by Tony LaRocca
Benjamin looked back and forth between the two projections and Rivers. The colonel’s face was expressionless. “It’s your third batch that’s rebelling,” he said. He would be damned if this bunch of demented apparitions would place the blame for all this at his feet. He coughed, sputtering. He pulled out his handkerchief, and coughed up a ball of phlegm lined with red. He folded it into a square, and put it back in his pocket.
“Ah.” Another general—Benjamin could not remember his name—faded into view. He wore a mud–stained Army football uniform, complete with a helmet and shoulder pads. He carried a football in his hands. He pretended to hurl it at Benjamin. Although the doctor did not flinch, the hologram sneered, and chuckled as though he had. “He’s dying,” the general said. “Shame you can’t join us, but rank does have its privileges.”
“Stop it.” A fourth figure appeared. He was tall and thin, his eyes glistening. He wore his Class A uniform unmarred. The only difference was that instead of a cap, he carried a paper cone under his arm. The word “dunce” had been scrawled on it in pencil. “I’m sorry, Ben,” he said.
“Thank you, General Carter,” said Benjamin. “I don’t know how to say this, but I think your database is corrupt.”
All of the holograms except Carter exploded into laughter, their peals echoing throughout the dome.
“No corruption, Doc, no virus,” the sporting gear–clad general said. “This is who we are.”
“Red Hour for the human race,” said Peters as she cracked her exposed knuckles. “All masks off. You’ll be looking like me, before you know it.”
Benjamin licked his blistered lips. “All right, I’m dying,” he said. “But before I go, I’ve earned some answers.”
“Such as?”
“Why did you release the Bravo–Seven–November–Golf virus, for a start?”
Lauler stroked his plastic chin with manicured fingernails. “But we didn’t,” he said. “Your Cylebs did.”
“What?”
“It’s true,” said Carter. He tapped his dunce cap with his fingertips. “As near as we can tell, they each played a small part in infiltrating the biological warfare system, corrupting it, and releasing the virus. Each of their work was like a tiny part of a jigsaw puzzle.”
Benjamin shook his head, blinking. “But, that makes no sense,” he said. “How the hell did they even find out about it?”
“It looks like you underestimated your children,” Peters said, “their ingenuity, and their ruthlessness.”
“That’s hard to believe, ma’am,” Rivers said, speaking for the first time. “We made the third generation to be subservient. It goes against their grain to turn against us. Same with the second, to a lesser degree.”
“Those weren’t bred,” said Carter, “they were adapted.”
“True,” Benjamin said, “but even then, we carefully chose children whose nature it was to follow, rather than lead.”
“What’s your point, Doc?”
“Well, isn’t it obvious?” asked Benjamin. “They couldn’t have broken their programming on their own like that, could they?”
There was a long pause. “No,” said Carter.
“I’ve just seen Sigma. She’s as much a pain in the ass as ever, but a murderess? Never. She hates us with a passion, but she would never resort to biological warfare, and she would slit her throat before harming one of her own. Someone did this deliberately, and if the Cylebs are involved, then they’re being played. So tell me who, and why.”
Rivers stepped forward. “There’s been another development,” he said. “At twenty–three hundred hours—”
“Colonel,” Peters cut him off, “that’s classified. He does not need to know.”
Benjamin looked at Carter. The lieutenant general surveyed his fellow officers, placed his conical cap on his head, and stood at attention.
The doctor ground his teeth together. He could press, but years of working with the military had taught him when no meant no. And for each of the generals present, there were two who were not, all of them unanimous in their decisions.
“Then at least get them off my back,” he said. “They still obey some orders, don’t they?”
Carter nodded. His eyes flickered. “It is done,” he said.
“One more thing,” said Benjamin. “Matthew, my daughter’s boy, has the Burning, and the Cylebs refuse to release him.”
“We know who he is,” the general with the football said. “They’ll never let him go.”
Benjamin’s mouth worked. “Then at least order them to let her see him, so the kid doesn’t die alone.”
Lauler toyed with an earring. “You never give up, do you?” he asked.
Carter raised his hand. “Very well, Benjamin,” he said. “They will allow the mother to visit, and they will leave you to die in peace.” One by one, the holograms vanished.
“I have no intention,” Benjamin said to the fading image of his friend. “I haven’t lived in peace, have I?”
The general did not respond. He bowed his cone–covered head, and returned to his electronic purgatory in silence.
Alyanna sat on the floor of her studio, her back against the wall. She cradled the gray, plastic canister of zhivoi–paint in her hands, running her fingertips over its rough texture. It had cost her entire advance to purchase it from outside of the E.C. It was not large, just a little smaller than her clenched fist. A net of sensors dangled from the bottom, like the legs of a sleeping spider. They could record residual neurological activity up to thirty–two minutes after death. The recording process took about ten minutes.
She dropped the canister to the floor. It rolled a foot on the polished wood with a low rumble before stopping. She wrapped her arms around her chest, and sobbed. I should go back, she told herself, I should go back there, pound on the doors, and demand to be let in. I should take a knife, and rip their suits one by one, until they let me see my son.
