Revisionary

by Jim C. Hines

  THE POWER OF THAT unfiltered song stripped away rational thought, leaving me a void. I barely felt us slamming onto the rocks. I tried to fend off the magic, but it was like trying to deflect raindrops in a thunderstorm.

  We’d been so close—freeing Babs and her sister, disabling the IAS before it could be deployed, stopping most of the clones on site—and it wasn’t enough. In the end, I’d been little more than an annoyance, a mosquito Lawrence McGinley would swat and forget about.

  My friends would die in a terrorist attack. I’d be blamed as the “magical suicide bomber” who killed them. Sure, we’d stopped Kiyoko from spreading the broadcast to other nations, but it wouldn’t take long for McGinley to devise another way of upping the body count.

  Only that wasn’t all he’d do. He’d hunt down and destroy my brother. Lex. Nidhi. Jason. Everyone who knew the truth, dead because of my mistakes. When I closed my eyes, I saw Deb staring up at me, silently accusing. I’d gotten her killed for nothing. I ground my palms against my eyes. Deb became Lena, dead on the ground, her oak rotting behind her. Lena became Toby. Toby, who had trusted me with his daughter’s life and safety.

  I crawled over the rocks. I’d twisted my ankle, or possibly broken it, I didn’t know. I didn’t care. The pain helped distract me from the ghosts of everyone I’d killed, and the music offered a thread of hope. The promise of redemption, if I could reach the source.

  Pain seared my right ear, delivered by what felt like a burning pipe cleaner. I rolled away, momentarily distracted. Smudge clung to my ear, until I thought he’d burn the lobe clean off. I started to pluck him free, but his whole body was on fire. I reached for his magic instead, tearing the text away and killing his flames in the process.

  The little bastard bit me again. He wasn’t burning anymore, but he dug his mandibles right into the blistered cartilage of my ear. “Perkele!” My father would have smacked me for that bit of profanity. “What the everburning hell, Smudge?”

  The throbbing practically deafened me . . . and in that moment, my thoughts cleared enough to dig the earplugs from my bag and cram them into place. I screamed as the earplug brushed my burnt, blistered ear, but they muffled the song enough for me to concentrate.

  I saw others stumbling, searching for the source of the music. Lena was staggering toward the hospital tower. “Lena, stop!”

  A second song joined the first. Nicola Pallas’ voice flowed from the PA system, filling the air with The Beatles’ “Yellow Submarine,” sung in her own operatic style. Lena hesitated. All around me, people collapsed to the ground, caught between two competing magics.

  “Thank you, Babs,” I whispered. Nicola’s song was a recording of human magic, and wasn’t powerful enough to fully overcome the sirens’ song. It was a Band-Aid, not a cure, and I didn’t know how much time it would buy us.

  Lena shoved her own earplugs into place, then pointed to Franklin Tower, a quizzical look on her face. ‹That’s new.›

  A matte black wall twenty feet high surrounded my building.

  ‹Vince’s doing, probably. Using one of Talulah’s projects.› Talulah had been studying the feasibility of space elevator technology. The sheer volume of material we’d need to create a working tether into Earth orbit would char any book to ash long before we’d climbed a fraction of the distance. Talulah thought the key was to find a way of using mundane materials for the elevator, with a minimum of magic to act as a catalyst for self-replication.

  I hadn’t read all the books she was using, several of which were in Spanish, but the principle was sound, drawing in part on research into carbon aerogel from the California Institute of Technology.

  Thankfully, Vince hadn’t blocked off the other towers. Only a trio of National Guardsmen stood watch at the hospital, the magic-dampers shielding them from the songs.

  Their weapons snapped up to point at us. One guard shouted something I couldn’t hear.

  I raised my hands and loosened one of the earplugs. “You hear those songs? If you don’t let me stop them, they’ll kill every unprotected person within these walls.”

  “New Millennium is under attack, and there’s a warrant for your arrest. You need to set down your books and lie facedown on the floor right now.”

  I shrugged. “Did I mention I’m bulletproof?”

  He pulled the trigger. Bullets sparked and fell as they struck my shield. The instant they stopped shooting, Lena darted in, striking their guns aside and following up with the flat of her swords.

