I smiled weakly at the tourist couple, hoping I didn’t throw up on their clothes. Probably not the best way to end their holiday.
We reached the large window. I flattened my nose against it, breathed in the coolness of the glass. A line of shuttles cluttered the street. At every window, faces pushed to get a glimpse of what was happening.
“Watch your face, sunshine,” Blade grunted as he pulled on the lever and pushed out the glass.
Salt-scented night air flowed briskly around me, cooling my flushed face. I pulled myself over the window frame, then jumped down and wobbled. Almost fell to my knees. I figured that would be a bit too much drama. Instead, I latched onto the nearest thing to keep me standing. Blade’s arm.
“Don’t like crowds much, eh?” he asked.
“Not much at all,” I responded. “Especially in small, closed-in spaces.”
Although it was evening, there were still quite a number of people on the street. More leaked out of the buildings. I could hear mumbles and complaints about no energy, no Internet, phones not working, having to use stairs.
The way I figured, those would soon be the least of their worries.
Way to aim for optimism, right?
We were only a few blocks from Cho’s Restaurant. I led the way through the quietly murmuring clusters of people. Snatches of conversation floated by me.
“…half way up and the elevator…”
“…the email just froze right as I was about to send…”
“…glad it’s the end of my shift…”
“…service is really not what it used to…”
Please be there, I pleaded silently. Please. I didn’t want to think about the alternative, that we’d been wrong, that he wasn’t safely tucked away with Darren. My stride widened as the grey deepened slightly. Worried faces came into view everywhere I looked. I kept my gaze fixed ahead, far ahead. I didn’t want to see anyone who would recognize me.
Light and a crackling snap exploded from every overhead billboard and communication screen I could see. A communal gasp echoed around the street as heads turned upward. I paused to look.
Across the screens entered a slim woman as pale as could be without being dead. Not albino. Just really pale. Long, white-blond hair. Pearly, almost translucent skin. Light grey eyes. As if she wasn’t pale enough, she was wearing a white coat. I can only assume her pants were also white. She was completely and blindingly pale and beautiful. But I recognised her. Despite the touch ups and the altered colouring of the video, I knew her. Making her eyes look grey couldn’t disguise her from me.
“Griffin,” I whispered.
Blade glanced at me. “This the woman who wants to take over the world, eh?”
I nodded. “Something like that.”
“Greetings, Sana citizens,” a silky, feminine voice purred.
I recognized the voice. It was the one that had led me into a trap, made me foolishly abandon Dragon. It was Griffin, alright. And all I could think of was my mom’s warning when she told me they were installing Dragon’s replacement: once MindOpS 2 is installed, things could get bad. I wondered if even she knew just how bad.
The milling crowds buzzed with whispered comments. Fingers gestured. Feet shuffled side to side. But the faces continued to look upward expectantly. They were waiting for the logical explanation and for directions to fix the issue so they could get on with their day. Night. Whatever.
But there wasn’t going to be any fix. At least, none that we would be happy with.
Even knowing this, even knowing how much danger we were all in at the mercy of Griffin and her brains, I couldn’t turn away from the beautiful image. Maybe because she was so dangerous, she kept our attention.
“There is nothing to be alarmed about,” she continued purring. Her hair fluttered around her delicate face. Her voice was mesmerizing, lulling us into believing everything was under control and would turn out just fine. “We are conducting a drill to test Sana Island’s evacuation procedures. We apologise for the inconvenience. Please board the nearest shuttle bus or wait for the next available one. You will be taken to an appropriate destination where further instructions will be given. Good evening.”
The image disappeared in a fizzle of salt and pepper, while all the shuttles I could see revved back into life. People began to shuffle forward, pushing to get into a bus, as if all the answers lay inside.
Blade snorted. “Sheep. For all they know, those shuttles are going to drive straight into the ocean. I never did like automatic pilot.”
