All the King's Men

by Alex Powell

  “No need to be so overdramatic, Reaper,” said the thin man.

  “My apologies, Cat.” The Reaper turned back to Karl. “Nevertheless, the consequences of your failure will be dire.”

  “Do not sign your contract unless you can guarantee that you will succeed,” the Cat said, handing Karl a pen.

  “I’ll succeed,” Karl said, and took the pen, scratching his name on the paper presented to him.

  The room burst into light, and Fox stood and stared at the memory swirling in from of him. There it was, the memory that they needed. The last one. Fox stepped forward.

  “You can’t have it, they’ll kill me!” Karl screamed.

  The whirlwind had stopped, and the fog behind him was moving strangely. Fox turned his back on it and took another step toward the memory. “You have brought this upon yourself,” he said, and leaned forward, eyes shut.

  His forehead contacted the memory, and it was soft and warm, like sunlight on an early summer morning, when the day hadn’t become so hot and the coolness of the morning was starting to fade. It sank into his skin, and when Fox opened his eyes again, the memory was gone, absorbed.

  “I won’t let you out,” Karl cried, voice rising in volume and pitch.

  “I can always get out,” Fox said with a smile.

  And he could. A fox always knew where to find the holes that no one looked for, could squirm their way in and out of the secret places of the world and no one ever caught them. Karl was looking for him, and in doing so, he would show Fox the way out. Fox shimmered and melted down, a grey pelt sprouting and hiding him in the mist and a large pair of pointed ears twitching towards the different sounds all around him. Foxes were masters of passing unnoticed.

  Karl had filled his entire domain with mist and fog, flickering shadows and phantom noise. Fox skittered through the maze of broken-umbrella trees, waiting for Karl to come looking for him. The laughing woman was back, and this time, Fox followed her voice.

  Karl was younger in this memory. His comb-over was still there, but this time it was a statement of fashion rather than an attempt to hide his hair loss. He wasn’t wearing glasses either. Fox couldn’t see the woman’s face. It remained hidden, shrouded in a grey blur, as if she were a witness on a cop show that had requested anonymity.

  “This has been the best night of my life,” she said, raising a hand to where her mouth should be. “Don’t tell me you have to leave in the morning.”

  Fox went past her, and suddenly he was on a skytrain platform. The signs around him were written in German, and the only word Fox could pick out was the one meaning “warning.”

  Fox hopped onto the train tracks, because it wasn’t a real train station. As he made his way to the other side, he realized he recognized this station after all. It was the one in Dresden. Fox had been coming into Germany across the border from the Czech Republic by the vast skyrail network crisscrossing most of Europe. But this was not his memory.

  A train passed behind him, and he hopped onto the opposite platform just as a pair of red high heels appeared next to him. He looked up. It was the same woman, and the wind was catching at the hem of her black, lace-edged skirt. Another set of feet, this time in sensible brown oxfords.

  Karl was staring at the woman, but she was reading a book—Advanced Theories in Quantum Mechanics—and didn’t notice him.

  Fox passed between them and kept going. It was a memory further in the past than the previous one, so he was probably going in the right direction. As he went, he passed through what looked like an art gallery with big skylights, a library at night all lit up with lamps, the countryside in springtime, and finally a hospital waiting room where a now teenage Karl sat motionless with an open magazine on his lap. He wasn’t reading it.

  There was an operating room nearby. It probably hadn’t been directly there, but the memory had recreated the layout of the hospital so that Karl was closer to it. Fox went towards it, and as he did, a doctor came through the doors, and by his facial expression, he obviously hadn’t come to impart good news. Fox kept going even as the deep voice behind him began apologizing to memory-Karl.

  It was an operating theatre, and above him, rows of blank faces looked down, emotionlessly witnessing the scene in front. Two bodies, abandoned and covered in blood. Red on white, a stark contrast. Pieces of cloth hid their faces, leaving their grievous injuries exposed. Fox was human again, and reaching for the cloth on the nearest victim’s face.

  “No! Stay away from them!”