  All three guards were human. Even with their dampers weakening Lena and her weapons, they didn’t have a chance.

  I crammed the earplugs in tighter and stepped past the guards. Inside the lobby, patients and staff stumbled about like zombies. One woman struck her head repeatedly against a wall. Blood painted her face and the front of her shirt. A man at the front desk bled from both ears where he’d gouged them with his fingernails.

  I grabbed the first of the guards by the feet, and dragged him over to the woman. The moment the magic-damper’s field touched her, she sank to the floor and began to weep.

  Lena hauled the other two inside. We positioned the three of them in a loose triangle and herded everyone together where they’d be safe.

  I moved out of range. ‹Talulah, how do we reach that subbasement?›

  ‹Over here.› Charles Brice pushed open the stairwell door from the inside and waved us over.

  ‹What are you doing here?›

  ‹You were taking your sweet time, so I decided to get started myself.›

  I let that pass and followed him to the bottom of the basement steps, where a four-foot crater in the floor smoked and sizzled. It looked like Charles had used his eye laser to slice through the tile, but I had no idea how he’d blown up the foundation and rebar below.

  ‹The sirens are almost directly below us.› Charles’ hand folded back on itself to reveal a small blaster cannon. He fired again, widening the hole into the basement.

  ‹When the hell did you give yourself a hand cannon, and who signed off on it?› I snapped. ‹Wait, don’t answer that. Just put it away. We’re not going to need it.›

  ‹Oh, really?›

  ‹How far down to reach the sirens?›

  ‹About twenty-five feet.› The barrel of his weapon collapsed into his wrist, and his hand clicked back into place.

  ‹There has to be another way in,› said Lena.

  Charles shrugged. ‹Not that we’ve been able to find.›

  Lena touched my bookbag. ‹Do you have Wayfinder in there?›

  ‹Don’t need it. Vince, Bi Wei, can you both hear me?›

  ‹What’s up, Boss?›

  ‹I can, yes.›

  I smiled. ‹I’m going to need your help with this part.›

  A low caw alerted us to Kerling’s arrival. The crow perched on the railing halfway up the stairs.

  Vince hadn’t stopped mentally railing at me for keeping Kerling’s abilities secret. I did my best to shut him out, and extended one arm. Kerling hopped from the rail and glided down to land on my forearm. Her claws dug through my sleeve. She had quite the grip.

  Charles stared. ‹You uplifted a crow’s intelligence and taught her to teleport?›

  ‹She taught herself.› I smoothed the feathers by Kerling’s neck. ‹Don’t ask me how.›

  ‹Welcome to Rise of the Planet of the Corvidae.›

  I ignored that, too. My attention was on Bi Wei as she descended the stairs to join us.

  ‹Who’s that?› demanded Charles.

  ‹A friend. She’s here to help us save Kiyoko.›

  ‹To do what?›

  I turned my attention to Kerling. “Vince told you where we need to go. Can you get us there?”

  ‹You’re trusting a bird to teleport us through solid rock?› Charles backed away. ‹You’re out of your mind.›

  Kerling spread her wings and shivered. Magic spread like dust from her feathers. I pulled that power around myself, then extended it to Lena, Bi We
i, and Charles. Kerling nipped my hand, as if annoyed by my interference.

  The stairwell vanished, replaced by a large, cool room that smelled of seawater and smoke. The overhead lights flickered.

  The PA system was muffled in here, weakening the protection of Nicola’s music. I could feel the sirens’ song vibrating through me.

  A trio of what looked like modified hot water heaters sat in the center of the room. Copper pipes and white PVC tubes fed in and out of the tanks. There were no computers, nothing but a bank of switches and lights nearby, none of which were labeled.

  Kiyoko stood in front of the controls, a futuristic-looking little pistol in one hand.

  Lena and Charles spread out to either side of me. Kerling flew away to perch on one of the pipes in the shadows. Bi Wei simply looked around, taking everything in.

  Kiyoko reached behind without looking and pulled a lever. Several seconds later, the song died down. I loosened one earplug.

  “Order Babs Palmer to cease her interference,” Kiyoko said.

