by Zac Strong
Gritting my teeth, I return a shot to the cut above his eye. He stumbles back, wincing. New blood blinds him.
Now’s my shot. It’s risky, but I see the opportunity and go for it, swinging as hard as I can. As predicted my haymaker is stopped by his, and my strategy begins.
“Ahhhh!!” I scream, grabbing at my hand like a wounded animal, back peddling to the corner of the ring.
Glancing up to see if he’s buying it, he’s glaring back at me, performing the exact same routine, cupping his fake injury. Are you fucking kidding me?
We both abandon our ideas at the same time, sprinting towards the center, we slam our fists into each other again. Hand to hand I drive, focusing all my energy into killing him. He returns force, locked in a stalemate. The look in his eyes is hatred. Hatred for Lethe. Hatred for the world. Hatred for me.
“Enough!” roars a thundering voice, echoing throughout the virtual Pankration. The crowd falls silent. Niko blinks to the center of the octagon, two identical swords in hand. A replica of the same sword Palin used what still seems like just days ago.
“Let’s make this interesting.”
The swords disappear from his hands, then liquefy into a metallic mold, snapping into existence in ours.
Three minutes remain.
“Prove yourself, Eros.”
The second Niko blinks out of the way I swing my weapon hard for my virtual’s neck. He deflects, dashing towards me, jabbing at my face.
I duck forward. His sword slices the air just above me.
With both hands, I send my sword straight for his chest, but he evades, jumping back against the cage.
Leaping after him I drive my weapon down.
He rolls left, as my blade slams into the cage sending sparks crackling in the air.
The uproar of the crowd intensifies.
With the back of his hand, he wipes the blood and sweat from his eye. We circle each other, arm’s length, at center ring. Like staring into a mirror. Each of us waiting for the other to make a mistake.
He strikes quickly.
I bat his steel away with mine and counter into his midsection.
I’m a half-second too late. He slides away, my sword slicing his robe instead. A trail of blood is revealed from the ripped fabric. The same look of disbelief on both of our faces.
He can be beaten.
Niko screams from above the cheering, “Enough holding back! Conquer yourself, Eros!“
My grip tightens on the leather handle. Sweat is pouring from me. My lungs inhale one deep breath. And exhale. I swing the tip of my blade for his neck, he blocks, throwing me to the side.
Circling around I cut for his legs, he leaps in the air over my attack, stabbing his weapon inches from my head.
Close miss left.
Planting my feet, I swing harder. Giving it everything I have left in me.
Off-balance, he attempts to deflect, but he’s too weak, exhausted at this point. The weight of my sword disarms him, sending his sliding out of reach.
I hesitate, thinking he would go for his weapon, but instead he rolls into me, tackling me to the ground. We wrestle without form, clawing at each other savagely like our very existence depended on it.
He seizes advantage and position. With his legs wrapped around my waist and the arm wielding my short sword twisted behind me, he takes my back, going for the choke.
Before I can pull away, he sinks it, and I feel the air and blood flow stop. The initial panic is followed briskly by the shame of dying to a virtual version of myself, dying a failure.
The giant countdown overhead ticks down from the remaining thirteen seconds. Time seems to slow when you’re dying. Seconds turn into hours.
We roll to my elbow as one, still locked tightly to my neck.
My vision blurs, fading to white and back.
Losing consciousness fast.
There’s no sound anymore nor thought that isn’t my brain begging for air.
With my free hand, I find his sword on the ground.
Conquer myself.
Wedging his sword upright on the canvas, I thrust myself into the blade, slamming it through my shoulder and into the heart of my opponent.
His choke weakens. The sound of him gargling his last breathes fill the silence until he slides off the sword, slain on the arena beside me.
The simulated crowd erupts, thunderous applause in all directions.
Trying not to choke on my blood, I pull the sword out of my shoulder and look down at my copy. Blood seeps from both wounds I delivered, staining our robes dark shades of red.
The cut in his midsection reveals something though.
My gaze slips just under his exposed ribs.
Wait a second.
