by Gann, Myles
That final, forlorn glimmer of fact was accompanied by a glare. “Get used to it.” Caleb blinked slowly, briefly taking the shadowy cool of the hanging leaves too deeply and feeling its strong invitation for a restful nap barely leave him standing. His power had moved and was now kneeling on the roof of the car, staring at him strongly. “This fighting is pointless. We’re stuck with one another for as long as we’re alive.”
“Forever, then. I’ll be there every time one of your human needs rears its ugly, bestial head. Every time you sleep,” it phased away and was again back in the shadows; its blue, semi-opaque body darker and easily visible to Caleb, “I could smother you. Every time you eat, I’ll try to choke you. Any vulnerability I smell, and I’ll wriggle out of the loose grip you have on me.” Power appeared leaning against the back door, its hands in fake pockets. “Ask Carol about losing a grip on the world. Ask her what it’s like to feel enough pain to break something as strong as the human spirit, and ask what it’s like to face more and more pain no matter how far into madness you spiral. Everything she pushed away and buried came exploding out, and she wasn’t nearly as sensitive or combustible as you. Your skin is papyrus and your blood is fire. You’re no more a human than I, which is why you could never ask Carol any of these questions. She was a human while you never even had an idea of how to be human. I am the whole while you two were rotting parts of the idea of humanity.”
Caleb clenched his muscles and felt his emotions run wild. His muscles wouldn’t relax; every joint burned fuel from a fire his tired mind couldn’t contain. All the fury looked for a turn, looked for a cause, but always rotated and swung back at his own face with accusation.
His eyes glowed slightly brighter as they stared into the curious pits of nothing that his power claimed to be eyes. “We’ve let down so many people. I’ve…you…. She sacrificed everything for us. They all did. Everyone,” his voice rose into a shout, “all those people you distracted me from saving showed a bravery and acceptance of reality you could never have!” The shaking finger pointing at his thoroughly nervous power ended his tirade. Caleb couldn’t bring his body to lower the finger, or his intensity. There was some sort of justice in the pointed finger as Power’s faked expression mirrored his own; as the gathering crowd could never have gathered, his finger need barely extend at all for the blame to be properly placed. “Us. It was us.”
His body was sizzling beneath his skin, his brain begging for the end of temporary fixes and endurant stands in favor for rest the likes of which a boned scythe alone could give. Caleb fell to the curb again, feeling ready. A guillotine, a hood and noose, a line of loaded rifles, electricity straight to the brain, painless cold spreading through his veins all took a hold of him through a single sensation. Drowning: challenging the spinner of lies to a breath-holding contest while the liquid of his failures fought for entrance to his lungs, for the vengeance they each deserved many times over.
Caleb felt his body move numbly, seeing glimpses of the world from his mind and hearing Power’s smooth voice. “I’m fine, yes.” That was the final auditory sense he received before wandering into a dark plane, not caring for exterior danger or interior plight. His entire mind rove for a dark crevice.
“That’s the kind of power I can’t understand,” Caleb heard as if spoken plainly from the far end of a narrow corridor, and didn’t interrupt his shambling stride to nowhere.
- - -
Stephen grimaced at the plan as it was being described to him. “Wait, whoa, this isn’t a one man job. This sounds more like a bull-rush of a thousand troops.”
The two officers exchanged a look that made him nostalgic suddenly; his mother and father had smiled that way on their one good Christmas, sharing the secret of a surprise they’d known he would love. His past had always been more enjoyable than his present, even when his past didn’t exist. ‘Always a black sun with yellow spots, never the other way.’ “You’ll have the tactical force capable of surpassing a majority of their forces while disposing of the minority forces easily. With this—”
A few drag-and-clicks on the monitor revealed an auspicious insanity on the screen in front of Stephen. His mind immediately compared it to battle armor thousands of years old, shined and glowing against the dusty sun with a Gladius in one hand and thick shield in the other. Under the shine was the current works of American engineers: complex weavings under what looked to be broken pieces of mirror that flung over one shoulder, connected to an apparatus across the back and to forearm and leg plates by large wires, and with chrome dripping from head to toe. A hood appeared out of the device along the back and covered a projection’s head, covered with mirrors again down to the nose and with some goggles built into the eyes. “Am I going to a dance in this?”
“This prom dress will get the entire country laid, son. It’s an enhancement suit that multiplies the user’s strength, speed, brain activity, awareness, and their body’s ability to process natural energies. Yeah, you’ll be stronger faster and all that jazz, but you’ll be able to use it without feeling fatigue or injury. We call it the Zeus Suit. Your body can push out about nine-hundred watts at its peak. The suit should make you capable of pushing out more power than a blue whale, and that’s while you’re at rest. Boys in white even tell me you’ll be fast enough to catch synapse firing in your brain, if that interests you.”
Stephen let his back hit against the creaking conference room chair. “Why so much? It’s over-kill to spend billions on a covert operation of this magnitude when a smaller one with a squad could get the job done.”
