by A. R. Crebs
“No, you cannot. Some humans are evil. Those evil people are the ones that ruin everything for the good. Ivory, for example. She has no recollection of her former life. She’s, for some reason, been wiped a clean slate. And right now, she is untainted. You can tell that she’s an innocent girl. She has a good heart.” Dovian casually ran a hand through his hair, messing it further. “But, through her perspective, she’ll see the world for what it really is, and eventually it will corrupt her. It will change her. Whether for the better or worse will be her decision. That’s why you all have free will. From the beginning of time, before you were created, everything had the opportunity to be corrupt, and it’s the evil that taints everything.”
Aria listened intently. She had a good inclination about what Dovian was speaking of.
“Why create evil in the first place?” she asked.
Dovian’s eyes widened. “Your kind was innocent at first, but selfishness and desire ruined that. Deception is one of the biggest evils. Besides, how would you feel if you were forced to be a good person? Where’s the fun in that?” Dovian scoffed. Aria sensed a slight bitterness from the Sorcēarian. “Perhaps you all could be mindless drones, but from the Other’s perspective,” he pointed toward the ceiling, “He wouldn’t feel if it were true, correct?”
“I’m not sure I get what you mean.” Aria flipped her long bangs out of her eyes.
“How about this? From a stranger’s perspective, you could be utterly useless. You’re nothing to them. They couldn’t care less if they saw you one day and then heard you were dead the next. Now, to someone who knows you, someone very close to you, you could mean the world to them. Funny, how from one person’s perspective you are not important, or you don’t even exist. But, from another person’s perspective, you are the whole world and everything in it.” Dovian spoke loudly, almost passionately, about the subject. “That’s how He feels, except He knows everything. He hears it all—the hate, the pain, the joy, the laughter. Now think about it. Would you rather have a world where you don’t get to choose who you love and others don’t get to decide if they love you? Or would you want a world full of your own choices? You’ll know for sure when someone loves you because they made that choice, not because they were forced to believe that way. Understand?”
“I think so.”
“There’s only one who can see all the perspectives and still value everyone, even a banana!” Dovian pointed at the fruit. “And despite it all, you are loved. Everyone sins. In fact, Ivory has probably already sinned a thousand times since we met her!”
“What? That’s ridiculous. That girl doesn’t even know what a sin is,” Aria scoffed.
“Doesn’t matter if it’s an action or a thought. Anything counts.” Dovian raised a finger. “If a married man thinks of another woman…in a sexual context, he has sinned! Doesn’t matter if he’s acted on it. If you think it, you sinned it.”
“Is that what they taught you?” Aria asked.
“It is the way.” He smiled. “Everyone, alive or dead, who has ever existed, even I and my race, have all sinned, except for one man. And he is–” Dovian’s enthusiastic lecture was abruptly cut off once the front door to the apartment slid open. A boisterous Troy and Ivory stumbled into the room, a pack of beer in both of Troy’s hands and a bottle of wine, already open, in Ivory’s.
“Jesus, Dovian. Are you preaching to her?” Troy gawked at the man.
Dovian’s face lit up. “Troy deserves a cookie!” he declared.
Aria smiled at Dovian’s joke, which was completely lost on the other two.
“Oh, look. Dovian took his clothes off,” Ivory mumbled, poking at the heavy armor sitting in the chair. Troy’s eyes glared momentarily in Aria’s direction.
“We’ll continue this discussion later.” Dovian patted Aria’s hand.
The woman twisted in her stool, smiling amusedly at her partner. “Hey, Troy. Know what 50% of your DNA is?”
Troy lifted a brow. “A frog?” He shrugged.
“A banana!” Aria picked up one of the fruits and revealed it to the man.
“Babe…I’m 75% banana!” He waggled his eyebrows. Aria blanched and dropped the yellow fruit back into the bowl.
“I don’t get it.” Ivory cocked her head to the side.
Aria met Dovian’s eyes. “See, he’s already corrupting the innocent,” the Sorcēarian whispered.
Troy put out his tongue and blew a raspberry at Dovian. “Hey, I got an idea. Aria’s got Click-N-View. Let’s watch Skin TV.”
