by A. L. Davroe
Gus forces a smile, showing me bloodstained teeth, and feebly shakes his head. “No, Elle.” His voice is a pained rasp. “I can’t f-feel my legs.”
It’s then that I notice the smudge of blood down the wall behind him. He shot right through himself. Right through his spine. There’s no way he’s going to live.
“I won’t accept that,” I scream, anger now filling me. “We can’t have come all this way for nothing—not for you to shoot yourself like an idiot.”
“It needed to be done.” His voice is too reasonable, too weak.
“I needed to do it. I’m the one who’s supposed to die next,” I rail.
“No. You’re the one who needs to go on,” he gasps. “This was never my quest, it’s yours.”
I whip my head back and forth, spraying tears across my face. “No. No. I’m just a side quest. I’m the one who should have died—like the others. You need me to help you get in the Chamber, that’s what you said.”
His eyes find mine and hold them. I want to say there is strength in those eyes, determination to live. But all I see is resignation, and even that seems to be fading to something dull. When he speaks, his words are halting and difficult. “No,” he says, his face smiling gently. “Remember when I said I found something the Knights wanted? It was you. I found you. They wanted you. They wanted to stop you.” He heaves a labored breath, the blood rattling in his throat. “It was never my quest to bring anything out of the Anansi Chamber. It was to bring something in. You. The child needs to go to her chamber, the Oracle said. Bring the Spider Child to her Chamber and all will be right in the world. That’s what she said and that’s what I did.” He pauses to take a few more breaths, each heave sending more blood welling between my trembling fingers. He reaches out and touches my cheek. “You were my quest.”
I stare down at the insurmountable amount of blood, the tears coming harder.
I feel Gus’s fingers through my hair, weak and uncertain. He tries to tip my head up so that I see his face, but I fight him. I won’t meet his dying eyes.
He whispers, as if trying to make this less terrible for me. “This is your destiny, your quest.”
I refuse to look at him. I just sob. “I don’t want it to be.” My voice comes out high and whiny, barely making any sense. “I don’t want this. I can’t do this without you.”
His fingers tighten in my hair, forcing me to look at him. “You have to,” he growls. The effort makes him cough, and blood dribbles down his chin.
“Shhh,” I say. “Don’t talk, you’re making it worse.” I reach out and touch his face, streaking blood across his cheek. “Please, don’t do this. Don’t leave me.”
“It’s already done.”
I can hear the pounding of feet now. The Knights are drawing closer.
He releases my face. “This is my choice.” One hand finds mine, buried hard against his wound, and pulls it away. He holds my hand out, reaching toward the distant door at the end of the hall. “Don’t let it be in vain. Do it for the greater good. Be Robin Hood.”
I stare at the door. I blink and stare at my bloody outstretched fingers, at his hand seizing my wrist. Assess the situation; look at who is being affected and who is gaining from your endeavor. If I just sit here and weep, if I let the Knights come along and kill me, everyone—Opus, Nadine, Morden, and Guster will have died for nothing, and the Knights will win. I don’t know what’s in that Chamber, but I have to bring it out, give it to the world.
I look back at him. He smiles for me as he raises his gun. “I’ve got your back.”
Knowing I have to do this, I lean forward and I kiss Gus one last time. I kiss him sweetly, but the sweetness is tainted by metallic blood and whistled breathing.
I wobble to my feet and stand there, swaying. I am beyond numb. I feel like I did right after the accident back in Real World. Without legs. Without hope or any meaning to my life. I feel sick. I feel like screaming and wailing and pounding on something. I want to fall back to my knees and sit beside Gus, drinking him in for the last few precious moments of his insane and wonderful life. Worst of all, I don’t feel anything at all.
I turn away from Gus and take a step toward the door.
One by one, leaden legs make a slow advance.
I try to focus through my tears, try to breathe evenly, but it doesn’t work. I’m falling apart. The shock of loving him has already taken hold.
“Elle,” Gus calls.
