“What the hell are they using?” Perdue eyed the aircars overhead, following no visible path and sticking to no particular level.
“Newer technology,” Widget said. “Classes here are divided by levels. The poorest at the bottom.” He took his eyes off the sky and returned his attention to the matter at hand. “Relax, I got this.” Widget touched the truck and the tires, and—responding to his thoughts—the undercarriage morphed to be more accommodating to Maglev technology. Purnell supposed Robin Wakefield as much as POSTAL was responsible for Widget pulling off the magic trick. If the team hadn’t observed her doing similarly impossible power-of-mind moves, Robes-Pierre would never have thought to tweak POSTAL accordingly.
Before they could hop back in their vehicles, numerous commuters glided by using their maglev suits as a form of transport; no car necessary. They seemed to be enjoying the light show of the stars overhead and the city in the distance, decompressing on their way home from work on their daily commute, perhaps. Others were zoned out to the virtual screens of their PDAs.
Purnell noticed the crowds picnicking on the faux grass were zoned out to Saturn’s rings. Widget explained, “Don’t mind them. They use Transcendental Meditation and a group-mind-field energy to repel the Saturnian telepaths. They’re not half as drugged out as they look.”
“Their fear is held in check by a very fragile casing, from the looks of it,” Perdue said.
“Who are we to judge?” Purnell ruefully ogled the TMers. “After one night here, we might be joining them.”
“True that.” Perdue clambered back in the SWAT vehicle. He rode shotgun, and let Purnell do the driving.
***
When Perdue climbed out of the SWAT truck, he noticed an aurora borealis effect overhead, only more spectacular. “What the hell?”
“The upper atmosphere on Saturn really whips,” Widget explained. “Back in our time, Voyager on flyby clocked it at eighteen hundred kilometers per hour at the equator.”
“It’s a wonder they bother with drugs.” Perdue, finished indulging himself, said, “Lead on, Widget.”
Widget, using the multiplexer currently configured as a man-tracker, followed the beeps toward Fabio.
Eying Widget’s display, Purnell asked, “And we know that’s him because—?”
“The drug he’s imbibing is nano-infested,” Widget explained. “Allows me to get inside his head; since the nano is part of the citywide grid. Those are very early twenty-first century nightmares keeping out the bigger badder modern-day ones. Though, quite frankly, I could track him just on his adrenaline surges. He’s the most scared of the lot.”
“Great,” Perdue growled. “The kid’s probably already a basket case.”
“The perennial optimist. Have a little faith,” Purnell suggested.
Perdue made a sweeping motion that convinced Purnell he’d just cut his head off, only he hadn’t had time die yet, perhaps giving him one last chance to get in one more dig. As it turned out, Perdue had saved him from being devoured by an airborne ghoul with a mouth lined with shark-like teeth. When he had swung his hand into place, he beamed a death ray at the monster from the palm of his hand. “You were saying?”
“They call those Soul-Eaters,” Widget explained, after switching displays on his multiplexer yet again to get the highlights on the creature. “Some of the folks who download themselves here get so carried away with gobbling up the treats for the senses that after a while, that’s all that’s left of their psyches—pure hunger.”
“I hope you’re not planning on retiring anytime soon, boys,” Perdue said. “Appears to be no shortage of work for us.”
The men laughed. Though, from the tenor of the laughter, Purnell judged they were suppressing a hunger all their own—to get the hell out of here.
***
The stoner district didn’t exactly limit itself to any one drug of choice. Along with the other stimulants, Purnell spied the femme fatales dotting the doorways. They stood in the glow of porch lights, emanating a life-force intensity that threatened to consume the SWAT team members’ souls if they dared stand any closer to the fires. Purnell realized, he and the boys were meant to be the moths dancing before those flames.
Perdue held his men in check as catcalls rang out, along with lewd whistles. “Easy, guys.”
“I strongly suggest looking away before we lose our minds,” Purnell said.
