by Travis Hill
“I don’t know,” Ebbers said quietly. He frowned at the scowl I gave him that accused him of lying. “I really don’t. I can only guess. I have a feeling she’s maybe a thousand years old. Maybe more. She’s a hard woman to sweat for information about herself, as you probably know.”
I did know. Melly’s universe seemed to only consist of life from just before I crossed the barrier. I’d heard stories about Dogan, Ebbers, Kavi, and others, but the stories only seemed to go back a few years. I wondered if Kavi was as old as Ebs and Melly, and if so, did they eventually get to the point where stories had no dates, no time periods, no markers to signify the passage of days, months, years… centuries? I thought of a few minor conversations where Kavi and Melly had mentioned “the old days” or “back then” and tried to calculate just how many old days or how far back then they were truly talking about.
“Yeah, it hurts your head, kiddo,” Ebbers said with a grin. “But you’re still wondering how this all applies to Dogan, and therefore to you.”
I nodded. “You’re not talking me out of this, but this is important. I need to know this.”
“You’re not going to go throw it in her face, are you?” he asked worriedly.
“Ebs, we fight like all lovers are supposed to, but we don’t do shit like that to each other. You can’t go around hurting the most important person in your world just to release some frustration or rage. Besides, we always fuck like wild animals when it’s over. Sometimes like—”
“Okay, okay,” he said, holding up a hand. “I get the idea.”
“Jealous?” I asked with a sly smile. I’d never been with a man, never felt the urge, but a sudden mean streak shot through me, a tawdry fantasy of me taking Ebbers right here, right now, just to lash out at Mellisandra.
“Sure,” he said brightly. “Anyway,” he continued, switching directions quickly, though my cold-hearted little fantasy had evaporated almost the instant it began. “When I successfully stopped my clock, Dogan went a little crazy, begging me to stop his as well. Melly… she was a wreck. She spent half the time begging me to do it so she could spend the next thousand years or however long we truly live with him, and the other half a nervous wreck that it wouldn’t work because everyone is born with their timers imprinted by a unique encryption layer.
“I wanted to test it out on others first. We all knew what the end result would be if a hack failed, or at least we thought we did, and while it sounds cold to risk other lives to find out if my success was a one-off or could be replicated, I loved them both too much. She loved Dogan too much. He was much like you, eager, ready, willing to risk his own death to spend the rest of his life with her. I don’t know if he knew exactly how old she was, but he knew she’d already had a few centuries in The Bower before he was ever born.
“I can see it in your eyes,” he said with a wistful sigh. “You’re imagining two, five, maybe ten thousand years with her. It’s a good thought. I don’t know how realistic it is, but cling to it when I start the hack. Let it be the last thing your mind ever processes, or let it be the first fantasy of the rest of your lives together. If it works.”
“You sound like you think it’s going to fail,” I said.
“It’s a gamble. A true gamble.” He stood up. “Ready?”
I stood and followed him out the low door and down a narrow walkway.
“You never told me what happened to Dogan,” I said, though I was sure I knew the general outcome.
“It was brutal, bitter, ugly,” Ebbers whispered. He stopped in front of a sealed door and punched a code into the panel. “You want the details?”
“No,” I said after following him into a lab that was one of the larger enclosed spaces I’d ever seen in The Bower. “Yes,” I corrected myself a second later. “I have to know.”
“Why?”
“I just do.”
“Very well. Sit here.” I sat down and listened to him as he attached various nodes to my skin, most of them around the base of my neck and skull. “I was three-for-five when Dogan showed up and demanded I stop his clock. He wouldn’t leave. I sent my assistant at the time to fetch Melly to talk him out of it. We’d all witnessed the successes, and they were truly, truly heartwarming. Amazing even. I never thought it would work twice, let alone three more times. But the two failures… Jeyna caught fire and burned to death, almost killing all of us with her. Loran’s clock glitched and went into overdrive. He spasmed himself to death three klicks from the barrier.”