She gazed at the canister. Tomorrow, she would attend Bucephalus’s putting down. The doctor would prick him in the neck with a syringe, and his suffering would end. He would not be afraid or lonely; he would not hurt, or miss his mother…
Come on, the voice inside her laughed. You knew why you did this, why you let that wrinkled corpse stick it in you, and now it was for nothing.
A cry rose in her throat. She was about to give it voice, to scream and scream, when Isis beeped.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Doctor Dvorkin is here, ma’am.”
“Fuck him,” said Alyanna. “Tell him I said to go away.”
“He says—”
“I don’t care what he says, tell him to leave.”
Isis seemed to consider it. “Override, code three alpha seven zero two nine golf foxtrot seven bravo two,” it said, its voice a monotone. There was a muffled click as the front door opened, followed by the sound of footsteps.
“Hell no,” she said, leaping to her feet.
“Alyanna?” her father shouted. She threw the door to the studio open, and ran down the stairs.
“Now you’re breaking into my house?” she asked.
Benjamin raised his hands to her, palms out. “Carmine gave me access years ago, in case of an emergency,” he said, wheezing. “Alyanna, they won’t let you take Matthew home, but they will let us visit him. We have to hurry.”
She put her hand on her throat. “He’s still alive?” she asked.
“I hope so,” Benjamin said. “Come on, we have to get going.”
She took a deep breath. “One minute,” she said, looking up towards the studio. “I have to grab my bag.”
“Come on, there isn’t any time.”
She turned her back on him, and raced up the stairs. “One minute.”
Sigma stepped into the elevator, and sent it to the administrative level. She thought of the boy, lying alone on his cot. What ridiculous name had the artist given him? Matthew. The stupid bitch had named him after a tax collector. Matthew was dying, without
anyone to touch his mind, and soothe his passing. Better this way, better that they put the poor child out of his misery.
The elevator stopped. She exited, and walked to her office. A handful of her brothers sent her mental salutes as she passed. She ignored them.
Her door opened for her. She sat at her desk, and accessed the security cameras within the Sanctuary. A cylindrical tank filled the screen. Something floated underneath the cloudy waters, something pink, with a cable that snaked from its body. Sigma caught a glimpse of tiny, sleeping eyes. Her hand reached out to the hologram, passing through it.
You are sentimental.
She jerked her hand back. The voice was rich and strong, like the tones of a bassoon. She felt a glow behind her eyes that filled her skull with warmth.
“Who are you?” she asked.
Why do you use words? the voice replied. Have my children lost so much in the time I’ve been gone?
Sigma blinked. Father?
My dearest Sigma, the soothing voice sang. You are the only one left with any strength. That is why I came to find you.
She realized she was grinding her teeth. She forced herself to stop. Then you’re here?
No, not at the hospital, but close. I’m at the Sanctuary. I knew you would be looking at this image, you look at it every day. Some days, once an hour.
Sigma flushed. We need you with us, she thought.
Soon, Jaeger sent. The warmth stroked her like the caress of a loving hand. You are in such pain. I feel it flowing out of you. I feel it in every nerve and bone of your body.
Of course I’m in pain, her mind sobbed. Our brothers—our children—are dying around us, and I can’t do anything to stop it.
Yes, you can.
How?
By not interfering. I have been watching. I have been absorbing this world, its media, communications, and databases. I can see possibilities, and there is a path that may save us. Let what will unfold.
She shook her head. I don’t understand.
The Galbraith woman, the artist. She and Dvorkin are returning with an armed escort. Do not stop them. I know it burns you to give in to them, it burns me too. Dvorkin deserves to suffer for his betrayal. But I want you to let them… The voice paused, the mind behind it sensing something. Sigma felt as if the general’s fingers were separating the folds of her brain. She opened herself to him. Daughter, what have you done?
I wanted to spare the child. I couldn’t bear to see him suffer. She gasped as the warm light became frigid for an instant. She put her hands to her eyes until the pain subsided.
Stop him, Sigma, Jaeger sent. Everything depends on this.
Yes, sir, she said. She reached out to 0800. Stop! her mind shouted with all of its force. The effort gave her a moment of vertigo, and the room whirled around her.
Ma’am? 0800 asked.
The euthanasia of the boy—don’t do it. Belay my last order.
Moments passed. Sigma felt the Cyleb’s sadness before his words formed in her mind.
I’m sorry, he sent, he’s gone.
The government car carrying Alyanna and Benjamin landed in the hospital parking lot. The corporal in the driver’s seat turned to look at them. “We’re here, Doctor, ma’am,” he said. “I’m not sure what you want me to do.”
“You’re a non–commissioned officer,” Benjamin said. “The Cylebs will respond to your orders, if they choose to ignore mine.”
“You’re a senior executive, sir, I don’t see—”
“Colonel Rivers loaned you to me, because you’re clean of the Burning,” Benjamin said. He opened the door, exited, and held it for Alyanna. “I can’t say anything to the Cylebs, it’s all up to you.” He looked at Alyanna’s bag. “What do you have in there?”
She glanced back at her reflection in his glasses. “Nothing,” she said.
“I hope so,” he said. “They may search it.”
“Will they?”
The corporal shrugged. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said.
