by David Beers
“I’ll tell you everything you want to know if you just let me go,” he said.
“Let you go?” The creature asked, sounding genuinely surprised for the first time.
“Yeah. Just give me back my body and I’ll tell you everything you want to know about me. I’ll tell you everything you want to know about this whole damned place.”
“You don’t know what I need to know about this place,” she said, slowly, sounding like she might understand what he meant. “These things you refer to as books know more, but I’m not sure they can tell me enough either. What I want from you isn’t about this place, but about your kind.”
“Well, yeah then. I’ll fucking tell you all of that if you let me go. Deal?” Bryan still sounded confident, but he wasn’t feeling it. In a matter of ten seconds the way she talked to him shook his ease. She spoke in a way Bryan never heard before; she spoke as if nothing else in the entire universe mattered, as if her voice started life and ended worlds.
“There’s no where else for you to go, Bryan. You’ve nearly reached your end. Do you not understand?” she asked.
* * *
“What is that?” Morena asked.
The goddamn thing had been buzzing all day. Just a constant vibration inside the garments this body wore on its legs. She understood what the thing was; she hadn’t phrased her question correctly to Bryan. She wanted to know what she should do with it. There were conflicting…patterns she could follow here. One said that she could ‘answer’ it and the other said she could continue to ‘ignore’ it. But the thing kept vibrating and was beginning to annoy her. She thought about breaking it, but realized that could quickly become a problem if it was deemed unacceptable—which patterns inside this creature said it might be.
“It’s a phone,” Bryan said.
She hadn’t expected him to speak to her earlier in the day. It was a pleasant surprise, one that she welcomed, though he had gone into a tailspin shortly after learning that he wasn’t to be released. She found it humorous that he thought it was a possibility, him somehow being allowed to take over his own body again. He wasn’t happy to find out that wouldn’t happen, to say the least, but he was talking again now.
“Why does it continue vibrating?”
She felt him laugh, the creature’s sign for enjoyment.
“Don’t answer it,” he said, a smile permeating his mind.
That wasn’t the truth. She felt it completely and at once. There were two separate ‘minds’ in here, as Bryan thought of it—hers and his, but they were connected. Not intimately, but the connection allowed her to understand certain things, and right now, it told her he was being dishonest.
“Bryan, I need you to tell me the truth if we’re going to…get along. Do you understand?”
“Sure,” he said, still sounding happy. “Don’t answer it.”
Morena saw what she wanted almost immediately. Bryan wasn’t removed from his body, just removed from the controls. She stood up, leaving the book in its place, and headed to the sign marked as a restroom. A weird concept, to say the least, but she had accepted the nature of this body. She walked through the doors, feeling Bryan’s smile fade some as she did. She found a stall and went inside, shutting the door, then locking it.
She didn’t even consider speaking to him again. This creature didn’t know who she was, the lineage that made Morena—but he would soon.
With her right hand, she took hold of her left index finger, and in one, quick motion, pulled back the nail from the flesh underneath. She pushed the left hand forward, allowing the blood that immediately started flowing to drop into the toilet beneath, the clear water beginning to turn a hazy red from the moment the first drop spread.
Multiple things happened at once, though she took them all in, understanding every piece. The first was the sound of the nail peeling back—like dry paper ripping. The next was the immediate sensation of pain flooding this shared brain, though she stepped back from that casually, not allowing it to affect her.
And the last was the howl erupting from Bryan. He screamed so violently that, indeed, Morena couldn’t truly back completely away from it—it shook their shared brain. Bryan had never known pain like this, Morena was certain of that, didn’t even know pain like this existed. The blood continued to drop into the toilet and Morena stared down at it, sure to get both the finger and the red tinged water in her view. She wanted him to look at it, to understand.
His screams weren’t stopping, but continued to grow, panic taking over now.
Morena stopped the blood from flowing, controlling his brain in a way that Bryan never could. She felt the phone vibrating in her pocket again, but it would wait. They needed to come to an agreement here. Bryan still screamed because the pain hadn’t ceased yet; she let it go on, allowing his shock and fear to nearly reach a point of no return, and then she cut off the connection between the dying cells and Bryan’s feeling of them.
His screams didn’t quit as quickly as the pain, but they subsided, slowly, as he came to realize he didn’t hurt anymore. The blood wasn’t flowing, though the finger was still raw where the nail used to be.
“It’ll heal,” she said. “What you need to understand is that it doesn’t hurt me to hurt you. That when you lie to me, I will continue to do this. I will hurt you until you don’t understand the difference between pain and normalcy, because all you will feel is torment.”
He didn’t reply, but she felt him panting, though the lungs in his body breathed slow and steady. His mind was dealing with the aftereffects of near overload.
“Do you understand, Bryan?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Now tell me, what do I do with the vibration in our pocket?”
“Answer it.”
“Good,” Morena said. “What is happening? Why is it constantly vibrating? What should I expect on the other end?”
