The Outer Dark (Central Series Book 4)

by Zachary Rawlins

  “This is too much,” Therese said, with a practiced laugh. “What can you possibly…?”

  “Whatever you want. I could knit you something…”

  “Knitting isn’t sewing!” Therese said, rolling her eyes. “You shouldn’t even be here.”

  “Therese, the Sewing Circle has decided that matter already,” Sofia said, raising her voice just slightly. “We voted. Knitting is an acceptable adjunct, and the gloves she made us are adorable. Eerie is welcome here. Now, dear, you were saying something about an offer?”

  “I could make you a hat or something,” Eerie said doubtfully. “I would think you would want me to use my Kismet Protocol, though. Right?”

  ***

  “Hold on!” Vivik stared at Eerie in open disbelief. “You operate a protocol, Eerie?”

  The Changeling nodded. Katya grimaced impatiently.

  “Since when?”

  “Since…always?”

  “But, that’s…I’ve seen your files, Eerie!” Vivik blurted out. “I know about your biochemistry; the compounds you produce in response to your emotional state, but…”

  “Hey!” Eerie looked wounded. “It’s not nice to mention a girl’s…you know. Private business.”

  “That’s not a protocol,” Vivik insisted. “You need to be injected with nanites from the Source Well to power a protocol, for one thing. Then you’d need a powerful empath or telepath to perform an Activation…”

  Vivik trailed off.

  “Like Rebecca Levy, for example? The woman who just about raised Eerie, since she was little?” Katya munched on a strand of beef jerky. “Vivik, what were you doing looking through Eerie’s files?”

  Vivik ignored Katya’s query, focusing on the Changeling, who in turn clung to the dog at her knees.

  “Then Rebecca injected you with nanites, or…?”

  Eerie shook her head in her typical, dramatic manner. Derrida growled softly at Vivik.

  “Nuh-uh. No needles.”

  “How did this happen, then? Protocols don’t come from nowhere.”

  “Don’t they?”

  “No nanites,” Katya explained, with a toss of her shoulders. “Eerie’s a biological oddity.”

  “Wait a minute,” Vivik said, jabbing a finger in Katya’s direction. “How do you know all this?”

  Katya looked away, her face taking on a stoic aspect.

  “I…may have also seen Eerie’s files.”

  “Hey!” Eerie sang out. “You guys are mean! Why are you spying on me?”

  “Because the Black Sun thinks that you are worth spying on,” Katya said, shrugging and biting into her jerky. “One of these days…”

  “Don’t,” Vivik pleaded. “Don’t say it.”

  “…I might have to kill you, Eerie.” Katya swallowed, and then gave the nervous Changeling a big smile. “Sorry. It’s not personal. My job, you know.”

  Eerie buried her head in her arms.

  “You guys are mean,” Eerie repeated quietly. “So scary.”

  “Stop it, both of you,” Vivik said hollowly. “What sort of protocol is Kismet, Eerie?”

  “It’s hard to explain,” Eerie hummed. “Mostly good luck.”

  “For you, anyway,” Katya said, with a wolfish grin. “Probability manipulation, Vivik. She’s an unclassified Operator, because nobody’s Science Division has figured out a scale that fits her abilities. Unless Rebecca has it figured out. Total fucking nightmare, really. Anything this space cadet really, really, wants, she can make it happen.”

  “It’s not like that,” Eerie protested. “It’s not so easy. I have to pay.”

  “Wow! Really? That’s…amazing!” Vivik looked dazed. “There hasn’t been a probability manipulator in Central, since…”

  “…two decades. I checked.” Katya’s grin was sour. “Come on, Vivik! You’re supposed to be such a smart guy. How do you not know this stuff? I mean, it’s all super-secret, obviously, but that isn’t apparently much of an obstacle for you…”

  “That’s right,” Vivik said sadly. “Why tell me all this now?”

  “Don’t be stupid,” Katya said, glaring at him. “We’re all gonna die in the Outer Dark, if we make it that far. What does it matter?”

