by Clay Gilbert
“No, theywon’t. You’ll be invaders, traitors in their temples. They’ll wait for their Providers to punish you.”
“Alright then. Come with us,” he said to the Prophet. “This is your City too.” Morgan looked back at the others. “Hurry!”
They rushed into the Towers, all ten of them, and as the Prophet predicted, the mob made no effort to stop them. There were a few citizens on the inside when they entered, but they soon scattered, disappearing into the elevator that led to the Towers’ upper levels.
“Why are they so afraid?” Morgan asked.
“They can’t believe we’d dare come in here,” said the Prophet. “That we’re not afraid of Them.” Morgan held up his hand. “Look.” Morgan pointed to the ceiling, where two cameras watched them from opposite corners of the room like angry, red eyes.
That’s something new, thought Morgan. They never had those here before.
One of the others gestured toward Morgan’s gun. “No, man,” Morgan whispered. “Nothing that drastic. Just act like you don’t know the cameras are here. Besides, it’s not like enough people didn’t see us come in here. Lasgun blast would just bring down more company from upstairs.”
“What if the ones who left come back?”
“Long as we don’t give them a reason,” Morgan said, “I don’t think they will.”
* * * * The light from Eternity’s hovercycle was a dim star on the Black City’s horizon. As he descended, he saw the throng of citizens gathered around the Towers and a wave of fear washed over him.
He looked back at Angel, seated behind him. “Looks bad down there. I hope we’re not too late.” “They’ve seen us,” Angel said, noticing a few pairs of eyes glancing skyward at the sound of the generator. “A few of them anyway.”
“Alright, then. It’s not safe to set down yet.” Watching from their refuge inside the Towers, Morgan, the Prophet and the others watched the flame-trail of Eternity’s ‘cycle descend like a comet bearing an omen of change.
Change for the better, hopefully, the Prophet thought. After all the visions he had seen—after making the choice to be more a part of things himself—he wanted to believe things could be different.
Eternity slowed the cycle’s generator until it was barely moving and what was a roar quieted to a hum. He descended until he hovered just above the crowd, which had now grown into a sea of grey surrounding the Towers on all sides.
“If we land now, it’s all over,” Eternity said. “We’ve got to scatter them.” Helooked down and touched a button on the cycle’s console: SONIC DISRUPTOR, it said.
Instantly, a high, piercing wave of sound split the air, causing all of the assembled Citizens to scatter, covering their ears and retreating from the sound as fast as their legs would carry them.
That should hold them long enough. Not wanting to exhaust his luck, Eternity headed toward the Towers with Angel close behind him. They left the cycle where it stood. Eternity thought it’d be safe enough.
* * * * The Forgotten Citylayin darkness, awaiting anynews of the confrontation at the Towers. Even with the communications severed in the Black City, and the power blackout in the rebel community, the word still spread through the streets until everyone knew what happened.
A small crowd began to gather outside the Leaders’ Hall. Up in the Council Room, Eternity’s parents wondered how it would all end. He called them before he and Angel set out for the City. Told them he didn’t think it was a good idea for the Leader’s Hall just to stand empty. They agreed easily enough. Sentinel, Jude and Brain had stopped by earlier, and now the five of them looked out the window, down to the Avenue. The presence of the crowd below seemed to them a gesture of solidarity, and of hope that the war would soon be over.
“It’s freaking cold out there!” Brain said.
“They know,” said Sentinel with a smile.
“Tell them to go home,” Jude said. “Tell ‘em this isn’t necessary.”
“Maybe to them it is,” Storm said. “All of this might finally be over.”
That might be false optimism, but she knew her son was determined to see an end to the Providers’ reign. She opened the window, and looked down over the crowd. “What have you heard?” she shouted down to one of the streetriders who’d chanced to look her way. “Is he all right?”
