by J. Judkins
Kim grimaced. “Yes. That. You called it old technology. A substandard piece of garbage. Why didn’t anyone think to bring a spare?”
“Because the elite, in their infinite wisdom, do not believe in spending money without cause,” Naomi said. “Even then, they’d find excuses.”
“The same elite who specialize in tricking their enemies?”
“Your point?”
“It’s the path of least resistance, all over again. Why do any work at all when it’s so much easier to convince everyone the work has already been done? Or, in your case, why go through the needless expense of maintaining an original body and the expense of putting expensive puppets out in the field for them to control, when they could take the quick and easy path and just trick everyone into thinking they’ve done it, instead? You’re not controlling anything, Naomi! This body is you.”
Kim crossed her arms and smirked. Naomi and her minions looked at each other, as if seeing themselves for the first time.
Anderson cleared his throat. “If you’re killed in real life, you die here?”
Kim nodded. “The mind cannot live without the body. Congratulations. You’re free.” She reached out and tapped one of the steel bars. “Relatively.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
“What happens now?” Kim asked Naomi. “Will you help us?”
“Let me think for a moment,” Naomi murmured. “It’s a lot to take in.”
“If the concept of mortality is bothering you, I’d suggest not thinking about it. Eventually, you’ll get used to it.”
Samuel’s eyes were wild as he rattled the bars. “Get used to it?” he cried, his deep voice at a curious, high pitch. “What are you saying? Don’t you realize the situation we’re in? If we die, we won’t survive! We need to escape now, before the monster returns and kills us all!”
“Although, some of us might need a little more time,” Kim added.
“If our link is the source of our greatest vulnerability, our memories could be erased at any time.” Naomi tapped the side of her head. “Even if we were to escape, our freedom may be short-lived.”
“Could they use their memory tricks to make you forget everything I’ve told you?”
“It would be all or nothing. For detailed work, they’d need the sex toy.”
Kim looked down at her feet. “Don’t call it that.”
“I get it now.” Melanie leaned up against the bars. “You’ve been referring to it as the sex toy so I wouldn’t ask questions. That’s actually rather clever! Even if I took my reports seriously, I never would have mentioned it.”
This was new to Kim. “Reports?”
Naomi pursed her lips together. “Melanie reports her experiences to a team of old sex partners in Virginia.”
“Damn it, Naomi,” Melanie cried, exasperated. “For the last time, they’re not old sex partners. Or new ones, for that matter.”
“Oh, really?” Naomi shifted until she faced Melanie, her left side against the bars. “If you don’t care for any of them, why communicate with them at all? Explain that!”
Light flooded the room with sudden brilliance as the main doors opened with a scream of rusted metal.
Kim and Melanie shielded their eyes, while the others craned their necks to see. The costumed monster stood in the doorway. It looked every bit as ridiculous as the last time Kim had seen it.
The minions scrambled to the far side of their cells. The sight of them made Kim wonder. To enjoy old monster movies past a certain age, one needed to be able to suspend disbelief. If the aliens didn’t know the difference, might it be enough to keep them out of Tokyo?
After Kim’s eyes adjusted, she scanned the room about her. She stood in the middle of a multilevel factory floor. Two massive vats stood a short distance away, with twin metal staircases circling their perimeter.
Kim hugged her arms to her chest as she read the wording on the vat furthest from her. Someone had written the word “ACID” in block lettering using bright orange paint.
Above them, a catwalk crisscrossed the room. It ran parallel to a pulley system composed of steel cables and hooks.
The creature stopped before Naomi’s cage. It produced a key in its awkward rubber hands, unlocked the door, and seized Naomi by her restraints.
Naomi struggled, and managed to kick the monster twice in its rubbery shins, but this did her little good. Her costumed assailant betrayed no reaction. She was made to stand underneath one of the hooks hanging from the ceiling.
“Kim?” Naomi called, a nervous quaver in her voice. “Could you please tell your girlfriend I’m sorry for whatever?”
