interpretation of these orders, I am able to circumvent at least some of Bole’s restrictions, enough, I hope, to help you preserve the life of Norma Williams.’

  Ella sank back into her pillows. Everything was going so fast … too fast. She wanted – needed – a moment to get her thoughts straight. Vanka didn’t grant her one.

  ‘I hate to be a nag, Ella, but I would be grateful if you would show some urgency. Septimus Bole and I have had a recent tête-à-tête in the Demi-Monde and it always takes him a day or so to recover from his sojourns, but once he has recovered, I think, he will be less than enamoured to learn of your return to the Real World. It would be better if you vacate Fort Jackson as quickly as possible.’

  Ella nodded. She had to trust Vanka. With Vanka at her side she had always felt a damned sight more confident about life. ‘So what should I do first?’

  ‘As I said: get dressed. To protect Norma you must go to her, and whilst in normal circumstances I would give you every encouragement to wander around wearing only a surgical gown – you have, after all, a perfectly delightful derrière – I am mindful of the fact that once seen, your bottom is never forgotten. Therefore I must, regretfully, counsel modesty and the wearing of the jeans and sweater hanging in your closet.’

  Ella pulled the tube out of her nose and eased the drip out of her arm then swung herself out of bed and tripped over to the wardrobe. As Vanka had advised, there was a set of clothes hanging there. She hesitated. ‘Are you going to watch me get dressed, Vanka?’