“Word is, he’s holding his ground. They all are,” the brownhaired youth said. “Some people say they even fought their way into the Towers, although I don’t know if that’s true or not. I’m sure he’ll be okay.”
“We should go down there,” Storm said. “All of us. So we’ll all be together.” The five of them left the Leader’s Hall and stepped out into the crowd and, almost at once, there wereon all sides of them hundreds, maybe even thousands—who could tell?—of joyful, warm bodies, and a sea of eyes and faces watching them, waiting for any word.
“I wish we knew more,” Jacob said. “If they’ve been lucky,” Brain told the crowd, “Eternity and Angel are at the Towers right now. If they got there fast enough, maybe Morgan’s still alive, and hell, maybe they are inside.” There was no tint of illusion in Brain’s words, no attempt to diminish the danger of the situation he knew his friends were in.
“And if they get in?”
This time, Brain’s tone was more assured. “If they’ve gotten in, it’s just a matter of time until it’s over.” Smiles began to break out at the sound of that. Many seemed grateful just for the chance to smile.
“What about the Providers?” someone asked.
“I don’t know, man,” said Brain. “We haven’t won yet.” * * * * Just like the Prophet saw it, Eternity thought, watching the scene outside the Towers. There seemed to be thousands— he was sure there were at least that many—outside, just surrounding the black glass buildings.
Itseemed astalemate on both sides—the grey-robed Citizens staring down those who dared invade the temple of their gods, and the ‘invaders’ within strugglingto hold the ground they gained.
Who’s going to move first, he wondered, their side or ours? He didn’t doubt that the Prophet foresaw all of this, but where was the vision of the Black City aflame? Perhaps they escaped it. But then, as if the Prophet’s gift had passed, in part, to Eternity with his touch, a deeper insight came to him now: perhaps this was the seed of that final vision, the sum of the City’s accumulated history of hate and mistrust.
Perhaps neither of us—dome or streetrider—is any better than the other, or really any different. We don’t trust them, and they don’t trust us. Those of us who left felt like we were always different, and they saw us as traitors. Whether any gods told us to feel that way or not, we became each other’s enemies. And now, they’d come to this place, where it began long before any of them gathered here were even born. Can we change the course of the Wheel? He wondered. We will— or die trying.
* * * *
The first reds and golds of sunrise began to appear in the sky above the Leaders’ Hall, and still the vigil continued. There are more people here now than ever, Storm thought. Many of them had stayed outside—and awake—all night. Some carried candles in their hands, like living prayers of light. Others had onlythemselves to offerin solidarity. Many of those in the streets outside the Leader’s Hall lay sleeping, but she had not been able to sleep. Her son—her onlychild— was somewhere in the City, and likely fighting for his very life. She didn’t know if she’d ever see him again. But she knew it wasn’t just his life he fought for—it was freedom. Not just for himself, but all of them.
We brought him up to do what was right—even though, for a long time, we couldn’t see what that was. Storm wondered why someone else hadn’t seen it sooner, why someone else hadn’t acted first. None of that mattered, now. The Wheel was turning at last.
* * * *
“Kill them!” The maddened cry rang from the mouths of the mob outside the Towers, one of them taking it up after another until the whole throng was like a great beast with many arms, many legs, and one single voic
e, raised to the skies in a perverse prayer for salvation by bloodshed.
“Eternity,” said Morgan, the fear seeping into his voice despite his best efforts to stay calm, “this is your game now, man. What are we gonna do?”
My game? Thought Eternity, but there was no time left to argue. “Upper level,” he said. “It’s the only way now.” “Eternity.” Morgan had a resolute look on his face, but his eyes betrayed the question in his mind before it was spoken. “When this is all over, will there be peace?”
“I don’t know,” Eternity said. It was the only answer he had to give. * * * *
“Kill them! Desecrators! Blasphemers!”
The young man with blue eyes and what would have been blond hair—he was about fifteen, and hopedone dayto serve Them in the Towers—wondered why They weren’t stopping what was happening. There’d been no word, no commandment.
