“Crap,” Jack said. “You’re just a bag of joy today, aren’t you.”
“I try, Jack,” Dave said.
Elorie shook her head at Dave and Jack. “Anyone else? Good. Gather round, I’ve made a decision.”
They gathered.
“The last load of our contingency equipment is showing up tomorrow. I’ve been watching you over your shoulder, Georgia. I hate to say it, but you’re not getting anywhere with the deciphering.”
Georgia nodded. “Whatever the Ecumenists had in their current stacks about the ceiling symbols they took with them. Some of the symbols are architectural in nature – which Goreme sections needed refurbishing, for instance – while others are maps. Only they aren’t normal maps, they’re in code. I’ll bet that there’s information on the code in the Ecumenists’ full stacks.”
“Which would take months to go through.”
Georgia nodded again.
“So, we’re going to do this a different way.” Elorie turned to Lisa. “I’m guessing the Ecumenists had to deal with people of some sort back out in the Nevsehir area – guides, land owners, someone. Perhaps local officials who were shadowing them. I think it’s time to do some detective work beyond our original boundaries and ideas.” Lisa smiled. “That’s all of us, too. At least part of the time.” Jack groaned.
“You sure know how to take the fun out of things,” he said.
“I’ve arranged for us to pick up our equipment at the airport, saving the delivery company an extra trip and saving us a bunch of time,” Elorie said, continuing her organizing. “I want everyone up at five tomorrow morning, and…”
Dave met Georgia’s sad eyes. ‘We’re not going to get through this alive’ she mouthed. He nodded back, his thoughts exactly.
“No, and no,” Elorie said. “Not right now.”
Dave squinched his eyes closed. “You’re in a strange mood, El. Something wrong?” She had been closed off to him ever since she had announced they were going back to the Nevsehir area.
Elorie didn’t answer for a minute. She went through her suitcase again, repacking. “Yes,” she finally said, barely audible.
“I’m here for you.”
She turned to him and caught his eyes. He wanted to dive into her eyes and drown. “Uh huh, and that’s part of the problem. I think.”
Her comment furrowed his brow. “Okay.” So fierce and so closed off – normally – and yet at times she would open herself up so fast she scared Dave. Her eyes and voice promised she would tell him everything, even her most hidden thoughts.
“I haven’t told you everything about how I was recruited,” Elorie said.
She had spoken so quietly Dave had to think through Elorie’s words to understand them. After a pause, he nodded, keeping eye contact.
“I’m an experienced people-person; not much slips by me when I’m talking to someone. Not to brag.”
Dave snorted. “Go ahead and brag.”
This didn’t fit Elorie’s sad mood, which gave her a moment of pause. A flicker of a wicked grin raced across her face, only to be replaced by more sadness. “When the crew of Telepaths came to visit me, as soon as the Recruiter – Alt – came into the room I knew he wasn’t a people-person and he wasn’t experienced in negotiations or anything of the sort. Not only was he tentative, but acted like someone had just hit him on the head with a hammer and he looked like he was about to throw up.”
Huh? “I thought they didn’t know how bad off you were.” Dave studied Elorie intently, feeling her pain. He slid back a step and sat on the bed. He motioned for her to sit by him, but she remained standing.
“Exactly,” Elorie said, waving a finger at him. “They didn’t. Alt’s horror reaction came from something else he knew; when he found out about my condition he got over his initial surprise and his horror reaction muted. Later, when Persona offered to heal me and I stated my conditions, his horror returned. Then we get to the interesting part. Alt managed to choke out the following: ‘Elorie, ma’am, the mission we’ve glossed over is to find out what killed a group of mature men, men who are savvy in the ways of survival. This mission is hazardous.’ I answered ‘My life is yours…you just bought it. Point me at the problem and that’s all you’ll need to do.’ Alt turned an amazing shade of white before he caught on to the fact that my statement was a bit of gallows humor on my part.” Which Dave had seen once or twice himself. He frowned in thought. “Alright, you’d have to have been there to catch the humor. One of the older woman Telepaths actually laughed. But Alt, he knows things without knowing how he knows them because he gets lots and lots of hunches. It didn’t take me long to figure out what sort of hunch he had about me.”
