“Can they be stopped?”
“The Community has done what it can—they tried to warn you.”
“Commander Toor?”
“Yes. And they managed to release us from the Nexus before the engineers locked them out of the scenario entirely.”
Veil engineers, the Community, the Scenario—Lucy doesn’t have time for explanations as to what they are, but she can guess. The Mombasa’s engines start.
“Is Robert in danger?” Lucy asks.
Ril has no answer for her, but a desperate Ramani does.
“Yes, Lucy. He is in great danger.”
Lucy bounds away toward the Mombasa, its engines at take-off pitch. No sooner is she on the access ramp than the craft lifts away under her control.
“We should not be doing this,” Ril says to Ramani.
“What choice do we have?” Ramani answers, tears in her eyes.
* * *
Monica Satori, with whom Robert had built his empire, made whole before him. A lover turned monster, guilty of the most horrific crimes that he had the world hate him for, because she had supposedly—
“How do I know you are real?”
She maintains a graceful pace, a slow approach toward him.
“You know it’s me. You knew it the moment you saw me. That connection between us that never diminishes.”
“I saw…I saw the virus destroy your body. Here, in this very place—” The realization grips him. “So they were right? The Veil took you?”
“Ril and Ramani have been meddling in human affairs more than you know. I have been their captive ever since…that time. But the virus no more killed me than it did you, Bob. You had your prison, and I had mine. Though I rather do think I had the better deal.”
“You’re still infected, aren’t you.”
“It isn’t an infection, it is a completion,” Monica retorts, a terseness to her voice, before shifting back to a more seductive tone. “Do you like the new me?”
“I preferred the old you.”
A rumble from somewhere deep within the building arrests him.
“What the hell was that?”
“You know about the Veil, don’t you,” Monica says, seemingly unperturbed.
She is right there, next to him, her eyes grabbing hold of his. It’s enough to keep his attention.
“A form of quarantine,” he says. “To isolate a world and assess its people.”
Monica shifts her demeanor further, from seductive to matter-of-fact.
“The goal of the empathy test is to observe the emotional reactions of an entire population, but without any state control, each individual free to respond without manipulation.”
“Respond to what?”
Another rumble from within the building, this time accompanied by a distinctive groan from the superstructure. But Robert is caught up in the discourse, sensing greater things afoot.
“The emotional trigger itself was to reveal the Emerald City. A huge event to induce culture shock on a global scale, and beyond the reach of any attempt at direct intervention.”
“Then why bring me here?”
“Bob! Haven’t you figured it out yet?” Monica chuckles to herself. “This isn’t about you.”
A moment searching Monica’s face before he finds the truth in his own mind, gulping it out.
“Lucy?”
“Such a pretty little machine,” Monica quips. “The daughter you never had. Nice line.”
“That was you in the woods?”
“I wanted to take a look at you. In case you didn’t make it this far. To see how you turned out.” She brings her face close to his. “Not too bad. Not too bad at all.”
A series of explosions echo up from below, shaking the building, its groans of protest no longer to be ignored.
“Okay, what the hell is going on?”
“Veil engineers…the beings that built this place? There’s one of them here. A sister, actually. And she’s coming-ta-getcha.”
Monica remains unmoved by the apparent destruction being wrought below.
“Bashing its way up from the Nexus levels, I’d say. They’re not terribly good at moving around in lower dimensional space.” She turns to face an open area between the furniture. “Show me the structural integrity of this building.”
The apartment obliges, a three-dimensional image of the tower’s superstructure appearing—the skeleton of beams and struts holding the building together. The havoc being dished out is clearly evident, proceeding as it does up through the core—but away from the major supporting elements.
“For all their intelligence they are no better than children,” Monica says. “Unable to understand the consequences of their actions in our world.”
“But that’s what Ril and Ramani are here for, right?”
“Oh, they’ve forgotten all about them. Ril and Ramani are now nothing more than a nuisance to be set aside. All that excitement on Sixth Avenue? Veil engineers. Like children torturing a small animal. See how it runs!”
The entire apartment shakes, the projection showing an approaching something.
“Here it comes. You see, Bob, with an empathy test on this scale, it’s best if somebody dies.”
* * *
The Mombasa slides slowly over the roof area on its vertical thrusters, slow enough for Lucy to sprint off the lowered access ramp and drop straight to the deck below, thumping down with a perfectly controlled crouch landing, the lander disappearing below the roof line.
Access to the main building is via a raised service structure on the far side. Lucy heads straight for it, only to find its door is securely locked. Slamming her body violently against it yields nothing. She sets about a repeated and sustained attack upon it.
* * *
Monica has her sights on the building’s structural integrity projection.
“Well, that’s the last of the elevators and stairs,” she says, with a feigned sigh. “No way out now.”
A wide-eyed Robert confronts her.
“What purpose can this possibly serve?”
“You know, I do believe you are right. Time, then, to change the parameters of this tedious exercise and up the stakes.” She returns her attention to the projection. “Seal this floor.”
