by Anna Jarzab
Thomas clenched his jaw. It was unheard of for KES agents to fail in their missions. How was it possible that a team of highly trained operatives had allowed their own assignment to be captured by enemy forces? And here the General was, sedate and resigned, as if nothing could be done about it.
“So now what? We can’t leave him to them.” He was struggling not to raise his voice to the General, who didn’t tolerate insubordination on any level. He was no ordinary KES agent, but on this point the General was as firm with him as with any other.
“They’ll never believe he’s not you, but eventually they’ll see they can’t get anything out of him,” the General said. “And they’ll realize that his only value is financial. I expect a ransom demand any day now.”
“Will you pay it?” When it came to the General, Thomas could be sure of nothing.
“I suppose that depends on what they ask for.” The General jerked his chin in Sasha’s direction. “It’s time.”
“Sir, I—” It was unwise to oppose a direct order, but Thomas wasn’t through talking about Grant. He wanted to know the particulars of what had happened that night on this side of the tandem. He needed to know if there was anything he could have done.
“Agent,” the General said firmly. “It’s time.”
She sat perfectly still on the bed in her tiny room. She didn’t know much about the place they’d brought her, only that it wasn’t large and it wasn’t far away from the Castle, which disturbed her. Two weeks ago she’d met her co-conspirator in a dark, unused corridor that belonged to a part of the Castle currently under construction. She found it satisfying that he needed her help with the actual escape. She’d taken him to the royal chapel, which had been quiet and empty, as it always was. Nobody practiced much religion in the UCC these days. They’d left the Citadel grounds by way of a secret passage that connected a trapdoor behind the altar to an exit built into the face of a large schist boulder outcropping that lined the edge of the Rambles, half a mile from the Castle. From there he’d borne her away in a moto, but not before blindfolding her, for “security purposes.” And so, here she sat now, a different sort of prisoner, with nothing to do but wait for her release. She was starting to wonder if it would ever come.
The door opened, and a young girl—she couldn’t have been older than twelve—entered with a tray. The girl’s face blanched when she set eyes on the person she’d come to serve. Juliana smiled; she was used to this kind of reaction, especially from children. They just couldn’t believe they were in her presence, after seeing her their whole lives as a two-dimensional figure on their home teleboxes or the press boards.
“Hello,” Juliana said pleasantly. She’d resolved to be kind to everyone who wasn’t him, or someone who worked with him. If she’d learned anything these last few weeks, it was that salvation sometimes came from the most unexpected places. Then again, so did damnation.
The girl tried to return the greeting but couldn’t seem to get the words out. She settled for putting the tray down on a little table in the corner. Juliana got up to examine its contents: a turkey sandwich cut diagonally down the middle, a bag of potato munchies bloated with air, an apple, an orange, and a bottle of cold, sweet tea. She picked the sandwich up, a half in each hand, and offered one to the girl. “You hungry?”
The girl shook her head, though she was eyeing the sandwich somewhat keenly. Juliana shrugged and took a bite. The turkey was dry, the bread too soft and spread too thick with mayonnaise, the cheese tasteless and processed. Typical Libertas; they weren’t much for luxury or comfort. After the opulence and overindulgence of Castle life, it was refreshing, but also sort of disappointing. Like it or not, she did have standards.
“Are you really the princess?” the girl asked after a time. Juliana had finished the whole sandwich and had started on the munchies, which were salty and delicious. She rarely ate junk food—she’d been on a strict diet since she was eleven, when her stepmother poked her stomach and told her that nobody wanted to look at a pudgy princess. To think she’d never have to worry about being a proper princess ever again. She could have munchies and chocolates and beer and red meat every day if she wanted to from here forward—assuming she made it out of this dungeon.
“I guess so,” Juliana replied.
“Weird,” the girl said, shaking her head as if to dislodge a bothersome thought.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s just … well, some people said they saw you in the Tattered City yesterday,” the girl told her. Juliana abandoned the munchies in her lap and gave the girl her full attention.
