World Revolver

by Gina Ranalli

  The commotion happening in the room is disorienting and I realize I’m terrified, almost certainly about to be killed and I don’t even know why.

  This has happened before.

  Over and over again, we do the same things, never realizing how alike we all are. Not just a little alike, but exactly alike, no matter what our labels or social standings. We are only creatures, like so many other creatures, repeating the same routines again and again and again.

  There is no beginning and no end.

  I am the revolver and I am the trigger.

  This is how it was always going to be, how it was meant to be. There never was any other choice.

  Reaching up with my good arm—I try to use my other arm as well, but I can’t get it to work at all—I place my hand against Atropos’s temple and our eyes meet.

  Neither of us are afraid anymore.

  We spin.

  The room we’re in, whirling, blurring by in a cacophony of colors and shapes. Nothing is solid. Nothing is liquid. Not even us. We are both in space and are space, rotating end over end, twirling in and out of time, here one instant, there the next.

  All the dimensions—all the lives—are one and the same and they roll through us and us through them, like blood through the veins of the universe.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT—The Host

  Inside the mansion, I greet the guests one by one, offering a handshake or a cheek kiss, depending on gender, and always a wide, welcoming smile.

  There are close to thirty people here now, with more scheduled to arrive. There is champagne and other beverages, anything a person could want, at the open bar in the ballroom, not to mention more hors d'oeuvres than I care to name. This is not a dinner party though, so hopefully people have come with their bellies already full.

  This is a celebration, though most of the people here are unaware of that fact. They’ve been invited with no knowledge of why, asked to come however they feel comfortable, but to be aware a stretch limo will be picking them up and delivering them here at eight o’clock sharp.

  Frankly, I’m surprised so many of them showed up. I would have been too suspicious, myself. If I’d had a gold-embossed engraved invitation hand delivered to me as I was just going about my day? I would have assumed a prank at the least, and something secret and sinister being even more likely.

  But they’ve come and though some of them wear expressions of confusion, they seem happy enough to drink and explore the house. Some have even been brave enough to mingle, striking up conversations with one another and whispering—What could we be here for?

  I’m dressed in a tuxedo for the first time in my life. Maybe the last. It doesn’t feel right. It’s as though I’m wearing a disguise and I suppose I am. The disguise of a secret savior? Maybe. Like one of my own childhood heroes, Mr. Bruce Wayne himself. Because everyone knows Bruce was Batman’s mask and not the other way around.

  Likening myself to a hero makes me feel like a pompous ass though. As if I planned it and worked for it and deserve it. None of those things are true. All of it was an accident. Atropos says it’s true but even Atropos can be wrong sometimes. I don’t know why I was chosen. Maybe it was all the drugs, the apathy. The just not giving a fuck. But whatever it was, I’m grateful for it.

  Luna sidles up next to me, a glass of white wine in her hand. She looks stunning in a satin topaz blue dress that shimmers, her blonde hair piled atop her head and pinned in place with an ornate silver clip. She’s wearing makeup for the first time since I’ve known her and I have to admit, it’s my least favorite part of her look tonight.

  She links her free arm with mine and sips her wine, observing the guests with bright eyes.

  Even though it’s not obvious, I suspect she’s wearing a holster somewhere, probably on her thigh, and there’s something about that secret knowledge I find incredibly sexy.

  Her voice is smoky and low.

  -Enjoying yourself?

  I keep my voice down.

  -Not so much. This isn’t really my idea of a good time.

  -Look at the bright side. You’re not being forced into a damn dress and heels. What happens if I need to run in these things?

  -Kick them off?

  -Hmm. You were supposed to say ‘you won’t need to do any running tonight.’

  -I was? Okay, sorry. You won’t need to do any running tonight.

  After a moment’s thought, I add,

  -And hopefully no shooting or ass kicking either.

  She gives me a sideward glance.

  -I’ve done enough of that for now.

  I believe her and wish she didn’t have to do more but I have a feeling she will. The war—Halleck’s war to keep people here, on this world, and enslaved to his drugs—may only be the beginning. Every dimension we’ve been to, he is the same or close enough that the difference is not worth noting.

  Atropos says this is statistically impossible; we are bound to find a home where Satellite and Sol don’t exist. At least, not at the time we get there. And if we can get to him before he meets the one genius chemist, we might just find ourselves with a good place to finally cease our endless spinning. Atropos says we will and when we do, we’ll be able to stop. She will see to it.

  I don’t know what that means, what it entails, but I believe her. She has powers greater than any of the rest of us can understand.