Kneeling to the dead version of myself, my quivering fingers trace his spade-shaped birthmark, the exact same birthmark Palin had.
The tips of my fingertips dissolve to tiny green pixels that spread to my hand, down my arm until all of me fades from Lotus.
This doesn’t make any sense.
My eyes snap open, jerking out the cord embedded into my arm.
“What the fuck was that!? Why did it do that?” I demand. “Why did a virtual copy of myself, created from my DNA, have Palin’s birthmark on it!? This is some sick shit.”
Niko’s face is troubled. He rushes down the metal stairs towards me and a silent Vulcan.
Vulcan slides his goggles over his eyes and gives Niko some space.
“I think you know why he has that birthmark, Eros.”
“What? no. That’s not possible,” I laugh. “Obviously, I’m not Palin. He died. I saw it, remember? There was a grenade, Suits. He’s dead.”
“He didn’t die. The grenade never went off. Oriyen uploaded his consciousness to the Delta Project, replaced his mind, and shipped his body to populate Olympia, your body.
“Lies!”
“I’m not lying to you! Think! Think of one memory before Olympia. If you’ve always been here, think of who you were before the meteor hit. Try to remember anything. Can you? I remember it all. Every single day. I watched it happen.”
“No… I’ve just forgotten. It’s been so long. That’s what happens! That doesn’t mean anything.”
“They made you forget.”
“I don’t even have that birthmark! Your system must be faulty or something,” I cry out, raising my shirt, exposing my unmarked ribs. I don’t have a birthmark at all.
“They lasered it off along with the name that was tattooed to your arm, and any other defects or connections to the past. They got me too. There’s a Delta Project for nearly everyone here,” says Selene softly interjecting. “They lied to us all.”
Niko places his warm hand on my shoulder. “We chose you for a reason, Eros. This is your destiny. This has always been your fight. You are Palin, reborn.”
Chapter 16
It’s all clear now. The fog has lifted. The light of truth has finally emerged from the darkness, and with it, I see everything. I’ve lived a lie my entire life, a slave every life before this one. Lethe has taken everything from me, my consciousness, my freedom, my trust.
“Look, I know this is super confusing for you. I went through the same thing last year, cried for like a week straight. Actually, that’s when I met Iris, the woman that dropped you off with Tal right after our little firework show. I know Palin and Kalli had a past, but let’s not make this weird. Iris isn’t the same person. You know that because you’re not the same person Palin was.”
“No… I’m not.”
“Perhaps you’re more because of him.”
Selene hands me her furry little cat and looks down at me with eyes that burst like twin supernovas, violent storms of violet and black. “Iris stole Koko here and gave her to me to help adjust. It’s not stealing to her; she calls it involuntary property redistribution. You can borrow her if you need to. She’s the sweetest kitten.”
“Koko?” I ask distractedly, still trying to get used to the nakedness of
my new cubicle. Everything I have is lost. My entire life is this grey room now, small, and empty. I barely know who I am.
“Yep, yep. With a K,” Selene explains, assuming the correct spelling of her cat’s name is of any importance to me.
Her expression melts, dragging her head to the floor with it. A couple of tears cling to the brim of her eyes, vowing to never let go. I can’t help but feel a little responsible.
“Still no word, huh?”
“Nothing yet. I’m afraid something awful has happened. She should have been back by now. Iris is never late.”
“I’m sure she’s fine. If she’s anything like Kalli she’s probably out there, trying to redistribute another pet for you,” I joke from the firm twin-sized mattress I can call my own. It’s small, but I think I can get used to it. From what I understand, most of my time will be spent inside Lotus anyway. Learning, training, becoming who I need to be to help finish Lethe.
She tries to laugh but stops herself.
“It’s okay, E. We’ve all accepted our fate. We fight for something greater now. What does our death matter, if through us, thousands more are awakened and stirred to action?”
“I don’t want to see you die for the cause, Selene. The point is to make the other guy die for his.”
