The Last City

by RMGilmour

“Can I watch?” I asked a little too timidly, hoping he wouldn’t say no, but I didn’t want to intrude if he needed to work in solitude.

  He clasped my fingers in his. “I’ve never had an audience before. But… sure, I’d love for you to watch me work. But isn’t there someone you need to visit first?”

  I couldn’t respond. I did want to visit Mason, but I couldn’t recall having that discussion with Jordan.

  “You talk in your sleep,” he said with a grin.

  “I do, huh? What do I say?” I asked, although I wasn’t sure I wanted the details.

  “Mostly you talk about me, or to me,” he said through his most mischievous smirk, but then he lowered his tone. “Occasionally, the nightmare comes back, but it doesn’t take much to turn your dreams back to me again.”

  “The nightmare comes back?” I asked puzzled, but at the same time comforted by his words. It was his effort, and not my own wishful thinking, that kept me safe in the night.

  However, I wasn’t sure which nightmare he was referring to - my dreams of the ward, or the dream that had plagued me for years on Earth. But I didn’t want to ask. The morning was too pleasant for such discussions. For my memories from Earth, were of a life scarred, physically, mentally, and emotionally. Jordan had helped heal my emotional scars; his soothing voice, and his love had made me whole again. And it was a rather painful battle with the ward that helped me overcome my self-inflicted mental torture; I could now revisit the memory without screaming. The physical scars though, I would always have. But that was a choice. The patchwork that ran down the side of my face and body was a reminder of who I was, of where I’d come from, and of who I needed to become.

  But I couldn’t recall any of my dreams, or nightmares being about my life on Earth. Perhaps, they were becoming less of a consequence that need not be remembered. The only nightmare I could even vaguely recall each morning, was of the ward.

  “Some nights are worse than others,” Jordan said, gently squeezing my fingers. “But at least, you no longer scream about it.”

  “Maybe because you don’t let it get to that point?”

  “Anything to keep you safe,” he admitted.

  “And how exactly do you turn my dreams around?” I asked.

  His only response was the return of his grin, and his hands sliding across my skin, as his eyes mesmerizing mine, held me captive once more.

  “Ok,” I said, through a drawn-out exhale. I then forced myself to breathe in again, while trying to break the hold his gaze always held over me. “Where can I find Mason?”

  “Stop,” he whispered.

  “Stop what?”

  “Holding me with your eyes like that.”

  I swallowed hard, forced myself to blink, and wrenched my eyes away from his. “I think you have that backwards.”

  “No, I don’t think I do,” he whispered back.

  I dared to look back up at him, but focused instead, upon his mouth.

  He cleared his throat. And then upon finding his volume again, he answered my question, “He’ll be at the Spire.”

  “Great,” I moaned. There went my day.

  The Spire. The center of Threa. The place where the Central Unit had command over all that resided on the planet. Where it generated this apparently fake world I now live in, and where it provided everyone with everything. Everything.

  Before leaving Tira-Mi, we called upon Lena and Dax to let them know we would not make training. Lena fought us, arguing against our choice. But we expected that. Her life was training, fighting. It was what she did, all she did, I was sure. She seemed to study me for several moments though, before relenting, and I caved to her scowl, promising to train the following day.

  “Do you want me to come with you?” Jordan asked, as we entered the city.

  I wanted more than anything to say yes. The word was on my lips ready to spring forth and calm the nerves that clenched my stomach. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I had to get over my fear of the place. Strong like Lena, I told myself. Fear nothing.

  “No,” I exhaled my response. “You paint. I’ll be ok. I’ll join you later?”

  “You remember the way?”

  “If I forget I’m sure the Central Unit will show me,” I said, and smiled, as I remembered my first violent venture into the city. The Central Unit had shown me exactly where Jordan was, and exactly how to get to him. The city these days was peaceful, open, welcoming, and I had no doubt it would be just as helpful, if I needed it.

  5

  Mason’s Memories

  Jordan squeezed me extra tight before we parted. We’d walked through the city to the half-way point between the Spire and his - our - house. I forced myself to let him go, and watched him head down the lane-way toward his home. When I could no longer see him, I turned my watery gaze toward the Spire. Its crystal-blue tower rose above the houses, pointing skyward, and I stifled the bile that tried to rise in my throat. It was still a place of death to me. It held the memories, the consciousness, the souls, of those who had been inserted and remained inside, either not ready, or not choosing, to come out. I forced my head down to stare at my feet, willing them onward, and I carved a speedy path toward the massive center building.

  Once inside, a familiar face greeted me. She was the first person to greet me the first time I’d visited the Spire under not-so-pleasant circumstances. She was also the first person to find me during our attack on the city, and she’d tried to save me. She was always friendly, ready with a smile, and seemed happy to see me each of the few times that I’d visited, each time insisting I should visit more often. I’d learned her name was Irinhelle - almost as strange a name as Dagnija - and I hadn’t yet decided if I would call her Ani, or Nell. Either way, I was sure she wouldn’t mind.

