Redux

by A. L. Davroe

  Dad slowly folds his arms. “I’d never be so bold. All this game does, or did, is subconsciously show the Disfavored what one choice will provide for them. It’s meant to greatly encourage them to make the choice we want them to make, but in Real World they are still entirely themselves, and it is up to them to make the final choice to accept the hand of friendship when the Aristocrats extend it. Or…at least, it was. Seems it is all for naught.”

  “That doesn’t change the fact that you intended to brainwash all the Aristocrats.”

  He shrugs. “Are you going to tell me making the Aristocrats a little more compassionate toward their fellow man is a bad thing?”

  I want to agree, but I know better. “Part of being human is to have free will, even if it’s to make the choice to hurt someone else.”

  “Well,” Dad says, voice quiet, “in that we disagree. Because to me, to show one’s humanity is to be compassionate toward others. So, if you ask what I meant to do with the Redux Program, it was to make humans out of monsters, civilize a lot of heathens.”

  Taking a breath, I hold my tongue. There is no point in arguing with a man who can’t see the crimes against humanity he planned to commit. To him, the Aristocrats were nothing but test subjects, lab animals, monsters. Maybe Uncle Simon saw things like I do. Maybe he didn’t agree with what the Tricksters were doing. Maybe that’s why he fried the G-Chips before the Redux Program could be uploaded.

  I plop down beside him. “I can’t believe you did this. It’s like I don’t even know you.” I lift my hands. “And to drag me into it?”

  “You were necessary.”

  A scoff escapes me. “You sound so clinical.”

  He glances down at me. “Don’t get me wrong, Ella. You’re the light of my life. I love you more than anything and I only want the best for you. It’s because of that that I—we—did this for you. To give you a better world to live in.”

  “I didn’t ask for that.”

  “You didn’t need to. It’s what every parent wants—to give a safe, beautiful world to their child. We’d do anything to that end.”

  I can’t help my bitter smirk. “I doubt many parents have gone this far.”

  “We set everything up so that you’d come out in a favorable position. I wanted that most of all for you. Seeing you struggle to fit in, one foot in each world, it nearly killed me. I wanted a world where your unique identity was something special, not just to me but everyone.”

  “I talked to a Disfavored man a little while ago. He said I was the glue that held everyone together. What did he mean by that? Does it have to do with why they call me the Savior?”

  He grins. “That’s my favorite part of the whole game. Your mother came up with it. The best ideas are always hers.”

  I stay silent. I don’t know if I agree with him.

  Seeing that he’s not going to get a gush from me, he continues, “I don’t want to give too much away, but in this game, there is an avatar of you who allows for the integration of the Disfavored into the city. Your avatar is the one who convinces the Aristocrats to allow the Disfavored in and the one who convinces the Disfavored to play nice or reap the consequences.”

  “What on earth possessed her to make an avatar of me do something like that?”

  “Because isn’t that exactly what you were doing in Real World? The avatar here is meant to echo the mission you were given in Nexis. A virtual you to work hand in hand with the real you.”

  I shake my head. “I didn’t sign up for all of this.”

  “But you planted the virus. Didn’t you know what you were doing?”

  “No, I wish I did,” I say, disgusted by my own naïveté. “Uncle Simon explained that there would be some kind of power outage, that it would just emphasize to the Aristocrats that they rely too heavily on technology. He never told me anything about the rebel infiltration, President Cyr’s assassination, the planting of the Redux Program, or the G-Chips getting fried. I never would have planted the virus otherwise.”

  “I see,” he reflects, voice grave. “Things didn’t quite go as we had predicted.”

  “Clearly.”

  He bangs a fist on his knee. “If only Simon had stuck to the plan. This all would have gone so perfectly. The Redux Program would have gotten the Aristocrats to open their hearts to aiding the Disfavored, and the Redux Game would have primed the Disfavored for just such an occasion.”

