by Cam Baity
As I disintegrate, one thing is perfectly clear.
I am surrounded by my kindred.
Parents. Siblings. My children.
All exactly like…
Makina.
Phoebe awoke with a start.
Or had she? She was still floating in the clouds. Had that all been some kind of insanely vivid dream? Was she still in it? No, she was definitely looking through her own eyes now, not through Makina’s, and her skin prickled in a way that felt too real to be a dream. And although her clothes still reeked of seawater, she was toasty and dry, lying on clouds that were downy but dense enough to support her.
The smell of roses permeated the air. Phoebe sat bolt upright.
She was inside Makina.
Phoebe brought her hands to her face and felt the spongy flesh of the Occulyth. Its tendrils were wrapped around her head, not tight or uncomfortable at all, but bizarrely soothing. The inside of her mouth felt hot and electric. The Occulyth had put something in there, like it was reaching inside her with a kind of energy—or, knowing what she knew now, some kind of light.
The Occulyth was like a living remote control—Phoebe was sure of it. The other part had been planted in Makina’s mind. That must have been the unusual squiggle of light she had seen shining out from the dark mass behind Makina’s eyes. The Ona had discovered a new world, seen how this mind-control device worked, and then used it for her own ends. She had enslaved a creature there and called it a god.
Phoebe’s exhausted mind reeled from it all.
Some distance away, Phoebe could see another figure obscured by mist. She got to her feet and padded across clouds, wafting away the wisps.
“Micah!” she exclaimed in a tremulous blast.
He jumped and nearly fell over with fright. Phoebe brought a hand up to the Occulyth. The white star had amplified her voice, just as it had done for the Ona.
“Geez,” Micah said, panting. “You tryin’ to kill me?”
He recoiled when he saw the Occulyth on her face.
“Does it…does it hurt?” he wondered aloud.
“No,” she said more carefully, trying not to deafen him. “I barely even notice it.”
“Okay, well, I do,” he said, looking away. “You got mouths, like, all over, and it’s kinda freakin’ me out.”
“Sorry,” she said, a bit sheepish. “What happened?”
“I jumped into the ocean after you, but you went too deep, and I lost track of you.” He took her arm and led her through the clouds. “Next thing I knew, the whole thing lit up, and Makina’s big ol’ hand came down and saved us, and—”
The fog parted. Phoebe’s breath caught in her throat.
They were on top of the world, thousands of feet over the bay, looking at Albright City. The capital was a smoldering shadow of what it had once been.
“You did it,” Micah said with a grin. “You stopped Her.”
It was true. The rampage was over, and the scene below was quiet as a grave. The army of ants that was the Meridian military reorganized on the shores, and masses of people gathered to watch the epic figure of cloud and light.
“You got a god to listen to you,” Micah said.
Phoebe looked at him, her eyes clouded with apprehension.
“Micah…it’s not what you think.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Occulyth,” she explained. “It showed me things. It showed me everything.”
“Whaddya mean ‘everything’?”
“About the Ona. I know the truth.”
Micah swallowed and considered her words.
Cautiously, he led her forward, and clouds formed a ledge beneath their feet.
“Well, then start talkin’,” he said. “’Cause you’re live.”
Micah pointed up, and Phoebe saw that the sky all around them blinked with Newscam drones, recording the entire terrifying and miraculous event.
“Now’s our chance,” he said with a contagious grin. “Tell ’em everything.”
The world was listening. The world was waiting.
For her.
Somehow, despite everything she had endured, despite defying death itself, the idea of being in the spotlight now filled her with dread. She hated public speaking—always had. To her, there was nothing worse than having to get up in front of a crowd and “act natural.” Especially when that crowd happened to be the entire world.
Phoebe shied away from the ledge, but Micah placed a hand on her back and pushed her forward. She gave him a dirty look. Spotlights mounted on the Newscam drones found her as the flying devices hovered in for a closer angle.
“Um…hello…I…”
Her mind went blank. She looked back at Micah, who rolled his eyes and gave her the “get on with it” gesture.