I watched the shuttles fill up beyond seat and standing capacity. No one wanted to wait for an empty one. “Where’s she taking them?” I muttered. Bit my thumb nail. Debated with myself. Shouldn’t I try to stop them from getting on? How? Would they really listen to a girl who’d been a wanted fugitive only a month ago?
“You think your friend’s getting on a shuttle?” Blade murmured.
I stopped chewing my nail, stopped imaging myself rushing through the crowd and dragging people off the shuttles. Instead, I turned and started running towards the restaurant.
And then I did that word repeating thing, like I hadn’t yet learned my lesson. As if my repetition of words was a spell that could weave magic where there was none.
But I still did it.
Please be there. Please be there. Please…
Chapter 10: Dragon
The darkness begins with a sound that shatters every other sense. A bullet smashes through the image of my head and chips away a part of me.
I return to the star-strung space in my dragon form. Drifting on gauzy wings, I search for a way back. There is none. I twist around but in all directions it is dark and silent. I let my wings fade away and I float, detached from the movement of time. I try not to think, but it’s the one and only power left to me. And my thoughts keep drifting towards Myth.
When time returns, I’m dreaming within a dream. I wake up and listen. Through the lightless ocean, something murmurs, the distant calling of life to itself. I swim towards it. Static crackles around me, then two words summon me.
“Spring roll.”
Chapter 11: Dragon
Yes, I know, weird, right? After an immeasurable time of nothingness, the first thing I hear is someone shouting, “Want spring roll? Eat more.”
If I had a body, I’d probably groan and not because of the spring roll comment. I’d been shot in the head and had fallen on my face, in a manner of speaking. After that, I’d been floating about in a complete void, my version of a coma. No sight. No sound. And obviously no touch. I’d been deprived of that sense a decade ago.
I don’t groan or say anything at all. My speaker’s not working properly, so I listen.
“No, Granny, I’m busy.” I think it’s Darren talking.
“Too busy to eat spring roll?” Granny Cho insists in a loud voice. I think she may be partially deaf. Or maybe she thinks everyone else is. “Need to eat.”
Knuckles crack right by my audial sensor. “Fine,” he grumbles, clearly not fine. “I’ll eat one. Happy?”
Granny Cho chuckles and yells, “Always happy. But still have to eat. Dinner now. Come down.” I hear her walk away and the space is quiet apart from tinkling sounds.
“Alright, Dragon,” Darren mutters. “You’d better be working, ‘cause I have no idea what to do with your brain.”
I’m trying, I think to myself. It might help if you stop eating spring rolls and finish fixing this unit.
“Here goes,” he continues. “Time to wake up.”
The visual sensor sparks into life and a blinding whiteness blasts out of the darkness. I can’t squint but I do modify the light detection until a small, brightly lit bedroom comes into focus, along with Darren’s face. His narrow eyes are squinting through long, black bangs and his skinny shoulders are hunched over.
I still can’t talk.
I project the hologram, the image of me ten years ago before my body was murdered. I gesture to my throat.
; “Hey, it worked.” Darren leaps off his chair and does a two fisted salute to the air. “I did it!”
I shake my head several times, pointing to my throat and opening my mouth. He stops his little celebratory caper and stares at me, eyebrows scrunched together.
“Huh?”
I mouth the words: I can’t talk.
“Oh.” His smile widens and then he stops smiling when I glare at him. “Let me try something.” He reaches into my head and jiggles something on the unit. “Try now.”
“Much better,” I say, ignoring the slight squeak in my voice.
“Although maybe I should’ve left you mute,” Darren suggests with a grin.
“Thanks,” I say. “I mean it. Thanks.”
He shrugs his thin shoulders and slouches towards the door.
“So what happened after I was shot?” I ask, following him past a pile of laundry and out into a dim hall. The walls are covered in framed photos. It looks like about seven generations of Cho’s are captured in the photos.
“You mean after you blacked out,” he snickers. “Well, I crashed someone’s party, and those two thugs disappeared when all these people came out to check what the noise was about. And now you’re here, at my place. Been here for a couple days now.”