“What about Dogan?”
“Dogan…” Ebbers paused his fingers from their task of setting up the program on the computer terminal. “Melly arrived, begging, crying for him to wait. He still had some years left, and word had gotten around that we’d found a way to disable the timers. According to rumor, it worked every time, and the rumor was so juicy everyone refused to believe otherwise. Until they saw it happen to themselves or someone they knew.
“Anyway, Melly finally relented, and we came into this very room. Dogan’s clock glitched, but instead of speeding up, it began to run backward. He literally melted as his body tried to reverse the aging process.”
“Ugh,” I said, shivering at the image in my head.
“Indeed. But unlike most glitches or expirations, it lasted for hours. He begged us to kill him, the pain was so great. Melly refused. Threatened me, even. Forced me to try and fix it, but there was nothing I could do. Once the program detects an intrusion into the security layer, it locks everything down and executes one or more programs. Or maybe once it is locked down, it can’t communicate with the receptors in our cells that need to be told what to do. I don’t know. It’s too far advanced beyond my expertise, and we aren’t taught nanogenetics and DNA manipulation. The automated medical units take care of our sick and injured. Doctors are nothing more than terminal operators to make sure the patient has a human being nearby to balance the cold, machine nature of the autodocs.”
“So he just laid on the floor, screaming for hours?”
“Like I said. It was absolutely awful. Melly held him and cried the whole time. When she wasn’t screaming at me to ‘do something,’ anyway. She held him for almost two hours after he finally died. The accusing look in his eyes that I didn’t put him out of his misery, that I forced him to endure that agony just so Melly could have one more hour, one more minute with him… I’ve never forgiven myself for it, even knowing Mellisandra would have killed me in retaliation.”
“She’d have known you were doing the right thing,” I said.
Melly was hot-tempered but level-headed—a clear, logical thinker even under heavy emotional stress. Usually.
“I doubt it. She had murder in her eyes that I’d let him die. That she’d let him die. Melly would have regretted it later, but the knee-jerk reaction right then would have been to snap my neck or beat me to death with her fists for killing her lover.”
Melly’s temper was definitely worrying whenever she did lose control. I’d watched her execute six blockers without emotion after they’d ambushed us in the Quarter. She’d been the emotional equivalent of a disabled Guardian and it had scared the hell out of me.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, reaching out to touch his arm.
He placed a warm, callused hand over mine and gave it a squeeze before turning back to his preparation.
*
“Come on, Ebs,” I complained. “I’ve been sitting here for an hour.”
“Just wait a few more minutes, Drea,” he said, his eyes locked on the door.
“She’s not coming,” I muttered in disgust.
“She will. I sent Serah after her. She’ll come. I know her too well.”
I grunted and closed my eyes. The sticky yet slick goo that held the nodes to my skin never seemed to warm up even though sitting in the chair for so long made me sweat everywhere else. Just as I was about to demand Ebbers get started, the door opened. A meek, sad face peeked around the door frame.
“Hi,” Melly said. She refused to look me
in the eye, addressing my legs instead.
I glanced at Ebbers who nodded his head, assuring me I could move around. I stood up from the reclining chair and went to her, pulling her into the room and wrapping her in my arms.
“I’m sorry,” she said. I felt a tear transfer itself from her cheek to my neck.
“Shhh,” I whispered, holding her as tight as I could.
I pushed her away just enough to kiss her on the mouth. She resisted at first, but I felt her shiver, and suddenly we were alone, in an endless void, outside of existence, with only each other to cling to.
“Come on,” I said. I separated from her and pulled her along until I was back in the chair. “It’ll be okay. Stop worrying. I love you too much to die.”
She burst into tears, something I’d never seen. Her hand found mine, locking it into a grip so tight it made my bones ache as if they were being bent under extreme force. She leaned down and kissed me on the cheek, no doubt tasting the single salty tear that had escaped from my eye. Ebbers cleared his throat. Melly stepped back and squeezed my hand one more time, but didn’t let go.