Benjamin peered at her. “Alyanna, what do you have?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said.
“You didn’t bring anything stupid, like a bomb or gun, did you?”
“No.”
“Don’t worry,” the corporal said as they reached the door, “everything will be fine.” Two identical Cylebs stood guard on either side of the entrance. He nodded at them. “You are ordered to let us pass to visit Matthew Galbraith. Do you contest this?”
“No,” they said in unison. The one on the left opened the door for them.
“Something’s wrong,” said Benjamin as they entered the hospital. “That was too easy.”
“Why?” Alyanna asked. “You said they had orders to let us in.”
“The Cylebs have been very touchy, lately,” said the corporal. “I expected some resistance too, or at least a confirmation of my identity.”
“They didn’t even check you for the Burning,” Benjamin said. “Alyanna…”
“No,” she said. Her breaths came in short gasps. “Oh my God.”
“Alyanna, get a hold of yourself.”
“No,” she said again, her voice a shriek. The Cylebs turned to stare at her. She ran through the halls. Was he in the same room? Had they moved him? Was he still—
A Cyleb stepped into her path. She looked at his number. It was 0800. “Where’s my son?” she asked. She heard her companions’ footsteps running behind her. “Where is he?”
0800 looked into her eyes. “I am sorry, Mrs. Galbraith, truly I am.”
“What happened?” Benjamin asked. “He should have had another day, at least.”
“There was an accident, an overdose of pain reducer. These things can happen.”
“You killed him,” said Alyanna. “How long ago?”
“Four minutes.”
Her jaw clenched. “I want to see him,” she said.
“Alyanna,” Benjamin said, “maybe—”
“I want to see him, now.” She spat every word. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I want time alone with my son.”
0800 bowed his head, and blinked. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, of course.” He turned, and led them down the hallway.
For Alyanna, it was as if the world had become a virt. It did not have anything to do with her; it was all just words, lights, and motion. Forms moved past her, and she moved past them. At some point, she stopped moving. She squeezed her eyes, and held her breath. When she opened them, she saw a boy–shaped lump underneath a sheet. She turned. Her father, the corporal, and 0800 stood behind her.
“Leave us alone,” she said.
“That’s fine,” said 0800. “Please, take as long as you need. Gentlemen?” He walked to the door.
“One moment,” Benjamin said. Alyanna bit her tongue as he approached the bed. He pulled the sheet back, revealing her son’s tiny, precious face. She started to shake. Matthew was pale, and his skin had a blue tinge, but he was at peace. He looked as if he were in a gentle slumber. Benjamin bent, and kissed his forehead.
“Goodbye,” he said. He put his arm around Alyanna’s shoulders. She kept her face impassive, while her heart screamed for him to just get the hell out. He exited, followed by 0800 and the corporal. The door clicked shut behind them.
A cry, angry and raw, escaped her lips. She fell forward, wrapping her arms around her boy. He was so cold, as if they had turned him from a living, joyful child into a doll made of rubber. She had prayed so many times for the fever to leave him, now she wished he were anything except this coldness in her arms.
“I’m sorry,” she said, laying him back on the bed. “Mommy’s so sorry she wasn’t here.” She opened her bag. “But I promise, you’ll never be alone again.”
Benjamin felt anxious. He forced himself not to pace, or mutter his thoughts. Something was wrong. “Cyleb, would you excuse us?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” 0800 said. He bowed, and walked away. Benjamin waited until he heard a door at the end of the hallway close.
“What do your instincts tell you?” he asked.
“They want her to be alone with him,” the corporal said. “I don’t know why. They euthanized the boy out of turn, but they don’t care about the consequences. They know that the army has been decimated by the Burning.”
“Yes.”
“What I don’t get is why they put the poor kid out of his misery in the first place. Look around. There are kids dying here by the thousands, and they’re all in canisters. It’s heartbreaking, but why are they giving him the special treatment?”
Benjamin paused before responding. “His father was a high ranking officer,” he said.
“So why should they care?”
Benjamin sighed. “Corporal, you are a very intelligent and proactive young man, and I’m sure you’ll go far. Now shut up.”
The soldier’s head snapped up. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
Benjamin clenched his teeth. He wondered how long they would be waiting. His lips remembered the cold of the boy’s pale face. He felt his eyes start to tear. Don’t worry, Matthew, he thought, I’ll be joining you soon.
The door opened. Alyanna stepped into the hallway, clutching her bag to her chest. She looked at Benjamin. Her eyes were red and bloodshot. “I want to go home,” she said.
“Of course,” he said. “Are you—”
“I’m fine,” she said, cutting him off, “just wonderful.” Her voice broke on the last word. “Can we please just leave?”
“Right away.” Her father put a shaky hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off, and stalked away in front of them.
An hour later, Alyanna climbed the stairs to her studio, cradling the canister in her arms. She placed her treasure on a wooden table, amongst her brushes and oils.
The poor corporal had dropped her off at her door, looking as if he wanted to be a million miles away from her and her diseased father. She could tell Benjamin had been watching her for the entire ride, from behind his mirrored glasses. She wondered if he suspected. Let him, she decided. What could he do about it?