“That’s impossible. I’m right here. I’ve been here for weeks and it’s a thousand miles to the Tattered City,” Juliana pointed out. The kid was just playing with her.
“I know,” the girl said, irritated at Juliana’s patronizing tone. “But it was on the box at home, and then I saw it again on the press board over on Water and Broadway.” The girl smiled, a wicked little gleam in her eye. “They say you were at a Libertas rally in Lake Park. There were a bunch of witnesses. Funny, huh?” She reached back to tighten her ponytail and her shirtsleeves rode up, revealing a wide fabric band fastened around her right wrist—an equilateral triangle of ten gold stars on a field of forest green.
Juliana narrowed her eyes at the girl, who seemed neither shy nor sweet anymore. A Libertine through and through, even at her age. She supposed it was to be expected; Libertas had been around for a quarter century, and they were good at planting seeds in people’s heads. Made sense that they’d start with their children. But this news about the Tattered City was not sitting well with Juliana. She was clearly not there, as she’d pointed out to the girl.
So if it wasn’t her they’d seen, who was it?
Ten
I woke up with a gasp and sat up like a jack-in-the-box. Adrenaline surged through my veins; beads of sweat gathered at my hairline, but other than that I felt … fine. Perfectly fine. I remembered the pain from before, the heavy sickness that had tugged me into darkness, but it was gone, all of it—all except for a tiny prick on my right pointer finger, which I could barely feel anyway. It was as if everything that had come before had been a dream. I didn’t remember dreaming while I was asleep—unconscious—whatever—but a doomed feeling had crawled out of the darkness with me, settling like a black cloud in my chest; my mind was sticky with foreboding.
I heard a door slide closed behind me and turned toward the sound. The fluorescent lights were so intense that I had to hold my hand up to shield them; I could see at once that I was lying on a long cot in a large empty room. There was only one other piece of furniture, a wide table in the center of the floor with chairs surrounding it, but even it was dwarfed by the size of the space. The concrete walls were nearly invisible under layers of paper; the only section not plastered with maps or photographs or sheaves of precise, typewritten notes was the wall just opposite me, the entire width of which was spanned by an enormous black shade.
This was definitely not a dream.
“Hello?” My voice traveled back to me on an echo. I was overcome with loneliness and dread. I almost wished the pain from before would return, just so I’d have something to concentrate on other than the ominous silence that blanketed the room.
“Hello?” I cried out again, louder now, hoping the sound of my own voice would comfort me, but instead the word came out strangled and half crazed. I was restless, my nerves thrumming; I couldn’t stay in that bed one more second. I rushed to the door and began banging on it. “Let me out of here! Somebody help me! Let me out!”
There was a window in the door, but it was small, and there was no angle I could find that would allow me to see anything in the hallway that might give me a clue as to where I was. I thought back to what Thomas had said to me about Libertas, what they would do if they’d gotten ahold of me, and I wondered if I was their prisoner now. If that was the case, then where was Thomas? Surely his concern back in the alley wasn’t for my safety alone, if he
even cared about that at all; if they’d caught us, then what were they doing to him?
“Thomas!” I screamed. It was more likely, I figured, that Thomas had succeeded in his mission and brought me … where? Where I needed to be, he’d said. And where the hell was that? I shouted his name again, slamming my fist against the door. I’d pound until my hands were raw if that was what it took. He would come. He’d have to. I pressed my forehead against the cool metal and squeezed my eyes shut. I wouldn’t cry. I wouldn’t. I gave the door one last halfhearted thump with my open palm, then turned my back to it and let one heavy sob escape my throat, just one.