  Fox was suddenly hurled away, catapulted from Karl’s mind as if he were on an elastic band. However, it was too late to stop Fox’s fingers from grasping the cloth and tearing it away with him. There, for the briefest instant, Karl’s face had looked back at him.

  * * * *

  Seven stared at the black curls of smoke writhing in the middle of his domain and waited impatiently for Fox to emerge. He couldn’t help at this point, and as much as he knew Fox could handle himself in tight situations, he didn’t like not knowing what was going on.

  At least the rest of the government didn’t realize something was wrong yet. Fox had assured him that Karl was greedy and would want all the credit, so he wouldn’t have alerted anyone if he thought he could handle it. The domain was safely inside Seven’s, so no one had noticed an unauthorized domain transfer taking place.

  Seven sat on the black leather couch and heaved a sigh. He wasn’t one of the minds behind Cerebrum domain theories, but he realized that this situation was unusual. One Private domain couldn’t fit inside another Private domain. He’d thought about it a lot, and while it was true that the Government domain was private in some areas, it was being maintained by more than one person. An entire rotation of MindWallers was constantly in charge of its upkeep. But how this could occur was beyond him. Was it because he could split his mind?

  King poked his head from the kitchen. “There’s a tap in here.”

  “Yes,” Seven replied with a half-shrug. “I like keeping my house looking like it could function as a normal house, even though it can’t.”

  “It has running water now. After the reaction Fox had, I thought I should inform you.”

  Seven jumped up and ran into the kitchen. King leaned against the chrome countertop and watched as Seven turned on the tap. Clear water ran out with steady pressure, and Seven blinked in surprise.

  “Does it work the same way that Fox’s does?” Seven asked, sticking a finger underneath.

  “I didn’t drink it.”

  Seven got a glass tumbler from the nearby cupboard and poured himself a glass. The water was cold to the touch, and Seven raised it to his lips and took a cautious sip. Most of his memories were rather unpleasant or just plain boring. Nothing good happened to him.

  A warm press to the side of his neck and a hint of teeth. Strong hands, warm, running up his sides and down his belly. He couldn’t control his trembling or the sounds coming from his throat.

  “Alright?” asked a voice, soft in his ear, and hands steadying his hips.

  Couldn’t talk, mouth not working properly. Mind on overload, desire a warm pulse throughout his entire body. Drowning and not surfacing. Yes, yes, yes please. Nodding, chin jerking like his hips, sharp, uncontrolled.

  Seven emerged from the memory aware that he was breathing hard and a flush of heat had overtaken what felt like his entire head. He looked at the glass and bit his lip hard. It was a good thing King hadn’t taken a drink. Was it all like this?

  Another drink, longer this time.

  Waking up with a fuzzy mind. There was someone curled against him, solid and warm. It was comfortable, secure. Seven shifted closer, clinging to the form in front of him.

  “Seven?”

  Not asleep. Fox wouldn’t want him this close. Expectation of rejection, pre-emptive retreat.

  “Sorry.”

  A hand twined around his, keeping him in place. “It’s okay, you know. I don’t mind this.”

  “I…this is…do you…” He
didn’t know what to do, what to say. Why would anyone want someone like him to be close to them? He wasn’t normal. He didn’t know how to act like a proper person, especially in this situation. He moved further, feeling like an intruder.

  “You can also move, if that would be better.” Or so he was saying, but Fox’s fingers tightened. If Fox wanted him to stay, he wasn’t going to move. Fox would figure it out, soon enough, that Seven wasn’t a good emotional investment. Until then, Seven would take what he could get.

  “Would you?”

  The body in his arms froze and started to retreat. No, no, no, that wasn’t what he wanted. Not at all.

  “No, I meant around.” Please stay. He just wanted Fox closer. Closer than this, as close as possible, closer than possible. He was inside Seven’s mind. It wasn’t close enough.

  The body in his arms writhed for a moment before flipping over. Fox’s eyes this close were mesmerizing in their intensity. He looked at Seven like he was a miracle, and Seven didn’t have the strength of character to admit he wasn’t.

