Force

by A.R. Rivera

Insert Sarcastic Commentary Anywhere

  Like a sentry I watch Amora, the humanoid, work on Rocky. Her touch is gentle, her demeanor warm—and yet this whole scenario is counter-intuitive. I shouldn’t let anyone from this plane near him. But this robotic being, born in a laboratory and running on electricity, possesses a presence soothing enough to calm Rocky when the pinch of a needle wakes him. She is soulless yet more compassionate than most of the humans I’ve come across.

  I wonder what year it is and—if this world is so far into the future that they use machines to care for people—then why haven’t they invented a better delivery system than a needle?

  “She will restore him to maximum health.” Doyen informs from his place standing against the wall behind me.

  I’ve got nothing to add. I’m not comfortable here in this vast room at the top of this tower, sitting with strangers as we hover above a dark city.

  “Doyen… I am curious.”

  “You are curious,” he repeats.

  “Why did you call me here?” I’ve got other questions swimming in my head, but this one surfaces first.

  “To speak with you.”

  Yeah, that’s not ominous at all. Neither is the fact that he hasn’t asked my name. He uses android robots that look like my dad to bring me here and doesn’t ask who I am.

  “Well, I’m here. Speak.”

  The room spins. Suddenly I’m facing Doyen and it’s hard to breathe.

  His hand is wrapped around my throat as he towers over me, teeth bared. “Remember this: I brought you here. I could have you shot. I answered your stupid questions, arranged care for that useless infant when I should drown you both.” His dark gaze shrinks. “I do not take orders and rarely tolerate requests. You will watch how you speak in my presence or I will remove your tongue myself.”

  I’m released with a shove that sends me falling on my ass.

  Doyen is eerily calm as he slides a palm down each side of his broad gut and smiles. “Now. Where were we?” He smooth’s the ruffled tendrils of his hair back into place. “Oh, yes—fate, yours and this little one.” He pauses and looks down to where he dropped me. “You may rise.”

  The arrogance stings. Getting to my feet, I stand taller than before.

  Considering the unmarked path we traveled to the elevator—and knowing that I don’t have the handprint that will open any of the hidden locks or doorways—adds to the tension of the one thought looping through my mind. We’ve got to get out.

  “You promised to give him back.” I remind Doyen.

  “You must keep your promise, first.”

  “I haven’t made any promises.”

  “No? Well, you will. After all, I have what you want.”

  My gaze drifts to Rocky, laying there all helpless.

  Doyen’s barrel chest expands on a deep breath. He grins like the cat that ate the canary. “First, you will swear to leave this plane as you found it. That means you must retrieve your contributions from the Moles, or Outliers as they prefer to call themselves, and then you will disappear from this world and never return.”

  There are about a hundred things wrong with what he’s just said. First, how does he know I’m from another plane?

  What the hell contributions did I make to anybody? And how can he know about my time with the Outlier’s and not know they’re gone? Wasn’t it his robo-army that killed them?

  “I don’t understand.”

  Doyen sighs heavily. “Let’s not waste time with games. We both know you are not a resident of this world. You come from another place where life is very different and you think you know how to fix us. Let me assure you, Traveler, you do not.”

  He turns away from me, casually looping the area as he continues. “Tomorrow, I will see that you are transported to the Outlier camp where you will take back the goods you gave them by whatever means necessary.”

  “I didn’t give them anything.”

  “No? So they aren’t replicating the produce you carried?”

  “Produce?” I ask, more to myself than Doyen. Just as I say it, I remember the oranges that Arlen found. He had no idea what they were.

  “Yes.” Doyen asserts, as if can read my mind.

  None of my interactions with the Outliers matter now that they’re all dead. Is this a test or does he really want me to steal food from a starving group of people?

  “I never gave them anything.” It’s not a lie. They took what they wanted under threat of violence.

  Doyen repeats his circuit of the room, ending the march at a desk in the corner. He leans over it, bracing himself on weighted knuckles. “Destroy their stores and you may leave in peace. In return, I will care for the boy you call Rocky. If he is important to you, I will care for him as if he were my own child.”

  He doesn’t believe me. Not that I care. I’ve still got the stones inside my backpack. I can use them to leave anytime I want. There’s a certain security in that. All they need is a little more energy to trigger a gateway.

  Still, something tells me to tread carefully. The term, know thy enemy, comes to mind and I don’t know this guy from Adam.

  “I thought you said I could take Rocky when I go.”

  Doyen’s eyes brighten. He almost smiles as he cocks his head to one side. “The boy belongs among his people, in the world where he was born.”

  “I’m supposed to trust you to keep up your end when the system you govern was the one that labeled him garbage? That might be commonplace in Neutopia, but where I’m from, Doyen, we don’t toss away people with trash no matter what their problems are.”

  “Your society sounds idealistic.”

  “Can we compromise?”

  “What do you want?”

  “Taking Rocky with me… I could do it, but at great risk. I have to be able to come back to check on him.”

  Doyen looks at his feet, his braid falling from behind his back, over his shoulder; long brown hair reaches further than his fingertips. When he looks up at me again, his gaze is dark.

  “That is the problem, Traveler. You already have.”