City of Cinders

by Kendrai Meeks

  Johanna stopped at the foot of the bed, still one step behind so as not to see Cindira’s face. She pointed to the mute avatar laying in the bed. “You mean, which you’ve been consolidating. And soon enough, when I find out how, I will crush you. Whoever you—”

  The manicured fingernails bit into Cindira’s shoulder. She cried out, even as Johanna spun her around. Cindira regained her footing only in time to look up and see her step-mother lose her own. The woman stumbled backward in shock.

  “Impossible.”

  This programming? So robust. Johanna’s skin blanched, her pupils dilated. Her step-mother threw a hand over her mouth, the diaphanous material of the dress sleeve Cindira herself had designed, billowed.

  “Omala?”

  24

  “There’s still time to change your mind.”

  Francisco pulled back as the door to the kitchens swung closed. That there was a kitchen in The Kingdom surprised him. That was a change. No one ever ate food while logged into GAIA. Coffee remained a mainstay, though only because the habit was so ingrained in the real world, those transitioning to the virtual one for work found it difficult to go without. Even rendered as an avatar, psychological dependencies proved tough to defeat.

  But as the prince came to terms with that fact, he remembered it was only one small part of the larger picture in this platform, one tailored for indulgences without consequences. Of course, there was food. More food in this one palace than in all the peasant kitchens of his homeland combined, likely. And as he looked out on the dance floor, he saw it was merely one excess this world boasted.

  His trusted attaché, Carlos, waited as ever he did; tolerantly, silently, reverently. He had the patience of a saint and the combat skills of a warlord.

  Francisco shook his head. “No. When I campaigned for office last year, I vowed to the Congress that ferreting out the corruption that goes on here would be my top priority.”

  “No one takes a campaign promise at face value, Your Highness.”

  “I do.” He turned back, pushing the swinging door just enough to give himself a view of the ballroom beyond. “GAIA saved the world from destruction, Carlos, but that hit the bank accounts of many people in that room out there – at least one of whom is trying to destroy GAIA now. Most likely, more than one. They want me to cower, to stay hidden. I’m here to show them I’m not afraid.”

  “One might suggest you should fear them,” Carlos cautioned. “They’ve penetrated GAIA’s security, a system that has remained unhackable for a quarter century, not once but three times in as many weeks. There is no reason to think they’d be any less lethal in the real world. Pretending to be one of them may backfire in more ways than you’ve imagined.”

  “You forget, I was one of them. Living for the moment, letting my family’s power, influence, and wealth be excuses I made for my own sense of entitlement...”

  His thoughts turned back to his visit to Tybor, and playing into Kaylie Fife’s flirtations, just to get to the truth he was seeking. His stomach had turned with every touch. In a few minutes, he’d repeat the process, and this time, backing out after getting to the answer of a simple yes or no question wouldn’t be possible. He needed to seduce her, get her to trust him. Either she knew the truth of what was going on inside of GAIA, or she knew the people who did. She associates with all the power brokers. She’s slept with many of them. In the virtual world, at least, his spies had told him. His analyst argued on whether or not she was simply the kind of woman who liked to boast of rendezvous with the famous and powerful, or if plots lay underneath her conquests. Francisco suspected the latter; she was the daughter of Johanna Tieg. A snake gave birth to snakes, and once he came to know her better, he suspected to find a serpent in his grasp.

  A mirror mounted over a nearby sink let him check his hair with an informed eye. Later, he’d wonder at the washbasin’s presence. Did this vreal world really have need of disinfectant? For now, he needed to be prepared. In a moment, he’d be walking openly among the enemy.

  “I don’t expect to find out who’s behind the attacks on the capital tonight. If I make them believe I’m still one of them, I think it could lead to the anarchists outing themselves. The secret lies in confusing the enemy, so that he cannot fathom your true intentions.”

  “Sun Tzu.” Carlos allowed him an approving nod. “An appropriate tome to study for the times. But I believe he also said, The wise warrior avoids battle.”

  “Yes, but wasn’t it rumored that he, himself, died in battle?”