“What’s that?” Ivory beamed with excitement.
“Troy.” Aria rested her forehead in her palm. ‘Leave it to that idiot to watch porn in front of a priest.’
"Ivory’s Portrait"
Chapter 11
Dovian shifted, his limbs dragging across the cream carpet of Aria’s living room. The sound of glass crashing together jolted the Sorcēarian from his slumber. He sat up, alert, glancing in the area of the kitchen.
“Sorry,” Aria mumbled. The woman was in her basic nightwear of shorts and a t-shirt. Her hair was flat, the tips curling around her jawbone. She yawned sleepily as she gathered up more of the glass bottles on the countertops and tossed them into the garbage chute.
“Ugh,” a noise sounded from the couch. “I feel like I was hit by a truck…and then backed over again.” The lump beneath the blanket groaned.
Aria sauntered toward the couch, water in hand. “Here.” She tugged the blanket off Troy’s body. He narrowed his tired eyes at the woman. “Don’t glare at me. I’m giving you a hydrate.” She handed him the glass and a small pill. Aria turned to Dovian. “Do you need one?”
“Not sure I know what a hydrate is. I assume it’s something to rehydrate the body after a long night of binge drinking,” Dovian replied dryly.
“Yup. Works like a charm, too.” Troy sat up, yawning and scratching himself.
“Too bad it doesn’t give one charm,” the Sorcēarian muttered.
“Hey, I’m classy,” Troy argued.
“Right.” Aria shuffled back into the kitchen. She lifted the bottle of hydrate and shook it, alerting Dovian. He shook his head ‘no’ at her and she shrugged, taking one of the pills herself.
“I don’t suppose those help rejuvenate the liver as well?” Dovian said with amusement.
“We’re seasoned alcoholics, Dovian. Our livers would fail if we didn’t drink,” Troy spoke proudly.
“Not sure that’s something you would want to brag about.” Dovian arose from his makeshift bed on the floor.
“Get in here and help me clean up this mess,” Aria grumped, tossing more bottles into the trash.
“I’ll help,” Ivory’s cheerful voice sang enthusiastically from the hallway. “Ooh, coffee.” She grinned, snatching up a mug as she rounded the bar into the kitchen. Ivory’s golden locks were sprung in all directions. Her pale skin had a perfect sheen that seemed to shimmer along with her smile as the morning sunlight beamed across her face from the parlor window. She was a sight of near perfection, a sight that made Aria cringe.
“Only one cup for you,” Aria lectured, her tone sending the blonde’s cheerful smile into a pouty frown.
“Wait, did she just come from your bedroom?” Troy lifted an eyebrow.
“Yeah, she was in my bed. Believe me, gave me quite the start when I woke up next to another body.” Aria shuddered.
“Aria’s so warm!” Ivory stated happily, clasping her hands together. She received a weird stare from the other female.
Troy made his way to the kitchen, scratching his head. “That’s surprising. Figured her cold heart would freeze you to death.”
The dark-haired woman threw a banana at the man’s face, which he effortlessly caught, much to Aria’s disappointment. He gave her a crooked smile. His stare dropped to the dirty dishes on the countertop next to the leftover cake. “Holy crap, that’s a lot of candles!” he laughed, eyeing the remains as he unpeeled and began eating the fruit.
“Shut up.
” Aria rolled her eyes.
“Why were there so many candles on the cake anyway?” Dovian joined the three.
A sigh sounded from the military woman as Troy laughed. “Cuz Ivory thought it would be fun to use individual candles rather than the numbered ones….I didn’t want any candles in the first place,” she said.
Dovian recalled the birthday cake from the night before. It, indeed, looked as if it were on fire. He looked confusedly at the woman. “But it had far too many candles for your age.”
Aria gave a loud laugh at his statement. “How old do you think I am?”
Troy chuckled to himself, picking up the sticky, half-melted sticks and tossing them into the chute.
“I’m a terrible guesser, but I would say anywhere between your late twenties and early thirties. Am I wrong?” the Sorcēarian asked.
Now Troy and Aria were laughing together.
“Aria? Thirty? Ha!” Troy hooted. Aria elbowed him viciously.