My heart jumps into my throat. For a moment, I can’t acknowledge him, but then I force myself to turn toward him.
He smiles at me, carefree and wonderful as always. “I love you.”
I turn away and I run, because if I don’t run from Gus I’ll run to Gus. I’ll throw my arms around him and wait with him until the Knights end it all.
And they come soon enough.
And it ends far too fast.
Bam. Bam. Bam. Shink. Shink. Shink.
Shink.
With a cry of anguish, I throw myself upon the door. Slamming against it and thrusting out my bloody hands, smearing Gus’s death against the pure mocking white of their panels. The code explodes across the door, complicated and confused. The protocol is as familiar as my lost lover. I remember this code well. It’s the last one I solved before Dad died. It had taken me nearly six months to solve it. Dad had been so proud. His message had said, “I love you.” Just like Gus’s last words.
The doors hiss open. I collapse inward. They close.
Instant regret closes in on me. I regret coming here. I regret playing this game. Falling in love. The pain is so intense I can’t breathe, and I just want it to go away. I realize I’ll never see Gus. Never again. And I regret not allowing him to find me in Real World, not exchanging those few simple words needed to do so while he sat there dying on the other side of the door.
I reach into my pocket and pull out the jump stone—the broken promise—and hold it close to my chest. I cry.
I cry for a very, very long time. Deep down, I know I’m being stupid, lying curled into a tight little ball sobbing and whimpering. But I can’t help it. Gus is dead. Everyone is dead. They died for me, so that I may recognize a destiny I didn’t even know was my own.
And here I am. I’m in the Anansi Chamber, and it’s totally empty. Nothing is happening. What am I supposed to do here?
A bitter scoff escapes my trembling lips. “That’s it then,” I growl to no one in particular. “Everyone died. For this?” Absolutely nothing. There was no point to it at all.
I exhale and sit up, pulling the cap and blinders away.
“Is everything okay? You’re early.”
Meems’s face swims before me. A sight that makes my heart leap with joy. Someone who is real and will never leave me.
I throw my arms around her and I hold her, shaking. I cry for real now, my sorrow at ending my game so great that I’m not sure I’ll ever truly recover.
Unsent Letters to Delia
Dee,
This might be the last letter I write you for a long time. I simply don’t have the will to do it anymore. What’s the point of me talking to you every day? It’s a fantasy, an illusion I tell myself to make me feel like you still think of me when I know you don’t.
Your letters stopped coming a long time ago.
It’s been almost a year, after all. I only hope that you’ve found your place in this awful world. Maybe you’re engaged to someone wonderful. Maybe you look just like one of the Aristocrats now. Perhaps you’ve been placed in a good job by Central Staffing. Maybe you play the game.
Just, don’t fall in love in there, Dee, whatever you do. Love. It’s the most beautiful thing in all the world, there’s nothing to describe it, nothing to surpass it. It’s truly a gift. But that just makes it worse when it’s gone. All it does is make you stupid. So very stupid.
I could have seen hi
m in this world, you know? I could maybe have grasped that. But I was so worried about being good enough for him, and worried about the danger to him, that I didn’t do it. I’m glad I saved him from danger, I don’t regret that, as it shows how much I really do love him. But I’m so ashamed of myself for denying him on any level because of my legs. I love Gus, and I know he loves me with all his heart, wouldn’t pause for an instant if he saw what I really look like in this world.
Perhaps my choice means I don’t deserve him. Perhaps I deserve this heartache. But you? I know you don’t deserve this pain, Dee. That’s why I can’t talk to you for a while. Perhaps someday I’ll be able to write you without my depression showing through, but not now. I wish you all the luck and so much love.
—Ella
Part Six:
Ella Perseveres
Chapter Thirty-nine
Post-American Date: 7/3/232
Longitudinal Timestamp: 10:23 a.m.
Location: Dome 5: Evanescence
“Someone’s at the door.”
Startled by the voice in my head, I look up from my flex-bracelet. I’ve been staring at the same complicated puzzle my father left me for hours, unthinking and numb.
