The Solution

by TA Williams

  Randal thought for a moment, diving as deep as he could for a reason, then told her, “I’ve never been the smartest or the toughest, but there’s something seriously wrong. And there’s also something greater than us….”

  “Oh,” she said, not impressed.

  She turned toward her room and Randal placed his hand on her shoulder, hard. “Look, I’ll do my best so long as you know it’s not for politics, but for me…and that I believe what’s happened to humanity as a whole is truly awful, from the Cash Disease to our current state of affairs…and there’s somebody I used to know making the cosmos cry…the world doesn’t stand a chance unless somebody tries.”

  She revealed a trace of a smile, and there was a faint spark in her brown eyes. “That’s great.”

  Randal nodded. “Maybe.”

  “We’re leaving within the hour,” Georgia said and entered her room, closing the door behind her.

  ***

  Blue.

  Tunnels.

  Elizabeth saw tunnels, and not only did the array of these expansive tunnels reach across the nation, she could peer through each tunnel to nearly any place or at any person she wished. She was myriad minds and perspectives into one. Unsound power infused her, buzzed like a trillion bees pollinating during spring, letting her know she was becoming the very essence of everything. The All was entwining with her very being.

  Let me show you what you can do, Elizabeth. You can see far, so far, and you are the Nature of All Thing, for better or for worse.

  A young woman…

  She saw a young woman giving birth.

  Her name was Janet. Janet was in the process of delivering a baby boy in a North Carolina hospital in a town called Elizabeth City—Elizabeth chuckled at the synchronicity, thinking it might be fun to have every city in the world named after her when all is said and done.

  Elizabeth imprinted herself on an oxygen molecule, letting Janet inhale her. At first, the sensation of being inhaled proved quite delightful for both Elizabeth and Janet. A warm and golden tranquility slinked down Janet’s spine, as though something divine graced her.

  This is too easy, Elizabeth thought. She became Janet, and she became the baby boy as he was being birthed, then…

  Happy birthday! My birthday sucked this year! Sucked! Sucked! Sucked!

  Sourness.

  The tranquility suddenly turned to sickness as fast as someone can flip a light switch.

  Suddenly enraged, as if possessed, Elizabeth imagined turning the oxygen molecules inside Janet’s body into a virulent gas; life is tough these days, Elizabeth thought.

  We lose all we love! Maybe she could save Janet and her baby the trouble of living.

  Oh, I have the authority to do so, and just maybe I will. It will take a bit more concentration.

  Or maybe she would mutate Janet’s cells and induce a cancer of the worst kind. It was easy, so simple, to destroy and ruin the human body, Elizabeth told herself. Wishes were as real as fact now.

  No! What am I doing!

  Disgusted, frightened, Elizabeth strained and yanked her mind from the young mother’s lungs, shooting through the tunnel and back to her chair. All of her minds crashed back like retracting springs, and she was whole for the time being—whole and home.

  Mr. Spires’ shadow was as dark as a phantom. “We’re losing control.”

  The monitors no longer exhibited images of Elizabeth and her adventures, but of Mr. Spires in darkness spiced with blue.

  You’re close, Elizabeth, closer to the gloom you will spread.

  Unnerved, exhausted, she came to a dreary realization that she was turning into someone or something other than.

  You have to keep your humanity, Elizabeth.

  Don’t listen…and no, you don’t have to do anything.

  She went under, swirling down a black hole…seeing iridescent light at the end of the tunnel.

  Goodbye and hello.

  “I assure you, we’re in complete control,” Dr. Temple said as he entered the room.

  Each home.

  Each person.

  The time is now. You will know everyone better than they know themselves, and you will be Destroyer.

  “We own all the resources. Owning thoughts and perception is truly the last stage,” the doctor said.

  Chapter Eight

  The Omni-party

  There are moments when one realizes a new era has come, and Randal knew this was it, as there are always new eras—the Solution was a new era, and his new life was a new era—but there will always be opposition to flux, even if that opposition registers on such a minute scale as Alex’s cause had.