  “Where are your goggles?”

  Panic. He needed those. No one was supposed to know he was different. Frantic hands trying to recover his only camouflage. “I don’t…”

  A slight bump as Fox nudged their foreheads together, connection and warmth. A huff of breath on his face. Limbs entwined to ensure Seven didn’t escape. Seven tried to contain his happiness and hid a smile in Fox’s shoulder.

  Seven blinked in surprise at the glass in front of him. Were all the memories in there about Fox? That was embarrassing. He’d have to ensure that Fox never found out about it, or Seven would probably spontaneously combust. His face felt close to the incineration point as it was.

  When Seven looked up, King had already gone back to the sitting room, most likely to watch the smoking mass that made up Karl’s domain. Seven swirled the water in the glass and considered the temptation of the memories in his hand. He could stand here for hours and just relive moments he’d spent with Fox.

  Yet he stood looking at the glass for far too long, and eventually forced himself to tip the rest of the water into the sink. He set the tumbler on the counter with a clink that echoed in the empty kitchen. If he lived with these memories, he’d never make new ones.

  He joined King in the sitting room.

  “If this works, then what?” King asked.

  “If this works, then we all escape from the Government domain and hope like hell that Joanne and the others have found our bodies and can get them out before they kill us.”

  “That’s not much of a plan.”

  “I know,” Seven said with a grim half-smile. “But it’s what we’ve got. Sorry, it’s the best we could do. We’ve got to try, though, because if we don’t try something, we’ll definitely fail.”

  “I see.”

  “If we can get you back your memories, then maybe you can help. Past-King had some sort of plan. You knew that Karl was up to something.”

  “Looking at what’s been going on, I’m beginning to think we’ve all been flying by the seat of our pants. It’s as I said—not much of a plan.”

  Before Seven could reply, the smoke convulsed suddenly and a shape hurtled out of the middle. Fox somersaulted in midair before kicking off from the ceiling, landing unharmed on the floor in front of them.

  “Time to go!” he yelled. “Apart from taking the memory for King, I’ve also managed to really piss off Karl.”

  Seven leapt to his feet and pulled King with him. “I’d have thought that breaking into his head and stealing the memory that he betrayed you for would make him angry anyway.”

  “I’ve got a talent for taking things to the extreme.”

  “Right.” Seven rapidly took stock of the situation. “In order to get Karl out of my domain, I have to close it. Then I’ll reopen it so you two can catch a lift in my head. We’ll have to be quick and hope no one notices.”

  “Can’t you just bring Karl with us?” King asked.

  “Fox just kicked over a hornet’s nest, and now you’re asking if I want that in my head? I think I’ll pass, thanks. Right, here we go!”

  They all popped out of Seven’s domain, and Seven was about to put his domain back in place when he realized that the Cat and the Reaper were standing in front of them. The two had been shocked motionless at their sudden appearance, but Seven didn’t trust that would last very long.

  “Just run,” Fox said and took off.

  So much for that idea. Seven and King followed close on his heels as they began jumping down links inside the Government domain, searching for a way out. Government domain links appeared as long corridors, wide enough for a vehicle to fit through, and they all looked the same. But Seven knew the way out.

  “That way!” he said, rolling his eyes behind his goggles. “Why are you two in the lead when I’m the one who knows the way?”

  There was no time to respond as they ran up against a wall of data.

  “MindWall!” Fox cried. “It’s a complicated one.”

  “What were you expecting? This is the Government domain and it’s gone into lockdown to try and contain us. Can you get us out?”

  “I can try,” Fox said, kneeling and getting to work.

  Seven waited, watching the hallway behind them for pursuers. He didn’t have to wait long for a group of agents to appear around the corner. He unholstered his pistols and waited as they approached. He didn’t want to fight any of them, because up until now, they had been his only friends in the world. But this was about freedom.

  “Seven,” said Eighty-Eight as they drew near. “What are you doing?”