A couple days? My inner clock is completely messed up. I could’ve been out for two days or two decades. And I’m still not sure where “here” is. Darren stomps down a steep set of stairs, flings open a door and enters a kitchen, a very large and busy kitchen. I wonder if all seven generations of Cho’s are still alive and living here.
“Two dinner specials,” someone shouts and the message is repeated through the kitchen, accompanied by clanging pots, chopping knives and sizzling oil.
“This is your restaurant?” I ask as Darren leads me to a quieter room off to the side of the kitchen and closes the door to the noise and chaos.
“Yeah. You hungry?” He stops, looks at me and cracks his knuckles. “Sorry. Of course you’re not.”
I say nothing. Instead, I pretend to sit on a red cushioned chair, keeping the hologram from sinking into the seat next to Darren. The room is dominated by a large round table. Chairs crowd eagerly around it. The walls are bare, apart from a couple Chinese paintings and a TV screen perched up in a corner. Some sitcom is on. I can hear the fake laughs in the background.
The door flies open and Granny Cho waltzes in. That’s the word: waltzes. It’s as if every movement is a dance, every word a funny story. Her eyes disappear into her small, plump cheeks as she smiles, showing all her small, neat teeth.
“Good friend. Eat,” she shouts.
A slim Chinese man enters, staggering under a large tray laden with several platters, followed by a younger, feminine version of Darren. I glance at Darren as his dad lowers the tray onto the table. He shrugs helplessly.
“Ah… I’ve already eaten, Granny Cho,” I say, making a show of patting my stomach. “Very full.”
She straightens up, gazes at me with wide eyes and laughs. “Not so fat. Always room for more,” she declares, jabbing her finger at me.
Mr. Cho sits and eyes me. “Don’t try to fight it,” he mutters with a smile. His eyes crinkle at the corners.
Darren’s sister giggles. “Nope. I’m Crystal,” and she starts to raise her hand to shake mine.
This could be a problem.
“Hey, Crys, pass the rice,” Darren yells.
“I’m not deaf,” she shouts back, shoving the large bowl of rice towards him.
“I’m not dead either,” Granny Cho cheerfully bellows. “Rice. Good.” She ladles some rice out of the bowl as it slides past her and tosses it into a smaller bowl. “Eat,” she orders, plunking the bowl in front of me.
How did I get into this situation? Oh yes: I’d been shot and resurrected in a Chinese restaurant.
“Where’s Mom?” Darren asks while lowering one hand below the table and waving at the floor.
“She got held up at the market,” Mr. Cho replies.
I glance at Darren’s waving hand. Below it, a small, fat dog hides under the table and eyes me adoringly, a stump of a tail flapping eagerly against the floor. I nod at it. It licks its muzzle. We have an understanding. One well fed dog coming up. Darren will have to carry it out though.
Meanwhile, Darren and Crystal are arguing over one of a myriad of minor issues siblings argue over. It sounds like Crystal’s winning this battle.
“I never asked for a sister,” he grumbles, his feeble attempt at getting in the last word.
“You never ask for nose either, but you have one,” Granny Cho chirps loudly. “Eat your rice.”
“She’s got a point,” I snicker as Granny Cho starts lecturing Crystal about some food-related issue.
“I definitely should’ve left the speaker off,” Darren mutters quietly.
“I’d have sent you an email then,” I reassure him. “Feed the dog.”
Before Darren can reward my new best friend, the lights wink out, along with the screen in the middle of a fake laugh. For a brief second, I’m reminded of the void in my dream, with its complete absence of light and sound, and then Granny Cho burps.
“Granny,” Crystal protests and giggles, her voice an octave higher than normal.
“Let me find some candles,” Mr. Cho murmurs.
A chair scrapes against the floor. We wait as he stumbles out. Granny Cho starts singing, almost shouting, a Chinese song until Mr. Cho returns with a fat candle flickering in each hand. Strange shadows leap around us.
