by A. Sparrow
I managed to weave a couple more replicas and they turned out looking great, but they were no more functional than any I had woven before. Some of the mechanisms were even quite springy. I was making progress in the right direction, but we weren’t looking for springy, we wanted explosive.
I kept at it until my replicas littered the garden, looking like a bunch of miniature abstract sculptures amongst the wilted zinnias that were already reverting back to roots. The replicas were quite pleasing to the eye with all their knobs and curves, but ultimately useless.
I became exhausted to an extent I had rarely experienced in the Liminality. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was all my mental exertion. Whatever the case, I was feeling drowsy and sluggish. I got up and waddled back to the porch.
“Hey guys. I might try and hit the sack.”
“So early?” said Bern, adjusting the straps on his already overloaded pack frame.
“We should let the boy rest,” said Lille, who was systematically miniaturizing their possession one by one and arranging them neatly in the tweed suitcase. ” He’s had a long and tiring day. We can finish up our packing inside.”
Bern helped her drag the suitcase into the cabin.
I plopped down on the mattress and peeled back the covers.
“Hey … uh … guys?”
Bern popped his head around the door frame.
“Yes, James?”
“If I fade before the morning … it was real nice seeing you both.”
“Goes without saying,” said Bern. “It is always a pleasure to have you with us.”
“Sweet dreams, James,” called Lille.
***
I conked out quickly. Dreams soon overtook me. The visions that came early in my slumber I’m pretty sure were simply dreams. Playing out back behind my old house in Fort Pierce. Mom and dad carrying dishes out onto the picnic table on the deck.. A birthday party with just the three of us. I couldn’t even tell whose birthday it was. Was it mine? Did it matter?
And then there I was on a long strand of windswept beach, only it didn’t feel like Fort Pierce anymore. The sand stung my face and drove salty grit into my mouth. I had wings strapped to my back and the wind threatened to blow me over. Like an idiot, I spat up wind and the saliva splatted right back into my face. Things were getting too real. I was crossing some kind of threshold.
I recognized this feeling now and it excited me. This was the Singularity calling. I directed every ounce of my will towards extracting another vision of Karla, some hint of whose city streets she could have possibly been strolling in my last fleeting vision of her.
I repeated her name over and over like a mantra. I erected an image of her in my brain, tacking together memories like a collage. Her sharp but elegant nose and chin. Those intelligent eyes. That slender waist. Subtle but pretty breasts. Slim but well-muscled legs. The nooks and crannies that delineated her collar bone and shoulder blades.
But it was all for naught. The Singularity did not respond to my bidding. Instead, I was yanked off the beach like a newbie paraglider being towed by a power boat twirling out of control.
I was back under the dome, zipping from head to head, then outside in the tunnels from pod to pod, feeling the fear and joy of those new to Root, to the simple minds of the Reapers, though their intellect was greater than I had ever imagined. They too could feel fear and hope and anger. They too had souls, simple ones, but souls just the same.
I burst out onto the surface, passing through armies of cherubs with heads even more barren than the Reapers, to a surprised Seraph who shunted me away as if I were a gnat, to stragglers and squatters huddled in hiding places across the plains and hills, to the distant mesas far up the river valley, where the resistance was making its last stand.
I kept on going, crossing an ocean, passing from ship to sleek ship powered by the same engines that drove the wings of Seraphim, with incubating Cherubim lining the decks shoulder to shoulder like 18th century slaves, a single Seraph strapped in its heart, powering batteries of cogged turbines with simple flexes of his shoulder.
And my mind dove into those engines, to the impossibly responsive material that amplified every action a hundredfold or more, deeper and deeper, smaller and smaller, until I could see the very nanomolecular structures that made the engines work, a series of conical and collapsible nanotubes melding carbon and silicon and nitrogen in ways I could instantly understand even though I had resisted my mother’s attempts to teach me chemistry back in my home schooling days.
I saw exactly how the damned things worked, and why a sidelong force had no effect while a head-on collision gave back a thousand-fold what it received. Someone, something was helping me see through the magic. I was not alone. I was being guided. I was not alone. Billions of souls shuttling through the Singularity beside me, most on their own errands and missions. To some others whose identities remained obscure, I was the mission and they were my guides.
They whisked me away from the boats and pressed on across the sea, to the windswept beaches where I left my dreams. But my excursion did not stop there. I continued on across a gleaming desert to hills studded and riddled with temples and villas and grottoes almost too brilliant and white to gaze upon.
Again I hopped from soul to soul, all Freesouls now, though I could sense that their only difference from Cherubim was their level of consciousness. There were Hashmallim here and many suspicious and inscrutable Seraphim and categories of these so-called angels I had yet to encounter. This was Penult and as I climbed up into its hills, the mansions grew ever more extravagant, the minds ever more private and immune to the Singularity. I homed in on one head, drawn to it like a meteor to a planet and slammed into its thoughts.
