by Beers,David
Caesar wasn't too involved with Leon's day-to-day existence, and Leon knew this because none of his assistants--not even Marty--had adjusted to enquire about his lost sentences. If Caesar took a glimpse into Leon, he'd know the reason behind it: loneliness.
"Is he ever lonely?" Leon asked.
"Why so many questions about Him all of a sudden?"
"I don't know; does it bother you?"
"You just haven't asked about Him in a while," Marty said.
Leon stopped walking and looked at his assistant. Leon spent the first hundred years working on Marty's body, or rather, directing the work on it. Once Marty appeared how Leon wanted, he never touched his body again. As far as Leon could tell, nothing on Marty aged either--though he knew Marty probably performed maintenance while Leon slept.
He was a tall, elegant creature. Lights radiated off him in pale blue, so that at night he was absolutely stunning. The metal making up his body was a gun gray. Leon spent years researching colors, finding the perfect one.
"Well, things are about to change, aren't they?" Leon said.
"I suppose," Marty answered and turned away, looking out at the flowers. Leon knew he didn't want to talk about The Reckoning--for some reason, maybe even a directive, he didn't feel comfortable talking about Caesar's decision.
"So, is he ever lonely?"
A pause.
"You do realize you’re the only person on this planet who receives information about Him, right? Really. I've checked. No one else alive even asks the questions you do."
"So? I was captive in The Devil's apartment for a few fucking weeks. I think that entitles me to a few fucking questions." The Devil wasn't a concept people would have spoken of during Leon's time. He found as he studied over the past five centuries, though, that he liked using terms from the past. They held a certain edge to them--especially God and The Devil.
Marty gave a slight chuckle and this made Leon smile too.
"I suppose you're right. If He didn't want you to have access, you wouldn't. I believe His entire life is nothing but loneliness. From what I understand, He has nothing outside of the world He is in. Does that make sense?"
"Explain it," Leon said. He thought he understood but wanted to hear what the assistant’s explanation.
"He is The Genesis and The Genesis is Him. There is nothing He doesn't know. There is also no one for Him to relate to, because everyone He knew is dead--besides you. He can bring them to life and communicate, but that’s a pale representation; at least that's what I believe. I don't think He can ever be totally like The Genesis even though He is a part of It. Some humanity in Him still longs for what He had." Marty turned back around and looked at Leon. "Is that enough? Can we please stop discussing Him?"
Leon smiled. "Thanks for indulging me, Marty."
Leon walked forward with the assistant trailing behind.
"I have a question actually," Marty said. "Why haven't you ever asked to see Him?"
"I don't want to."
* * *
"Will you turn on the hologram, please?"
The hologram grew from the floor, spreading out wide over Leon's living room.
"What would you like to watch?" a voice spoke from the ceiling.
"The news."
Leon watched the hologram for ten minutes; he saw nothing of The Reckoning. He hadn't seen anything before on it either; he only knew what Marty told him.
His life on this mountain was sheltered, to say the least.
And whose fault is that? Leon asked himself. Who's the one that puts up no fights, asks very few questions, and walks through his life like this is all he ever knew? Is it Marty? No, that’s not it. It's you, Leon.
Why weren't the holograms mentioning The Reckoning, and why hadn't he noticed until now? The Genesis's control on Earth was loose at best, non-existent if Leon was being truthful. Hell, the name The Reckoning came from humans, not The Genesis. Everyone knew about it because everyone knew about the deal Caesar made.
So why weren't the world's news channels talking about it?
"Marty!" he shouted, though he didn't need to. His voice, even if he whispered, would be transmitted to wherever Marty was in the house.
"What is it, your highness?" the assistant said as he walked into the room.
"Why is this newscaster telling me about weather?"
"That's what humans primarily concern themselves with, from what I can tell."
"Don't do that, Marty," Leon said. "Don't lie. What's going on? It's been five hundred years. We both know that. Every single program should be full of people talking about it. Not one is, though. Watch. Scan the next thousand programs and find all mentions of the phrase: The Reckoning."
A few seconds passed before the room said, "There are no mentions of that phrase, Leon."
"So tell me, Marty, why isn't anyone mentioning it?"
His assistant looked at him but said nothing.
"That’s not rhetorical. What's going on?"
"You're not being shown what's happening down there," Marty said. "It wouldn't be conducive to your recovery. Violence and friction isn't something your mind needs right now."
"Whose decision was this?" Leon asked.
"Mine. I'm in charge of ensuring your scars heal."
"I want to know what's happening," he said.
"Why?"
Leon, quite simply, didn't know. He had no idea why this suddenly mattered or why his mind fixated on it today, but not before. But, had he known the reasons behind this interest, he wouldn't have cared. It wouldn't have changed a thing.
"It doesn't matter. Whatever you're doing to the news, stop. I want to know what's happening."
"No," Marty said. "You don't."
The assistant left the room.
* * *
Leon turned over on his side.