“Yeah.” Perdue flicked his cigarette. “In fact, I bloody well insist on it.” Perdue’s predatory instincts likely alerted him to the ruse being played. The girls had more than their share of hypnotic allure for a reason—namely, turning their minds to mush. It was more a form of attack than seduction. Perdue was already lowering his rifle to communicate how he felt about the ambush. The girls got the point; the porch lights started flickering out.
“This is our guy,” Widget said. His sensor beeped like a track star’s racing heart as he tore through the finish line.
Fabio was tethered by a dog collar at the end of a chain leash that trailed its way to a beautiful woman, the most dazzling of the lot. He cowered at her feet in his role as dog, shivered from fear, and perhaps too much obedience training.
“We’re here for lover boy,” Perdue said dryly.
“Sorry, no can do,” she rebuffed.
“Let me explain myself better,” Perdue said. He aimed his automatic rifle at her heart.
She laughed to communicate condescension more than surprise. “You can’t kill avatars with bullets, you bozos. You can only take them out by fucking with the minds of those wielding the avatars. And no one does that better than the Saturnians. So spare me your idle-threats.”
Perdue glanced down at “the dog.” “I get it now. That’s why he’s shaking. He’s your protector. He keeps the Saturnians at bay for you. Let’s see how cool you play it without your guard dog.” He ripped Fabio away from her, held him up by the chain in one arm. Fabio fought feebly against Perdue’s grip, unwilling to surrender his role as her protector.
Purnell thought he saw the crack in Film Noir Chick’s façade as she was forced to relinquish her hold on Fabio. “Take him,” she said. “He’s all used up, anyway. I’ll find a better champion. I always do.” She laughed callously. “You’ll need more than him to survive the night.”
Perdue dragged Fabio back toward the truck. The rest of the men provided cover, their rifles aimed rather impotently at anything in shooting range. The alien lifeforms they passed that were meant to be sexually alluring to a different kind of customer were ominous in the extreme. Their mere presence suggested other sentient entities were downloading themselves through the energy grid of the floating city to partake of the game of life, while their own agendas, not to mention their zip codes, remained hidden. There were possibly humans behind some of those avatars; but not all of them.
“Can you get a line on where these aliens originate?” Perdue said. “In case we have more than the Saturnians to worry about, I want to know whose door to go knocking down the instant one of them tries something. Assuming Robin Wakefield hasn’t revoked our teleportation rights.”
“On it,” Widget said. He played with his multiplexer, attuned it to a different frequency.
They were getting mobbed. The locals reached out to them to touch any surface of their bodies they could get their hands on. “What do they want?” Go Long said, beating one off with the butt of his rifle.
“Like Christ, walking among the poor,” Purnell explained. “They just want to touch the sane men in hopes some of it’ll rub off on them.”
“Get in the truck now!” Perdue shouted.
The instant they were secured in the SWAT truck, they put the vehicle in gear, drove it over bodies, bones crunching beneath their wheels. The owners cried out, only to get up again. Apparently, zombies and avatars have some things in common, Purnell thought, looking out the rear port windows.
“If these are just avatars, you’d think the ones wielding them would pull them back before it came to this,” Perdue s
aid.
“For all we know, the monsters they’re fighting on Earth in this day and age are no less real.” Purnell’s eyes remained glued to the rear viewport of the SWAT truck. “Besides, lacking the necessary distance on an avatar I imagine is no different than lacking a proper perspective on our real selves.” He meant that last part as a dig, though he doubted Perdue would rise to the bait; he didn’t.
Robes Pierre had Fabio plugged into POSTAL before the truck was even rolling. He strapped him in until the game could exercise its influence.
“You think POSTAL’ll be enough to bring him back on line?” Perdue asked.
“Hell, yes,” Robes Pierre said in his customary over-excited manner. “Better yet, it’ll allow us to study the enemies’ attack strategies, and expose the holes in human psychology that need shoring up.”
“Good thing none of us sleep without it,” Perdue said, relaxing.
“What makes you think it’ll be enough?” Purnell said, grabbing his arm.
“Because Robin Wakefield’s right. The truth is: we’re not men; we’re gods. All we need to do is stop believing the lies to the contrary. Just because she’s beating us at our own game, doesn’t mean I’ve lost sight of where we’re headed.”