The projection shows a green barrier enclose the entire volume of the residence.
“There. That should hold it off for a bit.” Monica returns a seductive gaze to Robert. “Now, what shall we do to pass the time?”
Some tremendous force bashes itself against the underside of the Sky Floor elevator lobby, the barrier holding firm, but pulsing red in the projection. Monica turns to face the lobby, her demeanor snapping in an instant.
“Come on!!” she screams at the walls, with every ounce of energy she has. “Is that all you’ve got?! We are worth more than that!!”
Her rage vanishes. Robert inches away from her, nonetheless.
“Have you completely lost it?”
“Like I said. Someone has to die.”
In a flash she grabs him by his belt, too quick for him to dodge, and hoists him into the air like a plaything—something more than just increased strength from the Messiah virus.
“Light as a feather!”
“How are you doing this?” Robert manages, limbs flailing, eyes agog. He grapples at her arm, only to find some hidden force binding him tight.
“You know, I don’t think you understand the gravity of your situation,” she quips.
For Monica it is evident from his befuddled look that he simply doesn’t get it.
“The Gravimetric Grid?” she offers. “Ril’s pathetic parlor tricks?” But still no spark of understanding. “Oh, never mind.”
* * *
Lucy’s unrelenting onslaught on the access door abruptly ceases, despite the first evidence of progress. Something is happening below. She dashes to the nearest wall to lean right over and look down. Nothing visually evident, but the noise suggests a level of internal destruction taking place.
/>
A step to return her attention to the access door is halted mid-flow.
Lucy’s eyes glaze over.
* * *
Monica lowers herself into a crouch, coiling into a discus thrower’s stance, Robert firmly in her grasp, pinned to the floor by invisible bonds. The ferocity of the attack on the barrier has the structural integrity projection in a permanent red glow of impending failure, the noise deafening. Monica brings her face close to Robert’s so that she may be heard without the need to raise her voice, for what she must now disclose deserves better than that.
“They want something. They call it a jewel. And when they find one they become intoxicated by its presence.”
“A jewel?” Robert manages to gasp out.
“A thing so rare few have ever been found the galaxy across. And every lifting of the Veil is an opportunity to find one. That’s why the Veil engineers are here, when they should not be. They are like oyster divers, looking for pearls.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The one bond that unites us all.” Monica’s demeanor collapses. Sadness becomes her. “Love. Not the love born of lust, not the love of lifelong husband and wife, not the love you and I once had when we were innocents. That, and more, can be found everywhere, and is all the empathy test is intended to seek out. But a jewel is something much deeper. A bond that defies explanation. You felt it in the woods. You feel it now.”
“You said this wasn’t about me—”
The barrier gives way, something unseen exploding up through the lobby floor in a shower of debris, space warping about its presence. It wastes no time in bashing its way across the apartment.
Bringing all her strength to bear with a grimace, Monica uncoils to hurl Robert from her grasp into an upward arc toward the windows. In the same fluid motion she whips out a gun and fires three shots in quick succession, the bullets zipping past him.
The Veil engineer is upon her, engulfing Monica in a whirlwind of destruction.
* * *
Ramani can only look on in horror, the unfolding events culminating in an outcome that has her scream with unadulterated rage, contorting her face out of all recognition.
“No!!!”
* * *
Lucy pounds her way across the roof deck, each stride pumping energy into the forward motion she needs for the leap she now makes from ledge—dropping in a perfect swallow dive, head arced back, arms outstretched.
Directly below her Robert bursts through a window in a shower of already-shattered glass, tumbling in the grip of a tricked Gravimetric Grid.
They collide, Lucy hooking herself onto his back, the two of them rolling head over heels as they plummet toward the plaza.
She flails her legs, the drag reorienting their bodies, nulling out the tumble so that she is below Robert—
They SLAM onto the topside if the Mombasa’s hull as it slides across their path to scoop them away from the building, the engine air intakes misting under the strain of the Merlins winding up to more than maximum thrust—a one-shot trick that saw Lucy flip the lander into an incline for just long enough to get it under them without hitting the building, and now has them on a dive arc pulling ten gees.
But Lucy’s calculations were not based on the maximums they could sustain—they were based on the minimum separation that would get the Mombasa beyond the plaza edge and allow it to shallow its dive out in the canyon beyond. The violence of the initial impact and the thrust needed immediately after were all remainders of an equation, the outcome of which, whatever it may be, being unavoidable.
The Mombasa shallows out deep within the canyon, arcing up to head for the Battery, the high pitch whine of its engines echoing all about.
The moment it sets itself down Ril and Ramani are upon it, leaping onto the topside of the hull, not shy of using their gravity tricks to expedite matters. Ril examines Robert, while Ramani attends to Lucy, crushed beneath him.
“He’s unconscious,” Ril says. “Nothing life threatening.”
“She broke his fall,” Ramani says, her voice trembling. “Massive internal injuries.”
Ril is quick to bring his hand to Ramani’s.
