Instinct, with his eyes downcast, nodded, and pushed the door. It slid open without effort.
“No lock?” Marigold asked.
“She’s expecting us,” Instinct said. “Are you sure we can’t turn around?”
“No. We’re doing this.”
Instinct went through the door and Marigold followed. Inside, the walls ascended unevenly around them, like the pipes of a cathedral organ. Their sleek and faceted surface created a prism effect as the sunlight hit its surface, creating a complex pattern of miniature rainbows all over the tight, confined space. Marigold looked at one of the walls, and her reflection refracted into dozens of copies. Her eyes looked back in a giant cluster, like the eyes of a spider. In the middle of the room was a spiral staircase, climbing to what looked like infinity.
“No elevator?” Marigold asked.
He shook his head.
She touched the banister and it was cold and dry beneath her palm. It burned.
“Logic doesn’t work like Imagination,” Instinct said, climbing behind her. “Where Imagination sees it necessary to put on a show, even if nobody’s watching, Logic keeps it basic. These stairs are only here because it’s logical to have some way to get to the top. She doesn’t need them. There are no flourishes here. We climb.”
And they did. On their ascent, they took only a few stops along the way, but the ones they took were long. Marigold sat on the steps to rest. Surprisingly, the sun never went down or changed its position beyond the tower’s crystal walls.
“Marigold, this is foolish,” Instinct said upon their fourth time taking a break.
“Why are you complaining?” Marigold said with her chin on her knees as she caught her breath. “You don’t look tired at all.”
“I’m not because I haven’t used any magic. But by the time we get to the top,” and he looked up, “which is still a ways off, Logic will be back to full health and dangerous.”
“But you can still take her, right?”
He nodded glumly.
“Then you will,” she concluded. She got up again, holding close to the banister.
When they reached the top, there was a door like the one at the front of the tower. Despite the biting cold of the walls and banister, she kept her hands on them. She lumbered through the door and Instinct pressed his hand to the small of her back so she didn’t fall. They walked into a large chamber, much larger than the building looked like it would permit. At the far side of the chamber, Marigold saw her mother hunched forward in a crystal throne. She was decayed, like a mummy without bandages.
“Logic,” Instinct called across the hall, and she raised her head. She had a faint bit of orange about her and her eyes were slits.
“Hello, Instinct. Marigold,” she said, leaning back against her throne.
Marigold tried to charge at her with her tired legs, but Instinct grabbed her wrist.
“No, not this time,” he said, squeezing tightly and making her legs crumple. “We’re doing this my way this time.”
With Instinct holding her wrist, she staggered behind him toward Logic on the quiet glass floor. It shimmered beneath her in the waning, orange sun.
Logic didn’t stir. She rolled her head to the back of her chair and offered a weak smile.
“I’m sure you know why I’m here,” Instinct said, a foot away from her.
“I do,” she said thinly. “Do as you must.”
The blade appeared on his back again, and he released Marigold’s hand. He pulled it out slowly and it flashed green with fire as it had so many times before. He held it down by his hip. Marigold’s heart pounded as she watched it glisten.
The two Archetypes stared at each other and Marigold looked from Instinct to the sword and to Logic repeatedly, awaiting the coup-de-grace. But it never came.
“Well?” Marigold shouted, her voice bouncing off the convex walls. “Kill her!”
Logic didn’t stir. She stared as if she were looking beyond Instinct, paying him no mind.
“Logic!” Instinct said, raising the blade above his head. “I don’t wish to kill you, but I must. You brought this upon yourself.”
Logic slapped her lips together like an awakening cat. She lowered her head and slowly dragged her finger across the back of her neck, indicating where to cut.
“I already told you. Do as you must.”
“Do it!” Marigold shouted. “KILL HER! For Jeff!”
Instinct raised the blade higher but couldn’t do it. He lowered his flaming blade and it disappeared from his shaking hand.
“What are you doing?” Marigold asked. “She’s giving you permission!”
“But why?” Instinct asked. “Why would she do that?” He grabbed Logic by the shoulders and thrust her up against the back of her crystal throne. “Why are you making this so easy for me? Mankind—”
“Wouldn’t be effected if I died,” she said, and Marigold saw Instinct’s shoulders slump before he tightened them again, squeezing her arms. She didn’t flinch.
“What are you talking about?” Instinct asked. “We’re the keepers of Instinct and Logic. If one of us dies, then it dies in mankind,” he said. “Right?”
Logic’s crinkly, old smile infuriated Marigold. She wanted to strangle her.
“What I’ve learned over time,” Logic began, “and it wasn’t easy to admit, was that the world would still have the essence of what we are without us being alive. We may be the essence of Logic and Instinct for mankind, but even with us gone, that essence would persist. Mankind needed us early on in their development. But after having us for so long, they aren’t going to forget not to touch a hot stove or that two plus two equals four just because one of us is gone. They’re hard-wired now and they hold Logic and Instinct, not the other way around. So cut away,” she said, and she lowered her head again. “Do as you must.”
Marigold barged in and grabbed Logic by the collar. Logic continued to smile sheepishly.