“I…My name is Phoebe Plumm,” she said, louder this time. “My father was Dr. Jules Plumm, Chief Surveyor for the Foundry. He died fighting for the truth.”
She looked back at Micah again, and he nodded.
“Here in Meridian, we were taught that Creighton Albright was a genius inventor who created the modern age. That’s a lie. He found a place called Mehk. It’s made of metal, and there are people there—mehkans—and some of them are my friends.”
Phoebe felt the Occulyth open up and project her voice, channeling her emotions to make her sound more powerful. Hearing it gave her the strength she needed.
“The Foundry has been destroying Mehk for hundreds of years, killing its people to make things. Things that we buy, that the whole world buys. Everything that we know came from something, or someone, that used to be alive.”
She took a breath.
“That is the truth.”
Phoebe let her silence take root.
“I didn’t believe it at first either. It seemed too sick and twisted to be real,” Phoebe reflected. “Yes, all that stuff has made our lives easier, better even, but there’s a cost. A cost we’ve been paying without even knowing it. That cost is innocent lives.”
Her words echoed. She hoped that they were falling on sympathetic ears.
Phoebe envisioned a command in her mind.
Turn around.
Slowly, the clouds shifted as Makina obeyed the order. Phoebe’s view changed as Foundry Central came into view. She saw the ruined Crest, the Over-crane whose cab was crammed with her friends, and a mass of mehkans staring up in awe.
The Newscam drones followed, trying to keep Phoebe in frame.
“And in Mehk. You were taught that the Great Engineer created the universe, that She gave everyone a function, and that the Ona was Her holy prophet. All lies.”
There was a murmur from the mehkans.
“The Ona wasn’t a prophet. And Makina isn’t a god. If she really was, do you think I would be able to control her? Move your right arm.”
Move your right arm.
Phoebe felt the clouds shift, and the mehkans below gasped.
“Makina is a person, like you and me,” Phoebe declared. “A person that the Ona enslaved to help her control Mehk. The Ona wanted to make the world a better place, and for a while, she succeeded. She used the Way to build your civilization, to bring you all together in harmony.”
Phoebe was in command now, stronger and more confident than she had ever felt.
“Even I believed the stories for a while. I thought I was Loaii, chosen by the Great Engineer herself to save Mehk. But now I know that the Ona did terrible things to accomplish her goal. She forced the Way on us and killed any who did not obey.”
Again, she let the weight of her words sink in.
“That is the truth.”
Beyond the island of Foundry Central, Phoebe could see the formation of enemy forces lingering in the bay and surveying Albright City from afar.
“And you, nations of the Quorum. Meridian bombed you because they were made to believe you attacked us here and assassinated our president. More lies!” Phoebe’s voice rang. “The Foundry attacked the Crest of Dawn. The Foundry killed
President Saltern and hundreds of people here at home.”
The Newscam drones hovered close, their lenses focusing.
“The Foundry did it to start this war—a war that has already taken so many innocent lives. All for profit. But the Foundry is no more. Its leaders are dead.”
Was it her imagination, or was the Quorum’s army coming closer?
“That is the truth.”
Go to the shore.
Makina turned to Albright City and rose into the air, carrying the kids with her.
“So I guess we’ve all been lied to. That’s what my father meant when he…”
Her hand fell to her pocket, feeling his broken spectacle lenses stowed there.
“My father told me that nothing true was black or white. I didn’t understand him when he said that, but I think maybe I get it now. We know the truth, and it’s ugly and it’s messy and it’s complicated. But knowing the truth isn’t enough.”
Makina picked up speed, rapidly approaching Albright City. As they rocketed across the bay, Phoebe could see the masses start to scatter at the imposing sight.
“Now we have to do something about it. We have to make a choice,” Phoebe said to the world. “Do we pretend we don’t know the costs and carry on as usual, hating and fearing, fighting and destroying one another—believing everything we’ve been told and living our own lies? Or can we change? Can we question everything and find a better way to live—a new Way? Can we learn from the lies and build a new truth…together?”