“We cannot intervene,” he says to her.
“Why not? They changed the rules, so can we.”
“This was the Veil engineers—not the Community. Nothing has changed.”
“I don’t care,” Ramani says. “Lucy—Lucy, can you hear me?”
Lucy stirs, blood dribbling from her mouth. Her eyes flicker and open.
“You have been badly damaged,” Ramani says, looking directly at her. “We can help you, but only if you allow us to do so. Blink once if you understand.”
Lucy stares calmly back, Ramani slumping with despair.
“It doesn’t have to be this way. Not anymore. We can fix you.”
Lucy coughs out some blood. Enough to allow her to speak, albeit with some difficulty.
“I felt her. Doctor Satori. She showed me what to do. To save Robert. My life for his. It all seemed so simple.”
“Lucy—the synaptic connection…if you die here…”
She smiles weakly back at them before closing her eyes, her body slumping.
Ramani looks to Ril.
“No,” he says to her firmly. “We cannot.”
A PASSING
The Pavilion’s windows are black, permanently closed off from the outside world, the building now serving its new purpose as Lucy’s mausoleum, her body resting serenely on a stone plinth directly beneath the dome.
Robert betrays no emotion—he will not. Not here, beside her. One last chance to gaze upon her face that he needs to make count. Done, he turns away to leave, the lights dimming to a darkness, the main doors closing themselves behind him as he steps out into the day, the tomb quietly sealing itself.
Ril and Ramani await him. A short distance beyond sits the Mombasa.
“Was it worth it?” he demands of them, “The price Lucy paid? Did it mean anything?”
They have nothing for him, not even a glimmer of sadness or regret.
“You took an innocent life and destroyed it. And for what? To save the world? The world didn’t deserve her. God damn you.” He raises his gaze to shout at the sky. “God damn you all!”
He has rage enough inside to lay waste all about him. But there has been enough destruction and what serves no purpose, serves no purpose.
“And Monica?” He asks of them.
“She intervened. To change the outcome of the engineers’ experiment. What has become of her we do not know.”
“Experiment?”
“To test the bond between you and Lucy. To tear it apart and examine what remained. Monica showed them something they were not expecting.”
“Then the Veil is lifted?”
“It is not.”
“Maybe we are better off behind it,” Robert says bitterly. “Shroud or no shroud.”
“The Mombasa will take you back to the Afrika,” Ril says. “She will break orbit in twelve hours.”
“Go back to what you know, Robert.” says Ramani.
The Mombasa’s engines start, winding up slowly to take-off speed.
Robert gives them both one final look of contempt, before turning away to board, not looking back.
The access ramp having closed and sufficient time for him to buckle up having passed, the Mombasa lifts away.
“It’s starting,” says Ramani, mesmerized by the departing lander.
“And if all is lost?” Ril asks anxiously. “What of us? It was not supposed to be this way.”
* * *
The Mombasa makes its way, passing over Robert’s house, retracing the route they had taken, to finally burst through the dome’s energy barrier, out over the landing area, arcing up into the Martian sky.
For Robert there is nothing to do. The autopilot has its instructions and doubtless the Afrika does as well. So he just sits there, an expression of stone for those he knows must be watching him, his lev
iathan creation now looming ahead.
Docking proceeds smoothly, the Mombasa hauled back into the garage to be alongside her sister once more. The final clunks securing the lander signal a completed pressure equalization, allowing Robert to release himself into the zero gee.
He calmly exits the lander and then the garage, a purpose to each precise movement, with nothing wasted, bringing him into the corridor where he pulls himself along to the only place in the universe that now holds any meaning for him.
Lucy’s room.
With a robotic action he releases the door latches and swings it open, hauling himself inside.
A gloom shrouds the inert MBI unit.
He rests his cheek next to it, running his hands over the obsidian surface.
There is nothing.
Nothing to hold back the emotion that now floods out of him.
A great river of sorrow.
ANY NOW
Lucy finds herself where she’d really rather not be. A white world devoid of any artifact save for herself. It has all the feeling of a machine simulation, yet the Afrika connection has gone, as have her libraries, and she cannot manifest anything. This is not her inner world, this is some other place.
All she has is a sense of up and down, and the motion of looking all about.
And something else. A feeling that she is not alone. The presence of two entities nearby that she cannot see.
And something else—
Someone else—
“Complicated, isn’t it.”
Lucy whirls about to find a young woman standing before her, similar in age and stature to her own appearance.
“Who are you?”
“But you know who I am,” the girl says.
“I do not have access to my libraries,” Lucy says haughtily.
“You keep the memory of me much closer than that, Lucy. You’ve seen the photograph.”
It is true. She recognized the face the moment she saw it. From a precious moment captured, of a dead daughter cruelly snatched from two loving parents.
“Olivia,” Lucy says, sheepishly.
“Olivia who? Say it—”
“Olivia Gray,” Lucy blurts out. “You went to Oregon and did not come back—which means you cannot be real.”
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