I had never known a mind so placid and content, with all worries and anxieties delegated absolutely and unapologetically to other souls. My mind had never approached such a state once I abandoned infancy. And yet here I was infesting it, forcing it to consider a possibility it had never entertained.
My target screamed in fury, both internally and externally. It mobilized a cyclone of feelings awash in every hue of outrage and shock and righteous fury. I felt my grip loosen and I was blown away like a leaf in a gale.
The Singularity shattered into fragments of dream, confused and jumbled like a disorganized nightmare. I awoke sweating on the mattress on the floor of Bern and Lille’s cabin, with my hosts staring down at me with concern in the yellow glow of the faux candle in Bern’s hand.
“James? Is everything alright?”
“Whoa!” That was all I could say.
“Bad dreams again?”
“No, not dreams.”
I hopped up from the mattress and went to the window of the cabin. “When time do the lights come on in this place?”
“Soon, I would expect,” said Lille. “If you want we could put out some more candles.”
“Could you? I’m going out into the garden. I … I have an idea. And I don’t want to lose it.”
***
Hours, I plugged away in a circle of candle light while the artificial sky of the bubble steadily brightened strand by strand. Luther had even created a patch of brightness that migrated slowly across the dome, the way a sun might. It was nothing compared to the perfect illusion of the original Burg but it was a start. I never realized how hard Luther had to work to create his simulacra.
Two dozen replicas of the Seraph’s wing joint were strewn before me, perfect copies of the knobs and arcs, cogs and ratchets of the original. One by one I dove in and applied my vision of the nanomolecular pattern I had witnessed via the Singularity to the critical surface, and one by one I created a functional engine.
I knew I had the problem licked when the first one I tested slapped my palm back so hard it raised a blood blister. Thereafter, I tested them with a tiny strand of root no wider than a grass stalk. Brushing them with a feather’s touch was enough to get the joint to cycle through its entire range of motion, lifting its appendage vertical befo
re pumping downward with power. Now I saw what such an engine could do with a wing.
As I reached to create engine number twenty-five I noticed that I could barely see my fingertips. The fade! It was finally starting to happen.
“Bern!” I shouted.
He came running out of the cabin.
“Is everything alright?”
“I’m fading. I don’t know when I’ll be back, if ever. Say bye to Lille. Thanks for everything. And … you need to get these to Luther and Olivier. But be careful, touch them wrong and they have a nasty kick. Tell Olivier that I … I—”
But I was already gone.
Chapter 22: Awakened
I did not wake up on that futon in Fiona and Britt’s attic. Dazed and befuddled, at first I didn’t know where I was, all tangled in sweaty sheets surrounded by clicks and beeps and the competing murmurs of multiple televisions and conversations.
But this was a hospital, of course. The sun poured through a window framed with ivy. I recognized the worn and variegated brick of the building across the street. Karla and I had bought cappuccinos from the outdoor café it housed at ground level. It was the same medical center we had come to visit Renfrew.
I was alone in the room, with an IV in my arm, all wired up to a heart monitor. A nurse bustled by the open door, glanced and did a double take.
“Mr. Moody! You’re awake. How lovely.”
“Why am I here?”
“Because your friends found you unconscious,” said the nurse.
“So? Maybe I was sleeping.”
“You were basically … comatose as far we could tell. Unresponsive to any stimuli whatsoever.” She came over and slapped a blood pressure cuff on my upper arm.
Jessica bopped into the room, a magazine tucked under her arm.
She beamed when she saw me. “James?”
“Why the heck did you bring me to the freaking hospital? I’m fine.”
“We were worried. We thought you might have OD’ed or something.”
“On what? You know I don’t do that shit. Anymore.”
“We couldn’t know that for sure. You were convulsing at one point. We had to call the ambulance to take you.”
“Be right back,” said the nurse. “Everything looks good, but I’m going to fetch the doctor.”
“Thirsty? Can I get you something to drink?” said Jess.
I waited for the nurse to leave and lowered my voice. “Jess. Of all people, you should know better. You know what happens when the roots take me.”
“But James, your blackouts were never like this. Your heart rate dropped to forty beats a minute. Your blood pressure fell dangerously low. You were barely breathing. The doctors were convinced it was a heroin overdose but the naloxone did nothing. You were out cold for two days solid.”
I waited for the cobwebs to clear from my head.
“Is Karla back?”
“No.”
“Any word from her?”
“Nothing.”
“Damn!”
“So you were in that place? The … before … after … life place.”
“Yeah. This trip … was a doozy.”
“So how are things over there?”
“Terrible. It’s been invaded.”
“By who?”
I just shook my head. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“O-kay.” The look on her face told me she had mixed feelings about pursuing the topic any further. I was more than happy to drop the subject.
“So … no news about Karla?”
“No, but—”
“Did you tell anyone she’s missing? Did you tell the police?”
“You told us not to, but Helen—”
“Helen did what?”
“She placed an anonymous report.”
“She did what?”
“We had to do something. And the thing is, they traced her call and showed up at the house.”
“Crap.”
“But maybe they can find her.”