My gaze drifted around the room until something hanging nearby caught my eye. I walked over to the collage of documents tacked up to the wall. There, among the various papers, was a photograph of Granddad, a blown-up, grainy reproduction of the image that appeared on his faculty page on the University of Chicago website. Next to it hung a map of Hyde Park, with the location of my house—and Grant’s—marked with big red Xs. There also was my most recent yearbook photo, my class schedule, and the Lab Schools’ annual calendar with the date of prom highlighted, last semester’s grade report, a picture of the Victorian and hand drawn blueprints showing the rooms on every floor, and several other photos—me and Gina making faces at the camera, Granddad walking into the physics building carrying his briefcase, and, worst of all, a scan of the picture that sat on Granddad’s mantle, the one that showed me and my parents at Disney World.
Sasha Lawson, I thought. This is your life.
He’d planned it all. I guess I knew that deep down, but I hadn’t had much time to consider it before now. Thomas hadn’t merely stumbled into my life; he’d invaded it, coldly calculating his entry and playing me like a fiddle until he ripped me out of my world and into his. The knowledge that I’d fallen for it hit me like a punch to the gut. Whatever my faults—and I had plenty—I’d never, ever thought I was capable of being such a fool, of not seeing what was right in front of my eyes.
On the opposite side of the room hung two huge maps. At first glance, they were almost identical; they both showed the North American continent, with its odd, familiar shape. But upon closer examination, I realized they were in fact quite different. One was a map of the United States in the present day. I located Chicago easily; it was marked by an orange pushpin, teetering on the edge of Lake Michigan. But the other map was different, to say the least. Instead of the fifty states, it depicted two countries, separated by a long winding black border that skirted the Mississippi River. The eastern half, the United Commonwealth of Columbia, was partitioned into twenty or so “King’s Dominions”: the original thirteen colonies, plus West Florida, East Florida, Alabama, Mississippi, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, and Michigan. Some states had been combined, or simply never existed in the first place. Maine was annexed to Massachusetts, Virginia and West Virginia were a single Dominion, Indiana included Kentucky and Tennessee, and Michigan and Wisconsin were joined together. The western half of the map was labeled “Farnham,” and it, too, was divided, by two vertical lines, creating three “Regions”: Louisiana, Mountain, and California.
What had happened in this world to make it look this way? I wondered as I traced the borders idly with my fingertip. And what, if anything, did it have to do with me?
The door slid open and I jumped, shocked half to death by the first sound that wasn’t of my own making. Thomas strode into the room, his expression placid but alert. Before I even knew what I was doing, I flew at him, meaning to hit him, but he caught my wrists and held me at arm’s length.
“I’ll thank you not to assault my employees, Miss Lawson.” I heard the voice before I saw the man. A moment later, he stepped out from behind Thomas, and I got a good look at him. He was no more than two inches taller than me, with dark hair, too dark given his age; in the harsh fluorescent light his face looked dry and creased. He was in his early sixties, definitely; he wore a pair of rimless glasses that reminded me of Granddad.
In all other ways, though, this man was nothing like Granddad. He was impeccably dressed in a pressed gray pinstripe suit with a white shirt and a silver tie, his shoes perfectly shined. He made no sound as he slowly crossed the linoleum floor.
The older man’s presence in the room was unsettling, but all I cared about was extricating myself from Thomas’s steel grip.
“Let go of me,” I snapped. Thomas was completely unfazed and held me fast, though gently, as if he was doing his best not to hurt me. He must’ve been under orders not to damage the merchandise.
“Only if you stop trying to bash my face in,” he said in a low voice.
“No promises,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Agent Mayhew, release her,” the man commanded. Thomas did so at once and stepped back, clearly believing I’d swing at him again as soon as I was able, but I no longer had the strength. Besides, it was clear that Thomas wasn’t the one in charge here, and giving him a good thump on the head wasn’t going to get me anywhere.
“Good girl,” the man said in a patronizing tone that made my fingers clench into fists. “Now, why don’t you have a seat?”
“I’ll stand, thanks.” I wasn’t really in a position to be mouthing off, but I couldn’t resist.
“You’ll sit,” the man said coldly, gripping the back of the chair. When I hesitated, he continued, “You’ll sit or I’ll have Agent Mayhew strap you down.”