“I’m that far off?” the Sorcēarian asked.
“Dovian,” Aria said firmly, “I haven’t been thirty in a long time.”
“How long is a long time?”
“Come on, Aria. Tell him.” Troy winked.
The woman huffed and folded her arms. Speaking quietly she uttered, “Fifty-two.”
“Excuse me?” Dovian leaned forward, his eyes widening. “You didn’t just say fifty-two.”
“What’s wrong with fifty-two? I’m still young!” Now she was greatly perturbed.
“Has anti-aging technology really advanced so well? Plastic surgery?” Dovian thought aloud.
“I didn’t use plastic surgery!”
Dovian was completely dumbfounded. Since when did humans look twenty years younger without any medical enhancements? He turned to Troy. “And your age?”
Troy shrugged shamelessly. “Fifty-five.”
Dovian then looked at Ivory. “I don’t know!” she chimed.
“Something is amiss here.” The Sorcēarian rubbed his chin.
“Well, look at you Mr. seventeen thousand years old,” Aria grouched. “You don’t look much older than we do.”
“Yes, but I am immortal.” Dovian pulled up the globe on his wristband. He stared at the spinning sphere, watching the axis turn. “Of course. That explains it,” he spoke in a low tone.
“What?”
“You humans have torn your world up so badly, you’ve changed the axis and gravity of Earth. You live longer, don’t you?”
“Average lifespan is one-hundred and fifty,” Aria said with a shrug.
“Common knowledge,” Troy added.
“Not when we first arrived. You humans only lived to be in your seventies or eighties on average.”
“Shit, that’s around Mr. Clarke’s age. Can’t imagine him kicking the bucket anytime soon.” Troy scratched his head.
“That’s not a very long lifespan,” Ivory said. She frowned at her empty mug. Aria glanced at the blonde and gave her a warning look.
“Water,” she ordered. “Rehydrate yourself.”
“Oh, I feel fine.” The slender woman waved a hand.
Perhaps Ivory was an experienced alcoholic as well. With the amount she had drank the night before, she should’ve been hiding under the covers or hugging the toilet. Aria dismissed the thought as Ivory filled her cup with the clear liquid. Maybe Aria and Troy were just getting old.
“And it would probably explain why you all seem much taller than I remember,” Dovian mumbled. He scanned over Aria’s body. “Unless I have shrunk, you all appear to be approximately a foot taller than your ancestors.”
“Foot?” Aria asked.
“Approximately thirty and a half centimeters. You Americans used to use the standard system rather than metric,” Dovian quickly explained. “Inches and feet.”
“Huh, weird.” Troy cocked his head to the side. “How would that work? I mean…everyone’s feet are different.” He lifted up his foot.
“Was that back in the cubits day?” Aria asked, amused.
Dovian smirked, pleased with her reference. “A little later, but close based on our current timeline.”
Ivory smiled and laughed nervously. “I have no idea what you guys are talking about.” Troy gave her a gentle pat on the head.
An alarm chimed as the kitchen window flickered into a massive screen revealing Mr. Clarke, his face covering nearly the entire wall.
“Aria,” the President said. “Did you all have a slumber party?” he asked with a slightly anxious tone.
Aria smiled. “Hi, James.”
“Happy belated birthday; looks like you had fun, but I’m afraid I’ll have to put an end to your festivities.”
“You got a lead?”
“Indeed. We’ve had a team of scientists looking over the destruction sites. After much study and testing of algorithms, they discovered something very interesting.” Clarke’s face dropped from the screen, replaced by a world map display. “Within the first week, all attacks had taken place along the same parallel, nearly wiping out all the bases and cities.” A thick line running along the 33rd parallel trailed across the map. “We’ve lost all communications with Dai-Ni-Tokyo and the Beijing Province. As you and Troy know, the first attack occurred in the Jordania area at the 66th I.R.B. From there, the attack occurred between the continents at alternating intervals.
Attacks have wiped out our bases in the northern Britainia Congo and the Roswell Camp. The city-states of Tripoli, Columbia, Dallas, and Phoenicia were all nearly destroyed. The economic crashes have been devastating and felt worldwide. The San Diego fault line was also hit, submerging that whole side of the country in devastating floods. There were no survivors.”