“Okay then,” Ebbers said. “Here we go. Good luck, Drea.”
He kissed me on the cheek, then Melly, then went to his terminal.
“Is it going to hurt?” I asked.
“Only if it doesn’t work,” he said. I thought I detected a hint of dark humor in his voice, but he was behind me, and I just wanted to get it over with.
I sat still, dreaming of the years I’d get to spend with Melly. Centuries. Maybe longer, assuming The Bower didn’t end one or both of us. I wanted nothing other than to spend an entire decade lying next to Mellisandra, naked, our fingers lightly trailing over each other’s body with no cares in the world, no rush to climax, no interruptions or worries or emergencies. Just us.
“Shit,” Ebbers said and I was immediately jerked out of my daydream.
“What?” Melly asked, her tone almost threatening. “What’s happening?”
“Nothing,” Ebbers said sadly. “It’s cracked wide open but the timer won’t cycle down. Or cycle up, either. It just keeps ticking.”
“Am I going to die?” I asked, terror sweeping through me that I was about to turn into a flaming sack of meat, or maybe grow three extra legs while my head shrank down into my chest cavity. I tried to leave the chair in a panic but Melly held me down, squeezing my hand so tightly that I cried out and forgot my fear.
“Yes,” Ebbers said, getting a dark look from Melly. “But not today. You’ve still got fourteen years and some change left.” He came around the chair and knelt down in front of me, reaching out to grab both of my hands. “I’m sorry, Drea. Your timer will continue to run until your departure. There’s nothing else I can do without risking a fatal malfunction. I’m sorry.”
He hugged Melly then quietly exited the room, leaving us alone. I began to cry. I couldn’t help it. Melly held me for a long time. She didn’t cry. I think something broke in her when she realized we only had fourteen more years together.
CHAPTER FOUR
Departure: -09h 45m 26s
We’d almost made it through the Undercut when the blockers closed off our forward path. Melly was caught out in the open but I slipped into a hollow between piles of rubble, allowing the deep gloomy shadows to swallow me up.
“Ay, lady,” a gravely voice behind me said. Before I could move, I felt the vibroblade at the back of my neck. “Don’t you fuckin’ move or I’ll cut yer fuckin’ head off.”
The man’s breath was fetid, and though it was humorous how he seemed unable to pronounce the letter “h” properly, I froze in place. If he switched the blade on, my head would tumble to the ground before my brain could comprehend what had just happened.
“Oooh, pretty lady,” another voice said. “She your whore?” I rolled my eyes left to see him jerk a thumb toward Melly, who was in the middle of the narrow alley, legs in a crouch as if ready to spring away at any moment. One hand held her blade, the other was inside her vest. Everyone knew she had a gun. I don’t think anyone but me knew exactly what kind of weapon she had.
“Or are you hers?” the first blocker said.
I heard a number of laughs bounce off the concrete. Melly turned just her head toward where I stood. I saw her eyes count the men I couldn’t see, and I did the same for her. She blinked five times. I blinked nine times and felt as if I were having a seizure. The corner of Melly’s lip curled up ever so slightly.
“Well well,” a nasal, booming voice said. A young man who didn’t even look like he’d hit adulthood yet strolled out into the street, four of the remaining eight blockers shadowing him less than a meter behind. “Hello, Mellisandra.”
The blade on my neck alerted me to get my feet moving. I walked toward Melly until a double-tap of the knife on my neck signaled me to stop.
“And who is this?” the boy asked, running his eyes up and down my body as if I were being judged for a prize. “Is this the lovely Andreada we’ve all been hearing about?”
Melly shot him a hateful look. The five men behind me tensed up and closed in, surrounding me in a semi-circle. No one approached Melly.
“Zeke,” Melly said in a menacing voice. “Walk away or you and your friends will die.”