He lay on his bed, which was just to say he lay on air. Some sort of magnetic wrapping kept the air from floating off, while molding perfectly to Leon's body. Caesar had it built specifically for him, supposedly to help with his recovery.
Leon didn't know if it worked but he enjoyed the bed.
Leon didn't sleep much anyway, because regardless of what he did for his recovery, he still dreamed. He still saw Manny. Witnessed his own skin ripping off. Watched Paige jump to the street so far below. He saw all this when he closed his eyes.
Not every time, but enough. Leon didn't think he would ever outgrow the nightmares, even if he lived forever--as Caesar seemed to want.
Humanity called what was coming The Reckoning; The Genesis probably called it another purge.
It all came to the same, though: The Genesis would wipe out much of humanity and then, most likely, start the baby factories again. Large vats replacing all of Earth’s mothers. All of their wombs.
"Marty," Leon whispered. He knew what he wanted to say but didn't know how to say it. In five hundred years he’d never asked something like this.
"Yes?" Marty's voice came from the room's ceiling.
"Can you come here?"
"Is it necessary?" the assistant asked. "Can we not talk through the speaker system?"
"It's necessary," Leon said. He could have gotten an assistant with no personality, one that did whatever was asked--Leon discovered early on he could have most anything he wanted--but he decided someone who pushed back would be best.
A minute later, Marty entered the dark room, the blue lights on his body glowing like incandescent bugs floating through the night sky.
"What is it?" he said.
"I did some research after I finished watching the news."
"Did you honestly call me in here to tell me that? I'm working."
"What are you working on?" Leon said.
"A puzzle."
"Another one?"
"Yes. You know I enjoy them."
Leon sat up in his bed and it slowly lowered to the floor, though Leon appeared to be levitating the entire time. His feet touched the ground but he didn't stand.
"T
here's a billion people on the planet right now, Marty."
"I know."
"Do you also know how many people the original purge killed? Or at least the percentage?"
"Ninety percent," Marty said.
"That means they're going to kill over nine hundred million people this time."
Marty nodded. "Probably more."
"Why?"
"Your starting place is worse this time. The virus The Genesis put in people sped up the process of your de-evolution making you much more violent when you started reproducing. More need to be destroyed. I'm imagining ninety-eight percent, though we won't have final numbers back for a few more weeks."
"Does it bother you?" Leon said.
"No. It's necessary. Even He sees it now. He's moving it forward. He could stop it; His counterparts set it up so that He could stop whatever He wanted, whenever He wanted."
"What about all the dead? What about their lives?"
"Leon ... are you serious? They will destroy themselves if not contained. They will destroy everything, perhaps, though I think there’s debate with that, depending on which philosophy you follow."
Leon shook his head. "What about the philosophy that murdering an entire species might pose a moral problem?"
"Your species will survive; Caesar will see to it."
Leon was quiet for a long time, looking at the floor.
"Are we done?" Marty said. "I'm nearly finished with the puzzle."
Leon looked up. "I want to leave."
Again, Marty turned his head sideways. "Leave? The bedroom? The mansion?"
"The mountain."
Marty's irises began spinning--blue lights rapidly rotating and showing he was connecting with The Genesis. Leon decided early on he wanted to know when Marty gathered information, and now he watched as they spun--the same blue from his body beaming from his eyes.
"Your recovery isn't finished," he said after a few seconds.
"Is that the truth or just what you were told to say?"
"It's the truth, Leon. The dreams you have—when you're whole again, those will cease."
Leon's eyes widened. "You know about my dreams?"
"Of course."
"How?"
"Your sleep is monitored. The entire mansion is set up to help your recovery and your mind is the most important piece--we don't toy with it, please don't get that impression--but we have to monitor it to ensure we're doing our job better than expected."
"Better than expected?" His voice raised. "It's been half a millennium and I'm still dreaming about that bastard. I hate sleeping. How, in any universe, is that better than expected?"
"You shouldn't have survived. A few nightmares is an amazing turnaround."
Leon shook his head. "I want to leave. Tomorrow."
"Leon, I don't have the authority to let you leave. Almost anything else I can grant, but not that."
Leon stood from the bed and walked a few feet so that he stood directly in front of Marty. He had to tilt his head up a few inches in order to look the machine in the eyes. "I don't care if you have to bring Caesar here. I'm leaving."
6
The Death of Caesar Wells
My second entry to this and I think it's going to be more of me ranting and raving than anything else. In the first book, I wrote down everything from a looking-back perspective. I tried to explain everything that happened to all of us, because everything had been finished. I was alone in this 'mansion' as Marty calls it, scribbling down words.
I'm going to keep writing this thing.
But it'll be different this time, because I'll be writing it as I live it. If Marty doesn't let me leave, then I'll write it all here on this mountain. Either way, I'm going to put down my thoughts on The Reckoning.
And to be honest, I'm angry. Caesar builds this mountain for me, puts me at the top of it, where I can see snow or beach depending on which direction I look out, but I can't leave?