Dave caught it immediately. “He thinks he’s sent us on a suicide mission.”
“At least for me,” Elorie said. “No guarantees, of course. Afterwards, I spent some time on the Internet hunting down Alt’s interviews. I similarly pinned down Mr. Lorenzi, which you know is difficult. It gave me a bunch of insight into Alt’s hunches. He’s not predicting the future, per se. He’s interpolating the future from the present and what bothered him was at the time he recruited me this was a suicide mission. Most of the time I can cope. Today, I can’t.”
“All of us bear the burden of our own past; we must take care that we don’t carry too much and let the burden overwhelm us and keep us from finding our future,” Dave said.
“Jesus, Dave. Yuck,” Elorie said. Now she sat down next to him. He took her hands in his. “That sounds like a quote, but I can’t place it.”
“It’s a Tiff quote. She’s sort of an armchair philosopher, just one of her many scary pastimes.”
“Yah, the future. Fuck the future,” Elorie said. Her hands stiffened in his. A quick glance at her face revealed new anger.
Dave poked through his own mind try and figure out Elorie’s mercurial mood. “If you don’t mind me asking, why…”
“I mind,” Elorie said. Hostile. She took a deep breath and looked away from him. “Dammit, no, that’s unfair of me. You deserve a real answer.” She took another deep breath. “According to Mr. Lorenzi, your mental shields are so potent that none of the Telepaths can read your mind from a distance, perhaps not even in person. Which means the Telepaths can’t vouch for you. On top of that, you’re now a Dubuque Supported. We know Dubuque isn’t interested in this quest for the same reason as Mr. Lorenzi. What I fear, what I can’t logically talk myself out of despite all that’s happened between us, Dave, is…” She paused to collect her thoughts and steady her emotions. “What I fear is your loyalties lie too much with Dubuque and you’re going to betray us. Your moment is coming. Soon.”
Elorie paused. Dave, soul frozen in shock, couldn’t respond.
“I love you anyway,” Elorie said.
On the tenth heaven, which is called Aravoth, I saw the appearance of the Lord’s face, like iron made to glow in fire, and brought out, emitting sparks, and it burns.
Thus in a moment of eternity I saw the Lord’s face, but the Lord’s face is ineffable, marvelous and very awful, and very, very terrible.
And who am I to tell of the Lord’s unspeakable being, and of his very wonderful face? And I cannot tell the quantity of his many instructions, and various voices, the Lord's throne is very great and not made with hands, nor the quantity of those standing round him, troops of cherubim and seraphim, nor their incessant singing, nor his immutable beauty, and who shall tell of the ineffable greatness of his glory.
And I fell prone and bowed down to the Lord, and the Lord with his lips said to me:
Have courage, Enoch, do not fear, arise and stand before my face into eternity.
And the archistratege Michael lifted me up, and led me to before the Lord’s face.
And the Lord said to his servants tempting them: Let Enoch stand before my face into eternity, and the glorious ones bowed down to the Lord, and said: Let Enoch go according to Your word.
-- The Book of Enoch 2, 22, 1:7
“I
would posit that my experiences are open to severe amounts of interpretation, as always.”
30. (Nessa)
Nessa closed her old cellphone to hang up on her mother, who wasn’t being especially useful today. She probably didn’t appreciate my mood, Nessa thought. Skipping along, she entered Portland’s current stronghold, which of all the absurd things turned out to be an old fallout shelter under I-5 in Seattle. She barged into Portland’s large, low-ceilinged, teak-accented office, still skipping, where Portland sat in a circle of chairs with Alt, Walter, Nicole, Javier, Phil and a Boise projection. Since Nessa’s last visit, Portland’s peripatetic office had acquired a much larger desk, this one the size of a ping-pong table. “Yoo hoo, hello, we’re back, we’re back, anyone come up with any ideas on how we can guarantee a contract Nairobi signs?”