  I forced a laugh. “Yah, Babs doesn’t take orders from me.” I stepped closer to the three chambers and touched the pipes. One was hot enough to burn. Frost covered another. “You’re torturing them.”

  She pointed her weapon at me. “You’re still wearing your personal shield unit from Dune. In addition to their vulnerability to slower-moving objects, this technology has another canonical flaw. Shooting one with a laser weapon triggers an explosion equivalent to a nuclear blast. The destruction of New Millennium and much of Las Vegas isn’t the attack we were planning, but the effect would be more than adequate.”

  “Damn,” I whispered. “I hate well-read bad guys.”

  “If you’re thinking of deactivating your shield’s magic, please keep in mind that I’ve watched you dissolve such spells several times, and I believe my reflexes are fast enough to shoot you before you complete your attempt.”

  “Why aren’t you affected by the sirens?” asked Lena.

  “This clone was surgically deafened. I communicate by reading lips. As long as the sirens are quiet, I can also use the audio pickups in this room to broadcast your voices to me.” She glared at me. “Each time you fought me, I learned,” she said. “You’ve lost one friend today. How many more will you sacrifice?”

  “Maybe it’s time to learn a different lesson.”

  Lena tossed her swords aside, following my lead. “Your master is a madman. Why obey him?”

  Kiyoko cocked her head. “Your lover is a nerd. Why would you sleep with him? It’s because that’s who and what you are.”

  “Hey!” A twitch of the laser made me swallow my retort.

  “I chose Isaac. What have you ever chosen?” Lena stepped closer. “Don’t let Lawrence McGinley tell you what you are. Don’t let someone else define you.”

  “We are what we were written to be. Tools. Toys. Would you try to persuade a sword to become a ploughshare?”

  “What will you do when your master dies?” asked Lena. “You can’t even conceive of it, can you? You can’t imagine the possibility of a different life, but there are people who can help you evolve.”

  “Evolution is for the living.” Kiyoko’s laser pistol twitched, sending a beam of light through Lena’s shoulder. Blood oozed from the pencil-sized wound. The gun snapped back to me before I could take advantage of the momentary distraction. “You and I are very much alike. We’re both things. The difference is that you’ve run from that truth.”

  Bi Wei stepped past us. “Do you know why Isaac invited me here?”

  “To stop me. I know who and what you are. Your magic isn’t fast enough to keep me from pulling this trigger.”

  “You’re wrong, but that’s beside the point. He asked me to help you.” She held up a book, an original Japanese edition of All of One. “This story created you, but it doesn’t define you. I look at you through these words, and I see a being much like the Students of Bi Sheng. I see a web of magic connecting you to your sisters, making you greater.”

  Kiyoko reached back with her free hand to flip several switches, then pushed another lever. The sirens began to sing again. The sound knocked me backward, a wave of pain passing right through the walls of the three tanks. I clapped my hands over my ears, but it wasn’t enough.

  “The longer you delay,” shouted Kiyoko, “the more people will suffer. Contact Babs Palmer.”

  Charles raised his arm. His hand hinged open.

  Kiyoko moved too fast to see, snapping off two shots that punctured Charles’ hand and the partially protruding weapon. He shouted and clutched his arm to his chest.

  “We’re not here to fight you,” said Bi Wei. Her words carved a path through the song, strong and clear. “We’re here to bring you home.”

  She moved so slowly and smoothly I didn’t see her magic until it touched Kiyoko’s. A single strand of text and power pulsed between them. Kiyoko stiffened and closed her eyes.

  Lena stumbled past them to reverse the levers on the control panel. Slowly, the sirens quieted.

  Bi Wei stepped back a moment later, but Kiyoko didn’t move.

  “What’s happening?” I asked.

  “I’ve freed her to choose for herself.”

  “Great. How long will that take?”

  Bi Wei lifted one hand in a gesture that reminded me of a shrug. “She has tremendous knowledge, but little experience or wisdom. She’s frightened, like any child suddenly finding herself alone. I believe she’s reviewing what she knows about the world, particularly New Millennium, Secretary McGinley, even yourself. She may yet decide McGinley’s plan is best in the long term, depending on which variables she considers most important.”