  “No. The Disfavored are still just as bloodthirsty, still in their hate mode. They’d kill an Aristocrat if they saw one.”

  “That’s because Ella the Savior hasn’t come to them in Real World yet. She’s the trigger, the switch over in Real World that will make the Disfavored choose to cooperate.”

  “How could one person do that?”

  “The game subconsciously taught them to trust you. If you tell them the Aristocrats will aid and accept them, then they will trust you because the game taught them to.”

  Everything he’s saying sounds crazy to me. “Why me? Why would you put so much responsibility on me?”

  “Isn’t this what you want? A world where Naturals and Customs can live side by side? Where you’re no longer an outcast?”

  “By shoving me into the spotlight?”

  “Isn’t that also what you wanted? To stand out and be loved by your peers? Wasn’t that what you struggled for?”

  He’s right, of course. I wanted to be popular, to be loved despite being a Natural among Customs. “I didn’t want it this way.” I touch my forehead—my head feels like it’s going to explode. “This is so much.”

  His face falls. “I’m sorry to have burdened you with this, then. We assumed you’d be a willing participant. It was agreed among we Tricksters that, should something happen to Cleo or myself, you’d be brought into the fold when the time came and you’d be apprised of the plan. It’s one of the reasons we secured your marriage to Zane.”

  “That didn’t happen. Uncle Simon falsified my death and kept me captive for the past year. He most certainly never explained anything to me, especially this.”

  “His actions were regrettable. He should have taken more care.”

  That’s an understatement. “You didn’t know what was going on with me at all? Even though you seem to know some things?”

  He wrinkles his nose. “As I’ve said, we had some access via the Internetwork, but it’s limited and spotty here.”

  “I-I don’t even know if I believe what you’re telling me. People living beyond the grave in virtual realms, brainwashing… It’s all theoretical.”

  “That’s only what G-Corp wanted the citizens to believe, Ella. G-Corp has had incredible scientific capability from the very beginning. From its inception, it brought on the best and brightest minds in the world, put them all together in this isolated dome, creating a fast and strong eugenics program, and the results were stunning. Add to it the ability to upload those brilliant minds on the Main Frame, allow access to them for certain qualified personnel, and we can do many, many wonderful and horrible things.”

  “Is that what happened? They killed you, but you kept helping the other Tricksters to fine tune this Program?”

  “Yes, I’ve had a hand in this Program from the very beginning. But remotely, of course. The Main Frame knows when certain people are being accessed, so your uncle thought it was safest to export me into Redux itself. Same with your mother. We live here, on this virtual plane in the utopia we imagined with you.” He smiles.

  I can’t help my heated words. “But the avatar in this game isn’t me,” I argue. “I was out there, alone and without either of you. And you were connecting with people from Real World, pulling the strings on my life like I was a little puppet and you never once thought to reach out to me?”

  He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. “It was too dangerous.”

  My lip is trembling and I feel hot tears threatening to fall. “I needed you.”

  His smile is gentle as he reaches out and touches my hand. “No. You didn’t.
Clearly you’ve done everything wonderfully, Ella. I’m very proud of you.”

  “Wonderfully? Nearly everyone in Evanescence is dead because I made a horrible mistake. And now the Disfavored may all die, too.” Angry, I pull away from him. “I don’t deserve anyone being proud of me and you don’t deserve to be proud of me. Go be proud of Other Ella, your little Savior.”

  The skin around his eyes tighten. “Jealousy does not and never has suited you. You’re better than this. How can you be jealous of yourself?”

  “The person in this game, whoever she is, is not me.”

  He scoffs. “Oh, my Ellani, she is exactly you. Your body in this world is a bit taller, as your mother miscalculated your final growth results. But the brain that inhabits your avatar on this level? It is your brain. The same brain that regularly copied, uploaded, and exported to Redux every time you entered Nexis.”

  I shake my head, rejecting what he’s saying. “Then she’s not me. I’m a completely different person than I was just last week. Where is she? I’ll prove it.”