Why are they still silent? His name was Luke, and although they had commanded faith, not fear, he was afraid. All at once, he felt as if a great power were inside him, guiding his steps, leading him toward the Towers. The people around him seemed lifeless, but he pushed forward, all his will focused on one thought: I must see.
* * * * About the same time Luke felt himself drawn toward the Towers, Eternity and the others were arriving on the Upper Level. For all that it was rumored to be, the Upper Level did not look that much different from the other levels. It was darker, and there were many doors set into the walls of glass along the corridors.
“So what is this?” Morgan asked. “There aren’t any gods here.”
Eternity was silent. I’ve always known I would come to this place to find them, but where are they? He was no longer afraid. He’d broken all of their Regulations, every law the thoughtfeeds had planted in his mind like seeds from the time of his birth—all but one: You shall not look upon the faces of gods. But, he knew, there was nothing left to fear. They weren’t gods.
If they were, I’d be dead by now.
He still had little but faith to back up his claim, and yet he knew, just as he had when it all began nearly a year ago. Nearly a year spent on this war, since Ace died, since his world became not one of comfortable lies, but of uneasy truths. From deep within a heart which, in some ways, had changed little, but had grown beyond measure.
Eternity remembered the questions he often asked himself in the first days of his rebellion. One, above all others, he remembered: Is it possible to be a child, and yet a man?
Yes, he thought. He wondered how long he’d known. Angel came around the corner, from where she’d gone to see if she could find anything to give them a clue about the Providers, their power, or their origins. She grabbed Eternity’s hand, then looked to the others.
“There are terminals just over there, and while I was poking around, well—you should look at this.”
She led them to one of the terminals, and Eternity watched over her shoulder while she typed: REQUEST ENTRY. The computer’s reply was strange, even to those who had lived all their lives in the Black City’s confines. Perhaps it was just that none of them, with the possible exception of Eternity himself, ever expected to come this far.
WHAT IS THE LAW? it asked. Eternity found that he knew the answer it expected. In the eyes of all of the others, he found the same recognition. It was part of the Regulations, the code of sacred law handed down to all Citizens through the thoughtfeeds from their earliest moments on the earth. He knew the words, and although onlya short time ago, his anger at Themwould have kept him from acknowledging their lie—he realized the words had a meaning they never intended.
ALL TRUE ROADS LEAD TO TRUTH, he typed. ALL TRUE ROADS LEAD TO THE GODS, the computer responded, as Eternity knew it would.
They could hear the voices inside now—the voices of the grey-robed masses outside the Towers. Morgan pulled Eternity away from the terminal for a moment, and called him to the window. Where there had once been order bred of reverence, nothing remained but chaos—people driven mad with confusion turning on each other. Eternity thought he could make out the shapes of several dead, trampled or, perhaps, mindlesslyattacked in the confusion that now ruled.
Eternity saw a burst of light tear through the crowd, and several more people fell. Muffled shouts of anger rose in tandem with the blasts. Then another, more brilliant flash of light, and then a shattering, a splintering of black glass as one of the windows was blown out, and the building burst into flames where the blast hit. Some of those below drew back at the sight of the flames, but still more rejoiced, no longer cognizant of the fact that they were destroying themselves.
He thought for a moment—and a moment was all he had. Things had been better, more peaceful, before. Before this— before even Ace—very few questioned the law, and those who did thought they were alone. Was it better to have a lie that killed few, than a truth for which many gave their lives?
These people don’t want to give up their gods , thought Eternity, looking down at the riot below and doubting his own resolve for the first time in months. He knew the Providers’ government was one that traded in fear—even in death—and all in the name of gods.
Still, he thought, do we have the right to speak against so many, even if by doing so we save a few? Do we have that right?