The General spoke. “We’ve tried small operations, big operations, and negotiations. They’ve got their leader sealed away behind half of the guerillas on a moving convoy that’s never further than twenty minutes from a village, and yet we can’t find them. We need something so decisive that the Americas will be seen as the protector of the good in the world again, even if we are only trying to save face.”
Major Howard looked keenly at the General for a second before letting his tried patience into his voice. “Our priority is our own people. After that, you’re right. The perched officers expect positives across the board from something this expensive. Get in, get who we need, dispense with the bad ones, and bring every soldier out there to loving arms and apple pie. You’d be authorized to use any and all means. Your record states you’re not into torture. You may need to change that stance.”
“You don’t see too many total green lights today.”
“More now than ever before actually. Priorities change in desperate times. Everything seems less cloudy, ideas sharpen into mountains above the fog, and we all learn what we’re willing to do for them. The problem comes when priorities differ. Then, well, then it’s almost never a good idea to be in power. When you start telling people what their priorities should be, you eventually create a chasm where people choose sides. In the end, everyone’s on their own side when they have a nickel in their name and weights on their shoulders.”
The Major looked skeptically again towards the General. “The point is that our priorities are the same. The only question is how far you’ll be willing to go for it. We think you’ll go as far as we, as a country, need you to go. Will you?”
“Have you tested the suit?”
The duo across from him exchanged another look. “Follow us.”
They eagerly stood, leaving nothing to change the blatant disregard for Stephen’s question as he stood, straightening his colors before following slowly. He couldn’t imagine the weight their old backs held with their incredibly decorated fronts. Everything from bravery to leadership was etched into tiny, chesty medals that did nothing but ache their backs and offer a deeper well into the inky secrets of democracy. ‘My knowledge eclipses theirs without all the fancy bottle caps on my chest.’
The chaotic shouting from the common room carelessly careened down the hallway behind them until the elevator sealed the peach colored hallway from their view. The grid of the elevator floor buttons
glowed but went untouched. Major Howard’s thumb depressed a secret pad, revealing another table of symbols on Stephen’s side. “Been in a military building this expansive before?”
“Not quite. All the elevators I’ve seen have numbers not letters.”
The Major smiled. “Oh, we have numbers here, but we had too many floors for the single-digits to hold. The extra shell around the high profiles of the military worked out pretty well for the elevator system too.”
“Yeah everyone won on that. What’s our floor? Since I’ll be living here, I might want to know where the fridge is.”
“Heh, Omega level is all yours. Interception epsilon is where the suit sleeps.”
‘Ah the multi-tasking ability you can only see in the army. Join now! Make corny names, flimsy ironies, and send countrymen to their deaths, all with a red, white, and blue smile.’ The sarcasm slunk from his thoughts as Stephen felt suddenly insignificant within the spreading catacomb of the complex. ‘It’s good to be in the military or elevator business in a long paranoia war. Every military building or potential terrorist target is now crusted over with Shells. Can’t barely remember going to a sports game and seeing the sun at the same time. No economic doctor can put the symptoms together in this damn country; Shells took away tourist attractions.’ “If there’s one thing you’re right about, Major, it’s this country. Everybody has the same problems.”
“That’s how it always is, Sergeant. Don’t let war fool you.”
The thirtieth second found a twisted oblivion before gravity fought against the slowing lift and the doors zipped open to glass and metal. Short men in lab coats raced through the short corridor—physical movements not accompanied by mental appreciation—and into the all-metal area beneath the observer’s glass. The three men moved to the glass on the right, Stephen’s interest in the blue-white bolt glowing from a small container on the lower basement floor taking precedent quickly. His eyes wandered a little at first, noting the large girders colored within the metal liquidity of the rest of the room while more homogenous and slithered strings met under the still-glowing stratus. The six hallowed white coats hovering safely away as the apparatus dimmed, showing the propitious suit in its splendor. “They’re keeping an awful far distance from a suit you want to shove me into.”
“They’re just testing the suit for voltage. It’s completely safe, but they’re not exactly the bravest bunch. Most that would happen would be your hair standing on end.”
“How much juice are you guys going to push through me, exactly?”
The entertained General spoke up from behind. “None at all. The suit only uses a few hundred volts, and there’s a layer of insulation between you and the suit. Even if the insulation fails, a few hundred volts won’t do anything permanent.”
“I’m not a math guy, but you can’t multiply energy into the levels you’re talking about.”
“We can use your body as the amplifier.” The Major walked forward again. “One or two volts create thousands in power output.”
“You boys really found the gold vein in some researcher.”
The Major nodded to the General who quickly removed a folder from under his arm. “Wasn’t even our man. The inspiration for this suit took a sharp left turn when we discovered someone else already had these abilities.”
Stephen’s stomach knotted. “Another country has us beat to this type of thing?”
“No, no,” the General handed over the folder to Stephen, “we found a civilian whose body can naturally produce this type of power. He’s the one giving us the information, and he’s the one you’ll be testing the suit’s limits against.”
The folder flipped around, submerging Stephen into the color photo attached to the thick folder. Facial features struck familiar nerves against memories Stephen had attempted to eclipse. Blue eyes that dominated all structure hit him before the firm jaw and bald head. They sprang against the flow of time and vaulted years further than the rest of his young face. His mind gave his eyes the freedom to scan, and his heart jumped.