“I guess, but—“
“So the interviewed us. Collected some of the things she left behind. They’d like to talk to you as well, when you’re feeling better. But that was that. They said they’d be in touch.”
“But I can’t talk to them! I’m here illegally.”
“We gave them your assumed name. No worries, right? You have a matching passport.”
“A fake one. But … what’s done is done.” I sighed. “So how’s Ren doing?”
“Um … well … he’s down the hall, actually. They re-admitted him for complications. His lungs were more damaged than they thought. He’s got a touch of pneumonia now. He’s actually just a few rooms down the hall from you. They were going to make you roomies but he needed some special equipment. So he’s in the ICU. But I should mention, Fiona says there were some strange messages on her answering machine. And someone left a note under the door. Just a phone number and a name.”
“Who?”
“Wendell Frank.”
***
The other ladies piled into the car and drove over to see me as soon as Jess informed them about my awakening. I made damn sure Fiona didn’t leave the house without bringing Wendell’s note and my cell phone and charger. They fussed over me like I was some invalid.
The NHS neurologist was reluctant to release me even though the tests had failed to reveal anything wrong. That was no surprise to me, but they insisted on keeping me for observation one more night.
I was anxious to talk to Wendell, but I had to wait until I was alone. The ladies were in no hurry to leave. I was patient with them, even ate my dinner in front of them all because Helen refused to leave until she had visual evidence that I had taken some nourishment.
I encouraged Jess quietly to clear them out of my room so she feigned exhaustion and got Fiona and Britt to take her home. Helen stayed behind, but she moved down the hall to sit with Ren. They hadn’t been gone five minutes before I slipped out my phone and gave Wendell a ring.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the wonder boy.”
“Got your message. What do you want?”
“Same, same. Go see Zhang. He’s waiting.”
“I did go back.”
“We know. But you went to see that Luther guy. What the fuck?”
“Zhang’s not even in Frelsi. They tell me Frelsi doesn’t even exist anymore. Zhang might even be dead.”
“Zhang’s not dead. I mean, well … yeah, he’s dead. He’s a fucking Freesoul. But he’s still in the Lim. And you need to go back and go find him.”
“But … I just got back here.”
“Fine. Take a break. But you need to head back as soon as you can. And next time you go, you need to find go Zhang. Shouldn’t be that hard. But listen, you crossed over. That’s a big step in the right direction. So we’ll ease up on the heat a little. As long as you keep making progress. At least now we know you can take a hint.”
“Heat? Sturgie. The fire? That was you?”
“Not me personally. My people.”
“What the fuck? Sturgie was a friend!”
“Got your attention, didn’t it?”
“You almost killed Renfrew, too.”
“Guess we gotta try a little harder this time.”
“You’re an asshole. You know that?”
“Hey, I told you not to dilly-dally. I told you there would be consequences if you did.”
My face was hot and I was bursting with rage. I could barely talk.
“And Karla?”
“What about her?”
“Did you … take her? Off her?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“She’s gone. You have anything to do with it?”
“Not us, no. But frankly, that might have been the next step if you hadn’t cooperated.”
“Then who did?”
“How the fuck should I know? Wasn’t us.”
“Find her. I know you have the ability. I’ll cross back sooner if you f
ind out where she is.”
He chuckled. “Kid. You know things don’t work that way. You really think us finding her is going to put you in a better frame of mind?”
“So you’re lying. You did take her.”
“Fuck no. Why would I lie? But honestly, come to think of it … maybe we should find go and find her, if only to make sure she stays away from you. You might not think so, but I have principles. I wasn’t gonna mess with your girl but since she’s already been messed with. Why not?”
“Fuck you! Then I’m not going to see Zhang.”
“Fine. Then we take her out. How’s that for incentive?”
“You do that and you know there’s no fucking way I’m ever doing anything for Zhang or any of you assholes.”
There was a long pause. I could hear clinking glasses … music … some kind of jazz … in the background.
“Okay. Then you listen to me. Once we find her, you can forget about ever seeing her again.”
My stomach imploded. “But why?”
“Because this is how we make it work. If you do what I ask, I’ll guarantee she doesn’t get hurt. How’s that sound?”
“What?”
“You do your job. We keep her safe. But she’s out of your life. Forever.”
“That’s bullshit. She doesn’t even want to be alive. She wants to be a Freesoul.”
“We find her. We make sure she doesn’t. But you never see her again.”
“How will I know she’s okay?”
“We’ll show you. Pictures or something. We’ll prove it to you. We’ll give her a good life. We have places. Nice places to put people away but take care of them.”
“What the fuck?”
“You want her alive or not?”
I could not find any words.
“Fine. Then we kill her. Send her back to the Deeps.”
“No!”
“Then we have a deal?”
My heart was thumping hard. I was sweating like an Ebola victim.
“Yeah. Go find her. Keep her safe. Please. I’ll go see Zhang … as soon as I can.”
“Deal!” He cleared his throat. “So … uh … any idea where she might be?”