  The road was neon-stained as Christopher M drove a compact car through side-streets in the City. Christopher M thought about how he first got involved with Alex. During the State of Chaos his wife had listened to Alex Treaty’s Net Speeches, before her waist was eventually separated from her legs by an RMS. Finding Alex Treaty was Christopher M’s way of keeping Elaine alive. She was the only person that Christopher M ever loved. No one understood him like she did.

  Georgia, sitting in the passenger side, held the Code Charge in her hand, which was no larger than a USB. She slid the Code Charge in her inside jacket pocket then leaned back in her seat without a distinguishable look. She tried to form a solid shape in her mind out of the uncertain, nebulous fate lying ahead, but she couldn’t complete the task as the uncertainty remained to be a murky, shapeless object. There was hope, at least, she knew there was that.

  In the backseat Randal looked out the windshield, biting back nervousness, still vying to obtain control over his senses as the All building loomed over the City’s ornamented night. Randal understood that, even should they infect the All, the Solution itself would not fall. The Solution might suffer a dent in their operations, and if the mission failed miserably and he was apprehended, Randal would be served a torturous demise—but not before his soul was sliced from his body.

  Georgia said, “You know another reason why we’re not using guns, Christopher M?”

  “No.”

  “They’ll detect them in a heartbeat. With all their gear they’ll fish out our hardware before we even get in the door.”

  Christopher M slapped the steering wheel with enough force to sting his palm.

  “Stop throwing a fit. It won’t help us.”

  “We’re riding to our deaths,” Christopher M said, “to stall the inevitable. And without guns.”

  “I don’t like feeling like a sitting duck either, but if anything, if it’s your choice, you can take one from inside. I choose not to. But you better not try to take one in now. It will kill us before we had a chance.”

  “I’ve done some serious shit for Alex before, Georgia, but I am going to kill any Solution chumps that get in our way.”

  “Hopefully no one will get in our way. Alex and Plum Charlie already jammed the bio-scanners, don’t worry,” Georgia said, “If they hadn’t, the gig would already be up. The bio-scanners would have already picked us up, sensed our pulses, body temperatures, identified us, and judged a probable prognostication of our hypothetical actions should we be attacked…we would already be dead.”

  “And the Code Charge?” Randal asked, “If our guns could be detected why can’t the charge?”

  “Because it’s not a gun, nor is it a bomb. It’s something entirely different.”

  Christopher M pulled the vehicle into a lightless alleyway located a few blocks from the All. “We have to go. As crazy as it is, we have to do it.”

  Encompassing building walls obstructed the view of the All. All three of them were rather elated that the daunting creature of a building had been eclipsed, knowing full well they were indeed heading straight for its maw. There would be plenty more intimidating sights to behold within its dastard belly, Randal knew.

  Georgia turned around and pushed Randal on the shoulder. Randal was surprised that she no longer had a hint of concern in her eyes. She had slipped on her metaphorical battle
mask, hiding emotion.

  “Let’s get on our way before we lose our nerve,” she said.

  The three stepped out of the vehicle, Christopher M leaving his weaponry inside and thought he may have well been naked. Adrenaline pumped.

  Looking down at her wrist-computer, Georgia opened a file that displayed the All’s schematics.

  Georgia said, “You ready? This is our stand. It’s the best we can do. There’s not another option except to give it to the birds.

  Christopher M nodded. “I know that.”

  “Good. Thank you.” She looked at Randal. “Ready?”

  Randal didn’t respond, but Georgia assumed the answer was yes, because he put on his spectra-goggles, pressed the U-bar, and was enveloped in refracted light. She couldn’t see him. Randal thought about hauling ass, getting the heck out of the City. But chose otherwise, whether wisely or ignorantly Randal was unsure. Georgia and Christopher followed suit, activating their U-Bars. The spectra-goggles allowed them to see faint traces of each other’s outlines. No words were spoken as they left the vicinity, meticulously making their way through a system of black, tangled alleyways, sneaking past random citizens until they came to the fortified back entrance of the All. Randal distantly wondered what would come of Ms. Bunny. He’d grown fond of the old woman in their short time.