  Francisco’s attaché raised a scrupulous eyebrow. “If he ever truly existed at all.”

  “If any of us every truly exist at all.” Enough. No more stalling. “Wish me luck, Carlos.”

  “Luck is for those who have no faith in liberty, Sire.”

  Francisco pushed the door open and observed in amazement as a room full of theatrics turned its spotlight on him. In the span of a moment, his courage fled back in time, and he saw himself as a youth, trembling on the stairs of his family’s veranda, watching his father’s blood trickle down each step. The people turned to him expectant, some perhaps ignoble. He could see it in their eyes: So, this is the great prince without a kingdom who thinks he can challenge us?

  He wondered the same thing. His father’s watch hung heavy on his wrist.

  Francisco opened his mouth to speak, for they seemed to want him to say something. But what could he say? I know one of you has been trying to kill me? I suspect one of you is trying to destroy GAIA? It wasn’t exactly diplomatic.

  As he felt an arm weave through his and turned to see who was at his side, he thanked God for small miracles. Kaylee Fife: the in-girl of the in-crowd. The moment she appeared, the crowd relaxed. As though Francisco were a bomb and Kaylie had just snipped his tripwire.

  “Your Majesty?” She hooked her arm around his. “I was beginning to worry you were going to skip out on the party, which would make you an intolerably bad host. Having cold feet about joining the soiree?”

  Francisco plastered on his best public face, grinning as though the woman beside him had just said the most amazing thing. “Of course not, Miss Fife. I’ve been anticipating it all week.”

  She patted his arm and began to pull him toward the crowd. Kaylie leaned in, talking so only he could hear, even as the guests began to fall in to shake the prince’s hand. “Just stay by my side. I’ll make sure you only have to talk to the right people.”

  He bit his tongue, fighting back the truth he already knew.

  There were no right people in this place.

  And that included him.

  25

  Cindira’s future balanced on a single decision: let Johanna believe her rival was indeed facing her down, admit to being Cindira, or keep both facts hidden.

  She pulled herself erect, trying to embody her mother’s mannerisms. “I’m not who you think I am.”

  Johanna threw back her head and cackled, balled fists planted on her hips. “Who you are is a fool. Don’t you know that the moment I leave here, I will call Tybor’s security and reveal who you are?”

  “Then I’ll make it easy for you. I’m the same person who hacked into GAIA a few days ago.”

  Johanna blanched, her eyes going wide. Despite the terror etched in her features, she let none of her anxiety creep into her voice. “I see.”

  Sending a shockwave over her step-mother empowered Cindira. Before she could pan out the pros and cons of assuming control, she was simply doing it. She pointed at the bed. “This avatar belongs to Rex Tieg. Why is he like this? What are his current whereabouts in the real world?”

  “It’s me who should ask you that. Instead, let me ask how you designed an avatar that looks and sounds exactly like Omala Grover? QC should have tagged that. Unless...” The blonde bit her lip in momentarily contemplation. “Was there one still hidden somewhere? One that’s escaped my detection all these years?”

  Cindira wouldn’t be detoured. “What have you done to try and solve this?
”

  Johanna’s head tilted to the side. “The very thing you told me to: I reached out to the prince. He’s below right now, only he’s not being as forthcoming as you suggested he would be. Don’t worry, Kaylie will have him eating out of the palm of her hand soon enough, but I repeat: If you harm one hair on Kaylie or Cade’s head, I will march down there and tell Batista everything I know.”

  Cindira didn’t know what shook her more: her blatant dismissal by her step-mother, so ready to defend her own children with no reference to her, or knowing that the prince was now falling into one of Johanna’s schemes.

  The code writer was equally skilled in math and added up the figures pretty quickly. “You told Kaylie to seduce him.”

  “I’m going to have her distract him,” Johanna amended. “If the prince finds out that our CEO is being held for ransom, do you think he’ll overlook it? If the public knows, what do you think will happen to Tybor? Can I remind you that your ends, as hideous as they are, require my company to stay robust for now?”

