Program Erin

by Alex Fall

  So uncomfortable...

  My muscles, joints, and bones were so sore that I felt as if I hadn't slept at all when in fact, I slept a full six hours and thirteen minutes. I craved more sleep, but I acknowledged the need to eat and the fact that I could hear the dreaded music blaring in the distance. The tunnels smelled of rainwater today, which made me miss being outside. Sharon was messing with the laptop, doing whatever she does with it, but did a double take when she saw the blue of my eyes.

  "Oh. How long have you been awake?" She asked.

  "Just now....get me something to eat."

  Sharon looked to the ground before mumbling some words of compliance. She got up and left the room while I worked on sitting up. I hurt all over. Don't these people know anything about treating cracked ribs? I'll have to get some pain medication soon, and perhaps something for this headache. The room was very chilly, so I just stayed on my bed and wrapped myself in my blanket. The dream replayed over and over in my mind's eye, trying to decide if it was terrible or enjoyable...

  Sharon returned with a small pile of muffins, danishes, and a jug of milk. Again it was mostly sweets...but I will eat these lemon poppy seed ones.

  "Have you eaten yet?" I asked quietly on account of my own headache.

  "No."

  "When was the last time you ate?"

  "I don't know."

  I threw a chocolate muffin to her. "Eat."

  "...I'm not hungry though."

  "Eat," I repeated.

  Without hesitation, she opened the packaging and began to devour it. Something about this scenario felt familiar. She tried to conceal her face, but something told me that there was some concealed friction between us. What's her problem?

  After I reached over and downed some sleep meds to take the edge off my headache, I felt decidedly chilled. The blanket I had just wasn't enough. Sharon on the other hand has a whole nest of bedding type things around her.

  "Sharon, give me that blanket."

  She looked from the laptop to my pile of stuff as if I had an extra. I snapped my fingers to get her attention, then pointed at the nearest one.

  "But that's my blanket!" She said in a raised voice. Headache...

  "You're not using it."

  "But I'll-"

  "Sharon! I don't have the patience for you today, now give me the blanket!"

  She looked at me with a certain bewildered sadness before breaking eye contact and pulling the blanket out from underneath herself. I gently spread it out and laid back down, letting the warmth build up enough to allow to fall back asleep.

  Honestly, I was slightly worried what my subconscious mind would have waiting for me in my dreams, but I wasn't waiting to get more tired than I already felt. Besides, I wanted to get away from the tainted silence developing between me and Sharon. I'll give her back her stupid blanket later. For now, I need some well earned rest.

  Back in the dream world, I awoke in Ilavoan, in an elaborate house, laying down under some thick covers. Immediately, I checked what I was wearing. This time it was flannel pajama pants, an oversized T-shirt, and a star sapphire ring. At least this time I'm decent.

  While still in the same house, I was in a different part of it. Apparently I had been sleeping on an ornate and very comfortable couch, the wooden parts of it carved with vines and birds. I was in some kind of rather well furnished, oversized keeping room, accented with soft light coming through humongous windows and stone columns to fit the theme of the rest of the house. Exotic plants and flowers swathed the area right outside, giving everything a natural feel. I get the idea this is more of a mansion.

  "Morning. Back again so soon?"

  Fake Arty entered the room from an adjoining hall, this time fully clothed. He was carrying a tray, which he set down on a low table in front of the couch. I recoiled away from him, suspicious of his motives.

  "Are you hungry?"

  There was the most delectable food I've seen in a long time. Oatmeal with nuts and berries, whole grain bagels, a couple of eggs over medium, and more fresh fruit than I've ever eaten in one meal. There were two kinds of grapes, bananas, strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, cantaloupe, pineapple, three different kinds of apple slices, grapefruit, peaches, and above all...lemons!

  Immediately my mouth started watering. This is almost a form of torture that a meal this nice only exists in dreams. I sat up and examined the meal with longing. Arty sat beside me, but respected my personal space this time. I looked at him to see if this was some kind of trick.

  "I'm sorry it's only a dream. Maybe if you're memories are strong enough you can still taste it though?"