  “Lydia,” she exclaimed, almost squealing my name. “What a surprise! You’re here alone?”

  That was the surprising part. I never went to the Spire alone.

  “Yeah,” I admitted. “I need to see Mason, is he here?”

  “Of course, he is. He’ll be happy to see you. Come.”

  I followed her down an all too familiar hallway, forcing one step in front of the other, not particularly watching which way she was taking me, until she led me up a broad spiral staircase to the room at the top. It was a large rectangular room, with a jumble of clear screens hanging in the air, each displaying data that I couldn’t even begin to attempt to decipher.

  “Mason?” Irinhelle asked.

  “Yes,” he murmured. He looked up, appearing confused. Clarity then spread across his face as he realized he had visitors, and he strode toward us, walking straight through his air-screens as though they weren’t even there. “Lydia,” he said, when he reached me, and took my hands in his. “It’s been weeks. Is Jordan with you?”

  “No, just me I’m afraid.”

  “Just you,” he chuckled, then turned to Irinhelle. “Thank you,” he smiled, as she retreated from the room.

  And once the door had closed, he whispered to me, “And she would prefer Ani, instead of Nell.”

  “What?” I gasped, hoping I hadn’t spoken aloud earlier, and made a mental note to apologize to… Ani on my way out.

  But he only laughed.

  “So, what brings you to me? I thought I was the enemy.”

  “Mason, you saved my life in more ways than I can count. You could never be the enemy,” I said, and smiled at him. I wanted to hug him. I couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been since he’d felt human contact, and I decided a hug was what he needed.

  When I released him, I added, “And it’s actually been months, not weeks.”

  His mouth dropped, and I paused to let him digest that bit of information before continuing.

  “I have a few questions though, and I thought you would be the one to ask.”

  “How does Jordan feel about you coming to see me?”

  “He needs to stop blaming you. It was my decision.”


  “One in which I led you to.”

  “One that I would have discovered anyway. I’m sure it was exactly where Grid and Aleric were trying to guide me to, now that I think about some of the things they’d said.”

  “It’s more than that, though,” he paused, and his eyes bored into mine as though he was trying to see what was behind them. And as the seconds ticked away, I began to fear that he really could see inside my head, and I restrained myself from stepping away from him.

  “There’s too much that, at the time, Jordan didn’t need to know,” he finished. And if he hadn’t looked away at that moment, I think I would have run from the room.

  “So, what questions do you have?” he asked, and held out his arm, inviting me to join him at a small table beside the wall, near to where the doorway would be… if it should open again.

  Sitting opposite him, I cleared my throat, gathered my thoughts, and remembered why I was there.

  “I need to know why… how,” I began, and explained the ocean and the sky. I questioned the ground we walked on, the air we breathed, the food we ate, the very people… It all came out in one tidal wave of questions that I didn’t know how to stop until he placed his hands over mine, calming the insanity that rampaged through me.

  So much for not letting it matter.

  “Lydia,” he began, and searched my face, before removing his hands. He seemed to be waiting for my thoughts to silence themselves, as though he could feel the numerous unspoken questions that continued to roll through my mind. “Everything is real.”

  “It’s not…” I began, but he stopped me again.

  “It is. The ocean Jordan is recreating, you have felt it, yes? Swam in its warm depths? Felt its spray upon your skin? Tasted its saltiness? Emerged upon its shore, dripping water, covered in sand? The ground you walk upon, is it not solid? The food you eat, has taste and texture? Is digested by your body? Nourishes you? Gives you energy?”

  I nodded in agreement to every question. It felt real, smelt real, tasted real.

  “But it’s generated by the Central Unit,” I complained. “It’s not naturally there.”

  “Doesn’t matter where it came from. Whether it has developed over millions of years of evolution and climate change, or simply added to the planet’s surface in one massive alteration. It’s still real. Still made of the same materials,” and he hurried on, before I could object again. “Everything, everywhere can be broken down into its basic particles and then reformed, like building blocks. That’s what the world does, it’s what the universe does, from one through to the next, over and over. Everything is connected…”

  “Mason,” I interrupted, almost breathless. I should have stopped him sooner. “I don’t need a biology lesson… or a… cosmology lesson…”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, as he captured my hands that had begun again, to flutter before me as I spoke, and he held them between both of his. “I know there are a lot of things about this world that are new to you, different, they don’t make sense. But try not to think about it too much. Too often things are not as they seem. Just trust what you feel inside. Trust your instincts.”

  There were questions that ran through my mind faster than I could catch and form into sentences, and they appeared to be mostly ‘how’ questions. But I wasn’t ready for a lot of the answers he may give, and I let those questions escape me, for now. At least, until I felt ready to attempt to understand the answers he may give. And so, I decided to accept what he’d told me so far. Just accept it as fact. The ‘how’s’ could wait. Well, all except one.

  “How did you… this planet… end up like this? Generated.”