I miss Gus and the game. But what’s the point of going back? He’s gone. And I don’t see how the quest could continue, so I’d have to start another game. I’m not sure I want to do that. Not yet, anyway. Who knows what will happen this time? I connect with Tasha. “Who is it?”
“Master Simon.”
“Uncle Simon?” A flash of excitement bubbles up at the idea of seeing Uncle Simon again. But then it dies. He’s not here for me. I’m dead. So, why is he here? “What’s he doing here?”
Tasha doesn’t humor the rhetorical question. Instead, she says, “Shall I let him in?”
“He must be here to see Katrina.” Probably to talk about Bastian and Sadie’s engagement. “You should let her know he’s here.”
“Neither Mistress Katrina nor Sadie are present. I would not have addressed you otherwise.”
“Oh.” I should have realized that, but I haven’t been thinking straight recently. I need to get my head out of the clouds and start focusing on the here and now. Gus is gone. The game is over, and I’ll never see him again. I need to accept that.
What should I do? Let him in? Then what? Talk to him? But I’m dead. Should I just ignore him? That would be better for him, right? To not have to deal with the ghost of his niece… Wait a second, what am I thinking? This is Uncle Simon. He’d be delighted to see me, dead or not. And he can get me out. He can save me. But then I remember what Katrina said about reporting me and being killed. I can’t involve Uncle Simon—whoever Katrina works for could go after him, too. “Tell him no one is home. To come back later.”
A moment later Tasha pings back in. “He insists that he is here to see you. That if I don’t let him in, he’ll override my system.”
“What?” I gasp aloud. “He knows I’m here?”
“Shall I let him in?”
He knows I’m alive? And that I’m here? When did he figure it out? Is he here to rescue me? I take a deep breath, mentally preparing myself. “Okay, let him in.”
A few minutes later, Uncle Simon steps into the room. He’s as handsome and tall as I remember him, dressed in an immaculate butter yellow and canary gold doublet and tan trousers. He steps over the threshold, his glittering golden shoes catching the late morning light of the synthetic sky.
I steel myself, trying not to grin stupidly. I want to run at him and throw my arms around him, but obviously that’s a physical impossibility. I’ll have to wait for him to come and embrace me, so I just try my best to look good. I square my shoulders and lift my chin, determined not to be judged as a lesser Ella despite losing a good third of myself. I am more than just my physical body and certainly more than a ghost.
But when I meet Uncle Simon’s eyes, I know he sees me as more than a ghost. Not a ghost at all. There’s no horror, no happiness, no realization. Nothing. “Hello Ellani.”
My mouth opens, but no words come out. How can he be acting so normal, like nothing is different? Like I wasn’t dead to him for the past year, like this isn’t a wonderful, tearful reunion. Unless… I swallow and, when I speak, the words are tight. “You knew this whole time?”
He lowers his gaze in acquiescence.
My chest is hitching, searching for enough air. I’m suddenly hot. Hot and cold and in desperate need of something. A scream maybe? “But, but…” I don’t know the words, don’t know what to say. I’m not sure I fully understand.
He waits, patiently standing and looking at me as if it’s no big thing to see me in my mutilated state which, of course, only upsets me more. He knew I was alive. He knew I’d been handicapped. He didn’t come to see me. He didn’t take me in. He didn’t save me even though I was captive and being starved to death. All that I can say, all that I can manage out of all the thoughts floating in my head and bursting in my chest, is, “Why?”
Uncle Simon takes a deep breath. When he lets it out, his spine seems to cave a little bit. He glances at the chair. “May I?”
I just stare at him. I stare hard at him, because if I even blink I’ll burst into tears.
He sits. Adjusts his coat. Leans forward and places his elbows on his knees. He looks me over a few times, stares at the floor. I grip my half thighs, trying to keep myself from squirming. I bite my tongue, resisting the urge to scream at him, to demand answers. Worse, I have no words at all.
Eventually, he says, “I’m sure you would like a clean explanation for all of this, Ella.”