  “She doesn’t exist.”

  “What?

  “Not while you’re here, anyway. Can’t have two of you existing at the same time.”

  I roll my eyes. “All of this is insane, Dad. Every last convoluted bit of it.”

  “Insane and convoluted as it is, it’s the truth. It’s the virtual reality behind the reality. Two timelines, two Ellas working in conjunction with each other.”

  And now they’ve collided. And Real World Ella is left picking up the pieces. Sighing, I drop my shoulders. “So, the plan is all screwed up. What am I supposed to do?”

  He rubs his chin in thought. “That is a bit of a conundrum. We didn’t hypothesize for the plan running this off course. But you’re a smart girl, you’ll think of something.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “Your mother and I gave you every possible resource you could need in Nexis and in Redux. You did a momentous thing in both games. I have every faith you can do exactly the same in Real World.”

  I grip my hair in both my hands. “Ugh, I don’t have the same resources in Real World. I don’t have the threads like my avatar did in Nexis, and I don’t even know who half the Real World Tricksters are—let alone trust them.”

  “It doesn’t matter who the Tricksters are or how many.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “The Tricksters in Nexis were just symbolic. Bodies that held something important to your success.”

  “They were people,” I hiss. “They were my friends.”

  Dad lifts his chin. “And what is a friend but someone who helps you succeed in life? Who is a lover? A mother? A father? In the end, when you take all the humanitarian fluff out of people’s minds, other people are nothing but tools. Things that make you laugh, cry, cope, things that comfort you, things that push you or drag you down. They are the most important tools in our kit, because without other people, we are nothing. And each one of us, every human alive, is a special kind of tool, unique in what they can offer or take away from the people around them. That’s what makes each of us important. That’s the big thing that humanity lost sight of when it chose who got to live and who got to die, when it closed off the domes and left the Disfavored outside to die in the aftermath of what we’d all created. And that’s the wrong your mother and I and the other people on our teams were trying to correct. The Aristocrats are valuable, but so are the Disfavored. There is something both sides have to offer, and we need to find balance.” He holds up his hand, presenting the city around us in demonstration.

  chapter twenty

  Post-American Date: 7/8/232

  Longitudinal Timestamp: 8:02 p.m.

  Location: Kairos

  The silence of the gaming room is nearly overpowering after being submerged in the virtual version of Evanescence for so long. I pull off the cap and blinders, blink in the bright battery light.

  Quent glances up at me from my leg. “All done?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you have fun?”

  I knit my brows, rub my temples. “I’m not sure fun is the right word.”

  He pauses in his ministrations, looks up again, giving me all of his attention. “What was it like? I’ve always wondered about Redux, but everyone was always so hush, hush about it.”

  “That night at the ball,” I venture. “Zane put something in your pocket and then Gus took it from you. What was it?”

  “Zane told me it was some kind of reboot program. I was supposed to upload it onto the Main Frame right before the Anansi Virus kicked in, but Dad wanted me to do that stupid birthday toast. So I stayed behind with you and Gus did it instead. It’s what rebooted the power.”

  I shake my head. “It wasn’t.”

  He squints at me, waiting.

  I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is what’s currently happening. What’s ahead of us.”

  “Okay,” he says slowly. I can tell he wants to ask questions, but he refrains. “As soon as I’m done, I suppose we’ll go back to the rebel base, let them know what happened to the Aristocrats, appeal to them to help rescue them.”

  “Except you’ve already mentioned that’s not going to be so easy.”

  “No. It won’t be. The rebels have just about as much reason to save a bunch of Aristocrats from the cannibals as the Disfavored inside of Evanescence have for helping to save them. We’d need a miracle reason.”

  I lean back, press the butts of my palms against my tired eyes. “Is nothing easy? Just a little bit of luck, that’s all I’m asking for.”

  “I think we’re lucky I spotted this place,” he’s saying. “I’ve fixed this to almost new now.”

