by Isaac Hooke
The air shook as the pipe bomb exploded. She'd expected a wave of heat, but there was none, and she worried for a moment that the Direwalker had somehow thwarted her.
She glanced warily over the broken balcony.
Brute lay spreadeagled, motionless on the floor one story below in the reception hall. The tiles were cracked in an outward, branching pattern all around the Direwalker. Its eyes were hollow black sockets surrounded by soot, and its mouth lay open, an empty, dark pit. Everything inside that head had been blasted away—there were no teeth, no gums, no eyes.
No brain.
The men let out a cheer.
Ari heaved an immense sigh of relief. She collapsed backward, away from the gap in the balustrade.
Hoodwink caught her, and she dropped the burning sword, from which smoke still rose in plumes. She just wanted to lie down. She felt so dizzy, and her face and hands throbbed painfully, particularly around the rings where the skin had swollen dreadfully. Her fingers were red and blackened in places, and pieces of skin sloughed off. She wondered how badly her face was burned.
It didn't matter. This was all an illusion anyway. They could just reset her avatar once she returned to the Outside. Still, she hoped she didn't look too disgusting...
"Ari." Hoodwink wrapped his arms around her. "No. No." He was gazing down at her body.
She felt another stab of pain then, right in her belly-button. She glanced down.
One of Brute's half-swords protruded from her abdomen.
Hoodwink wrapped his fingers around the hilt, and pulled the blade out. He pressed her hand over the wound. "Hang on. Stanch the blood with your mind, if you can."
That's right. Gols could stanch bleeding.
She didn't know how.
Hoodwink left for a moment. She thought he heard him arguing with someone, and she caught snippets of hushed conversations. "Not yet Tanner! You'll get your chance. Just a moment longer. Please."
He returned with four healing shards. "Sorry about that. Scrounged these from the men. Last they had." He applied one to her face, two to her hands, and the last to her belly. He released electricity from his rings into the small creatures, and the shards vanished, absorbing into her skin. The blisters on her hands faded. The bleeding on her abdomen seemed to stop, and the pain faded away. Hoodwink wiped the wound clean. Only a jagged scar remained.
Hoodwink studied the scar, and then held up each of her hands. Finally he looked intently into her face. He nodded to himself and smiled. "All done."
He glanced over her shoulder, and Ari followed his gaze to the battered group of men who'd climbed to the top of the stairs. One man in particular caught her eye.
Tanner.
Her gaze drifted to his stump of a wrist. He hadn't even wrapped it in bandages, but there was no blood.
"What about Tanner's hand?" she said to Hoodwink. "Why did you waste all the shards on me?"
Hoodwink shook his head. "Not a waste. Shards can't restore severed limbs. He'll have to cope until we reset his avatar. But do go to him, Ari. He let me do my duty. He let me heal you. But now it's his turn."
She rose heavily and, supporting her weight with one hand on the balustrade beside her, she went to Tanner.
He stepped forward. "You came back, Teach." Though his chin was trembling, he managed a weak smile.
Ari threw herself at him and gave him a hug like there was no tomorrow.
She didn't say anything. She couldn't.
She didn't have to.
"I missed you so much, Ari." Tanner's voice was almost lost in a sob. "I thought, I wanted—"
"Shh..." she said. And she just held him.
"I'm so happy you're all right," Tanner managed after a moment. "So damn happy."
"Happy to see you too." She squeezed him tight, her cheek against his hair. She wanted desperately to hold on to him forever, but she couldn't, not here, not when death waited a few chambers away. But maybe that was all the more reason to just hold on and never let go.
She didn't know how much time passed in his arms. A minute, maybe two. Finally Hoodwink's voice interrupted them.
"Ari," Hoodwink said. "We have to go. Ari. We have to finish this."
If she didn't let go now, she never would.
Reluctantly she pulled away.
Tanner smiled sadly.
She hadn't noticed it before, but his canines were as long as a Direwalker's. She kind of liked how it looked on him, actually.