The glare Alt gave her was worth the ridiculous two weeks of work bird-dogging Lorenzi’s idiot projects. She hadn’t appreciated the time needed to discover the fate of the last unlucky Lorenzi crew sent to rescue Cosmo: stuck working on a phone bank hawking Dubuque memorabilia.
“We’re having an important meeting,” Alt said.
“Love you too, cutie.” Since no one had answered her question, Nessa rifled through all seven minds in the room. Permission by rudeness. “You found anyone yet who’s willing to work for Nairobi without a guaranteed employment contract? You think so? Neat neat neat. How soon can we take him?”
Ken glowered, at least mentally. Nessa bounced over to Portland and gave her a hug, from behind her chair. “Thanks for finding this guy. Whoever he is. Even if the contract issue’s still a problem.”
“So, are you in a good mood, or is this cover for an explosive temper problem?” Portland said. “I can’t tell. I’m not sure how, but you feel stronger.”
“Good mood, actually rather sane, at least for me,” Nessa said. “You want me to get rid of the rats?”
“What rats? Oh, forget I said that,” Portland said. “Whatever. We’re discussing the latest set of disasters, and I was hoping you and Ken would show up and help us with the discussion. Javier says you and Ken can block him out, and all Alt was able to tell was that you were somewhere in the greater Seattle area.”
“Had a run in with a Telepath working for Verona, a nasty telepathy specialist, working with a mind-bent fake-sane part-blocked clairvoyant. Long story, don’t want to go into the details. Freed the clairvoyant from bondage, removed her blockage, and gave her the choice of what to do. She decided to go work for Stockholm in his hidden refugee center. In the process Ken and I figured out a bunch of new crap methods we can use to block out the clairvoyant by working together. Interesting tricks.” She beamed a smile and gave Alt a poke in the brain.
Alt’s telepathic response was pure profanity, half non-verbal. Non-language? Guess they needed another new word, Nessa decided.
“Whoa,” Portland said. “Even after working with Alt and the gang, you and Ken still floor me with what you can so casually do and how much ruckus you make when you pass through my life. Any interest in seeing if you and Ken can work your ruckus magic on Dubuque? There isn’t too much time left before Dubuque consolidates his victory and we’re part of the City of God.”
“Ken, grab three chairs,” Nessa shouted, at the top of her lungs. Terence was Lorenzi’s current top Magician. “Nuh uh no way. Ken and I aren’t nohow going up against Dubuque, unless he kindly removes himself from his army of Supported. What, you think I’m suicidal?”
“I’m hoping you have a solution to our problems. I’m at wits end, and so’s everyone else.”
“Has this anything to do with what the so-called Angelic Host did to that God in South Asia?” Nessa asked. “That is, if what I know is at all correct. All I know about the subject is what Ken’s read to me from the internet. Not exactly trustworthy.”
Portland shook her head. “No. At least I hope they aren’t connected.” She paused. “The Angelic Host pulled the plug on the Ideological God Maoism and replaced him with a new female Ideological named Bollywood. The Host did so at the behest of the local Territorials, who provided the Host evidence of Maoism’s delving into atrocities for personal pleasure. This is, of course, another important lesson about the importance of God politics and the strength of the Angelic Host.”
“So the God removal wasn’t a warning about the folly of left wing Gods, as the American media’s portraying?” Nessa said. The fact the American news media had even said such a thing almost guaranteed its inaccuracy. Portland shook her head.
Three chairs telekinetically zipped into the room, fast and precise, and the circle of chairs expanded to fit them, Nessa making sure Ken kept her far away from Javier and Nicole, whose hygiene had measurably slipped. Alt turned pale, not used to Ken being so active with his telekinesis. Back before the group had split, Ken had been oh-so-nice about not rubbing it in people’s faces how good he was with his teek.
Not anymore. This was worth a chocolate bar, which Nessa retrieved from her purse and ate. She sat and eyed Alt.