  He sighed through a low grumble in his chest, and stared down at our hands now resting upon the table. “The Central Unit began as something much smaller. It helped maintain control of the planet, protect it for us and from us. It provided the necessities for everyone. But the people wanted more, and its power was expanded. It became the control center of the planet, and was eventually expanded to reach the outer realms. In some respects, your Earth is ahead of where we once were, for your people have already begun to pursue the possibilities of other planets. We delayed this step, choosing instead, to remain where we were, and develop what we had, until it was almost too late.”

  He stopped a little too abruptly, but continued to stare down at our hands.

  “What is it?” I asked him, hoping he would continue.

  At the sound of my voice, his face rose to mine, and he gazed at me for several moments, as though deciding what to say. “I have something that may interest you.”

  He pulled me up from the table, and led me further into the room. The back wall at first seemed a normal, solid surface, however as we approached, its depth revealed a concave semi-sphere. It curved from the floor to the ceiling, and from one side of the room to the other. We didn’t walk in. Instead, we remained near the edge. And I peered at Mason, wondering what it was used for.

  My curiosity was without a doubt, apparent to him as he smiled at my questioning look. He turned back to the semi-sphere, and swiftly rose one hand up and out toward its center. The solid, white surface dissolved into darkness and from within it, shapes and colors formed into a multitude of stars within a colorful swirling cloud of dust and gas.

  “Our galaxy,” he said. He turned his hand in a slow, circular motion, turning the stars as he went. “And this is us.” He pulled his hand backward. The action moved us forward into the swirling mixture, until a planet was before us.

  “Threa,” he explained, large as life, nestled between various sized planets, moons, and other objects.

  He moved the planet back, away from us, then slowly swirled the galaxy a fraction to the left. Within the stars and clouds, shone fourteen points of light, made brighter upon his command.

  “And these are our colonies,” he continued. “Fourteen in all. Twelve planets and two moons. We are near their center. Here,” he pointed. “They are spread around us, throughout this part of the Galaxy. After the war on this world, the Central Unit continued to send and receive information from them, until one by one they stopped. All except Pelas,” he said, pointing to our nearest neighbor. “But even then, all we were able to receive from them was basic data, some images, not much, until even that stopped.”

  “Have you been to any of them?” I asked him. My voice was barely audible, and I tried to blink away the awe that had me glued to the images. But I couldn’t look away. The sight was too beautiful, too amazing to believe it was before me.

  “Several, yes. A very long time ago. Long before the war,” he said, but his voice was distant. And I watched him gaze at the colonies as though they were long, lost family.

  It was then that I noticed two outlying planets, darker than the others. A faint circle of red surrounded each of them.

  “What are they?” I asked.

  For the longest time, he only stared at them. I wasn’t sure if he would provide an answer, and I began to wonder if he’d even heard me. But when a brief flicker of pain crossed his face, I decided not to push him for information. Satisfying my own curiosity was not worth causing him any amount of pain. However, before I could change the subject, he cleared his throat, as though the very thought of speaking had choked him up.

  And once he did speak, I wished for a way to undo my question. There were some things I could do without knowing.

  “Colonies, fifteen and sixteen. We couldn’t save them,” he said, and stared at the images a moment longer before continuing. “Each planet had their own Central Mainframe through which our CU would operate. It was one unit, but whose control spread across the colonies, all connected, all operating off the same information. When the outer colonies were overrun, the assailants tried to take control, but our CU severed all connections, to protect itself. What would have been left behind on each colony was a basic form of what we have here. Still functional, just lacking the all-encompassing power of our Unit.”

 
; He stopped to stare into the scene as though remembering some distant time, and I knew he had more to say. A lot more. But considering how the memories seemed to affect him, I was sure he was finished with the subject.

  With a sigh, he wiped his hand across the colorful scene, sending it back into the white concave walls.

  “That’s not quite what I had in mind,” he said, and tried to smile. “But worth the visit, yes?”

  I nodded. Despite the dark reminder of the countless number of lives that were lost, it was definitely worth the visit. I would come back just to gaze into the wonder that was his galaxy room.

  He led the way to the far wall, where eight pearly-white chairs surrounded a long, wide table. The chairs were of a similar design as the table, and were spaced an even distance away from one another. The table was smooth, with rounded edges that curved under and then down, in one flowing movement. The base was almost a third of the width of the table top, and as long from end to end. Unlike the chairs however, the table was a slick mirror-black, but it reflected nothing. The shine that came from its surface seemed to originate from deep within.

  We sat near one end, him beside me, and he picked up one of my hands. He then requested that I stretch out my fingers, and as I did, he laid my hand flat against the table center, and pressed gently into its soft surface.

  Almost right away, images began to appear before us. Shapes rose from the table, taking a seemingly, solid form. People and places, moved and blended, overlapping one another. A jumble of whispered sound reached my ears, although I couldn’t pick out any exact words.

  “You’re seeing memories, hearing them too. Perhaps a few too many at once.”

  “Actual memories?” I whispered, trying to listen to the voices.

  “Yes. From those in the Spire, and from those that were once in there. The Central Unit’s memories go back thousands of years. Though it essentially begins with the first people that were inserted. That’s where the memories come from.”

  “How accurate is it though?”