  “Oh. Yeah.”

  “Now, shut up, okay? This is the best part.”

  ***

  The room was as still as becalmed water.

  Sofia scanned the faces in the room, waiting to see if anyone else would step forward.

  “Shall we vote?”

  Nods. Eyes glazed over, working, calculating variables.

  “All in favor?”

  Anastasia’s hand was the first to go up, followed enthusiastically by Lilly, and then less so by Margot. Ula and Lada exchanged a look, but abstained, as was their habit. Eerie raised her hand hesitantly from the corner of the room, her expression somber. Sofia joined them, a mocking smile on her elegant face.

  “I think that settles it.”

  “Sofia, why?” Therese looked appalled, while Mai appeared merely shocked. “Surely, if we couldn’t stop them, there was no need to endorse such folly!”

  “Why not? I adore folly!” Sofia smiled engagingly. “For myself, I quite enjoy the idea of Anastasia Martynova being in debt to the Young Ladies Sewing Circle.” The look they exchanged was first-degree murderous. “And a favor from our Changeling friend? Why, even more so!” Sofia gestured at the neatly tailored suit she wore. “The Circle owes me a favor at present, and my wardrobe is terribly lacking. Matters of politics aside, I do have to admit that Anastasia’s tailor’s work is exquisite. I think I shall take a short trip to Tokyo at Circle expense, to settle accounts.”

  “Aha!” Mai returned to her pincushion. “I should have realized. You never change, Sofia.”

  Anastasia stood, and she and Sofia stared holes into each other, Sofia smiling pleasantly, Anastasia stone-faced.

  “By all means,” Anastasia said. “Allow me to provide you with lodging at the hotel my family maintains…”

  “Stay in your personal suite?” Sofia put a hand to her heart, apparently overwhelmed. “No. It’s too much!”

  “Oh, but I insist,” Anastasia said, expression pained. “My servants will meet you at Narita Airport, and will be happy to make arrangements for any reservations or transportation that you require.”

  “How delightful!” Sofia put a finger to her lips thoughtfully. “Of course, it is far too late to secure reservations to the sort of restaurants I had planned to visit on only my second trip to Tokyo. Such a pity!”

  “Any restaurant. Simply say the name.” Anastasia’s voice was dull. “I assure you that it will be taken care of.”

  “You are far too kind,” Sofia said, with a polite bow.

  “I agree.” Anastasia said glumly. “Wholeheartedly.”

  ***

  “Mai Quan used to be…?”

  “Hegemony? Yeah. This was before Ana recruited her. She was the Circle’s senior advisor, and destined for greatness.”

  “Wow. And Sofia Morales…err…North. She sounds…”

  “Like a bitch?” Katya raised an eyebrow. “Not really. She’s just really good at playing the game. Cut from the same cloth as Ana.”

  “I guess. That’s…”

  “Shh.”

  ***

  The junior assassin caught up to the Changeling on her way out of the Main Library, following a strange path that took her out of the rear of the building. Katya called Eerie’s name when she saw her slipping out of the fire door, but had to jog after her and touch the Changeling’s shoulder to get her attention.

  “Eerie!”

  The Changeling flinched, looking absurdly startled.

  “What?”

  “Hold up for a second, okay?” Katya frowned, searched for words. “I just wanted to thank you…”

  “For what?”

  “For…you know! In the Circle. The vote. The favor.”

  “Oh.” Eerie seemed to think it over, clutching her basket. “We
ll. Um. That’s…fine?”

  “What?”

  “Ah. Don’t…don’t worry about it?”

  “I’m going to worry, actually,” Katya said, trying to get a good look at the Changeling’s wet eyes. “Why did you help me?”

  “What?”

  “Why did you help me win the vote? Your favor made the difference to the Circle, so I know it will cost you a bunch. Why would you do something like that for me?”

  Eerie fidgeted and averted her eyes.

  “No reason.”

  “Really?”

  The Changeling was as still as a cornered fawn.

  “Not really,” she admitted, shoulders slumping. “I have a reason.”