As he opens his mouth to talk, the screen sputters to life and a familiar form stalks across it. I see past the touch-ups, the fake colouring and the nice clothes. I see who it really is.
“Griffin,” I whisper.
We stare at the white apparition as she issues her polite order to board the shuttles.
“And go where?” Darren asks the darkness. “Where’s she going to put us all?”
“We’re not getting on those shuttles,” I tell him. “Whatever’s going on, this is not a drill.”
“What about Mom?” Crystal sniffs.
I see a small light from a cell phone flash on. A few seconds later, the light vanished. “The network is down,” Mr. Cho announces softly.
Of course it is.
“I’m going to find her,” Darren announces as he stands up. He cracks knuckles for emphasis.
I visualize a map of the city centre; the market is only a couple blocks away, well within the three block range of the portable sensor unit floating in my holographic head.
“I’ll go with you,” I interrupt Mr. Cho’s protests. I don’t want to be left here with Granny Cho pushing food at me for the rest of the evening.
Darren smiles weakly and keeps cracking knuckles as he hurries out of the room, through the kitchen and to the stairs. The dog follows me, whining but stops as we hurry upstairs.
“Sorry, maybe next time,” I say. “Hey, Darren, where’s my…”
I guess it wouldn’t sound quite right if I ask where he put my brain, so I stop.
He glances at me and says, “Yeah, your tool cart is in my room. I just want to grab my jacket and we’re out of here.”
As I wait at the doorway to his room while he pulls on a jacket, I have an idea. “Plug me in,” I order.
He frowns. “Is that a good idea? I mean, can’t that weird Griffin lady track you down?”
That’s exactly what I’m thinking and I know what Myth would tell me if she was here. But she isn’t here and it’s worth the risk. “I won’t be long,” I reassure him and myself. “I’ll just check through the market’s sensors to see if your mom is still there and where she is.”
Darren’s pinched face brightens and he grins as he plugs me into the communication grid. The cell phone network is down and most people can’t access the Internet, but I’m not most people. Some would argue I’m not even a person.
I easily skirt around the communication block. I feel my awareness expanding outward, no longer con
strained by a single sensor unit. It feels great, the difference between being locked inside a coffin and running across a wide grassy field. I see everything at once and yet don’t feel overwhelmed by it.
I absorb the images from the market’s numerous visual sensors. Although the main lights are all out, a few emergency lights are on and people have already lit candles. I easily find Mrs. Cho. She’s an older version of Crystal.
“She’s in the vegetable section, aisle D1,” I announce. “Chatting with a couple of the vendors.”
“Great job, let’s go,” Darren cheers and shuts down the connection. I feel myself yanked backwards, multiple images of the market disintegrating sharply as I am returned to my limited hologram self.
I glare at him. I’m considering transforming myself into the red Chinese dragon and telling him off for being so abrupt, when he groans, “Oh no.” All the hope and cheer is draining off his face.
“Don’t worry,” I reassure him, my anger vanishing just as fast. “Your mom’s fine, as long as she stays out of the shuttles and elevators. We’ll get to her before then.”
He looks up at me. “That’s not what I’m worrying about.” He taps a finger against the small control panel on my brain’s tank. “It’s your reserve support system. The metre’s dipped into the red. You’re running out of juice.”
The brain’s not immortal but it can outlive the rest of the body by a long shot. And a MindOp brain can live even longer in the protected environment of its tank. Not since the boat accident had I contemplated my non-existence. I didn’t have to. Time had always been plentiful. But now, for the first time since my first death, I feel mortality squeezing in.
How did this happen? I know for sure Myth said I had at least three months of reserve, and it’s only been little over a month since I was unplugged from the life support pillars in Grogan’s control centre. What happened to drain the reserve so fast? Hadn’t the backup been fully charged? More importantly, how can I recharge it?
Dragon's War Page 5