Long Paradise

by James Murdo

  “Good for you,” Repeat the Question said.

  “Lots of copies try their luck,” Vision of Night added.

  “Absolutely fascinating,” Repeat the Question continued, moving his hand down. Better than Two would have laughed when he took another sip, were it not so unnerving. The way these two were going, they would be unlikely to have enough fuel left to last the day. Something was wrong. It was very dark now.

  “Wait… just wait. You’re saying,” Vision of Night said, edging closer to him. “That you saw Memories of Hope up there, but you also saw her down here.”

  Better than Two nodded. “Yes.”

  “She was fast, but she always kept to the path unless there was good reason not to. Wayward copies and all that, she used to say. You’re an odd one though, aren’t you?”

  “I… I suppose I am,” Better than Two said, taking a step back.

  “Are you a wayward copy?”

  “No.”

  “But you’re suggesting there are two Memories of Hope. Everyone else believes she’s similar to the Original, you see,” Vision of Night said. “In that there’s only one.”

  “You’re not going to try to convince us that there’s more than one Original now, are you?” Repeat the Question asked, smirking.

  “The Original. There’s really only one. That’s almost the point,” Vision of Night followed up. He exchanged a knowing smile with Repeat the Question. “Anyway – there’s only one other copy anywhere near the cave right now. We met him, near the base.”

  “Hooded fellow,” Repeat the Question said.

  “Kindly gave us a drop from his flask when we met him, even though he’d already given some to the others. Almost insisted on it. And spoke like the rest of us, didn’t he?”

  “He did.” Repeat the Question nodded. “And so kind.” He eyed Better than Two’s flask. “We didn’t even have to… ask.”

  “He was fair.”

  “Indeed, he was.”

  They were both creeping forwards. Better than Two had to continuously step back to avoid them walking into him.

  “Very fair,” Vision of Night agreed. “And we’ll take… ask for the rest, on his return.”

  “There was no one else up there,” Better than Two countered, hoping to change the subject. “Just Memories of Hope.”

  “Really?” said Vision of Night mockingly.

  “That’s the reason she’s smiling, is it?” Repeat the Question asked with a falsely high voice. “She’s in on your little joke too.”

  “How exceedingly nice,” Vision of Night said. His eyes glowed maliciously in the darkness. “What a nice reason to smile. How nice.”

  “Yes, how nice,” Repeat the Question said.

  “Is… is everything o-okay?” Better than Two asked.

  Vision of Night brought the flask to his mouth. He tipped it, flicking it back even further, and brought it down to eye the contents inside. He shook it one last time, before flinging it to the side. Better than Two looked to Repeat the Question and saw that his flask was also no longer attached to his hip. Both copies were clearly drained. Repeat the Question reached into his pocket. A moment later, the bright blue light surrounding the two copies disappeared, and they were shrouded in darkness.

  They lurched towards him with their arms outstretched. Better than Two turned, only just managing to escape their grasping. He fled, running along the edge of the path and flicking his own light off. While the darkness was terrifying, his pursuers were more so.

  He heard a thud, and twisted mid-run to see one of the two crumple down, completely depleted of fuel – he presumed. There was a single pair of glowing eyes behind him. Vision of Night. “You’ll never hide from me!”

  Better than Two tripped over a rough patch and fell. He instinctively tucked his arms in as he rolled, until finally coming to a stop. In terror, he tried to push himself up while looking behind him – Vision of Night was no longer there.

  He felt a blow to his back, forcing him down. He rolled again, and tried to get to his feet. A blow to his head forced him down to the ground again. Opening his eyes, he saw Vision of Night standing by his feet, a crazed smile across his face, his eyes dimmer than before.

  Better than Two dodged to the side as Vision of Night went to kick him again, managing to successfully rise to his feet and push Vision of Night back. Surprisingly, Vision of Night collapsed to the floor. Better than Two ran over and pulled his fist back, ready to strike, when he realised there was no need, the threat was gone. Vision of Night was motionless, his eyes no longer glowing.

  It was early morning by the time Better than Two reached the base of the mountain. Wary of encountering more crazed copies wanting to steal his fuel, he had crept to the side, off the pathway, and down a steeper part of the slope.

  At the bottom, he walked quietly around, keeping himself hidden. Near to the point where the path began to snake up the mountain, he glimpsed a motionless hand on the ground, and slunk back. He steadied himself, and crept forwards again.

  Next to the hand, closer to the mountain, was the hunched back of another copy, facing away from him. The copy was also motionless. The hunched copy appeared to have been crouching over the copy with the outstretched hand, whose other arm was raised over his head. Neither had flasks attached at their hips. Clearly, there had been a fight as their fuel reserves had run out.

  Better than Two scratched his chin with a shaking hand. Something had caused the copies who waited at the base of the mountain to unnecessarily deplete their fuel flasks and attack each other. He turned and looked into the distance. There was nothing left for him here.

  29

  SEREMEND’S JOURNEY

  Better than Two’s devices lay where he had placed them on the ground. Seremend left them, in case he decided to retrieve them after all. The Outer Layer could be a very dangerous place.