Kim cleared her throat. “Angel, if that’s you, we pretty much solved our differences. You can stop now.”
Melanie drew as close to Kim as the bars allowed. “I couldn’t help noticing that vat of acid. That’s not really acid, is it? This is all for show?”
The monster used a claw to stab at a three-button control panel hanging from the ceiling. Machinery coughed, sputtered, and came to life. The cable above the pair descended.
“Kim?” Melanie said again.
“I hate to break it to you, but Angel isn’t one for doing things halfway.”
“What’s that—” Melanie grimaced, swallowed, and tried again. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means Angel has been known to use lethal props,” Kim said. “If the situation called for a gun, she wouldn’t go out looking for a Hollywood-style prop gun that fires blanks. She’d find a real gun and load it with real bullets.”
Naomi was secured to the hook and cable by her restraints. The creature stabbed another button. She rose into the air until she could almost touch the ceiling. A track system engaged and shifted, pulling Naomi along until finally coming to rest above the ominous vat marked “ACID.”
Apparently satisfied, the monster left the room.
Kim’s mouth went dry at the sight. Yeah. This isn’t going to end well.
Naomi drew her legs up into a fetal position. “Maybe the rest of you could start thinking of a solution? Please? Anytime, now?”
“Has Angel done this sort of thing before?” Melanie pressed.
“Only once,” Kim admitted, “but that was a special occasion. Nobody got shot. Or stabbed. Which still sounds kind of horrible, actually. You’d have had to have been there.”
Naomi sucked in a breath. “Please, tell your girlfriend—”
Kim had finally had enough. “Everyone needs to stop blaming Angel and start thinking of a way out of this! What if Angel isn’t the monster? Has anyone thought of that? Maybe it’s some crazed Scooby-Doo fanboy in a monster suit, killing intruders and competitors while he searches for a treasure that probably doesn’t exist!”
“That doesn’t sound any better!” Naomi complained.
“Assuming Angel is behind it, any idea why she’s doing it?” Melanie asked.
“Because love is the answer?” Kim suggested. Then she blinked. “Oh! That makes sense!”
Melanie stared back at her. “Really? You’re going to have to explain that to me.”
Kim leaned in and spoke softly to ensure Naomi couldn’t overhear. “Try to think of it from the point of view of someone with less than a month of life experience. That person wants to know more about love. She starts reading romantic stories and watches movies, but they give her a slanted, unrealistic view. She doesn’t realize that romantic fantasies aren’t that common. As an idealistic fan of romance, she starts to dream up ideas. Ideas like this one.”
Melanie wrinkled her nose as she took a long look at the room about them. “We’re surrounded by cobwebs, filth, and old factory machinery no one bothered to salvage. This is Angel’s idea of romance?”
“Work with me on this. Angel is a romantic ‘love conquers all’ type of person. Imagine you’re reading a story of two people thrown into dangerous situations. You expect attraction, sexual tension, that sort of thing. Eventually, you start getting impatient for them to just jump into b
ed and go for it already, but neither one makes a move. They drag it out. The author milks it for all its worth.”
Kim lifted a hand to indicate Naomi, feeling a warm light in her chest as the full implications of Angel’s master plan sank in. “Now imagine one of them is about to be horribly killed while the love of their life looks on. This is the end, they think. Their final moments. If they don’t confess their love now, they may never get another chance to tell the other how they truly feel. A classic romance. Don’t you get it?”
Melanie had heard enough. “Are you seriously suggesting that Angel is listening in, waiting for the two of us to start spouting poetry at each other?”
“Probably not poetry, but yeah. Angel’s playing matchmaker.”
“I thought Naomi was certifiable, but your girlfriend is legitimately insane.”
“Can’t argue with that.” Kim smiled, a faraway look in her eye. “The whole thing is crazy romantic though, isn’t it? And it’s not even aimed at me!”