A switch on a far wall, thrown, illuminated the chamber. Eternity took the room in with a sweep of his eyes. There was a vast network of computer terminals, all linked to a single mechanical mind at the hub. Here was all the knowledge of the City from who knew how long ago, but where were They?
Eternity sat down at one of the terminals, Angel took a seat at the one beside him, and Morgan and the others stood guard, watching for any of the mob who might have decided to come to the aid of their gods. Though the terminals in the Forgotten City were similar to these, and identical to those found in the lowest level below, these were still operational. Somehow, they hadn’t been disabled by the surge Brain sent from the Underground. There were no keypads or consoles, he noted. This had to be the part of the network Brain and his people had found out about on the day Shadow died.
The records had been incomplete—nearlyall the records that far back that they’d ever managed to access were in pretty bad shape—but he imagined someone had thought it was a good idea to keep a second system, separate from the rest, as a failsafe.
He started to speak, to order the computer to tell him the forgotten history of the Black City. That couldn’t be done, though. These systems had to be dead, just like the ones in the lower levels; jammed bythe power surge Brain sent from the Underground.
But what if they weren’t? He thought, remembering the way he’d first contacted Ace, in that old life he barely remembered anymore.
What if there were another way, for someone who knew how? Control of the mind was built into everything in the City. A secret, buried like a safeguard, told only to a few— a selected few already past the age of eighteen, when indoctrination was complete. The neural capacitors had been built only into the terminals on this highest level of the Towers, a direct link available for the use of those thought most loyal—or perhaps, thought Eternity, those most unlikely to resist. Anyone could have done it—but most didn’t know it was even possible. He looked at Angel and realized she’d arrived at the same conclusion.
“We don’t need anything to connect with the Net,” she said, speaking the words that were already in his mind. “And we don’t need anything to connect with these computers. The power supply’s gone? So what? What is thought but energy?”
Eternitynodded. “What arethoughts, if not power?”He took Angel’s hand, and with the others surrounding them, they ventured into the limitless thought-waters of the neuronet.
There was a flood of information, some of it gratifying, much of it irrelevant or redundant. Much of it carried the mark of propaganda. But, scattered here and there like bright stars amidst the husks of dead worlds in a dying constellation, laytraces of truth, included, itseemed, without the Providers knowing.
; Eternity was shocked to see a map of the Black City flash across the ancient screen of the long-abandoned terminal. From what little he knew, Eternity imagined the images had to be more than a hundred years old. There was no Wall, and what was now the Deserted Sector was whole and intact!
How can that be? Eternity thought, and as soon as the question formed in his mind, the patterns of the Net shifted to accommodate the answer. Image after image flowed together in a current of destruction. Whole buildings crumbled and fell, disappearing forever into rubble and dust, others left shells behind, like great insects discarding their forms behind them and growing new shapes to wear. Bodies and debris littered a cracked and ruined landscape. As the terrible images faded, still others showed the beginnings of the construction of the Wall. And then a man’s voice, softspoken yet with the air of authority, began to speak:
“What you have seen here is a warning. Our abuse of power poisoned our City. We thought only of ourselves and our advancement and in the process, we have assured our own extinction. We measure our lives now in days and hours, and we strive to use everyminute we can more carefully than our race has used the centuries that came before.
“To those who keep this City in the future, remember our lesson and guard your power and your knowledge well. Always put City before self. Leadership is a privilege. Remember—”
The voice faded into silence, but the images continued. Eternity felt sick. These were the true Providers—not gods, but foolish, fallible men. Not evil, only misguided, realizing their own mistakes far too late—mistakes the ones who came after them only repeated, probably wishing only to keep it all from happening again.
The final images chilled both Eternity and Angel to their core: A man and a woman, in grey, tattered robes, heads grown bald from a genetic makeup poisoned by radiation. Crowds of people gathering in—celebration? Supplication? Then finally, the Black Cityitself—the cityof the dead gods.
The gods who had never lived.
“They’re gone, aren’t they?”