“Going after Satan was wrong,” Nessa said, slurring the words a bit because of the mouthful of chocolate bar. “A real bonehead move.”
“Mere hindsight,” Alt said, and sniffed.
“Like I didn’t tell you to be nice to the poor little old lady?”
Portland flashed anger, which from a Territorial God was a physical slap in the face. “Stop, the two of you. We’re facing some serious problems, and your back-biting won’t get us anywhere.”
Nessa reddened. She was being a bit of a bitch. Tough. Alt deserved worse.
Ken strolled in and looked at the group. “Where’s Persona?” He sat down in one of the chairs he had lifted into the room.
Persona stuck her head out of Alt. “I’m here.”
“Get out here. If this is going to be a meaningful discussion, we need you where we can talk to you in a vaguely human fashion.” Persona did as Ken asked, and sat in the third chair Ken had provided. “Where’s the rest?” he said, to Portland.
“War’s in a funk, I don’t think Akron or Worcester want to be seen with us, and…”
Ken raised an eyebrow at Portland. “You didn’t think Dana, Inventor, Researcher, Lawyer, Orlando or Montreal would add anything to this discussion. I humbly disagree.”
“What do you see?” Portland said.
“I see a make or break point, right here, right now,” Ken said. “You’re thinking about negotiating a surrender to Dubuque. That’s wrong.”
Alt’s crew sucked air in surprise, then grew quiet. They hadn’t realized.
They were such babes in the woods, Nessa thought. One didn’t need killer telepathy to figure this out, just ample experience in human nature. Ken’s forceful taking over of things especially warmed her heart. This group definitely needed some extra Ken-style just-do-it hard-ass focus.
“The conflict is proving pointless,” Portland said.
Alt turned to Boise. “How about you?”
“I’m open to suggestions,” Boise said. He radiated sadness on fully a dozen thought tracks. His fleas barely hopped today. “However, do understand that we are now past the point in time where we can impose our will on Dubuque through sieges and assaults.”
“I’m not sure I agree,” Ken said. “Let’s call in our friends and talk this over.”
“Fine,” Portland said. Exasperated. “Warn them that Nessa and Ken are fully functional and on the rampage. It would be impolite no
t to.”
Nessa harrumphed to herself. Rampage? I’ll show you rampage. I’ll…
She sighed. Ken was right. She rifled through minds, attempting to figure out how bad the situation actually was, while Boise did his thing and invited in projections, creating a projected chair with each acceptance. He got War, Montreal, Dana, Orlando and Lawyer. The rest begged off.
The assembled minds agreed: the situation sucked. Bah. No fun at all.
“You still think some form of assault is possible?” Alt said to Ken. “You didn’t face Dubuque’s Grade Zeroes. The power they can project is immense.”
“True, but their power boost is just a technical problem,” Ken said. “We’ve solved technical problems before. So they found a way to put the force of worshippers into their attacks and defenses. What’s to stop our side from doing the same?”
“We don’t have worshippers,” Boise said, snippy.
“Yes you do, and they worship God with impressive strength. Can’t you redirect their worship?”
Nessa tuned Ken out. She doubted she would be of any use in such a technical discussion, anyway. ‘Zeroes’ indeed. However, Portland’s headquarters had fifteen hundred people, and all of them had good minds, focused on work and harmony, and interesting to peek into. Perfect for mental support. Why, if she lived here and joined them, as one of Portland’s Supported, she would be completely sane.
Which would last a few months, until she got bored, and well, yah know… Too much sanity made her lethargic and useless, a different variety of insanity. Boredom would be inevitable.
They did have too many rats. A look inside a few human minds got her the story of this place. First, a smallish fallout shelter built way back in ’61. Then a storage depot for paper files, a bomb-proof filing cabinet of sorts. Portland had thrown money at the Seattle city council, and they sold the place, moved the files elsewhere, and pocketed the profit. Then Portland had enlarged the hole in the ground out to the edge of the property she leased from the city government, and down, now six stories deep. In two days.
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