I say nothing, I only wait.
“After all,” he glances around the room, “none of this seems to make any sense. But…” He lifts his Custom green eyes and stares into mine. “I want you to know, above everything, that I do love you. And this entire charade was done to keep you safe.”
I laugh at him, a tight breathy thing that borders on hysteria. My outburst ruffles him, making his face unhinge into blatant indignation. When I’ve chuckled myself to breathlessness I shake my head and wipe my eyes. “Safe?”
He lets out a breathy growl, obviously looking for patience. “Yes.”
“With Katrina?”
He nods. “With Katrina.”
“Do you have any idea what she’s been doing to me?” I demand. “That I’m a prisoner? That she cut me off from everyone? That she’s been starving me? That she refuses to let me get treatment for my legs?”
Uncle Simon doesn’t look away. “Yes. I know.”
I feel myself droop. I wasn’t expecting that. Granted, I wasn’t expecting any of this, but not that in particular. He knowingly let Katrina do this to me. My Uncle Simon, my flesh and blood, who I thought loved me. “How could you?” The words shake as they come out. I ball my fist, commanding my voice to sound more strong and confident. “How could you even say you love me? That you want to keep me safe?”
Uncle Simon sits back and is quiet for a long moment, his eyes stern, his body calm. He’s looking at me in that same way he used to just stare at Bastian when he was having a tantrum. He says, “You were never in any real danger, Ella.”
I feel my jaw unhinge in shock. How could being starved to death not mean danger?
“I watched your vitals. I spoke with Meems and Katrina.” He glances toward Tasha’s lens at the corner of the room. “I watched you. Daily. Hourly sometimes.” He folds his hands in his lap. “I made adjustments to your diet, added supplements. I wouldn’t have endangered you. Not really. And when it came time for you to take the next step, I made it possible for you.”
My mind races down a thousand paths. He spoke with Meems? I glance at her. She has her blank mechanical face on. “Meems?”
“She won’t respond to you,” Uncle Simon says. “I’ve got her on power reserve.”
“What? She do
esn’t have that kind of program.”
Uncle Simon’s lips twitch. “She does now. I upgraded her while you were incapacitated. It was necessary.”
I blink at him. For some reason, this angers me more than anything else up until this point. “You had no right to do that to her—to change her against her will.”
Uncle Simon scoffs. “Of course I do. She’s just an android. A robot. She’s nothing but mechanical parts and circuits. She’s not a person. She has no rights.”
I grip the arms of my chair, wishing I could leap forward and scratch his eyes out. “I’m a person. What happened to my rights? Why did I get locked up and held against my will?”
“Oh yes,” Uncle Simon says with a wave of his hand and a roll of his eyes. “Let’s let Ella run around Evanescence so everyone can see she’s not really dead like she should be. That sounds like a fine idea.”
“That’s the point,” I hiss. “I shouldn’t be dead.”
Sighing, he drops his head back and, when he speaks, his voice sounds tired. “No. No, Ella, you should be dead. You really should.”
Petulant, I prod, even though his voice and body tell me he’s annoyed with me. So what? I don’t care what he thinks anymore. “Why? So you can take Dad’s wealth? So you can steal all the fame and glory for yourself? I know that’s what you always wanted.”
Uncle Simon’s eyes cut toward me, low and dangerous. “So I could keep you safe. So I didn’t have to stand the loss of yet another person I loved.”
“By forcing everyone else around to think I’m dead?”
“Yes,” he growls. “That’s what it took.”
I try to puzzle it out, to understand how he could seem so logical and calm. But I can’t. All I see is betrayal and confusion. A person who has done what he has done to me should seem crazy, right? But he doesn’t. He seems so straight and earnest. I almost half believe that he did all of this out of love. But I can’t. “I can’t believe you. I don’t understand.”
He sits back again. “I don’t expect you to, Ella. But…” He takes a breath, “I’ll try my best to explain. I just…” He pauses. “It’s so complicated, I don’t even know where to start with you.”