“Rumor is you two have met.”
The hand not holding the spine of the folder flexed into a remembering fist. ‘That…creature. Hurling me through the rain, dismantling me in every way possible. Bring me absolution, and I’ll bring you the left hand of vengeance.’ “He’s barely changed.”
Both officers half-smiled at their ability to strum a thin nerve as the General explained. “It would seem Mr. Whitmor doesn’t cling to time’s toll as we do. Just one of the many mysteries we’re hoping to unravel with his help. The suit’s maiden voyage will be the headlamp, so we’ll need to get you interested as soon as possible. If we’re properly prepared, you’ll be every bit as strong and fast as him.”
“Really….” Stephen felt his heart pumping fresh blood through his limbs, refreshing the numb, bitten muscles with flexible steel and confidence again.
- - -
“It’s the official three-week anniversary of your sad little recession, Caleb.”
His psyche stirred while it crouched in a tree, Caleb’s hollowed face dirty with emerging follicles against blazing eyes and sharp city lights from below and beyond. Their perch looked level upon the highest building of downtown Cincinnati; the slithering taillights flared and whizzed below until the horizon met and spit them into a splintered north. Power noticed. It leaned them back into the trunk of the tree, zooming into a high-flying front page of The Cincinnati Enquirer from his thirty-foot perch over a cliff. Its head felt clear, and it felt air against Caleb’s head, dimming its veracity if only slightly against the night. Some part of it loved the night’s cool attempt to slap Caleb’s pasty body from the flora. The keys from night’s pocket were being dangled in its face while Caleb wallowed, and Power was having a hard time getting over how invitingly fascinating they truly were.
‘Loving humans now?’
‘They’re nothing but rats that scurry at the boot. I’m looking up for beauty, not down. How shall we celebrate your three week slide?’ Caleb did nothing but lay in the straw bed of despair he’d made for himself in his darkened mind. ‘You’ve been brooding ever since we started running, and I started hiding us. You’ve been my hemorrhoids lately. Every time your blood starts turning blue with my essence, you re-raise your impetuous defenses. Three people got away from me because of you, and it’s just not as much fun without the kill. Far be it for me to attempt to understand your self-imposed sorrow, but neither one of us enjoys being restrained or silent.’
Power snapped a small current to scratch at Caleb’s growing hair, feeling something stir slightly inside of it. ‘What do you have to talk about? You have all the freedom you can have, and…I have nothing.’
‘Oh please, you have the entire world.’
‘An entire world of empty faces.’
‘You don’t believe that.’
‘I’m starting to.’
Power smirked. ‘Then free me completely. In three months, there won’t be a single hollow smile for you to grieve over.’
Long seconds tacked and ticked against Power’s extended clutch, increasing its confidence more and more. Caleb’s dispassionate tone weakly sounded, ‘Never.’
‘Which brings us back to doing nothing. Stagnation simply cannot appease you, can it?’
‘We could turn ourselves in. We should. Where’s the justice in us running free?’
‘Their justice means nothing. Yes, by their standards you and I are an evil person, but you’ve never cared about their justice. You’re most annoying obsession is and will always be your dedication to the justice of the world. True justice.’
‘True justice might not even be possible for me anymore. I’d have ended my life before for true justice if you’d let me.’
‘That’s not true justice it’s nothing more than a pathetic device used to stop pain. You know how to truly justify her.’
‘By turning myself in.’
‘Not even close. That would cleanse you in fire, not under water. And
letting all the fun end now? No, not a chance. I won’t let our little story end in one of their cells.’
Caleb and his power thought the same parallel. ‘A deal?’
‘No, a bet. What would you say if I actually did behave for a certain amount of time, giving you whatever wasted effort you have left to find a reason to keep me from destroying this world? If you can’t find one, everything is mine, no more strings.’
‘How long?’
Caleb blinked back into control of his own body, his power extending out to the end of the branch to remain visible. “Hm, time seems a trivial thing to ponder…shall we say three months? That seems like a happy medium; you can travel if need be while I will barely notice the blink as it passes.”
“Well, you’re making me a bit happier to see you this desperate. What, exactly, happens if I don’t find the reason?”
Power crouched down to Caleb’s pane of vision. “I’ll just flex my power and erase your pain from the world.”
“How cheerful.” Caleb leaned his head against the cool bark and weighed the gamble carefully. “You really think you can stay out of my affairs for three months?”
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll still have my opinions on the sadness of the human race, but unless the military finds us, you have my word.”
Caleb nodded and drew his power completely into his body. “Deal.”
With that, he simply rolled out of the branch, feeling his knees buckle unusually beneath him. A last second roll saved his shins from fracture, but his anger still raged. “What the hell was that?”
‘Oh sorry, I guess you do need me after all.’ Caleb stood and cursed his power while he hobbled forward. The edge of the cliff came under his feet soon, his mind unfolding into his body again. ‘Do you think they have any idea?’