“Why is it I don’t find that answer particularly comforting?” Purnell snipped.
Perdue smiled gamely. “If you did, I’d start to worry.” He turned his back on Purnell and found a cubby hole to crawl into for some shuteye.
“It’s a brave new world,” Purnell said. “And you just want to tune it out?”
Perdue shook his head. “What do you expect to find, Purnell, but worse examples of human nature? Given that evil has had another hundred years to perfect its tradecraft. Even more glittering lights and dazzling wonders to distract you from the truth long enough for that evil to take hold of you? You’ll forgive me if I’m content to rest up for another round of that.”
The rest of the men responded before Purnell did, the logic appealing to them. They went from staring out the eyelet windows in back of the truck, to collapsing where they were and sleeping balled up like pill bugs.
“I hope you’re all just resting your eyes. Leastways, until Robes Pierre can finish upgrading POSTAL. Considering Saturn only truly comes alive in your dreams.” It wasn’t much of a last word, but it was something. He was still stinging from losing the last round to Perdue, who, he hated to admit, had found the logical high-ground, if not the spiritual one, ahead of him.
***
They awoke the next morning to find the SWAT truck stalled in a meadow, surrounded by Transcendental Meditation practitioners working their group mind effect.
“What the hell?” Perdue exclaimed, looking out the eyelet in back of the SWAT vehicle.
Purnell explained, “They probably picked up on our amped up defenses against the Saturnians, courtesy of POSTAL, and tried to link with it psychically. As to why we’re here, I’m guessing Go Long had no desire to fall asleep, until he did—at the wheel.”
Fabio whistled, as he happily fried up eggs for everyone in the porta-kitchen he’d erected out of one of the tote bags, replete with Bunsen burner.
“Who’s for powdered eggs?” Fabio said. “Honestly it’s the best stuff I’ve ever tasted.”
“And what’s with him?” Perdue asked.
“If you were looking for the one question that would finally stump me,” Purnell said, “you just found it.”
“The Saturnians are dead.” Fabio served up some eggs in a tin cup to Chew Toy, who sniffed it and changed his expression from a grimace to one a good deal more approving. “POSTAL shut down REM sleep. No one dreamed last night, or maybe you haven’t noticed not recalling any dreams?” He paused for them to fact check their own minds.
“Not only did POSTAL starve them of our dreams, but of everyone else’s on the planet.” Fabio poured eggs into a shot glass and handed it to Perdue, who was growing rapidly annoyed with his ploys to build suspense. He was never one for drama when the plain facts would do. “POSTAL tapped the grid to insinuate itself into everyone’s heads. Then it used the telepathic link the Saturnians had to one another to shut down their dreaming, so they couldn’t feed on each other, as they had for generations before we arrived.” He was so excited at this point he held out Purnell’s hand, and scooped the eggs into his cupped palm, forgetting about the implications. Purnell gulped the eggs as much to stop his hands from burning as to help steady him from the shock of the revelation.
“Fucking genius!” Fabio exclaimed. He sounded like a kid who’d lost the science contest but still couldn’t help marveling at the competition. “I tell you, I’m the happiest, most well-adjusted, mass murderer of alien lifeforms that ever lived. Though I don’t deserve much of the credit, just knowing I played my part, I feel positively invincible.”
Purnell folded. From his place on the floor, he said, “So what you’re saying is we wiped out an indigenous lifeform, the first one we encountered in our forays across the universe. How human of us.”
Purnell glanced around the truck and noticed everyone else seemed even more enervated. “I’m the only bleeding heart around here. What’s got the rest of you in a snit?”
Perdue squeezed Chew Toy’s shoulder. “Sorry, kid. I was looking forward to you taking the lead on this one, too. Who’d have thought POSTAL would have stolen our thunder?”
“I’m over it.” Chew Toy’s tone belied his words. “Where we’re headed, someone who can readily walk between worlds will have more than his fair chance to take point.”
Perdue nodded. It was the best “Atta boy!” his man-of-few-words disposition afforded him.