“War is more than killing,” she replies with icy soberness. Her rosy cheeks flushed red with emotion. “You must be willing to do whatever it takes. And when the time comes, you can’t hesitate.” She turns to exit but stops mid-stride. “Did you just feel that?” she asks wide-eyed and noticeably shaken, hand clutching the door frame tightly.
I tuck Kalli’s knife into the fresh set of utilities she gave me to wear, the same horrid, digital pattern as the rest of militia. More comfortable than I thought though.
“Feel what?” As the words leave my mouth, the concrete growls violently beneath me, shaking the entire vault as dust rains from the ceiling.
“What was that?”
I snap to Selene.
Panic, leaking from her eyes now. She moves to the hallway, still clinging to the door frame.
A thunderous blast echoes from the main entrance of the vault. Seconds later, Niko storms the hall, visibly distraught and screaming. Most of Kronos is asleep, real sleep. It’s still early, can’t be long until dawn. Lights shoot on from every room he passes as he shouts orders to his waking men and women.
People and Machina emerge in a hurry, silent for the most part, working in a military-like manner. Movements rehearsed like they’ve practiced this day before.
“Evacuate now! Keep to the plan! Meet at the checkpoints!!” Niko yells, his voice beginning to strain.
Selene has already disappeared by the time he makes it to my doorway.
“Wait, wait. Like right now? This is happening right now? What about the training? I have no idea what the plan is, or what to do??” I shout, forcing my words around the fist-sized lump lodged deep in the well of my throat.
“Lethe found us. They must’ve captured Iris, retraced her memories using the Delta. We knew this would eventually happen. We’re ready for it.” He takes a deep breath. Pulls his pocket watch from the front pocket of his trench coat, stares at it until he looks satisfied. “Our sentries are holding them off for the moment, but you must hurry.”
“Wait! Wait.. I’m not ready.”
“Death doesn’t care. Find the others. Stay with your team. Follow their instructions. The time is now, Eros!”
The hallway begins to swirl. Everything is happening so fast. A million different things flash into my brain at once. All I can do is pant, standing in the way like some unpowered droid. Frozen. Terrified.
“E! This way!” shouts Selene a few doors down. She’s carrying a brown duffle bag on her back that’s as tall as she is.
No hesitation. Whatever it takes.
I run to her, sliding by uniformed strangers in the crowded hallway. Her purple hair is a beacon.
Pushing and cutting through the mob, she guides me into a smaller airlock, one of a series down another hallway that never seems to end. The airlock slides open to an empty room. We’re the only two that took this direction. The room’s small, industrial metal, identical to the elevator room I arrived in, except this one has a single green button on the inner cage.
“You ready?” she asks, the green gleaming from her pupils.
“Not really.”
She smashes the button and away we fly. Faster than any shuttle I’ve ever flown, we shoot upward, until we come to a quick but gradual stop. The wall splits open to a rocky tunnel carved into what looks like brick and asphalt. It’s dark, cave-like.
Selene leads the way, unbendable, far from the mindless piece of ass I once thought she was. She shoves her bag through
the tunnel, crawling after it. I follow close behind. Both of us wordless.
The gravel path becomes more confining, narrowing the further we crawl. We inch through until we finally reach an area big enough for both of us to squat. Dark, all but tiny lines of light peering through little gaps in the steel hatch attached to the outside world above.
She bangs exactly three times.
The metal echoes through the tunnel are chilling, soon interrupted by the muffled sound of someone fidgeting with a lock. The hatch swings open and light blinds us.
A few seconds to adjust and the faces of Vulcan and Hector are staring down over us. Vulcan, with his bottle-eyed goggles and a warped smile. Hector, with four glass vials screwed into his facemask. Electric orange liquid splashes in them, probably a mix of adrenochrome and painkillers if I had to guess. I’ve seen that shit before. Liquid rage.
Vulcan pulls me out after Selene. The hatch led us to another room, residential, a bit ran-down, though. The only window is boarded. Glass and grains of sand sprinkle the floor around it. The padlocked door in front of us appears to be the only exit out of this tiny room.