  “Oh. Good. What is…?”

  “I can’t tell you yet,” Eerie said, in a lilting voice. “I’m really sorry.”

  “Why? Is it a cartel thing?”

  “No. No cartel. It’s just me.”

  “You have some interest in this, then?” Katya’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “In Leila? Or the Rostov’s?”

  “Who is Leila?”

  “My cousin! The girl you agreed to help save!”

  “Oh.” Eerie turned a variety of colors, settling on tomato-red. “Right. Her. Of course. The girl.”

  “You are really going to help, right?”

  “Oh, of course! I promised. And I promise again! I’ll be super helpful. The rest of the Circle won’t be half as helpful as I’m going to be. Trust me.”

  “I don’t,” Katya said. “Not at all. You seem like you’re hiding something, Eerie.”

  “Of course.” Eerie looked surprised. “Aren’t you keeping all sorts of secrets?”

  “Well…yes. I suppose.”

  “Then, we’re the same. Right?”

  “Not at all.” Katya folded her arms. “I don’t think we have much in common.”

  “Right. That’s what I thought, too, at first.”

  “Eerie…I’m going to ask you again. Why did you help me?”

  “I’m lonely,” Eerie admitted, staring at the ground. “This is part of my plan to fix that.”

  ***

  “You really had me going with that shit!” Katya elbowed Eerie in the side and nearly sent her tumbling into the dust. “I thought you were talking about wanting to be friends with me. I felt bad for weeks.”

  “I told you the truth,” Eerie hummed. “Should I have lied?”

  “You told a convenient part of the truth,” Katya said. “You knew that I would misunderstand.”

  “You’re not so good, either,” Eerie said, making a face. “Besides, I did everything I promised to do. I was super helpful!”

  “There’s no arguing that, is there?” Katya studied the Changeling gravely. “Finish the story.”

  ***

  The first half of the process was math, but the equations were simple, and she knew each of them by heart. The second part of the work was done in code, but Eerie loved coding, so that was no burden. After that, all the Changeling had to do was watch, and wait, and hope the she had made all the right guesses.

  That was what she was doing, operating the Kismet Protocol, as Rebecca always reminded her. Guessing.

  There were lots of things she could do to improve her accuracy, but that just made it an educated guess. A better sort of guess, maybe, but it still came down to luck. It was maybe a little like being a fisherman, Eerie thought; at the very least, it reminded her of what she thought it might be like to fish. She prepared a lure and a hook, cast it out on the water, and then waited and hoped.

  No one understood the metastructure of the Network like the Changeling, the subtle fluctuations in the electrical resistance of the Ether that hovered infinitesimally above nonexistence, how those fluctuations reverberate throughout all of existence, and how communication might be achieved by their modulation. The telepaths call this the Etheric Network, but to Eerie, it is a song buried in static, and the goal of her code to extract the melody. There are other administrators of the Etheric Network, but none approach her grace and aptitude, and none comprehend the root code that underlies everything, describing reality so accurately that the code becomes the object described.

  Eerie hummed a little tune as she worked, framing a vision of the ideal outcome in her mind. She did not yet know everything she needed to know for this crucial Operation, but the Changeling was prepared to borrow the knowledge from her future self, regardless of how much closer it would bring her to herself, and by extension, the Church of Sleep.

  It was a gamble, Eerie knew that intuitively. A calculated risk.

  The Changeling was vaguely aware as she worked that she would spend the remainder of her life developing the code she was presently using. The programming language was still incomplete and under development, but that is no obstacle, because she will finish the code eventually. Eerie winced at the unwanted degree of self-awareness that came with the act of borrowing the code from the self that she would be, a knowing and necessary sacrifice.

  When she first arrived at the Academy, Mr. Windsor and Mr. Lacroix had taken turns reading to her from Peter Pan. It was not Eerie’s favorite story – she resented that her guardians expected her to relate to Tinkerbell as opposed to the main character – but she appreciated Peter’s apprehension in regards to aging.

  Eerie felt she had better reasons than Peter for feeling nervous, though.