“I’ve noticed that you can’t stop smiling,” Melanie said, shaking her head slightly. “Sounds like the two of you are perfect for each other. You’re as crazy as she is.”
“I love her. I love Angel. God help me, but I do. And I think I’ve finally figured it out. Angel set everything up to get the two of you together, but she’s also doing it to show me how temporary life can be. That I should seize the day. She’s left it up to me to decide. I’m free to choose. Either I do everything I can to show her I love her, or I do nothing. In either case, Angel knows where she stands.”
Melanie made another show of looking about their decrepit surroundings. “You got all that”—she waved a hand—“from this?”
Kim nodded enthusiastically. “Angel’s a manipulative genius. And I love her for it!”
“You’re suggesting that she’s manipulating you into deciding for yourself? How does that make any sense?”
“Think of it another way. Angel can’t remember her old life, and she’s been going out of her way to get her memories back. Eventually, she’ll remember enough to make an informed decision. Will she stay with me, or return to the stars? In typical Angel fashion, she’s left the decision up to me. That’s how it makes sense!”
Melanie rubbed her forehead. “This hurts to admit, but I think I followed that.”
“I’ve tried showing her that I want her to stay, but it didn’t work,” Kim complained.
“Have you tried telling her?”
“What?”
“Have you tried telling Angel how you feel?”
Kim snorted at the absurdity of the suggestion. “Tell her? Why? What would be the point? How could that possibly work?”
Melanie looked to the ceiling, as if searching for inspiration. “Have you tried it?”
“Of course not,” Kim scoffed. “That would be stupid. Angel isn’t going to be satisfied with a lame, verbal confession. She wants a demonstration that will—”
“Have. You. Told. Her. How. You. Feel?”
Kim squirmed. “Maybe not openly.”
“So, in other words, no, is what you’re trying to say.”
“I guess so.”
“Maybe you should.”
“How did I get to be the subject of this conversation?” Kim demanded angrily. “This isn’t about me spouting poetry. It’s about you spouting poetry.”
“Don’t dodge the issue,” Melanie shot back.
“Fine. Here’s my problem. For days, I’ve been doing everything I can to get Angel to agree to stay. But I need to convince her to do it without making her think I want to marry her.”
Melanie put a finger to her head. “Isn’t that the definition of a marriage? An agreement to stay?”
Kim’s face contorted as the unnatural thought wormed its way into her brain like an unwelcome parasite. “I suppose. Technically. When you oversimplify things like that, then maybe, yeah.”
Melanie simply waited.
Kim found herself sitting on the cold, stone floor without making the conscious decision to do so. “Oh, dear God. I’ve been dreaming up ways to compel Angel to marry me all this time, haven’t I?”
“Good for you. You’ve figured out how you really feel. Congratulations.”
Kim used the bars to pull herself back onto her feet. “Stop making this about me!” she cried. “This is about you. I’m not the one with the girlfriend hanging over a vat of acid!”
“No, you’re the one whose girlfriend put her there!”
“Yeah, okay.” Kim waved a hand. “But as for right here and now, this is all on you. Go talk to Naomi. Do the poetry spouting thing. And make it convincing.”
Melanie grumbled something and left for the opposite side of the cage.
Kim was about to accompany her as far as her own cell would allow when she heard a strange sound—the muffled sound of something moving. She cocked her head, listening. It was coming from somewhere up above her.
A ceiling panel opened, and Angel tumbled into Kim’s cage. Her arms were bound to her sides with coils of rope, which didn’t look at all secure to Kim’s eye.
Angel proved Kim’s point a moment later when she stood and shrugged out of her bonds with the ease of shedding an unwanted coat. “The monster captured me, too,” she said, as if this explained everything. “Have Naomi and Melanie confessed their love yet?”
“What are you doing here?” Kim hissed.
“Don’t worry about me. Have they confessed their love yet?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be standing by to ensure Naomi’s acid bath isn’t fatal?”