  “A human life isn’t worth the cash flow of your hedonistic escape.” Cindira balled her hands into fists as she took one more look at her father on the bed. “You’ve made a mockery of Omala Grover’s legacy, and there will be consequences. He should not be one.”

  “There now, you’ve found your place in your standard script again.” Her step-mother sat herself on the edge of the bed, stroking Rex’s face. “I don’t know how much you knew about Omala—the real Omala—but she wasn’t exactly Rex’s fan at the end, and she wasn’t the squeaky-clean ‘goddess’ those crazy chipheads hold her out to be. In fact, she was actively trying to destroy The Kingdom and Tybor. Of course, that’s what you and your cult want too, isn’t it?”

  Something about the way Johanna broke down before her, how her complete focus was on the man in the bed as she raised his hand to her mouth, kissed his palm, and then pressed it against her cheek, cracked Cindira’s resolve. Johanna may be a power-hungry, fame-seeking, money-grubbing nuisance, but the woman does love her husband. And Rex? Despite the fact that he’d left Cindira’s mother, turning his back on his child and the legacy they’d built together, one couldn’t claim with any validity that he didn’t feel the same for Johanna.

  “I swear to you, I’m not part of whatever group it is you think I am.” Cindira backed away from the bed. “Is he safe here like this?”

  “His mind is, trapped between the real world and The Kingdom. Where his body is...” A tear streaked down Johanna’s cheek as she looked up. “...I don’t know what kind of condition he’s in or what kind of care is being taken with him.”

  “Will you continue to protect him?”

  “Always.”

  Cindira nodded, reaching for her resolve. She didn’t have much time; Yuchi would be back online soon enough, and when she was, Cindira would be toast.

  “I will find a way to help him.”

  Johanna’s head jerked up. “How?”

  “I...” Could she really do this? Expose her greatest truth? But she was safe, wasn’t she? Johanna didn’t know who she was, and if Yuchi’s read was any indication, Tybor’s security system saw her as Omala. “I’ll dig into the source code. I can find a solution.”

  Her step-mother shot to her feet. “Impossible. No one but Omala Grover could access the source code.”

  All else being equal, the simplest solution was usually the correct one.

  Even if it was a lie.

  Cindira gathered her courage into a ball and shot it up her spine. “I am Omala Grover.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  Commit to it. Sell it like you would a pretty gown. “You said it yourself, Johanna; only Omala could access the code, and I’m telling you, I’m here to do just that.”

  “I don’t know who you are, but you’re not Omala Grover.”

  Johanna’s eyes narrowed as her hands came up before her. Only, they didn’t look merely like hands. They looked like... flames. Blue flames that sparked and crackled and danced over her stepmother’s arms. Magic in The Kingdom? Of course. It was a fairy tale, wasn’t it? And real fairy tales didn’t have happy endings and golden sunsets.

  The Little Mermaid turned to sea foam.

  Sleeping Beauty was assaulted and forced to wed her rapist.

  The wolf ate Red Riding Hood’s grandmother.

  “I know you’re not...” Johanna pulled back a hand, the energy dancing over her skin coalescing into a ball on her open palm. “...because I killed her.”

  “No, that’s not...”

  Cindira froze, incapable of comprehension. It wasn’t possible. Her mother’s death had been a tragic accident. She’d fallen off a dock and been hit by the very boat coming to pick her up, her struggle covered over by the sound of the motor and the blanket of fog.

  Cindira looked at the gown her step-mother wore, the one Cindira herself had made, invoking the somber purple drift of the fog itself. How ironically appropriate.

  “And I’ll kill her again, even if it’s just her avatar!”

  The flame shot forward, but shock immobilized Cindira. Her mother slain, her father in a coma, and Johanna the connection between each. She wanted to be done, to wake up in her own body and flee.

  Moments before the flames scorched, a wall of white shot up between the women. Johanna’s volley flattened, spread out as if it had been hurled into a shield.

  “Run now, or you’ll never save your father!”

  She didn’t know whose voice it was, or where it came from, but it snapped her out of her spell. Cindira bolted towards the door.