“And you, Perdue?” Purnell goaded. “Glum because you didn’t get to kick some ass the old-fashioned way?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Perdue ran his hand through his hair to stimulate circulation to his head to help with his thinking. “But a careful assessment of the situation promises many happy tomorrows.”
Purnell: “What do you mean by that?”
“Dude, even I figured it out,” Fabio interjected. “My time machine, which I’d all but forgotten, incidentally, given that one uses avatars in this timeline which can readily be downloaded anywhere in the universe where there’s a smart grid… is once again the star of the show.”
Purnell bounced his eyes between Fabio and Perdue, pissed they were sharing a joke and not letting the rest of them in on it.
Perdue just smiled. “The kid’s smarter than he looks.”
“Yeah, a geek that gets the big picture before I do, go figure?” Purnell said. “Anyone ready to let the other shoe fall?”
“Dude, we just relieved enough psychic stress in this one timeline alone to accelerate evolution, hell, nearly as fast as another Singularity burst, like the one that got this timeline to where it is now in the first place.” Fabio waited for the light to go on in Purnell’s head. When it didn’t, he continued. “If we keep hopping timelines with my machine, doing what we did here, it’ll be like excising a tumor in the Godhead. It’ll be just a matter of time before the effects in one or more timelines start bleeding over into the others, compounding the effect further.”
“Shit,” Purnell said. “You did all this thinking on your own, Perdue? Without my help? People will say you’ve traded in playing soldier for playing prophet.”
Perdue smirked. “When it comes to spotting opportunity to do more killing and up my game at the same time, I don’t want you to think you have anything on me. You can walk around with a swelled head when it comes to everything else all you want.”
Perdue squeezed Fabio’s shoulder in his fatherly way. “You think you can tweak that time machine of yours to find the places of greatest psychic stress in this universe, and however many others? The timelines with billions of souls, or more, chomping at the bit?”
“Yep.” Fabio’s resolute response was the straw on the camel’s back that broke Purnell’s resistance.
Even so, evidently a sense of hopelessness
did not deter him from lashing out. “Ah, guys, lest I remind you, the path to hell is paved with good intentions. What makes you think those psychic stress knots in the various timelines aren’t there for a reason? I seem to recall Einstein’s words here: ‘God does not play with dice.’ Hence, we must assume that relieving pressure at these pressure points may do more to set back evolution than push it forward.”
“You just keep playing devil’s advocate.” Perdue strapped on his various killing implements, presumably because it was another calming, centering ritual that cleared his mind of cobwebs, adding to his sense of certainty. “I’d be lost without all your whining.”
The other men laughed at Purnell’s expense. “I tell you what,” Purnell said. “You want me to play along, you promise me we’ll revisit those we ‘rescued’—see if your goal to advance us petty humans is going to plan, or if you’re actually a bigger scourge to humanity.”
Perdue sported a pensive expression. “I can do that. No reason we can’t take time out to appreciate our handiwork.”
Purnell snorted.
Perdue stuck his face up to one of the eyelets. “Why are those TMers still out there?”
“It’ll take them a while to relax out of their fears and start trusting their senses again,” Purnell explained. “Sort of like me.”
***
Zhang Wei, Robin Wakefield’s alter ego on Saturn, allowed himself to be carried along by the celebrating throng. The festive atmosphere following the demise of the Saturnians had the ring of Rio de Janeiro in the weeks before Lent. The many alien lifeforms represented, some avatars standing in for humans, others, for the aliens they resembled, added to the costumed flavor of a true carnival.
Zhang Wei found an island in the stream of moving bodies, where the space opened and the din receded. He morphed into Robin Wakefield. “What have you done, Robin?”
The dead Saturnians drifted overhead. The noxious gases of Saturn, beyond the energy-barrier shielding the city, were already eating away at them. They reminded Robin of manatees grazing Florida’s grassy waterways. The scale was off, of course, by quite a bit. Even in death they emitted a haunting cry, a product of the hellacious winds howling through their voice boxes. She was now indirectly responsible for the extermination of a species. That couldn’t be good. Who knew what salvation they held for humanity disguised within all their deadliness, like the stinging sea anemones back on Earth that offered cures to cancer?
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