Makina came soaring over the bridge that led to Foundry Central. The Meridian Army moved forward, tank guns and artillery moving into position, ready to fire.
Let us down.
“Well…it’s time for us to decide,” Phoebe finished.
As they advanced to the shore and descended to the mouth of the suspension bridge, Phoebe turned around to look at Micah.
“Was that okay?” she whispered.
He stared at her unblinkingly. Then offered a downright stupid nod.
The shadowy webs of support cables passed through Makina’s ephemeral form as they went down to the bridge. The clouds around them cleared, replaced by choking black smoke of destruction. The devastated capital came into view below.
Phoebe and Micah held hands as the sun came up.
One beautiful, hazy orange sun.
Home at last.
Phoebe and Micah stepped from Makina’s hand onto the steel-paved highway intersection on the shore of Albright City. They looked up at the magnificent and indecipherable creature. The great suspension bridge passed beneath her, stretching to the demolished island of Foundry Central. On its span marched the army of mehkans, moving as inexorably as an avalanche toward the city.
“Here they come,” Micah warned.
Phoebe looked up to find Makina’s golden lava eyes staring blankly back at her. Gone was the Great Engineer, Everseer, and Tender of the Forge—all that remained was a slave waiting to be told what to do.
“You never wanted any part of this, did you?” she asked aloud, not expecting an answer. “Soon you will be free.”
Phoebe closed her eyes and issued a final command. Makina’s molten eyes focused to solid orbs. Slowly, her cloudy form rose from the suspension bridge, thinned, and receded across the bay. Her golden eyes lingered on Phoebe for a long moment, then turned to focus on the journey ahead. The mehkans, awestruck, watched Makina pass overhead as she swept toward Foundry Central, growing bright, gathering speed.
“What happened?” Micah asked. “What’d you tell her to do?”
The white clouds swirled and coalesced into a dense tornado that swirled down into the crater, toward the tunnel to Mehk.
“To go home,” Phoebe said simply.
Then, with the last few remaining wisps, Makina was gone.
As tanks and military vehicles rolled into position behind them, Phoebe slipped the Occulyth off her face. She felt the heat in her mouth dissipate as the white star peeled away easily, a far cry from when she’d had to tear it from the Ona.
They turned around and were met with a hard gust of wind from an approaching convoy of Aero-copters. As the aircraft landed, the kids noticed they were outdated models only seen in museums and old Televiewer shows, all decorated with the national flags of the Quorum. Phoebe and Micah walked into the center of the sprawling traffic circle that lay before the bridge, with the Quorum on their right hand, the Meridian military on their left, and the mehkans marching up behind.
Armed foreign soldiers leapt out of the Aero-copters. The Meridian military drew their guns, then looked at the wall of metal creatures stepping onto the mainland.
None of the forces knew where to point their weapons.
So they stood there. Waiting.
“Ph-Phoebe! Mi-Mi-Micah!”
It was Dollop, elbowing his way through the throng of mehkans alongside Fritz and the Associates, who supported the limping figure of Orei between them. A general with an entourage of soldiers stepped out from among the Meridian ranks. Another delegation formed among the Quorum—Premier Lavaraud, Admiral Imaro, and other international leaders with their escorts.
Phoebe wondered what she had gotten herself into.
The mehkans were first to reach the kids.
“I—I—I can’t believe it,” Dollop gasped.
“We heard yer speechifications in that grabby cabin’s squawk box,” proclaimed Mr. Pynch. “Quite a mouthful, which from me, denotes a plethora. Me associate and I knew there was something dubious about this Waybounding all along.”
The Marquis flickered his approval. Fritz was preoccupied with waving cheerfully to the armed and very tense military forces.
“Goodwin gone to rust,” Orei managed. Her midnight-blue apparatus still spun, though her rings were lopsided, scraping, and dented with wounds.