She clasped his good hand, giving him a last, wistful look, and then loosened her grip. Her fingers lingered a while longer before dropping away.
That hug—that entire moment with him really—had filled her with renewed life and purpose, and the will to go on.
"Let's finish this," she said.
125
Swords in hand, Ari, Tanner and Hoodwink led the group across the eerily deserted second story hallway. The sound of distant fighting floated up from the streets outside, but otherwise Ari heard little else save the jingle of sword belts and the hiss of nervous breathing from her own company.
"There's still something I can't figure out," Tanner said.
Hoodwink glanced at him. "What's that?"
"The Direwalkers were coming down these halls in a never-ending column. But when Brute came, they just stopped."
Ari exchanged a look with Hoodwink. "The tweaked gol mind disease?"
Hoodwink shook his head. "No. One knows we're here. It's got something special in mind for us."
They hadn't gone more than a few paces when a sudden cough drew everyone's attention back to the stairs.
A beaten-up man strode onto the second floor. "Feel like I've been run over by a horse-drawn carriage in full flight."
"Calico Cap?" Ari said. She hardly recognized the leader of the Black Faction. His usual calico-colored furs were all matted and grubby, and his face was half burned. Her heart went out to him, because he looked so much like her father.
"In the flesh," Cap said. "Or partially, anyway." He smiled with half his face, and gave her a bow.
"Dad, are you sure we don't have more healing shards?" she said.
Hoodwink turned to Tanner, who shook his head.
Another man joined the group too then, coming from the shadow of one of the balconies.
"The whoremongers always win," the newcomer said.
"Briar!" Ari would have hugged him if she weren't holding a sword.
Briar forced a grin. "Yes. Unfortunately."
"You've lost weight," she said.
Briar's grin became scornful. "Refer to my previous sentiment."
Hoodwink grimaced, obviously not too pleased to see his brother-in-law. Cap meanwhile was wearing a look that would've flayed Briar if his eyes had been swords. She wondered what reason Cap had to hate the man.
Cap read her thoughts. "He did this to my face."
Ah.
"What happened to the others you were with?" Tanner said. "To Al?"
Briar shook his head. "I don't know. They went into Jeremy's bedchamber. I didn't."
Hoodwink snorted. The implication was clear. Coward. "Let's go. We don't have time for idle chitchat."
Hoodwink walked on, and Ari and Tanner joined him. The others fell in behind. Except Briar, who came to her side.
"Why do they hate me so?" Briar kept his voice low. "What did I ever do to deserve such ill-contempt?" He scooped up the small bit of flab that remained of his belly. "Is it because of this? Because I like my debaucheries and my wenching?"
Ari patted him on the shoulder, too worried about what lay ahead to really concentrate on what he was saying. She'd only just been reunited with Tanner. To lose him now would kill her.
Tanner must have felt her gaze, because he glanced back and gave her a reassuring smile.
"Between you and me," Briar said. "That was brilliant work you did back there with that four-armed whoreson. Just brilliant. I'm proud to have you as my niece."
Ari nodded absently. There was so much she still
had to say to Tanner. She hoped she got the chance. She really hoped.
"Your mother would've approved," Briar said.
Your mother. Those words brought her attention back to her uncle, and when she looked at him she saw a strange sadness in his eyes.
Cora.
"She's dead, isn't she?" Ari said.
Briar seemed about to tear-up. "Yes. I'm— I wish—" He closed his eyes, unable to continue.
I saw her, she wanted to say. When I was gone. But Briar wouldn't have believed it. There was no time for such revelations now anyway, not with the entrance to Jeremy's bedchamber looming just ahead.
The open doorway was eerily silent, and dark.
Hoodwink stopped in front of it and raised a fist, halting the group. The carpet just outside the room was soaked in blood.
"Al went in?" Hoodwink asked Briar quietly.
The man nodded. "He did."