The walls are a dusty beige. Graffiti stained to the one closest. The Lethe eagle in red drips behind a message. MAY THE HANDS OF KRONOS OUTLIVE TIME, sprayed fresh in Elysium blue.
Selene throws me a wad of black cloth from the duffel bag, thick and baggy. The others are already putting theirs on, an oversized poncho that swallows everyone, even Hector.
I throw it over my head as she shoves a rifle in my arms.
“Know how to use one of these?” she asks, brow raised, staring me dead in my eyes.
I’ve never fired one outside 34. The last time when I met Athan. “I’ve got a little experience.”
“Good. Sling it under your poncho and don’t let anyone see it until you get the signal.”
“What’s the signal?”
“You’ll know the signal,” smirks Vulcan loading his gravity launcher. His weapon is as tall as he is, alien-like, constructed from misparted machinery.
“Alright guys listen up for a sec,” instructs Selene, center of the abandoned room. She hands us each a sign bolted to a metal pipe. Your death or my freedom? written across one in red.
Fuck Lethe Corp! on another. “Niko has already organized the distraction. The protest has been going white hot outside Lethe tower since the Eros hack last night. At least a quarter of the city is out there. All as planned so far. Our job is to blend in, wait for the signal, then, give ‘em hell.
“This isn’t going to be easy. Intel says there are a few things to look out for. Lethe has several energy turrets protecting the tower. They’re anticipating another strike. We’ll need to take them out first so our reinforcements can rush the tower with the big guns. Vulcan has so graciously provided every squad with a box of hand-built scorpions along with some other explosives. We have enough for each of you to take two but be extremely careful, you don’t want one of these to sting you. Once activated it sends an electromagnetic pulse surging through your entire body, burning any upgrade installed, frying every organ until it detonates, slinging shrapnel straight through you. If you can, save them for the turrets.”
She throws the dark hood to
her poncho over her head, gives us all one last look. “This is it, boys. Good luck to you all. We’re going to need it.“ Armed with her sign she unlocks the door and marches into the city. Her chin held high.
Behind her, Vulcan, then Hector.
The roar from the protest took the room the second the door opened. I pause, seized with the reality of what’s happening. Something in me begs me to run, to hide forever in the Outlands. I don’t think I can do this... I’m not Palin anymore.
Unsteady, I brace myself on the wall beside me. My fingers glide over the wet paint of the mural.
I can almost hear Palin now. Remember why you’re doing this, who you’re doing this for. Evil triumphs when good men do nothing. Running away isn’t going to stop them. Submitting to tyranny will never bring about change. This is the only way. Our last resort.
Wet with Elysium blue, I drag two fingertips across the skin under my eyes and lift the hood of my disguise over me. Adjusting the sling to the hidden weapon, I take the last sign and step out the door into Olympia.
The first hint of morning peeks over the dunes of the Outlands, only visible in-between the buildings of the Olympian skyline. Dark, fierce clouds loom from the north, twirling like the onset of a storm. Above Lethe Tower, a clear, navy sky. The moon, not yet lost with the morning, shines around the drifting pieces of planet watching silently from above.
People are everywhere, thousands of them holding signs and banners, shouting, and pacing through the square in front of Lethe Tower. The air simmers with anger, with hate. Laughter in some places. In others, tears. The time is now, still glitches on the hacked screens overhead.
An exploded Lethe pod burns beside me in the open. The flames illuminate the faces of the strangers around it. Even veiled, I recognize one of them from Kronos. The others, I’ve never seen before.
A larger fire rages across the entrance to Lethe Tower. Furious protestors feed it with armfuls of stolen Lethe flags and furniture, anything that’ll burn. Selene and the others are standing near them, motionless, alert.
Lightning cracks.
There are hundreds of droids and a Suit for every ten positioned between us and the tower. The droids have no empathy, no remorse, they never fail to kill on command. The Suits are even worse. With the same apathy towards their fellow man but armed with a human’s natural instinct and the best tech Lethe can develop. In formation they stand lined around the base of Lethe Tower, outnumbering us three to one.