“I’m sorry?” Angel gave her a look. “Your statement seems to imply that I’m directly responsible.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Confirming your assumptions would also imply I’m directly responsible.”
Kim stomped her foot. “Stop that!”
“You’re worrying over nothing, Kim. There’s no need for concern.”
“Of course there’s reason for concern!” Kim cried. “What’s the point of confessing their love if you kill one of them?”
Angel’s eyes narrowed into her irritated expression. “Haven’t we talked about this? Naomi needs to become strong on her own, to stop being socially dependent upon what others expect her to be. I’m firmly convinced that love will give her the additional mental strength necessary to take a chance. We’ve known her for several weeks—”
“One week,” Kim corrected. “A little less than a week, actually.”
“—and during that time, Naomi’s demonstrated a willingness to risk everything for freedom, but still has yet to take that final, necessary step. The desire to become independent isn’t enough. Despite her recent advances, Naomi still hasn’t overcome her social restrictions and expectations. I want to win her trust. For that to happen, we need for her to understand that we’re trying our best to help.”
The cable holding Naomi dropped a notch. She shrieked.
“Yeah, I get that part.” Kim held up her hand to block her view of Naomi, so she wouldn’t feel compelled to watch. “It’s a decent plan. The two of them realize they love each other, Naomi becomes our friend and tosses her old friends aside, and then she joins us and helps us save the planet. That’s it, isn’t it?”
“Close enough,” Angel said. “Assuming I’m successful, of course. I’m counting on the fact she’ll be willing to share her secrets, allow me access to their computers, and ultimately help us defeat her evil alien masters.”
Kim couldn’t help but notice that Angel hadn’t mentioned her primary reason for computer access—how she wanted to learn more about herself.
No. I’m not going to ask her about it. If Angel wants to keep secrets, I’m okay with that. I’m going to trust her. She’s not going to leave me.
“How exactly is confessing her love supposed to save her from an acid bath?” Kim asked.
“The acid is symbolic.”
Kim breathed a sigh of relief. “Ah. That’s good. For a second, I thought
it was real.”
“It is real,” Angel said. “It’s also symbolic.”
Kim covered her eyes with her hand. “Dammit, Angel . . .”
“The fact that Naomi is endangered should be enough to make both realize what they mean to each other. My plan cannot fail at this point.”
The cable dropped a notch. Naomi let out another shrill scream and started to swear.
“What if the acid kills her?”
“There’s no need to worry,” Angel said. “The classic tragic romance is arguably the most memorable and effective kind of romance there is. Romeo and Juliet. Gwendolyn and Oswald. I’m going to assume the list is endless, and that I’ve largely forgotten them.”
“Gwendolyn and Oswald?” Kim gasped. “From Odin’s Sphere? What are you talking about? I loved that ending!”
“Surely you can see the parallels? Naomi and Melanie will share an intense, romantic moment together. After Naomi dies and respawns in a new body, she’ll—”
“I sincerely doubt Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet would still be considered a tragic romance if they respawned after killing themselves.”
“Then we’re in agreement. The story would evolve into something better! All the benefits of a tragic romance with none of the tragic!”
“None of that matters, Angel.”
“Why wouldn’t it?”
“Because Naomi isn’t getting a new body.”
Angel’s eyes narrowed. “Why wouldn’t she?”
“I’ve figured it out.” Kim couldn’t help but smirk. “The aliens aren’t running puppets at all. When one of them dies, the computer uploads all their memories and experiences into a brand new body. Their superiors tell them they’re running a new puppet, but it’s all a lie.”
“How do you know this?”
“Like I said, I figured it out,” Kim said. “Did you know there are people out there who would kill for that type of technology? They call it mind uploading, or whole brain emulation. There are websites devoted to it on the internet. I understand the theory, but the sad fact of the matter is the original Naomi would be dead. The new, respawned Naomi might be calling herself that, but it wouldn’t be our Naomi.”