  No need to say it again. I grabbed the lemons and tore the peel off. Biting into them, the juice ran down my chin, extremely sweet and sour just the way I love. I could feel myself growing hungry in the real world, even though I just snacked before falling asleep. I sucked on all the lemons there were, before moving onto the grapefruit and bagels. I crawled off the couch and kneeled in front of the table, eating like a starving person.

  "Ha! Lemons! I would have thought maybe strawberries," the fake said in surprise.

  "Shut up, figment!" I said with a mouthful of oatmeal.

  "Feisty..."

  "Unintelligible," I retorted.

  Fake Arty just snickered. "Now THAT is a proper insult. So much more imagination in it than cussing."

  I glared at him while taking a bite out of the cantaloupe slice. Still telling me not to cuss? I'll show you...

  "No cursing," he said suddenly.

  "I hate it when you do that!"

  "What, that phrase or knowing what you're about to do?" He asked, clearly amused at my reaction.

  "Knowing what I...both actually! And why did you give me all this food?" I said in an upset, throwing a peel across the room. "I'm not getting full and I'll just be disappointed when I wake up!"

  "Because I know you like nice things, and I wanted to make sure you let yourself have something good." He slid off the couch to sit on the ground next to me. "You know you're actually an elegant creature at heart. Which reminds me, I think I found your music."

  I shot him a look of doubt as he pulled out his digital speaker and set it on the table. It activated and gentle, melodic music came on, a form of music that I was not familiar with. Soft sounds chocked full of emotion and drama filled the air, as if the musical notes were telling a story.

  "What is this?" I asked after listening for a moment.

  "Do you like it?"

  Well...yes, but I didn't want to answer. It just eggs him on.

  A content smile grew on Fake Arty's face. "This is classical music, played by orchestras and such."

  "Do you have more?"

  "Does that mean you like it?" He asked with a grin.

  No answer from me. I hate it when he can read me.

  "See? A creature of elegance," he said, emphasizing his point with a poke to my stomach.

  "Don't touch me..."

  “Why not?”

  “Why am I having this dream? What's my mind trying to tell me?” I demanded.

  “How would I know? You made me up. You're the thinker.” His answer wasn't helpful. It irritated me. I grabbed another fruit to calm myself.

  The dream gradually came to a close, with me sucking on fruits and getting lost in melodies. When I awoke from the dream, my stomach groaned. What I wouldn't do for some fresh fruit...

  Sharon was gone, which had me concerned. I returned the blanket and rose from bed, stiff and sore. I need to get out of this place. I need to eat. I need to find Sharon. And I could go for some sleep meds.

  After roaming the halls (and discovering I still had an assignment of guards watching me) I ended up in a pool hall, with several men drinking and playing billiards, several more loitering around, and Sharon watching from an inconspicuous corner. I stopped just before entering when their conversation caught my ears.

  "Naw, she's gotta be a burn. Ain't you seen Pee's hand?" One man said

  "Ma
ybe she was holding a grenade or something, tanks can make it through that."

  "I think she's actually an owl. Some of the stuff she does isn't normal," a third voice chimed in.

  "She's definitely not normal. Have you gotten a good look at her eyes?"

  "That's why I'm called Sapphire Eyes," I announced as I entered. Everyone involved in conversation spun at the sound of my voice. Sharon seemed content to watch from her corner, but sat up when I made my entrance. Walking over to her, I said, "What are you doing?"

  "Uh...I...got bored." She was back to being timid.

  "So you come out here?"

  Sharon looked to the ground without an answer. Sure there's no kids for her to play with, but that's no excuse to associate with a gang. "Go get me some fruit."

  She hopped off her chair and complied immediately, making eye contact with no one.

  "Must be nice to afford a pet Lesser," one man behind me muttered to another.

  "You. If you've got something to say, say it to my face," I stated.

  He held up a hand. "Look, minou fou, I don't want to fight you, I'm just making fun of the fact you can't get your own food."

  "I don't know where she goes to get it, oh great intuitive one." Someone in the back of the room snickered, and the target of my insult sighed and shrugged with a "bien sur..." under his breath.