  When she was ready, she slung her pack over her back and stood facing the cave. It was easily wide enough for three of her to have stood side-by-side, with arms outstretched, and arced above her in a natural, rocky pattern.

  As soon as she entered its mouth, the gentle wind was extinguished. There was no howling within the cave or drop in temperature. She looked at the cracks along the wall, their familiar grooves well-known to her despite never having stepped foot in the cave before.

  “The Original?” she said loudly, walking forwards. “That’s what they’re calling you.” Her voice echoed around her, gradually dwindling to nothingness. There was no response. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Do you no longer call yourself Tolren, or was the name given to you?”

  She carried on walking. While it was completely dark outside, a humming Lujmin device within her pack excited the atoms around her, causing them to expel photons and dimly light her way. It was one of the many items she had acquired during her journeys. She had heard such devices did not work for copies in the depths of the cave, but for her it worked just fine.

  “You could have made them a little hardier, you know – your creations. Most of them are afraid of the dark. The last copy practically ran out.” She bit the side of her lip. “I wonder if you did that on purpose? You used to be afraid of the dark too, you told me once.”

  She laughed loudly, daring him to respond.

  “Is the Inner Layer better than this? I’ve thought a lot about it, seen a lot… Travelled so far to find you.” She smiled and shook her head.

  “Others make mistakes too, you know. What I did was wrong, but who were you to judge me? Look at the copies you made! And by the way, you can imagine my surprise, when I encountered my first. The copy was… I was so happy. I thought you’d come back to save me. To guide me through the Outer Layer.”

  She kicked a stone on the ground, hearing it bounce off the walls. She waited for the echoing to die down before continuing.

  “You only made one of me, didn’t you? Memories of Hope. Was she the first?” Seremend held her breath. “Was it a reflection or… or did you want to humili
ate me?”

  She turned a corner and saw that the cave began to narrow.

  “Did you watch my journey?” She gritted her teeth. “Did you care? Am I foolish to expect anything? I’ve travelled from spire to spire, territory to territory. My journey has been long… So much longer than yours ever was. How did you understand the rules so fast?”

  The cave narrowed even more. She stretched out her arms. The tips of her fingers could just about reach the sides.

  “I must say, I was surprised when I came to the end of the Spires. The Outer Layer! We never could have dreamed such a place existed, you and I. But it’s just another prison, isn’t it? Did you spend long here before making it through? I doubt it.”

  She ran a hand along the wall.

  “Do you regret what you did?” she asked, more loudly than before. “Have you forgiven me?”

  She fancied she heard some winds howling through the mouth of the cave. The silence was probably playing tricks on her mind.

  “Have you forgiven yourself?”

  Nothing, still.

  “I didn’t come here to argue.”

  She saw the end, a short way ahead and walked up to it, cocking her head. She had been expecting a cold, stone wall, but not this. Her heart began racing.

  A hatch-point waited innocently. It had the same general design as all those she had seen along the way in the Outer Layer – a little larger than the hatches from the Spires. Coming up close, she touched it with her fingers. It was familiarly cold to the touch. Immediately, the cave began to tremble around her, and she heard the sound of mechanics whirring into action.

  She took a step back. “I’m here. And I forgive you. But there’s one more thing.” She took a deep breath. “I know who you really are. It took me a long time to remember, but coming across all the copies of you helped. And I did have a very long time to think, after all. You never told me your real name, did you?”

  The hatch opened. It was so bright in contrast to the cave that all she could see was white. Excited, she took a step forward. “Gerstial… Gerstial II, whatever you prefer, I’m coming.”

  PART 4

  30

  RETURNED LIAISONS

  The hatch-point closed behind Seremend, and with it, the blindingly bright white light was gone. She waited patiently for her vision to return.

  She was at the end of what appeared to be a long passageway, split into separate compartments, that was so long it disappeared far into the distance. To either side of the compartment she was in, long ridges at hip-height ran underneath circular windows. The windows had small buttons underneath – some were set to transparent, some opaque. Outside the windows, there was blackness speckled with tiny flecks of light.

  Dread filled her stomach. She walked over to the closest window to look out at the all-too-familiar spacescape, reminded of those same views from so long ago.

  “Seremend?”

  Tolren was there – standing at the segment entrance.

  “Seremend,” he repeated, looking surprised. “How did you get here?”

  She fell to her knees. “Tolren?”

  He took a step towards her. “Where did you come from?” He gestured to the windows. “From what spire?”

  She just stared at him, unable to answer.

  “Did you come from the hatch?” He took another hesitant step closer. “But it’s closed – that doesn’t make sense.” She shook her head. He rushed forwards, falling to his knees in front of her and embraced her.

  Her faint sobs were muffled through his arms. She opened her eyes and saw there were others watching them, from the other end of the compartment. They were all from different species, none of whom she recognised – not that she would have expected to.

  She pulled back. “What’s going on?” she asked, wiping the tears away.

  “What d’you mean?” he asked.

  She slowly disengaged from his embrace and stood up. He stood with her. She pointed back at the hatch-point. “I left here, a long time ago. I was out of the Spires. I was… I came through there.”