  I smile at the ceiling. “And I’m so lucky you’re an Engineer.”

  “Yeah,” he says, “an Engineer and a Programmer, fate sure worked in our favor. There’s practically nothing you and I couldn’t fix.”

  A snort escapes me. “If only life were as easy to fix as machines and electronics.” And then something occurs to me, and I sit up suddenly.

  Quent jumps and pulls both his hands away. “What? Did you feel that?”

  “All the Aristocrats!”

  He blinks at me and lowers both his hands, which are holding tools I don’t even know the names of. His expression tells me he’s not following my line of thought. “Tools, Quent.” I point at the instruments he’s holding. “We’re all finely honed, specialty tools.”

  He looks at his hands, looks at me.

  I’m grinning like a madwoman now. “And they’ve got a broken city.”

  And then he gets it. And he grins just as big. That beautiful, mischievous grin that made me love him in the first place. “Elle, you’re a genius.” Then he leans forward and kisses me.

  I lean into the kiss, wanting more of him. I want so much to just make him part of me, to rise with him on a different level. I want to make us code and stitch us together. I want to be water so I can mix with him. I want to be air so we can be the same thing. The kiss becomes more and more fervent. I hear tools fall to the floor as he gets to his feet and kneels over me on the chair. I feel his hands in my hair, along my neck, my shoulders, my skin.

  Everything is alive, tingling and twisting. His fingers slip over my hip, brushing against the edges of my underwear. He breaks the kiss, pants against my lips. “I want you,” he whispers.

  I kiss him, hungry, letting my fingers grasp at the zipper of his uniform and tug it down. I slip my hands in, touch the heat of his bare stomach as I slide the uniform over his shoulders. “So take me.”

  He growls into my lips, lets his body slip between my legs. He kisses my neck, my chest. His fingers slide under my shirt, slide it over my head. There’s no strange awe at him seeing me for the first time. It’s an odd comfort knowing he’s seen my Natural body a hundred times already in Nexis and loves and accepts it for all its flaws. He reveres them. Just like I find that I revere him, even though his body is new to me. We�
�re not strangers. He knows just the right ways to touch and titillate me. I know him just as well. So when we finally do come together, it’s like puzzle pieces rejoining. Perfect and whole, and it takes a lot of time and convincing ourselves to come apart again.

  chapter twenty-one

  Post-American Date: 7/8/232

  Longitudinal Timestamp: 11:04 p.m.

  Location: Kairos

  It takes us a while to find the right building. Quent and I shuffle down the stairs and Delaney looks up from a game of cards he’s playing with another Disfavored man. Quent says, “Some guard you are. You don’t even have your gun within reaching distance.”

  Startled, Delaney shoots to his feet, upsetting both the crate and the cards. “Where have you two been? They’ve been combing the tunnels looking for you for hours.”

  “We had to go topside,” Quent explains. “Ella was injured.”

  Delaney straightens, takes in my bruised cheek, the bandages around my wrists. “You okay?”

  I shrug. “As good as I can be after a sound beating.”

  Delaney’s eyes stray to Quent, who is without a scratch. “Where the hell were you?”

  Quent catches the implied inability to look out for me. “There’s a reason we’re here and the man that touched her is dead. Now, where are Zane and Clairen? I need to speak with them.”

  “They’re getting ready to out a rat.”

  “A rat?”

  “Yeah,” Delaney says. “Come on.” He leads us into one of the larger main rooms of the complex. People are pouring in from a number of shoot-off tunnels and before long there must be at least fifty standing among the few old vehicles, crates, and pieces of equipment stored here.

  After a few moments, Clairen climbs a few steps onto a short dais on the other side of the room. She makes a hand signal and the room goes silent. Her teal eyes scan the group of people and her features, made sharper looking by her high, tight ponytail, look murderous.

  “Five dead,” she says, very suddenly. “Five. Dead. Twelve missing. In our tunnels. Our safe place.”