  26

  “And this...” Kaylie pulled on Francisco’s arm, leading him to yet another elegantly-dressed couple, “Is Nugato Shoji and his wife, Kiki.”

  Instead of offering a hand, the gentleman bowed, a gesture somewhat archaic but still practiced in some areas of Asia. Not wanting to be insensitive, Francisco returned the gesture.

  “Sir. Madame.”

  Another of the attendees begged away Kaylie’s attention, leaving Francisco to fend for himself.

  “So this is the brave Prince of GAIA.” The woman passed judgement with both tone and a shaded eye. “They say your avatar is true to your real-world self. How disappointing.”

  “I think what Kiki is trying to say—” Nugato side-eyed his wife, who only rolled hers in turn. “—is that we’re surprised you’re brave enough to show your true face. So few in The Kingdom do.”

  “Something I believe should change,” the prince said. “How can we negotiate terms of peace and trade in good faith if we cannot even take each other at face value? Though, I admit, I think minor cosmetic edits are okay.” He pointed to his left ear. “There’s actually a scar here in real life.”

  The couple on the receiving end of the jest didn’t know what to make of it. They weren’t the only ones. Francisco had no idea what to make of them, or the rest of the crowd. Sovereigns, dignitaries, celebrities... None of whom he could assign an obvious agenda in his imagination. And though many were indifferent or slightly disdainful of his presence, none appeared outwardly aggressive.

  But the slightest scent of possible scandal filled the air, and the nearest shark bit. Suddenly, Kiki found Francisco a lot more interesting.

  “A scar?” She leaned in closer, as though she could see it if she only squinted hard enough. “How exciting. From what?”

  “When I was fourteen, assassins broke into my family’s home and killed my father in front of my eyes. I tried to fight them off but one smashed his gun on my forehead to knock me out. I woke up with blood in my eyes and my father’s corpse staring at me from the stairs.”

  Francisco sipped his wine, even as Kiki scrambled for something to say.

  She was saved by her husband weaving his arm through hers and saying, “Our sympathies for your loss,” before leading her away.

  Francisco wished he could say their attitude was unique, but he knew better. Even though he hadn’t spent his youth gallivanting around The K
ingdom, a diplomatic bit of eavesdropping would educate anyone ignorant of its ways. Francisco had mastered the art of looking forward, leaning left. He could follow two conversations at once when he concentrated, even if briefly.

  Those around the fringes didn’t hesitate to engage in their standard business. An illegal trade deal was the least of the sins his ears tripped over. To his right, two men discussed the details of deep earth mineral extraction, a process that would ravage the lands above it. GAIA had outlawed the practice in the second year of its existence.

  Then, an accented male voice rose up behind him, and it made him want to jack out that very second.

  The prince rounded, his eyes scanning the crowd for his heretofore undesired escort. Now he’d give his castle for Kaylie to be at his side, if only to use her as a human shield.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t His Majesty, Prince Francisco Batista de le Reina.”

  The words arrested him as well as if he’d been bound and shackled. The man at his back may as well have been a herald shouting at the top of his lungs. Francisco was certain the invocation reverberated off the walls. At the very least, his pulse was.

  With no choice but to confront his past head on, he found his spine and put it to good use.

  Francisco turned, pushing a hand out and a smile on to his face all at once. The confidence might be conjured, but diplomacy called for a skill. “Hugo Ferrente Miguel.”

  He’d expected to see the wizened, battle-scarred face of his lifelong adversary, framed in graying, spiked hair and with one eye bandaged over, lost in one of the last real-world skirmishes to take place on the Iberian Peninsula before the region dedicated itself to the GAIA platform. Instead, a younger iteration of his former friend, skin as perfect and unblemished as it been when they were youths.

  Hugo’s smile fell, as his grip on Francisco’s hand tightened. “You forgot to say King.”

  To acknowledge his intention would be to prove the insult. Instead, Francisco changed subject. “I didn’t imagine you’d still be patronizing this place after so many years.”