  An old, white woman crosses the front door’s threshold and strides up to Luna and myself with purpose, a playful smile playing at the corner of her mouth. Her brown eyes twinkle beneath the light thrown down by the chandelier above us.

  -Hello, again, Mr. Eon.

  I nod and return the smile, though I’m somewhat confused.

  -It’s Ringer now, actually.

  -Oh, I know.

  The woman, in a sparkling green evening gown decorated with hundreds of sequins, looks around at the gathered group of people.

  -You’re expecting more, I take it?

  Luna is the one who answers.

  -We are. Many more. The night is still young.

  -That it is,

  the woman agrees.

  I can’t keep the question back any longer and I blurt it out, barely quiet enough to keep anyone nearby from hearing.

  -How are you here? I mean, you’re also over there.

  I point to the other side of the room where Atropos—our Atropos—sits chatting with someone I don’t recognize. A middle-aged Asian woman.

  -We, and I, have our, and my, ways.

  Luna and I clutch each other just the tiniest bit harder.

  The old woman smiles again, with a kindness which seems otherworldly in its honesty. Kindness like that, that can be sensed rather than seen, just doesn’t exist in this world. Not often, anyway. But I’m getting used to it and even manage a genuine smile in return.

  Atropos touches my free arm, the one not gripped by Luna.

  -Are you ready to give your speech?

  I stare at her for a moment, waiting for a punch line, but none comes.

  -What? Me?

  -You, Mr. Eon.

  -But…I don’t know anything! How can I make a speech?

  -You can and even beyond that, you must.

  I look at Luna.

  -She’s joking, right?

  Luna appears to be quite mystified as well, but shrugs.

  I see a mischievous twinkle in Atropos’s eyes as she moves towards a table and helps herself to a glass of champagne and a fork to tap it with.

  -Oh, god, no.

  Instantly, I feel sweat seeping from my armpits, collecting beneath my balls, dampening my palms.

  Atropos walks back to us with her weapons of choice, still smiling.

  -Are you ready?

  -No! I’m not ready! Please, Atropos, don’t make me do this.

  -You’ll be fine.

  I let go of Luna, thinking about fleeing, but where would I go? Upstairs? Outside?

  Much to my horror, Atropos taps the glass with the fork, drawing everyone’s
attention.

  -Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. I’m sure you’re all wondering why you’re here. I can assure you there is a very good reason. This planet is all but finished. We all know this. But tonight you’re going to discover a solution to this problem. A way out. The way has been tried and proven to be quite successful…

  Atropos continued talking for a while more, but I was too stressed to listen. Why me? Why did she want me to tell them about this ‘way out?’

  A voice in my head spoke then, unmistakably mine but so much calmer than my usual voice, amazingly self-assured, confident and unwavering.

  -You’re the revolver. Everyone senses something special about you, even if you don’t sense it within yourself. You have power and a unique talent. They will both listen and believe. They will trust you, just as the Spinners do. You will not steer them wrong. The world will be new again, worth saving and fighting for. Have faith. We’re waiting for you.

  I felt my spine straighten then, knowing another me was somewhere close, holding out a hand, not the slightest bit frightened, and that knowledge made me brave.

  Atropos was introducing me now and everyone’s gaze was on me. I had no idea what I would say to them, but felt confident it would be the right thing.

  I cleared my throat, smiled, nodded to each face in turn, and then began.

  -Don’t eat animals.

  I said.

  -Recycle.

  -Drive an eco-friendly car. Or better yet, don’t drive at all. Walk. Or bike.

  -Leave only footprints.

  -These were, quite literally, the signs of the time, once upon a time…

  I talked for a while and no one snickered, no one rolled their eyes. They listened, just as Atropos knew they would.

  When I thought I was finished, the people still watched me expectantly and I felt compelled to add just a little more.

  -None of us ever knows how close we are always coming to the brink of extinction and disaster. Every moment we’re only a hair’s breadth from total annihilation. Decimating extinction. Every second of your life, you just dodged another bullet.

  -Virtually everything you’ve ever been, good or bad, you can be again. You can steer your life in any direction you choose. Towards the horizon or away from it. Left, right. Up, down, diagonally. You can turn your life inside out if you want to and a lot of people do. Every single day, people are making the choice to begin again. Start over. Do the right thing.

  -Imagine the possibilities. We’re like space, limitless and constantly expanding. Freedom to choose is a luxury we in this room have. All we have to do is not fuck up too bad.

  Some of the people laughed at that. Some nodded in understanding. Everyone, I think, understood.

  So did I and the others save the world? Maybe for a moment. We can all save, or at least change, the world for at least a moment. It’s not very hard once you know how. You too can be a world revolver.

  Spin.

  Revolve.

  Evolve.