Hoodwink rubbed the edge of his mustache. "Tanner, is it possible that Al collared One? And the children sent the whole lot of them beyond the Forever Gate?"
Tanner frowned. "No. We'd be gone too. I told the children to send along everyone carrying a tracker within a 100-yard radius. And we're all carrying trackers..."
Hoodwink sighed. "Nothing's ever easy is it?"
"No Hood, it isn't."
Hoodwink turned back to the dark hole of the doorway, a hole that very likely offered a direct path to the realm of the dead. He seemed hesitant. "This isn't good. This isn't good at all. He's practically inviting us in. Daring us to step into his den. But there's nothing for it is there?"
"This is the only chance we'll get to bitch One," Tanner agreed. "You know the plan, right?"
"Of course I do." Hoodwink glanced at Ari. "I can't stop you from coming. I know I can't. But I want you to stay behind me no matter what happens, do you hear?"
"Dad—"
"I said behind me! Understand?"
Ari sighed. She'd always be his little girl, with the emphasis on little. "Sure dad."
Hoodwink eyed her a moment, then mumbled to himself, "How can I protect her if she won't listen to me?"
Ari felt some of her old spirit coming back. "I don't need you to—"
Hoodwink turned his back on her and marched into the room.
Before anyone could follow, a block of stone slammed down from the top of the doorframe, sealing her father inside.
126
Hoodwink stood alone in Jeremy's bedchamber.
It wasn't much different than the last time he'd come here. Curtains shut out much of the light. Underwater-themed tapestries, statues, and vases adorned the living space. On the bed, the jellyfish image still decorated the comforter.
But everything was darker. Much, much darker. The fireplace was lit, but the light struggled to pierce the darkness, and its rays diffused only a few paces in any direction. Black shapes were piled inside, fueling the flames. The remnants of Alan Dooran and his men, most likely. Poor Al. The man deserved better.
The robed figure of One lurked beside the mirror on the far side of the room. Its face was hidden in shadow, and only its pale, two-fingered hands were visible, wreathed in flickering electricity. There were reflective shards of glass on the floor in front of the mirror, yet the mirror itself was whole, and inside it stood a single Direwalker with no real-world counterpart. The Direwalker's image repeated recursively, each copy centered and smaller than the last. It was an almost hypnotic "mirror within a mirror" effect, and as Hoodwink regarded the motionless image, he realized the mirror was likely the source of the Direwalkers.
"Welcome, Hoodwink," One said.
Hoodwink didn't answer.
"You have come to see my plan through to the end?" One said. "To watch the death throes of humanity?"
Hoodwink still said nothing.
"Maybe you thought to bargain with me for a place in the new order?"
Again Hoodwink met One's words with silence.
"The world is ending, and you have naught to say? No message from your Satori masters?"
Silence.
"You are injured. Here, let me help you." One didn't move, but all the gashes and bruises Hoodwink had received from Brute instantly healed up.
"There is in fact a message," Hoodwink said. He wanted to step forward, but he found that he couldn't lift his feet. And though his lightning rings still had charge, and he carried the fire sword in his hand, he had absolutely no access to vitra. At least he could still talk. "You are to destroy the Direwalker army. Then leave the simulation and never return."
The air vibrated as One laughed that deep, rumbling laugh. "You know that my new programming cannot allow such a thing."
"The Council commands it. Humanity is to be spared."
One tightened its digits in a fist. "Your petty Council means nothing to me."
Hoodwink hardened his voice. "If you don't obey, they will destroy this ship. You will go back to the nothingness you came from."
"Destroy this ship?" One said. "You are referring to the energy attacks against the outer hull? The very same attacks that have failed to cause any significant damage after two hundred years? The attacks that have ceased entirely in the last few days?"
"The attacks stopped because the Council wants to spare humanity," he lied.
But One called his bluff. "I think not. The scanning capabilities of this ship are not so diminished as you might think. You and your kind do not have the power stores left to destroy this ship. Already you will limp home."