“Dead?” wondered Micah.
“What happened?” asked Phoebe. She pictured the stoic man’s keen blue eyes and how they had flashed so passionately in defense of his country. Despite his terrible crimes, in the end, Goodwin had tried to make things right.
“Disengaged tethers. Collapsed wreckage. Took CHAR beast with him. Point-zero-zero-one percent chance of survival,” Orei said. “Was stranded. Your allies saved me.”
“Bah! What be a little attempted murder between friends, am I right?” Mr. Pynch winked at Phoebe and Micah. “Vesper subterior to the viaduct, I always say.”
“The Ona’s dead too,” Micah added.
The information did not seem to affect the kailiak.
“May her golden ember blaze,” Orei said. “So rusts the Way.”
The Overguard seized the crimson dynamo on her chest, wrenched it free, and hurled it to the ground. Dollop looked up at Orei, and his bulbous amber eyes hardened. Steadily, he grabbed his own dynamo, twisted it off, and let it slip from his hands to hit the ground with a clink. The army of mehkans stirred uncomfortably.
A throat cleared behind Phoebe.
“I am General Freemont,” said the leader of the Meridian forces. He looked harried, his eyes bloodshot and his uniform soot-stained.
Premier Lavaraud and the Quorum entourage whispered privately.
“Can you…” Freemont spoke to Phoebe, looking warily at her mehkan friends. “Can you actually speak…to them?”
“We speak for ourselves,” Orei responded. “I am Overguard Orei, Covenant Command, voice for free people of Mehk.”
The human emissaries were dumbfounded.
“Put your guns away,” Phoebe ordered.
To her surprise, the soldiers lowered their weapons.
“It seems you have a lot to say,” Freemont mused.
“There’s a lot that needs to be said,” she responded.
Premier Lavaraud scoffed. “Meridian takes orders from children?” he asked Freemont. “A considerable improvement.”
“Children of Ore,” Orei corrected, assessing the kids. “Do well to listen.”
“Very well, Miss Plumm,” General Fre
emont said.
Humans considered the mehkans. Mehkans looked back. Enemies looked at one another, as if for the first time. Then all three factions looked to Phoebe and Micah.
“Now what?” Freemont asked.
The man with the FotoSnap was watching her. He was across the street, just outside a mob of reporters, standing as still as the ghostly birch trees that surrounded him. At first Phoebe dismissed the man, along with the other photographers, but the longer she stared, the more he seemed focused specifically on her bedroom window—hoping to get a shot of the girl who saved the world.
She remained hidden behind the shimmering silver curtain, hoping the glare of the late afternoon sun reflecting off the glass would render her invisible.
Televiewer news crews swarmed outside the front gates of Plumm Estate, mobbing Micah with Omnicams, shoving Vocafones into his face, and barraging him with questions. He was eating it up, gesturing broadly and posing with his old toy gun, waving it around and aiming at them in pretend ferocity.
Just like Maddox.
Phoebe smiled faintly. Micah finally got what he had wanted deep down all along—to be a hero, to be famous, to be admired. She genuinely hoped it made him happy.
Screams came from outside, followed by a clang, clang, clang. Phoebe parted the drapes to see reporters scattering as Micah shot them with washers from his toy gun. Once he had spent all his ammo, he grabbed a garden hose from behind the hedge and really let them have it. Journalists backpedaled from the spray while camera operators threw jackets over their equipment to protect it from getting drenched.
Phoebe laughed as Micah drove the media folks away. Even the photographer who had been watching her bedroom window was nowhere to be seen now. Maybe Micah wasn’t so keen on being famous after all. Maybe he was still trying to protect her.
She closed the silver curtains and rubbed sleep from her eyes. It was approaching dusk—she had managed to sleep all day. The silky pajamas she wore felt so strange on her bruised, rail-thin body, as if her skin had never known such comfort. She still smelled of soap and shampoo from her recent bath, and while the feeling of being clean for the first time in weeks was a relief, the perfume reminded her of Makina.