“You’ve gone off the map,” Bryan said, calming now, duly chastised, a reluctant but submissive prisoner—as Morena needed him. “People are calling because they don’t know where you are. You didn’t tell my parents. You haven’t talked to any of my friends. People might be worried; I don’t ever disappear like this.”
She realized her mistake immediately. She also realized that the connection between the two of them wasn’t nearly as deep as she originally thought. This should have been understood from the beginning, that these social creatures would keep tabs on each other—but she had missed it, and she didn’t think Bryan had even tried to hide it. She didn’t understand this world or these beings.
“So I answer it and speak to whoever it is? What do I tell them?”
“You’ll need a story, something believable for why you’ve been out of pocket.”
“Out of pocket?” she asked.
“Why no one could get in touch with you.”
She nodded as she reached down for the toilet paper. She tore some off and wrapped it around her left index finger.
“Okay. Let’s talk to them,” she said.
* * *
“What the hell, Bryan?” Julie asked, nearly shouting. “I’ve called you like fifty times. Literally, fifty. Where the hell are you?” She didn’t even give him a chance to respond to the first question before hammering the rest of her thoughts through the phone. Pissed didn’t begin to describe what she felt.
“I’m at the library,” Bryan said, his voice calm, not matching hers in any sense—not even defensive.
“The library? What for? Why haven’t you answered any of my calls?” Julie wanted him defensive, wanted him angry, because she planned on fighting about this. She planned on screaming at him until he apologized and then maybe not talking to him for a day or two.
“I was studying some and put my phone on silent,” he said.
She didn’t know how to respond. There wasn’t any apology in his voice, wasn’t any let me try and make this okay because I know I messed up. Guiltless came to her mind, the word encapsulating his voice. He didn’t say anythin
g else either, just let his last sentence hang there.
“You didn’t tell your parents where you were going,” Julie said, not knowing what else to say. The anger in her subsided, being replaced by exasperation at his complete lack of care. “Your mother’s worrying like crazy; she’s been calling you too.”
A few seconds passed and then he said, “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?”
“Yes,” he said, his voice the exact same as when he picked up the phone.
“You don’t fucking sound sorry,” Julie said.
“I, um, I’ll be home in a little bit. Would you like to come over?”
Julie pulled the phone back from her ear and stared at it, not sure if she was even talking to Bryan. How many fights had they been in during the past two years? Enough to know the routine, enough to know Julie’s temper. And here he was asking her to come over, like he’d done nothing wrong, like everything was A-okay.
She hung up the phone and half threw it to the kitchen table. She stared at it, waiting for it to ring, waiting for at least a text message to come through. Nothing. A solid two minutes passed before she looked away.
What the hell was that? He sounded like a spring wind, not a care in the world, as if the whole world wasn’t freaking out while looking for him. His mother had been about to call the police after the fourth hour of no one being able to get in touch with him. Julie talked to Michael, and even he sounded worried—which was strange in itself. Yet Bryan invited her over to his house like all was forgiven. This wasn’t even a, what are you doing, you might be cheating high school nonsense type thing—Julie was legitimately worried, as well as his entire family.
But he hadn’t been. Even the sorry sounded mechanical, a process supposed to be followed, but not one he meant. Not one he even understood.
She looked at her phone, still half expecting Bryan to call her back. No call came though.
17
A Long Time Ago, in Another Place
Briten was beautiful.
More than anything else, that’s why Morena glanced at him that first time. Her mother hadn’t approved, of course—what Var would have? Morena was not to wed a Lorn; it was unheard of. The classic forbidden love, and Morena knew the issues as well as anyone. Still she had stared at him, from across the room—her a privileged guest in these proceedings and he in training. His lineage to bring him to the height of his society, and this meeting a crucial part in his education.
Morena had looked over at her mother, who wasn’t enraptured by Briten, but was watching Morena. Had she known then, at that very moment? Of course she had, a Var would necessarily know those things, even when Morena didn’t. It must have been a shock for her mother to see that, to understand in that moment the life her daughter would lead; there would be no Bynum mate. There would be no pure blooded Var for the next generation.
Morena often thought about that when she looked at Briten as she was now—thought about her mother, the Var of the last generation, seeing into the future, seeing how all the rules would be rewritten. She saw it and didn’t even blink as she looked at Morena, all those years ago. She didn’t smile, didn’t give any kind of approval, but just looked with a calm that still shocked Morena. Could she do the same, if her daughter decided something as drastic as Morena had? Could she look on, already knowing there wasn’t anything to be done, that The Makers had decided such things long ago? Or would she fret and thrash, trying to force her will onto things she’d couldn’t control? Morena thought the latter; she was not her mother, no matter how much she wished it so. Her mother may have been the greatest Var to ever live, a million and a half years of progress under her rule and adored by all. Morena wasn’t jealous of such a thing, how could she be? She recognized the greatness in her mother and felt proud, even if her own path would be much different.
As it already had been.
Briten sat at his work, his red aura reminding Morena of his strength, as it always did. Others might see a Lorn with such an aura and feel fear at something so aggressive, but not Morena. That red aura had been the beauty she saw all those years ago, and it hadn’t faded yet—hadn’t even begun to fade.