"And you don't have the power stores to ever leave this moon," Hoodwink shot back. "You have enough plutonium to last what, maybe another fifty years on the Outside? But you won't even make it that long. We'll return before then, I swear it. You have a decade, maybe two, and when we do return you'll be destroyed." It wasn't a complete lie—the Satori would return, that was true, but only if One obeyed Hoodwink and spared humanity. If One destroyed humanity, the ship's A.I. would probably be left to live out its days in peace.
One was silent. Finally it unfolded its fist and spoke. "Even if I wished to, I cannot terminate the Direwalker program. And I cannot leave the simulation. Events have been set in motion. My programming has been updated and cannot change."
"So be it," Hoodwink said.
The rock slab over the doorway exploded inward.
Tanner and the others rushed inside, fire swords and collars in hand. The arms and legs of the men randomly seized-up, and their bodies froze in mid-stride so that they ended up scattered unmoving throughout the room. Tanner came the closest to One, though even his body stiffened in the end.
"Excellent." One hadn't lifted a hand the entire time. Nor did it now—the only motion was the electricity sparking across its fingertips. "Most excellent. You've brought the in-flight entertainment."
127
The faces of the others were frozen along with their bodies, their features locked in strained expressions, their jaws clenched, the cords standing out in their necks. Hoodwink seemed the only one capable of still moving his head and talking.
"Let them go, One," Hoodwink said.
One moved its body for the first time. The A.I. seemed to float, rather than walk, and the folds in its robes didn't shift whatsoever. It was as if a black statue roved the chamber, the room darkening wherever the statue passed.
"Do you know," One said. "When I merged with Jeremy's avatar, I absorbed a part of his personality? Some of his speech patterns. Some of his madness. His penchant for cruelty." One neared Hoodwink, and the air darkened, crackling with energy. "It is because of him that I will actually feel pleasure killing your friends. Odd, isn't it? An A.I. deriving pleasure from killing.
"In the Core, a million code fragments are terminated every picosecond. And yet there is never any pleasure in that. Just as in the human body, individual cells die by the millions every moment. Again, no joy in such infinitesimal deaths. But when you put 100 trillion of those cells or code fragments together and form a human being or machine, and the compl
exities of life, real or artificial, arise, that's when the real joy of killing manifests. Destroying those frail complexities, erasing that fragile thing known as consciousness, that is where the real pleasure lies.
"Can you imagine the joy then of obliterating an entire world of consciousness? 100 quintillion cells. 100,000 conscious minds. Pleasure, sheer and utter. Those in this room should feel honored that I am taking the time to personalize their deaths, something I would have never done before the linkage. Jeremy's gift to me. And to you."
"I'm warning you, One," Hoodwink said. "I have more control on the Inside than you think. If you don't let my men go—"
"You'll strike me down? Then do it now." One waited. "That's what I thought. I've shielded this entire mansion from your meddling children. And my source itself is locked away in layers of multi-level encryption. There is no escape for you and your friends. But I will grant you a boon. For you see, I don't wish to further provoke the Satori by killing one of their most esteemed surrogates. So, Hoodwink Cooper, you will watch your friends die, and when I am finished with them you may go."
"No." That was a fate worse than dying. One must have known this. "Please. I'll do whatever you want."
"But you are already doing whatever I want."
One floated over to a young man, no more than twenty-five. Hoodwink didn't know him, but that wouldn't lessen the pain of seeing him die.
The young man's body flickered, and his skin, hair and clothes were replaced by a corrugated white material covered in small cilia. The corrugations were actually the separations between a thousand individual shapes—the man's body had been replaced by white larva that collapsed into a writhing pile, devouring and mating with one another on the floor.
"Well that was over far too quickly," One said.
The A.I. approached an ancient man. Hoodwink recognized him. Gray-cloak.
A wriggling pile of bullet ants appeared at Gray-cloak's feet and swarmed him.