  From blackness to light, the dark faded away to halogen and neon emanating from a distant avenue and nightlife. Then there was the All building. There were surely other wonders and funhouses just in reach for the taking in the Solution’s world, rather than this building. Why come here? There were grand casinos in the City, Randal had always heard. But he had never gone into one. Why not?

  Christopher M surveyed the building. There were eight Solution soldiers plus two RMS guarding the entrance..

  Yes, Randal would find himself in much better luck inside a casino. Credits could be lost and gained, but what about a life? The Solution hadn’t progressed so far as to produce immortals, not yet. Seeing the RMS, Randal felt fear being injected into his body, but he knew the RMS’s game. He blocked it out. His will was stronger than what it used to be. There was no worse nightmare or insecurity a machine could place in his body worse than life itself.

  A festering second took what seemed like an hour to pass, then, the stillness almost burst into an insane tantrum of boiling anticipation, like a steaming teapot. Alex and Plum Plum Charlie had held up their end of the bargain, and the rest was up to Randal, Georgia, and Christopher M.

  Georgia whispered, “It’s good. Go.”

  Following her lead Randal snuck past an RMS. The machines didn’t take notice, and the team went through the entrance as it was opened for an out-coming soldier. Their first objective was a success.

  They headed for the shadows covering a deep-set back corner of the rather bland, cold lobby with black-and-white checkered marble floors. The surrounding walls were painted charcoal gray and white. A rather outsized, vermillion Solution insignia haunted the wall behind the security desk, where two young soldiers were stationed accompanied with a scanning machine and two more RMS.

  The U-Bars had about thirty seconds left before the camouflage dissipated and had to recharge, then Randal knew the shit would hit the fan unless they got to an elevator, which even the elevator was only stalling the shit hitting, but it was something. And that was all they had to do at this point was get inside an elevator and go up. The goal was that simple, and they took their first steps toward achieving it.

  The temperature dropped fifteen degrees and Randal heard a familiar ricochet inside of his head. It was Elizabeth.

  I’m uploading into everything. I am the virus of all. I am the destroyer of everything … I’m losing my last bit of wits. Stop me, Randal! Please! I let you in! I kept Dr. Temple from seeing you through the All! STOP ME! NOW! I CAN’T HOLD BACK ANYMORE! EVERYONE WILL DIE!

  Her voice reverberated and horrors and migraines danced inside Randal’s skull. An electrical surge zipped up his arms and his camouflage blistered off and the U-Bar malfunctioned prematurely. His spectra-goggles crackled, cut off, and the battle-grid blipped out.

  Distortion collided with Georgia and Christopher M, causing watery dissipations of techno-genius and stunned looks.

  Randal tossed his spectra-goggles to the floor, as they were useless. Georgia and Christopher M did the same.

  The youngest of the Solution soldiers and the RMS simultaneously stared at Randal in shock. The solider hesitated. The machines, however, were not programmed to hesitate. Purple code dazzled like fireworks in the machines chasses and a tone knelled loudly. This tone was designed to press and release a chemical in the brain that induces fear and terror, to penetrate to the deepest part of one’s fears. Christopher M was tossed into a daydream, reliving his wife being sawed in half by an RMS.

  The young soldier went for his sidearm and the hefty soldier’s eyes blinked rapidly. Not a fraction afterwards, the RMSs chain-guns powered on with a maniacal hum. Randal ran to Georgia, dove in the air and knocked her to the floor, covering her body.

  Unexpectedly the lobby lights cut off. Along with a freezing, sour breeze that smelled of fresh wounds and rot, oily darkness infused the lobby like liquid smoke. The blackness could seep into their pores, Randal thought. He recognized this world all too well; he faced something similar when he’d met Tetrax. Though, this was far worse. It originated from a place much deeper and stronger.

  Because the soldiers murmured such expletives as “shit” and “hell,” Randal gathered the dying lights were not part of Solution protocol in dealing with intruders. Randal almost laughed at the absurdity of the horror, until his better senses came back to him.