  The idea had occurred to Rebecca Levy a few years after the Changeling had come to the Academy. Tests in the Academy laboratories had confirmed the strangely familiar biological entities in her system, so very like the nanites in form and function that the temptation to attempt an Activation of the Changeling became irresistible. After weeks of effort, Ms. Levy and the rest of the staff at the Academy believed that the process had failed to produce a result and abandoned it. Eerie was already better at keeping secrets than anyone would have given her credit for.

  Eerie named her secret protocol Kismet, after a stray cat that Margot fed occasionally, and told no one of it. Five years later, in Mr. Windsor’s class, she would discover what the word meant, and feel a sense of completion.

  The line was cast. The syntax would take years of development, the programming language a lifetime she had not yet lived. A lifetime she might yet not live. The possibilities were not quite endless, but mathematically similar.

  Still.

  There were stirrings in the depths of the Ether, where great and incomprehensible things often seemed to exist, plumbing the vastness of the Ether like solitary whales in the blue of the Pacific. Or, maybe, they were more like clouds, drifting through the sky with no agency. It was hard to be certain of anything, Eerie thought, and even more so once she started messing about.

  She did not see the future. There was nothing of precognition to her gift.

  She did not see possibilities. Eerie created them.

  A golden framework snapped into place about her, an ephemeral clockwork mechanism. Eerie operated the Kismet Protocol.

  ***

  “There was no injection,” Vivik mused. “No nanites involved at all. Ms. Levy just performed an Activation on you, and it worked?”

  “It wasn’t so easy,” Eerie said, with a sad refrain. “Nothing ever is.”

  “That’s another story,” Katya said sternly. “Finish this one.”

  ***

  She had watched a National Geographic special on television with Mr. Windsor once, concerning the people, flora, and fauna of Indonesia. She was struck by the image of wizened and sun-darkened fisherman who climbed atop poles set in the surf along the beach, casting bated lines into the choppy waters beyond, patient in the face of the elements and uncertainty. There was a solemn grace to their practice that Eerie would have liked to emulate.

  She could feel the future throb behind her breastbone like an entombed hummingbird, yearning to exist, aching to be more than a possibility. Eerie’s code spooled silently out into the Ether, killing off myriad futures like a flock of birds flying through a cloud
of dioxin. She imagined these futures as long-necked white birds dying one by one and falling into the sea of Ether, not even a splash to mark their disappearance, a trillion and more fragile sacrifices for the chance at something else. That felt sad, and right.

  Like blowing out a lifetime worth of birthday candles at once.

  Soon enough, Eerie knew there would be a phone call.

  That was not precognition or future memory, just the plan she had made with the Circle. They would expect her to use her Kismet Protocol to create a new, untraceable identity for Leila Rostovaya, whom they expected to save tonight in a raid on her dacha. Similarly, Eerie would be expected to alter circumstances so that Leila’s likely pursuers believed her to be dead.

  Her real work was to be even more ambitious, but Eerie felt confident in the code that had slowly compiled in her laptop, sometimes the work of her hands, sometimes seeming to spring to life unbidden on her monitor, rows of punctuated commands and abbreviated states. Eerie knew that the code was a masterpiece – her masterpiece – long before she conceived of injecting it into the Etheric Network.

  Then Katya had come to the Circle…

  That must have been Ériu, Eerie mused, maneuvering circumstance from the future to produce an optimal outcome. The setup was too perfect otherwise; the ideal canvas for the painting she had in mind. The code had begun to mutate before she even managed to get the laptop cover open, frantic with potential, begging to be compiled.

  Deserving to be executed.

  The Circle would expect her to start work soon, but the Changeling had begun her work years earlier, and would labor on long after the Circle itself was extinguished – if successful.

  If not, then it would be a short night.

  They would expect the girl that Katya loved, and would instead save a boy who was little more than an afterthought. That would make the next part easier, the part where she had to make everyone believe he was gone and find a new identity to hide the boy in, one that he could believe and inhabit.