One by one, the city-states around the globe were marked with red dots, a black line connecting between each one perfectly.
“The next week brought on attacks at our base port in the lower section of Upper America and the Chadian I.R.B. in Britainia Congo. Then there was the attack on our base, which surprisingly wasn’t nearly as devastating as it should have been, comparatively to the rest of the world, which leaves me slightly suspicious.”
“That is odd,” Aria agreed.
“I’m looking further into that matter. Next were Athenia of Russite and the Manitoba district in the north of Upper America. After analysis, we found that the distance between certain city-states, for example, Columbia and San Diego, were roughly 3,300 kilometers. It’s the same distance from the lower base port and Manitoba. All signs suggest that the next attack will occur in Cherno of Russite, the same angular distance from the I.R.B. in Britainia Congo.”
Sure enough, the map reflected a particular pattern. Blue lines connected to the continents, revealing equal distances between major city-states.
“Of course, it’s only an educated guess right now, but I’d like for you four to leave at once. I have your flights booked.”
“All four?” Aria looked over her shoulder at Ivory. “But sir, Ivory isn’t a trained soldier. You can’t send her out in the field.”
“I fear she would be safer with you, Aria. Mr. Walten has shown some interest in both of your friends. It concerns me.”
“What would Walten want with Ivory?” Aria unconsciously stepped closer to the other woman.
Ivory nervously glanced at Aria and the large face of Mr. Clarke.
“I’m unsure, but trust me Aria. If you leave that girl here, I fear he may turn her into a pincushion. He believes she has a connection to Ives and the events unfolding here.”
“I…I don’t want to be a pincushion,” Ivory meekly squeaked.
Dovian watched the blonde with an unreadable expression. He, too, was curious as to what the young woman had been doing on his continent, but she certainly wasn’t from his world.
“Can you at least shoot a gun?” Aria asked the trembling blonde.
“I, I don’t know, but I will try. I would definitely feel better with some form of defense.” Her fingers trailed over the silver dog tag around h
er neck. “If this necklace is any indication, maybe I was trained in the military like you were.”
“I’ll continue running ID scans to figure out your identity, Ivory. For the time being, I want you to stay close to your companions, got it?” Clarke stated.
“Y-yes, sir.” Ivory nodded.
“Good. Your flight leaves in an hour. I suggest you dress warmly. Keep contact on the private channels. Call when you get in.” With that, the screen flickered to black before slowly fading back into a busy cityscape of flurrying vehicles.
“Oh, my,” Ivory whispered. “I hope I don’t get in your way.”
“Dovian can be your bodyguard.” Aria patted the girl’s shoulder.
“Bodyguard?” Ivory trailed her blue eyes to meet the tall man’s matching stare.
“If those are my orders.” Dovian gave a short nod.
“Why can’t I be her bodyguard?” Troy argued, following Aria into the living room.
“Troy, I need you to focus. If I kept you by Ivory’s side, you’d get yourself shot.”
“Tch, fine.” Surprisingly, he didn’t argue further.
A soft ding sounded from Aria’s apartment door. Opening up the side panel on the wall, she removed a large envelope. Inside were her and the others’ documents for the flight, coupled with boarding passes.
“Paper?” Troy asked, fingering the pages.
“Yup, I certainly doubt Dovian has a DNAIS chip,” she said smugly, handing the appropriate papers over to the Sorcēarian. “Don’t lose these. You will be traveling as a civilian, got it? When asked, tell them your chip has been temporarily damaged. You are traveling to Cherno to have the item fixed.”
“It says here that I am a citizen of Cherno.” Dovian pointed at his identification papers. There was a photo of him on the document. He frowned. “Do they always pick the worst photos for these types of things?”
“Yup,” Troy affirmed. “But that’s alright. Those people over in Russite are weird. You’ll fit right in.”
“What about me?” Ivory asked.
“Here are your papers. Say that you are traveling with Dovian and your chip is damaged as well. We are unsure of whether you actually have a DNAIS or not. We could run a scan, but James is afraid it’ll alert the system, and Mr. Walten would be able to track your movements. It’s best if you stay off the grid for now.”