Zeke, the young kid who was apparently this lot’s leader, began to chuckle. It seemed odd, like the kind of low rumble that an adult might have developed in their final years. Zeke’s chuckle became booming laughter. A few of his goons smiled and shifted nervously on their feet, but none of them laughed. They watched Melly, all of them anticipating her to make the first move.
“There’s only two of you, and while your reputation precedes you, as does yours—” he dipped a slight bow to me “—there are twenty of us.”
“There’s only fourteen of you,” I said, receiving a warning tap on the neck.
“Either way,” Zeke said, throwing up his hands as if to convey who can say? “It won’t e—”
I dove forward without warning, kicking straight behind me with my right leg. I caught the blocker in the knee and he howled in pain. I tumbled in a roll and came up right behind Melly, instantly turning my back and touching it to hers, both of us with weapons drawn. Zeke hesitated when he saw the repeating energy pistol in her hand.
“Even so,” he said in his best adult voice. “You can’t get all of us. One of us will strip that lovely toy from your cold, dead hands.”
Melly tapped my thigh with her knife hand. I reached down and she passed her blade to me. She slowly reached into her coat and pulled out a shiny sphere that looked as if it were made of quicksilver. She positioned two fingers and a thumb around it. All fourteen blockers took a step back when it clicked then began to whine as it charged itself.
“An implosion grenade?” Zeke asked with disbelief. “Where the fuck did you get that?” He narrowed his eyes. “It’s not real.”
“It’s real,” Melly said, never taking her eyes off him.
“Bullshit.”
“Tell your goons to scuttle away or you’ll find out the hard way.”
“Nonsense,” Zeke said, puffing his chest out and taking a step toward us. “You won’t kill yourself that easily. I know you, Mellisandra.”
“Drea only has a few hours before departure,” Melly said in a low voice. “If I have to, I’ll kill all of us just to make her death painless.”
I wasn’t sure if dying in a quantum implosion would be painless or not. I pocketed her blade and reached back, touching her hip to let her know I was with her no matter what happened.
“You’d sacrifice yourself for another one of Ebbers’ failures? After all these centuries?”
“I love her,” Melly said with a finality that made me shiver. “I’d do anything for her. Including killing all of us. Now get the fuck out of here.”
No one breathed for almost a minute until Melly growled at them again.
“GO!”
They scattered like leaves in the wind.
“Don’t
follow us!” Melly called to Zeke before he disappeared into a warren of broken fibrene walls and garbage.
We stood still for another minute, straining our ears to hear the slightest noise. The only sound that reached my ears was the distinct “click” when she disarmed the grenade. I turned and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek then handed her the blade she’d passed to me.
“Would you really have done it?” I asked as we picked our way down the alley.
“Damn right,” she said without looking back.
*****
Departure: -14y 03m 20d
Mellisandra and I went through our roughest period after Ebbers failed to stop my clock. I was beyond depressed. I toyed with the idea of suicide for a few days at my darkest, but I loved her too much to deny myself her touch, her husky voice, her breath on my neck as we made love. As we sat on a makeshift couch and talked about anything and everything. As we slept, clutching each other in the safety of whatever hiding spot or safe zone we were in at the time.
I refused to talk about it, and it drove her crazy. But whatever fire had been in her before that day had died, or at least tamped down to a slow burn. For six weeks we avoided each other as much as possible even as we went everywhere together, did everything together. We were never apart for more than a few minutes, but there were light years between us.
Because I couldn’t tell her I was sorry for what I’d done. For what I’d put her through. Anytime I thought I might break down and apologize, I remembered how she’d kept the story of Dogan from me. Finally, after too many nights of clutching a plastiboard facsimile of the woman I loved, I couldn’t take it anymore.
“How old are you?” I asked as we spooned in the bed of our Holburgh flat.
“Why?” she asked the back of my neck. When I didn’t respond, she tried to pull away but I held her arms, kept her attached to me. “I’m almost two thousand years old,” she finally said.