  “Through the hatch?”

  She nodded.

  “Just now?” He frowned. “There was no rumbling, no warning… That doesn’t make sense.” He looked towards the others at the end of the compartment. “Here,” he said, taking her hand. “Come with me.” He led her through the end and to the next compartment. Those who had gathered out of apparent curiosity moved aside to let them through. “This way.” They continued walking through the compartments, familiar and yet all a little different to anything Seremend remembered seeing before. That was always the way. Each spire was similar in construction while being unique at the same time.

  Sometime after walking down the spire, they entered a segment containing private side-rooms.

  “This one’s mine,” Tolren said, with his arm outstretched to the middle side-room on the right.

  She waited for the hatch to move aside and entered.

  He smiled nervously. “Down here it’s similar to ours… the spire we started in. But further up the spire it gets quite strange. At least we’re all oxygen breathers, but… better we stay near this end. The compartments change within the spires, as I’m sure you know. The more you open up, the more different it gets.”

  “That’s how they work,” she said, wearily.

  He looked at her strangely. They both stared at each other for some time, neither sure of where to start. Tolren began to speak. “I’m sorry for asking you to leave.” Seremend did not reply, she simply continued staring at him. “I regretted it almost as soon as you left.” A tear rolled down his cheek.

  “You made me,” she said quietly. “It’s been all this time, but I’ve never forgotten.”

  He raised his hands. “I know, it was my fault. I was… too quick. I wish I hadn’t. I’ve truly regretted it every moment since. There’s no one else like us.”

  “He attacked me, Tolren. You realise that?” Seremend said, her eyes shining fiercely. “I still remember… I arrived confused, and alone, just like you. He was already there. I arrived, and he attacked me. I defended myself!”

  Tolren looked helpless, unsure of what to say.

  Seremend carried on. “And he was different – he wasn’t like us. I’ve had a lot of time to think, Tolren. He looked similar to us, but I don’t even believe he was Roranian. His body moved differently.”

  Tolren’s eyes moved around, unable to settle on Seremend or meet her gaze. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry?” she laughed bitterly. “That’s fine then.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Did you give me a chance? Would you have believed me?”

  “I–”

  “This place, Tolren, it’s not normal! You must know that now. It made me think… I don’t know… That I was wrong. Misremembering. When you saw the blood, there was no body, was there?” Her voice had nearly broken as she said this, and she waited for his response.

  “No, just blood.”

  She released her breath.

  Tolren met her eyes. “I assumed you’d hidden it,” he said, rationally.

  “Where?”

  He raised his hands. “I don’t know.”

  “It disappeared. He… or whatever that thing was, just disappeared!”

  “Where to?”

  “I don’t know. Why would I lie, Tolren? Why now, after all this time?”

  “I’m so sorry,” he mumbled. “It feels like years since then, I’ve–”

  “Years?” she interrupted, alarmed.

  “Yes, it’s been a very long time.”

  “Just ‘years’?”

  He nodded, his eyes giving away his confusion. “How’ve you felt time’s gone?”

  “But… the copies? All the copies you made – everything. How did you do it? How did you pass through so far?”

  He looked nonplussed. “Copies?”

  “Yes, the copies.”

  “What copies?”

  “You… you reall
y have no idea?”

  “About what?”

  She laughed and sunk to the floor with her head in her hands. “If only… Oh, you have no idea!”

  He settled down beside her. “Tell me.”

  She looked him in the eyes and then turned away. “You’d never believe me. I wouldn’t believe me either, if I were you. But we’re stuck here again, and I wonder… if I’m going mad!”

  “Seremend, please.”

  She snorted.

  “Give me a chance.”

  She looked at the floor, and then at him. “It’s been a lot longer than just some ‘years’.”

  “What do you mean?” He rested a hand on her shoulder.

  “You’d never believe me.”

  His hand did not move, although she felt it stiffen. “How much longer?” he asked quietly.

  “What’s the point?” she muttered, looking up at him. “Tolren… it’s been a very, very long time. Longer than hundreds of lifetimes, which doesn’t seem possible, I know.”

  “Hundreds of lifetimes?”

  “Much longer than any Roranian was meant to have lived.”

  “That’s imposs…” He stopped himself. “I believe you.”

  “Do you? Believe me on this – it happens without you realising, at first. Then you start wondering, and it’s like a poison in your mind – why do I look the same? Why don’t my bones hurt? Why am I exactly the same as when I entered this prison?! You’ve no one else to ask at first, because everyone’s different and you don’t even understand the questions. I’ve never met another Roranian, have you?” she asked.

  “No,” he admitted. “But…” He trailed off, looking unsure of what to say.

  “It’s something I came to terms with a long time ago.”

  “Why don’t we die here?” Tolren asked.

  “We don’t die naturally.”

  “No one?”

  “No one, Tolren. I don’t care if you don’t believe me, it’s the truth.”

  “I do believe you,” he said, levelly, his expression changing to that of concern. “You must be tired?”

  She stood up wearily and nodded. “I am.”