  Randal expected carnivorous bullets or particle cannons to tear him apart inside this oceanic dark. Instead, he heard the RMS powering down with a droll whine. He heard nothing of the soldiers, nor did any blue particle beams set fire to the air over his head. There was only the living, breathing dark.

  Silence.

  Suddenly the soldiers screamed in the blackness, and their cries were so awful that Randal had pity for them, realizing them not as Solution digits or an enemy, but as human beings. The sound agonized Randal. The blackness wavered around him and Georgia as though the amplitude of the soldier’s yells precipitated sonic quakes in the air.

  The screams stopped.

  Immediately the auxiliary power kicked in and dim, red light spanned the room. It was dark and blurry until the Randal’s eyes adjusted properly. Though, Randal wished his eyes had not taken in his surroundings, at all, as he saw the soldier’s mangled bodies. Snapped ribs protruded from blobs of pink flesh, and yellow, fatty tissue clung to indistinguishable vital organs. The bodies were flipped inside-out. Randal noticed a macabre gift lying on top of the pulpy blobs: lungs. The bronchioles squirmed, and the lung’s tubes reached outward like spreading fingers, hoping to grasp anything at all.

  Breathe me.

  “What the hell is going on, Georgia?” Christopher M wanted to maintain a sense of coolness, but he was finding it quite impossible.

  “We’re aborting this mission. Now!” Georgia reeled. The sarcastic side of Randal, even during the havoc, deemed Georgia ridiculous for putting this on the same standard as a mission, which suggested they were professionals. They were far from it.

  Please, don’t leave. Stop me! Stop us!

  From the auxiliary power cutting on, the RMS came back alive, spreading a wave of fire on the front and back entrances with ion rockets, destroying the RMS outside before they could respond if any commands had been sent from upstairs. Solution soldiers were torn apart with one great sweep of bullets and shrapnel. Elizabeth controlled the machines now.

  You don’t have a choice.

  Randal was forced to stand and move fast as the two RMS locked him in, opening fire with pounding chain guns. Before the Randal realized where he was heading, he and Georgia were already hurling themselves into an elevator. Christopher M was caught behind in the lobby as bul
lets shredded the marble in front of him, only two feet away from the elevator’s threshold.

  “Georgia!” Christopher M screamed.

  “Come on,” Randal yelled, “Let him in!”

  Christopher M dove into the elevator unscathed. The elevator door shut and began its upward sequence, acting as metaphorical Death, paddling Randal up a new River of Lost Souls. All three of them breathed faintly, otherwise standing in near comatose states. Neither of them seemed to notice the elevator actually moved as they mentally replayed the images of what just happened.

  With each floor they passed, they heard screams of horror and machinegun pops along with plasma blasts.

  Explosions.

  More screams and more audible horror.

  The elevator rattled, but they didn’t focus on it. The three of them still couldn’t compute. Three Blind Mice, Randal thought.

  Georgia said, “Where the hell did we go to, Randal? Where have we come?”

  “Somewhere…”

  “Somewhere way under the damn rainbow, Georgia,” Christopher M belted.

  “You still got the Code Charge”, Randal asked. “Do you? We have to stop this.”

  “Yes.”

  ***

  When the lights had shut off and the red backups cranked on, Mr. Spires said, “She’s going to kill us. Very badly.”

  Dr. Temple said. “Don’t be a coward. She can’t.”

  The doctor rushed out of Room 432 and toward the All’s command center. On his way through the corridor he stopped. It had been a long time since Dr. Temple was in awe of something other himself, but the walls were taking on a fleshy texture, like it was a living thing. The corridor also seemed elongated, darker, and desolate, like a labyrinth.

  Growing irritated, Dr. Temple reached inside his mind, trying to connect with the All, but he wasn’t allowed access. He snagged his personalized plasmagun from holster in his suit, brandishing the weapon at nothing in particular. He proceeded down the corridor, turned a throbbing corner and headed to the command center and entered.