Is this our prime? Morena thought, studying him. When we both fade, what then?
It was a silly question and one that she didn’t need to answer, one brought on by Morena’s own thirst for more. That’s what possessed her that didn’t possess her mother. Morena wanted more, although she hadn’t clearly defined what more meant. And in this context, it was asinine at best. When they faded, as all creatures did, she would love Briten—nothing more and nothing less. She would love him as she did now.
She stood and walked across the room to him, placing her hand on his. He looked up at her, his pupils full of the same fire that warmed their planet. If she could transfer that fire to the planet’s core, this whole problem would be over quickly. There was enough heat inside him to keep her people alive for another billion years. She couldn’t do that, though. She couldn’t set his fire free, and would she if it were possible? Would she kill him so that her people might live?
Stop, she thought. It was another pointless thought, this one because of the current situation surrounding her. She would never need choose between Briten or her people, Briten or Bynimian. It was a ridiculous notion. He would find a way out of this, and maybe that’s why her mother accepted what she saw two thousand years ago, when Morena gazed across the room at her future husband—that he would find a way out of the problem their world was creating.
Morena didn’t know for sure, and she wouldn’t be able to ask her mother. The greatest Var to ever live no longer lived, and Morena was left here to rule by herself. Herself and Briten.
She leaned down and kissed the top of his head, holding the kiss for a few seconds.
Without him Bynimian was lost. Without him, Morena was lost.
* * *
The woman was petty, a relic of the past. Chilras Hindran. She had been a part of The Council when Morena’s mother was Var. It was amazing that she hadn’t died yet, though it was clear that her green aura was not as bright as it had been even a hundred years ago. She was fading, and Morena didn’t think she would need to deal with this Hindran long.
You’re being unfair, she thought as she stood on the balcony, looking at Chilras floating up. Morena knew she was coming, was prepared to talk. That was the thing, Morena supposed, the reason why she didn’t like Chilras Hindran. Morena had to prepare before they spoke. She had to make sure that she thoroughly investigated every possible area of discussion, because if not, somehow this Council member would make Morena feel like a child. It was never done in a way that could be brought against Chilras, but it was done none-the-less. And it stemmed from Briten. Everything stemmed from Briten with the damned Council. Relics. Her choice to wed another species shouldn’t have been tolerated, according to them. Morena’s mother, Helos, should have stopped it before it even started. But Helos was gone now and The Council left to deal with her mishaps—that’s what Chilras thought, even if she would never voice it.
“Good morning, Var,” Chilras said as she finally crossed through the balcony barrier—the transparent screen shifting to allow her in before closing behind her.
“Hindran,” Morena said. She didn’t turn to look at the Council-member, but continued to stare out at the world beneath her. “What can I do for you?”
“Your husband, will he be ready to speak tomorrow?”
“When did we schedule him to speak, Hindran?” Morena asked.
“Tomorrow.”
“Then I’m sure he will be ready.”
They stood in silence for a few moments, Chilras looking at Morena and Morena looking at the colors floating around the city beneath.
“Have you seen his proposal?” Chilras asked.
“No, I have not. I will hear it as you do tomorrow.”
“Forgive me, Var, if I speak out of turn, but is it wise to allow a Lorn to decide the fate of a Bynum? Is it wise to
put such a grave undertaking into his hands alone?” Despite her apology, Chilras’ voice sounded like a stone speaking. The apology was only formality; this was her rebuttal to what Morena had done—probably hours of talk inside The Council finally summed up and put into a one sentence package for Morena to hear. This was The Council stating their distaste at Morena’s actions.
“Who would you like to work with him, Hindran? If you give me a name, Briten will invite him or her over today.” The steel in Morena’s voice echoed across the balcony, as if she had taken a hammer to the screen blocking the elements. There was no hammer though, only Morena, and her indignation at being questioned.
“Var, again, my apologies. I do not mean to anger you, but only thought that his interests…might not align with those of someone with Bynimian heritage.”
“His interests align with mine,” Morena said, turning from the screen to look at Chilras. “And I assure you, there is no one on Bynimian whose heritage matches mine.”
The two looked at each other for seconds, neither saying anything. Morena saw the cold in the woman’s eyes—a cold that spoke only of her disgust with Morena. No one else, perhaps on the entire planet, would look at Morena like this Hindran did. They either feared or respected her too much, but Chilras felt neither. She felt contempt and perhaps nothing else.
Finally, the Hindran dropped her eyes to the floor. “Of course, Var. Your wisdom knows no bounds.”
“Is there anything else, Hindran?”
“No. We shall see you both tomorrow.”
“Good day, then,” Morena said.
* * *
How many times had Morena seen the core? Hundreds? And when was the first? She had a vague memory of her mother taking her out here when she was a child, not even a hundred years old. Her mother told her, This is our life. This is all of Bynimian’s life. And they had stared out at it as if they both were children, amazed at what was below them.