“Why did you take my husband away from me?”
“I did no such thing,” Logic said, almost frowning. “The counterbalance of both my essence and Imagination’s took your husband away. Not I alone. Besides, you’re free to look for him in the darkness if you wish. It’s located in the first floor of Purpose’s castle. Nothing’s stopping you.”
“Logic!” Instinct barked.
“What? I’m just saying,” Logic said, and Instinct pushed Marigold back out of the way. What she heard next was just noise. COULD she get Jeff back if she went into the darkness and searched for him? There had been other people in there. Billions of them. But how could she get there? Did she have to kill herself in this world? Logic said something about the first floor of Purpose’s castle…
“I—” Marigold began, but Instinct put up his index finger to her.
“In a moment,” Instinct snarled. “I need some answers first.”
He turned to Logic and was appalled. She was laughing.
“Why are you so giddy?”
“Because I have a right to be.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because I’ve won,” she said simply. “And Imagination has lost.”
“Won? Won what? As soon as we leave here, we’re getting Aiden and heading out through the emerald door. Nothing’s changed.”
“But something has changed, and you’ll see for yourself in a moment,” she said, baring her rotting yellow teeth. “As you’ll notice, I’m only a hair’s breath away from joining her husband in the darkness. It’s all because I’ve used magic, a lot of it; once for tearing down Imagination’s tower, and again to slow down time for the two of you to get up here.
“I wanted you to suffer because I don’t like you, so I forced you to climb. I could have brought you up here immediately if I wanted to, but I didn’t. I slowed down time for you and made you walk every step to see me. I enjoyed that. But in a few seconds,” she said, turning to Instinct, “your good friend, Imagination, will do something very foolish. Everything has worked itself out r
ather nicely for me today.”
“What are you blathering about?” Instinct asked.
“You shall see in three, two, one—”
As if at her command, a large, purple circle formed on the floor behind them. Marigold and Instinct looked inside and saw a stone room. Marigold could see a shining jeweled throne and an emerald door behind it, and that’s when she saw something else. Her father and Imagination stood on the other side. Imagination had her Aiden.
“Logic,” the man who looked like her father said. “I need you.”
“Purpose?” Instinct said, “What do you want?”
“I want Logic,” Purpose said. “Logic, I need your help.”
Imagination, holding her Aiden, leaned his face forward and scowled.
Marigold looked at Logic and saw her smile. Marigold didn’t know which was worse, Imagination’s grimace, or Logic’s smile. Both were the last thing she ever wanted to see.
Chapter Forty-One
Purpose’s hands shook as he dared a glance up from the portal to Imagination, who was mere steps away from the wooden door. If he was fast enough, maybe he could—
Imagination looked up quickly and extended an arm to the wooden door. With his free hand, he shot a blue beam from his fingertips at the knob. One fast move, Imagination’s eyes said, and the door opens.
So that was that.
Imagination called into the portal: “Logic, you filthy whore.”
“Hello, lover,” she said, smiling. The aura around her was pitifully low and the sphere in her chest made languid triangles. But she looked happy. Eerily so. Purpose saw that Instinct was back in his natural state, just as Logic had predicted. Everything had gone wrong. Logic had been right all along.
“What right did you have to take my tower from me?” Imagination demanded into the portal, cradling the baby.
“The same right you had in trying to bum rush your way out of the Landscape,” she said, “So I guess we’re even.”
Imagination gave a hollow laugh.
“We’re still going through the door,” he said. “Purpose can’t do anything about it. See?” I got his lazy ass out of his chair.”
“So you did,” Logic said, “and I see you have the child as well.”
“I do. Now, send over the mother.”
Logic’s smile deepened.
“Or what?” she asked. “You’re going to open the wooden door?”
“No!” Instinct said from his end. “Logic, what are you doing?”
Logic’s grin didn’t leave her face.
“You think I won’t?” Imagination asked.
“No, I think you will,” Logic said. “You’re desperate enough, and I’ve been looking forward to it since the beginning of mankind. I want to see your face when you find out that there’s nothing’s back there.”
“Don’t push me,” Imagination shouted, and Purpose looked to the door. Imagination’s magic made the door knob click. “Because I will. I’ll wake up God if I have to.”
Logic showed her palms in a, “go ahead,” manner.
“I’m serious!” Imagination said.
“The more you talk about it, the less I believe you,” she countered.
“Just send the mother and I’ll leave it closed.
“No,” she said. “Go ahead. Open it.”
Imagination turned it slightly with his magic, and Purpose couldn’t take it anymore.
He punched the air with a radiant blast of purple energy, but Imagination moved his hand quickly and shot faster. The blue blast went through Purpose’s chest, leaving a hole in its wake.
The last thing Purpose saw as he stumbled backward was the immediate aging of Imagination. His own blast landed just shy of his throne. He fell through the glass behind him and it shattered. As he stared up at the sky, the darkness consumed him. He was gone.
Chapter Forty-Two
Instinct made a stomach-turning scream before he fell to his knees. He covered his face and Logic lowered her head. She looked deep in prayer.
“This is your fault, Logic!” Imagination screamed into the portal. “You made me do this!”