  My presence broke everyone's conversation, even after Sharon returned with a few apples, so I decided to start a new one. "So what is there to do around here for fun?"

  A couple of them laughed, and more Parisian whispers were thrown around the room. One guy piped up. "Dude, you live in like, a club. Go dance."

  I lowered my head and raised an eyebrow.

  "That look mean she too good for dancin'," the 'intuitive one' said.

  "Can we play pool?" Sharon asked in a near whisper. Is that why she's hanging in out in here?

  I looked down at her. As soon as we made eye contact, she dropped her eyes to the floor. I said nothing, but instead glared at her.

  "Let the little lady play," a new voice said in the back. My guess is that he was an owl, but I don't know for sure. The ones playing stepped back and offered to let her try.

  "Fine," I said. I'll have to keep my eye on her though. I don't trust these people too much. I sat down, munching on an apple, wondering how I'd spend my time for the next week.

  * * *

  My eyes cracked open calmly, but every feeling in my body put me on edge. I felt pain, adrenaline, tingly, wet, and most of all cold. Medical specialists and surgeons went on double time, alerts and warnings going off all around me. What's going on? Where am I?

  My whole body jerked involuntarily and to my surprise, my arms and legs were strapped down to an operating table. Then to my horror, I saw my insides. My stomach skin was open and I could see my INSIDES! What?! What is happening to me?! There were instruments and tubes coming out of the gaping hole that the surgeons had cut, pumping fluids in and out of me, 'adjusting' the disease. THEY were working on me, but apparently something went wrong.

  My only reaction was to scream as loud as I could. I flexed hard against the restraints as several people in the room ran to grab medicines and equipment. My system was overrun with terror, so the only thing I could think to do was access the sickness inside myself. I could feel it fighting against the instruments in my guts, but it still found its way to my wrists and ankles. Something in the tubes burned as it was pumped into my system, which only me spun me further out of control. I lit up my skin until I melted through the heat resistant straps, leaving horrid burns and injuring a doctor that happened to be nearby. One of the others in the room yelled for "KO sticks," a guaranteed way to throw me into unconsciousness. I can't stay here! THEY are killing me! I'm going to die! No, that's it! I WANT to die!

  I raked my superheated hand across another doctor's face as I struggled to get away, ending up in me falling off the table.

  Smacking the ground in the real world, I flailed to sit up. I was out of breath, working to figure out what happened, but feeling something move underneath sent me into a panic again. I kicked away and stood, pulling a hidden gun from my nightstand. I found myself aiming at a terrified Sharon. Okay, I'm back in my room? I checked my stomach, which was whole. Okay, so it was a dream. Time? Five forty-two in the morning.

  I lowered the gun and swallowed dryly as my I got my breathing under control.

  "What's happening?" Asked Sharon, frightened by the sudden event.

  "Nightmare. Guess I rolled out of bed."

  "I thought you weren't having nightmares."

  "I still get them. They're just a lot less common." I sighed and sat back on my bed, rubbing my temples. That memory was horrific. It ended up being a sick joke on the part of the anesthesiologist, to have me wake up during the adjustments. He was fired in a hurry, but the mental damage is still there. I need sleep meds...

  Thinking about it, I wonder why I didn't dream about Fake Arty. Maybe it's my subconscious recognition of the upcoming fight? There's no telling.

  I spent the last several days gathering information about the city and the gang. Turns out, there's really only one gang anymore. They don't get along too well with the group they call 'The Reds.' The Reds are the group of Benevolents that stand over the city, and also the group that found me the first day here. Unfortunately, it seems the Reds might be the most powerful group around.

  Things were much simpler in the Decapolis. Everyone worked together, people enjoyed other people, and there were more people in general. What would happen if this city got annexed by the Decapolis? (Assuming this is the same planet. I DID go through a warp gate.)

  Overall...I miss home.