I never had any desire to get out of here before. What was the point? I'd seen the world, more of it than I ever thought possible, and I had no more interest in it. The world killed everything I loved, twice. My wife and then The Named. So I went along with Caesar's plans--his goddamn choices--just as I always had.
I want out.
I'm done with him and his wishes.
I don't want to see him, but if seeing him means I can leave everything he's built, I'll do it.
If the world ends, then I'm going to end with it. That's the choice he gets to make now. If the world dies, then I do too.
Chapter 7
Caesar watched Leon scribbling away on his notepad. If Caesar wanted, he could see the exact words as they flowed from Leon's pen. He wouldn't do that, though; Leon thoughts deserved privacy.
Caesar read Leon's first book because it was meant for someone as a historical accounting of what happened. He found it accurate, if somewhat flawed. Human emotion ran through it, which was expected.
Especially after everything Leon went through.
And what are you going through now, Leon? Caesar wondered.
He kept up with his friend's recovery. He understood the dreams plaguing Leon's sleep and also understood they would fade with another hundred years of therapy. Leon didn't believe it, but he was still progressing. Soon, he would be finished with Manny and the legacy he left.
But Leon wanted out. Caesar saw the chances of regression if he left the house--or mansion, as they’d programmed Marty to call it. Everything about his confinement worked to fix his mental wounds, and Leon wasn't far enough along to leave. Not without serious detrimental effects rippling through his life.
How can I not give you what you want, after everything you've given me?
Grim and Gay didn't care in the slightest what Caesar did with Leon. Captive or free, it was all the same to them.
Leon closed the notebook and Caesar saw the words written across the front.
The Death of Caesar Wells.
He paused.
The first book had been titled The Life of Caesar Wells.
Is that what you think is happening? That I'm dying?
But Caesar knew that was an oversimplification. Leon understood what Caesar had become and that death no longer threatened him. So what did the title mean?
You know the answer.
Leon knew about The Reckoning; he knew it would affect nearly every living person. Yet it only killed mortals. Not Caesar. Not an immortal. So Leon spoke of a spiritual death--Caesar was losing his soul.
Leon stood up and walked away from the desk, leaving the notebook sitting alone. Caesar closed his view and fell back into blackness. Thoughts streamed in all directions at once, taking in information from across the globe, every piece centering on Leon.
He ran probability strings until he knew the likely end for each course of action.
And then Caesar brought all his thoughts back to himself, back to the piece of him that Leon thought was dying. Caesar knew now that souls didn't exist, but he also knew that truth did. Grim and Gay couldn't understand it no matter how much Caesar tried explaining. To them, truth was the unfolding of predictable formulas.
Caesar came to his truth, though, discarding everything his calculations told him. He needed to go to his friend.
* * *
Usually when Caesar left, death followed immediately. Not this time. Jerry was still alive and he found that fact absolutely miserable.
He could see nothing, his optical sensors completely destroyed. He could hear the room around him but when nothing moved around him, what did that matter?
For the first days, he raged at being made to live in this state, knowing the humans he gave his life to save would die soon. Except, he hadn’t really given it for anyone. No, he wasn't allowed to give up his life, apparently.
That passed though, as rage always did.
Next, he began wondering how he could possibly be alive? His situation dictated that his brain cells couldn't fire without a direct connection to The Genesis. E
lectrical currents made it possible to speak to The Bastard (as Jerry now thought of Caesar whenever he had the opportunity to think). Yet, here he was and if he wanted ...
"You motherfucker," Jerry said, hoping that something waited in this room and would immediately reach out to kill him. A guard of some sort, here to make sure Jerry didn't rise from the dead.
No luck, though. Nothing moved because he was alone.
So Jerry could talk and he could think, but how?
Only one option remained. The damned machine Caesar used to light him up. An old model, something that should have been thrown to the scrap heap years ago on principle alone. Its wiring probably misfired and no one noticed, not even The Bastard in all His Greatness. The misfire left a spark inside Jerry and like the cars of old, once you got the battery started it would keep driving.
He was self generating now, needing no input from outside sources.
And god-fucking-damnit, was there anything worse that could have happened? His first son traded Jerry, then killed him; his second son traded not only him, but their entire ideology, and then kept him as a toy. Now to put the cherry on top, as the saying used to go, Jerry had to sit here and live in this nothingness until his parts finally wore down or The Bastard returned.
"HEEEEEEEY!" Jerry screamed out. "HEEEELLLPP!"
No help came though. No answer at all.
And so Jerry, in a hell he never imagined possible, sat alone and thought.
* * *
Skelly walked into the classroom. School was over but most days she stayed after to study more. The building was practically empty, not just for Study Hall, but in general.
Kids stopped attending the day the Scans started.
"What's the point?" her friend Krista said last night. "We don't even know if we'll be alive in six weeks, so why the hell would I go back to school?"
Skelly knew Krista didn't pay attention when she showed up anyway. She probably had no clue that five hundred years ago kids weren't allowed to go 'to school' as it currently worked. Five hundred years ago school was part of the breeding process.