  His face was blank, and he drew his own weapon. Eighty-Eight’s fists clenched around his pistols, and Seven wanted to tell him that it was okay. He understood that Eighty-Eight would have to try and stop him.

  “You’re aiding and abetting,” added Twelve from behind him.

  “You’re going to get terminated.”

  Strange that Eighty-Eight would say that, but not say that he and Twelve would be the ones to do it. Maybe they, too, felt this reluctance to harm the other. Seven hoped so—he found he rather liked them, here at the end.

  “I won’t,” Seven said with a smile. “Because I’m going to escape.”

  “How can you possibly think that you can escape from here?” Eighty-Eight asked, sighing. “There is no escape, not for us.”

  “There is, and if I can get out, then so can you. They know where our bodies are. They can free us. Don’t you want that? To see the world outside for once?”

  “What would we do?” Twelve asked, a high note of anxiety entering his voice. “I don’t know what it’s really like out there IRL. We don’t know what to expect or what will happen to us. At least we’re safe here.”

  “You can stay if you want, but I won’t live the rest of my life trapped in the Cerebrum!” Seven raised his pistols. “Well? Aren’t you going to try and stop me?”

  A tense silence followed, and Seven tightened his grip on the pistols. This was it. He was going to have to fire on his own comrades in order to escape. His chest hurt in a strange way, as if it was being squeezed hard. His heart creaked with the pain of it.

  “No,” Eighty-Eight said, lowering his weapon.

  “What do you mean, ‘no’?” Seven demanded, barely daring to breathe.

  “No, I’m not going to stop you.” Eighty-Eight turned to Twelve. “Let’s go. They made it through the MindWall before it closed.”

  Eighty-Eight gave Seven one last desperate look, then turned, shimmered, and disappeared. Twelve half-turned to follow, but stopped to look back at Seven.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing, Seven.”

  “I have a name, Twelve. So do you. We just don’t know what they are yet. I have to try and find out what happened to us. I’ll find out, for everyone. You can come, too, if you want.”

  Twelve hesitated, then shook his head as of he suddenly realized that Eighty-Eight had gone without him. He winke
d out of the hallway, jumping a link to somewhere else.

  Seven asked over his shoulder, “Are we almost out?”

  “Almost,” Fox confirmed. “Why did they let us go?”

  “They didn’t want to fight me. I’m one of the only people in the world they know. When everyone else in this place treats you as if you don’t exist, you have to rely on the support of those who do. There is no one else. To everyone else, I’m just a number.”

  “We’re out,” Fox said, voice subdued. “I hope we can find the others without too much trouble.”

  “Too much trouble?” King laughed. “You mean, people who have access to our bodies after we’ve stolen the last memory from them, hunting us down isn’t ‘too much trouble’?”

  Fox shrugged, pulling on the edge of the MindWall. “What are you waiting for? Get through!”

  Seven closed his eyes and jumped.

  Chapter 10: Recovering King

  They fled into the depths of the Cerebrum, as far as they could go, into the abandoned links that hardly anyone ventured down anymore. There were loads of places to hide there. People started blogs and mindnet journals that they’d forgotten about or lost interest in; Public domains were set up and became popular for a while but were left behind as soon as a new one popped up. It happened all the time. There were places where the coding methods were old and primitive, that hadn’t been touched for an age.

  “This is a bit spooky, isn’t it?” King said as he looked around.

  “This place should almost be gathering dust, if the Cerebrum had dust,” Fox agreed. “Look at this—I haven’t seen this type of coding in use for almost a decade. We’re in the ancient ruins of the mindnet.”

  It was an archaeologist’s dream, a place filled with undisturbed data, like a footprint from the past. Fox didn’t know exactly how old the Cerebrum was, but he bet there was endless amounts of lost information to be found, if only one had the time to root around in this place.

  “Do you think they’ll look for us here?” King asked.

  “They can find us if they look,” Seven said. “We’re being tracked. It doesn’t mean we have to go quietly. It will be difficult for them to track us through here, though. As difficult as it will be for us to navigate.”