  And it was when I was missing home that I remembered something. There was a beacon marker left on the warp gate that’s on this side. If I could get a charger, I could find my way back to the warp gate with my GPS by following that beacon. And if the technology is completely beyond me, I could try to have the Leftovers activate the warp. Things would be much easier if I had my ship...

  However, I don't. That's why I have to make a little visit to Rod. I left my room and wound through the halls, two escorts trailing me. After taking a series of stops and turns to lose them, eventually I changed direction and wandered on the outskirts of the hub, in one of the smaller service tunnels.

  "I'm afraid this isn't going to work out for all of us," I said as they turned the corner.

  "What?" Asked the bolt in a confused tone. I answered him with a kick to the side of the leg, right in his motor nerve. His leg collapsed under him, and the other guy threw his guard up. Rather than take the second guy head on, I nailed a crotch shot on him, something that will stun him regardless of his power. While he reeled from that, I turned and open palmed the bolt into the wall, pulled his chain out of his hands and began choking him out with it. Still holding the chain, I turned and wrapped the remaining length around the other guy's neck. The inevitable shock flew down the chain and paralyzed the other guy, plus locked up my right arm. My ribs shot a pain through my back, so I stabilized myself against the wall as the Bolt regained his breath. Can't use metal, so now what? Forget it, I'll just go conventional. While, he struggled to stand and build a charge, I snap kicked the bolt into the wall, effectively knocking him out.

  Leaving the two unconscious guards, I came back around to Rod's section of the hub. I approached his lavish concrete room and a door guard stepped in my way.

  "What do you think is happening here?" He asked, making sure I couldn't step past him.

  "I'm coming to see Rod."

  "He doesn't expect to see you."

  "No one does. Now please step aside, I'm not feeling my best today." I patted him on the shoulder as I passed and leaned in, "Female stuff, you wouldn't understand."

  He blinked in confusion. His look told me he wasn't sure if I was serious or making fun of him, but he followed me in nonetheless. Up ahead, I could hear Rod and Marius talking.

  "Yes, I'm sur
e it was Nicolette."

  "Everything..." Rod said with a sigh. "And this time, how many did she-"

  "Hey boss, got a visitor," the doorman said.

  As soon as I parted the curtain to enter the room, a gun was held to the right side of my head with rather quick reflexes. An intent personal guard stood on the inside, a skinny but alert man. Definitely not a Brute. He was the first line of defense for unexpected events in this room. Apparently I'm viewed as an unexpected event. There were also another guard a little further away on the left, and two more people that may or may not be bodyguards. And of course, there was a patched up Marius (who was now a bit more wary of me.) The doorman behind me entered the room and made a quick bow to Rod.

  "Sapphire? What do you want, I'm busy," Rod said.

  "Just a charger."

  "A charger? For what?"

  "GPS."

  "That would insinuate that you planning on leaving the tunnels."

  "Charger. Now."

  He stood, his voice switching to his aggressive mode. "Girl, you do not tell ME what to do! I own you, remember?!"

  I cocked my head slightly at him. "I don't have to be your enemy, but you seem to be headed in that direction. What made you want to take the lead of a gang anyway?"

  Rod scoffed and sat back down. Marius simply shook his head and leaned against the wall until he could pick his conversation back up. The gun next to my head lowered and the bothersome doorman stepped back.

  "What, money?" I prodded. "How does money even work in this broken city? Or do you have a grander purpose than that?"

  "I make a living off the way things are. No grand purpose, and I'm not about to change things because a loudmouth with bright eyes says to."

  I glared at him. "I expect my charger before the fight tomorrow."

  Without waiting for his cue, I left on my own initiative, allowing Marius to continue his conversation. Rod's attempt at having the last word echoed outside the hall, but I ignored it. As I wound my way through the halls, an unknown figure began to follow. I turned a couple corners to make sure, then steered into the dance hall. The accursed music was blaring, completely masking any chance of hearing anything but the speakers and feedback my ears picked up. However, I blended into the crowd quickly. The figure, a tanned man with a tall stature, sharp face and very short dark hair, stopped at the edge of the crowd to examine it. I slipped out of one tunnel, snuck a knife from the bar, and came around the backside of my follower.