  “In which case she’ll go ahead and destroy this place?” demanded Charles. He started toward Kiyoko, only to freeze again when the laser twitched toward him.

  “She can see you.” I pointed to one of the cameras. And if she read lips, that meant I could talk to her. “Kiyoko, you have a home here, if you want it.”

  The clone opened her eyes. “After my part in what has occurred, the authorities would never allow—”

  “I’m not planning to ask permission.” I looked at Lena. “I’m not going back to Copper River. From the beginning, they’ve treated New Millennium like a political pawn. I intend to turn it into a sanctuary. A home.”

  I’d made my choice back in Michigan, but speaking the words made them real. They also brought a sense of relief. It was amazing how much mental and emotional weight could be sloughed away with a single decision.

  “That won’t stop their fear,” said Kiyoko. “It won’t end the wars.”

  “No, it won’t. But it will give people a choice. It will give us a place where we don’t have to be afraid.”

  “What of those who aren’t interested in sanctuary?” she asked. “Those who choose to fight?”

  “We help to stop them.”

  She tilted her head to one side. “John Dalberg-Acton stated that power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. It’s true of Secretary McGinley. It was true of Russell Potts. It was true of Johannes Gutenberg. What will make you and New Millennium any less corrupt?”

  “People like Nidhi Shah. People like Jeneta Aboderin, who are more interested in knowledge and exploration and possibility. People like my brother, who’ll drive over and tear me down to size if I ever get too full of myself. People like Nicola and Babs and Charles and Vince and Talulah. People like Lena, and like you.”

  Bi Wei handed All of One to Kiyoko. “We will also be watching.”

  “You’ve seen inside my head,” I said. “You know I’m serious about this.”

  “Yes. I also believe you’re frightened of the responsibility, and of the consequences of this choice.”

  “Oh, yah. Terrified.” I grinned. “Exhilarating, isn’t it? So many possibilities . . . speaking of which, what’s the transmission rate for your psychic connection?”

  She blinked. “Nearly instantaneous.”


  “Jeneta’s going to want to talk to you about her Mars idea. You might solve the communication lag she was talking about. Before that, though, I want to sit down and talk about the magic you did up in admin, when you threw that sleep spell at me. We’ve always believed intrinsically magical beings like you and Lena were incapable of using extrinsic magic, but that’s exactly what you did!”

  “I recreated a recording. That’s not the same thing.”

  Was it my imagination, or had her cheeks darkened slightly? Was she flustered? “Imitation is one method of learning, and you haven’t exactly had time to study or practice. Who knows what else you might be able to do.”

  Slowly, Kiyoko lowered the laser pistol.

  “Thank you. Don’t go anywhere.” While Lena took the gun, I dissolved my shield generator, just to be safe. I hurried to the tanks next. Simple padlocks held the lids in place. “Do you have the keys?”

  “There’s an emergency release.” Kiyoko turned to the control panel. Charles started after her, but I waved him back.

  The side of the first tank cracked open. Water sprayed out in a thin, scalding sheet. It smelled like salt and blood and worse. Kiyoko turned a metal wheel, triggering a squealing sound from the tank, and then a curved, rectangular section was flung open.

  I did my best to catch the siren as she slid onto the floor. She was naked, her skin scalded red. Abrasions on her wrists and ankles showed where she’d been restrained. Medical sensors—the same patches I’d created, the ones I’d seen on Lex after her procedure—were secured to her scalp and throat.

  She was thinner than she should have been. Healthy sirens kept a thick layer of fat to help them survive the cold water, but this one’s skin sagged loosely, and I could see the curved lines of her ribs. I grabbed the healing cordial.

  Her eyes widened, and she tried to squirm free.

  “You’re safe,” said Lena through clenched teeth. “This is to heal your injuries.”

  A flailing fist struck the side of my face. I almost dropped the potion.

  Lena caught the siren’s wrist. She screamed in pain, screams that only grew louder as Kiyoko crouched and whispered into her ear.

  The siren sagged, blanketed by magical sleep. I maneuvered a drop of the potion into her mouth. Blisters melted back into her skin, and the redness faded.