Reluctantly, I sank into the chair, seeing that it was fruitless to argue. For the first time, I noticed just how cold the room was, like a walk-in refrigerator. Was it always this cold, or was it for my benefit, to shake me up even more than I already was? I was shaken, deeply. My insolence was more a reflex than a show of bravery, and even then I wasn’t sure I had either Thomas or his nameless superior convinced. But it made me feel better, to give him a little lip.
“Who are you?” I demanded.
“My name is unimportant. Around here, they call me the General.”
“Where’s ‘here’?”
“Where to begin?” The General stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Thomas has already apprised you of the fact that you’re no longer in your home universe, I’m assuming.” I shrugged, which he took as confirmation. “In that case, welcome to Aurora. You’re in Columbia City, the capital of the United Commonwealth of Columbia.” My eyes grew wider as I attempted to process the things that he was saying, but he wasn’t giving me any time to wrap my head around them. “This the Citadel, the flagship royal military compound of the city. To be precise, you’re in the Tower, which is my domain. I am the Head of Defense in this country, and you, Miss Lawson, are my prisoner.”
“Your what?” Hearing myself referred to as a prisoner upset me terribly as I realized that, of course, it was the truth. I was entirely at the General’s mercy. Any notion that I’d simply been mistaken for someone else—the person they really wanted—evaporated.
“I don’t understand,” I protested. “Why would you want to kidnap me? I haven’t done anything!”
The General’s eyebrows lifted. “I find it interesting that you believe this may have something to do with what you’ve done, but I assure you that is not the case. In fact it has nothing to do with what you’ve done. It has everything to do with what you are.”
“Don’t you mean who I am?”
He shook his head. “No. I don’t.”
“What am I, then?” I said, in a voice so low it was practically a whisper. I wasn’t anything but a teenage girl! Surely that was obvious.
“Does it strike you as curious that I keep answering your impertinent questions?”
“Not really. If I didn’t think you’d answer them, I wouldn’t ask them.” I risked a glance at Thomas, who was standing near the door, his back straight as a pillar, hands clasped together near the base of his stomach. He stared at them as if they had something fascinating written on them, but I could tell from the tension in his shoulders and the slight incline of his head in my direction that he was payin
g very close attention to what we were saying. What a coward. He couldn’t even meet my eyes.
“It isn’t because you’re particularly adept at interrogation,” the General continued. “I’m telling you these things because I need you to know them. But the time for questions is over. Now it’s your job to listen.”
I was struck dumb. Growing up with an old-fashioned guy like Granddad had given me a healthy respect for authority, but nobody had ever spoken to me like this before. The General terrified me. My limbs felt loose and heavy, and I could barely lift my head. I hadn’t realized before how much strength I’d drawn from the knowledge that I was not friendless in the world, that I had people who loved me and looked after me. In Aurora, that wasn’t true, and I was starting to see just what a liability it was to be alone.
The General paused. “All right, then, I’ll answer one last question. You asked what you are. You’re an analog, and a valuable one at that.”
“What—?” I began, but he cut me off.
“What’s an analog?” The General leaned forward, as if he was about to tell me a very juicy secret. “Agent Mayhew, what is one of the most fundamental axioms of the multiverse?” He didn’t look at Thomas even as he spoke to him. The General only had eyes for me, it seemed.
“Everything repeats,” Thomas said, a mechanical recitation. He’d been asked this before.
“Exactly. Everything repeats. Over and over, again and again, throughout the multiverse, atoms assemble according to predetermined patterns.” He said this in philosophical way, like he really was contemplating the beauty and grandeur of the cosmos. By the time he said his next words, I had a pretty good idea what he was getting at, and I didn’t like the sound of it at all. “An analog is a double. We all have them; if not in one universe, then in another, and in an infinite number of others besides. And as it happens, you have an analog in this universe who is very, very important. So important, in fact, that I have spent a considerable amount of money and resources to bring you here so that you might replace her.”