He looked a thousand years old now as his body withered to a prune’s complexion. He quavered and shook as he shrunk into his new age, and Mr. Chomicki, who was already old, now looked like he would fall apart if the slightest breeze touched him. He still held her Aiden.
“Imagination,” Logic said, raising her head. The orange in her eyes was dim but sharp, “Do not blame me for what you have just done. You started this. There were bound to be casualties.”
“But what’s the world going to do without Purpose?” Imagination chattered to himself, his eyes gone white. “If they don’t have the drive to change for themselves, then…And what will God think? I have to tell Him I’m sorry,” he said turning to his right. “I’m responsible.”
“Imagination, no!” Instinct shouted into the portal. “Don’t open the door!”
But Imagination disappeared from view as he stepped beyond the portal’s parameters.
“Logic, you have to do something!” Instinct said, but Logic shook her head.
“He needs to see this.”
“But, Logic, he can’t w—”
The sound of the door creaking stopped him midsentence. Whether he wanted them to be there or not, the shotgun and blade reappeared on his back.
“Father, I…” Imagination said, but then paused. Silence pervaded the other side of the portal.
“Father, what?” Instinct shouted, and even Logic grabbed the armrests of her throne and leaned forward. “What is it, Imagination? What do you see?”
When Imagination came back to the rim of the portal, his lips quivered.
“There’s nobody there,” Imagination said.
“I figured as much,” Logic sat back again. “If a god did exist, why would he sleep behind a wooden door? How come he never woke up?”
“But…” Imagination said, and Marigold looked at Instinct, who lowered his head and gritted his teeth. The shotgun and blade remained. “Why would there be a door in this room with nothing behind it? Why did Purpose think—”
“There are tons of mysteries that we shall never solve,” Logic said, “but then again, who says we are meant to solve them? We’re mankind’s servants, not the other way around. We were never meant to affect their lives by interfering with it. It goes against nature.”
“No,” Imagination said, shaking. “We are meant to change their lives if it’s necessary. I had dreams about this kid.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Logic said calmly. “Everybody dreams, even the god of dreams himself apparently. But just as Instinct thought he could sense the future, and you thought you could see it in your dreams, neither of you could ever be certain of what lay ahead. It isn’t possible.”
“But it is,” Imagination said, his eyes staring beyond the portal. “And I’ll prove it to you, with or without the mom.”
Imagination put the child on the floor by his feet and then pushed the throne out from in front of the emerald door. Marigold cringed at the grating noise it made on the cobblestone floor.
“No, Imagination!” Instinct shouted. “The boy’s still unstable. You can’t go inside!”
“Stop!” Logic said. “You’re only going to hurt mankind if you do this, not help.”
He pulled open the door. On the other side was a velvety purple vortex. It sounded like wind chimes as it waxed and waned inside a spiral tunnel. Marigold grew sick and had trouble standing.
“Imagination, you have to stop this now!” Logic shouted.
“Imagination!” Instinct screamed.
All Marigold could do was yell.
Imagination picked up the baby. The blue aura around him started to fade.”
“Logic, you have to do something.” Instinct said over the thundering chimes. “You have to send me there. We have to stop him!”
Logic looked into the portal with her wide eyes and then up at Instinct.
“
Jump in,” she said. “It will be my final act in this world to send you, but I’ll do it. Take the mother.”
Instinct nodded and grabbed Marigold’s hand. Together they leapt into the portal. Where they would end up, neither of them knew for sure. But the last thing Marigold saw was Logic’s dim, decrepit body turned to dust.
Chapter Forty-Three
Steve held his head. He hated these damn Tuesday staff meetings. Principal Jaffe was always angry at somebody. Nothing ever changed.
Principal Jaffe stormed back and forth across the stage. “Are you telling me that even with three teachers in a room, nobody sees one kid pile driving another?” His paunch hung over his belt and his face was beet red and sweating. “Mr. Talmud?”
“Yes, sir?” the French teacher replied. He had thick muttonchops that glistened under the dull, overhead florescent lighting. Steve thought he looked like Isaac Asimov except he didn’t have glasses. He had large, round eyes like a Chihuahua.
“What are your thoughts on the situation?” Jaffe asked. “Do you think at least somebody in that room should have seen what was going on?”
What a fucking bully, Steve thought, leaning back in his chair. Forcing us against each other. He’s such an asshole.
“I don’t know, sir,” Mr. Talmud said. He sat next to one of the culprits Mr. Jaffe was railing on about.
“You don’t know?”
“No, sir,” Mr. Talmud said.
“Well, I do,” Jaffe said, stopping in his tracks. “And I think it’s pathetic. I just want to make one thing clear. I don’t grant tenure to teachers who can’t handle their classrooms. And the three of you who I’m talking about know who you are.”
The teacher to Mr. Talmud’s right shriveled down in her seat beneath Jaffe’s steely glare, until all Steve could see of her was the top of her pony tail. Poor girl.
I SO wish I was there when he fired you, Steve thought with Jeff on his mind. I would have put him in his place.
The Darkness of the Womb Page 15