by A K Blake
Then, to her complete and utter shock, he winked. A few seconds later, it clicked. He thought they were lovers, or at least flirting. It was all she could do it keep from laughing aloud. It seemed Dieda had been keeping them in the corner of her thoughts after all.
***
Collecting the blood from Iona was easy enough. Luca just slid her an extra cup on her lunch tray, underneath her vis cup, and she returned it full of blood. Simple. Efficient. However, it was steeling himself to go through with it, settling the internal battle that had begun when he’d received her terms, that was the hard part. Luca was well aware that Iona would die without him. Of that, there was no question. He’d seen when the cyan games turned nasty, a single vampire dispatching all the remaining humans, ripping out their throats like an animal and breaking their necks as if they were paper dolls. Those kind of shows invariably got the best ratings.
Yet there was an unconscionable gap between doing nothing, letting the system run it course, and intervening. He didn’t know exactly what was in this strange girl’s blood, but it was no cordial, of that he was sure. He told himself, rationally and exasperatedly, that the result of not acting was equal to acting, that standing by while she was slaughtered by an unjust system was the same amount of murder as poisoning the vampire set against her. But despite this elegant justification, there was no escaping the fact that it did not feel the same to be the hand that poured the poison, it did not feel as if it were right for him to decide who lived and who died.
Even so, he did as he promised, dutifully taking away the cups from her cell and bringing them to her opponent in their deceptive plastic bags. It was as if, having set himself on a disastrous course, he could not bring himself to give it up now, no matter how much deeper in lies and destruction he went. His mind was made up, and if it took the life of one vampire or a thousand, it was too late now to make a difference.
He looked for Mykal in his mind, willed him to be there, wishing him to help. Even if he had no idea what was happening, could not imagine what his lover might be up to, Luca longed for him to understand, to sympathize from that unspoken place of wordless devotion. Yet he seemed more absent now than ever. Luca had not heard much from him since the morning of the Ithscan attack, when Mykal had left in a rush. All he’d gotten was a few messages, cryptic and brief: I just need to figure some things out. I’m going through some stuff. I just need a little space. The worst part was that his matra supply was running dry. Luca didn’t like the idea of trying to find himself a dealer. Matra was technically legal in New Gamen, but it didn’t stop the police from catching humans on other, related violations. He realized he relied on Mykal now in more capacities than one.
It was helpful that the girl’s opponent was not particularly talkative. He could bring the tray without worry that she would question him or meet his eyes. It was not helpful that she turned out to be female, a slight vampire with blond hair, and her only crime was embezzlement. They must have promised her a soft match for her to risk the arena with a white collar crime like that. Then again, all the matches were relatively soft for vampires. If Iona blood did what she seemed to think it would do, the vampire had no idea what was coming.
***
To Iona, the sphere was incredible. As Luca had explained, it flared blindingly when first opened, resolving itself into a rotating display of deadwire characters that was certainly a beautiful design, if wholly impractical. She let the awe wash over her for a moment, the lights flickering across the inside of her makeshift blanket tent like a campfire.
“Dimmer.”
She experimented with a few other commands, trying to align the characters into something more useable. Eventually she landed on the proper directions. The lights flickered once, then went out, as a square projection above the center of the sphere took their place, the same characters now ordered like a dictionary, with their common translations attached. As she scrolled through them, Iona couldn’t help but admire the quick response and the simple usability of the interface. The machine itself was a work of art, each piece sliding and turning so smoothly, and the built-in hover field was a a clever way to prevent damage. If the inside was a bit disappointing, wires and chips fit with more utility than elegance, it felt begrudging to complain. There was even somehow space for a cord jack, a significant piece of information of which she made a mental note. If there was a port, that meant characters and programs could be exported
After looking through the sphere menu and the pictures on the camera, she suspected Luca’s problem was not so much that he couldn’t understand the deadwire but that he couldn’t understand the basic FreeNet programming it translated into. Then again, she was always surprised to recognize how many people used technology every night without knowing a single thing about it. They went through life as if the rules of technology were like physics, or the laws of god, eternal and unchangeable and outside of themselves. When, heaven forbid, their spores stopped working, they reacted like primitives, hitting the screens and swearing at their bad luck. They treated computer repairmen like shamans, admiring but suspicious of their power, as if they could see into their souls. Which, she supposed, was a bit fair. Though she didn’t make a habit of it, she had certainly read through a few private messages in her time.
Seeing that all the basic system requirements appeared to be met by the sphere, Iona thought the solution to Luca’s problem might be deceptively simple, almost insulting really, considering the mythos of the Guild. They were said to be unhackable. Then again, perhaps they had been a bit careless, gotten overconfident, with their physical barriers and their secret language. Even such an inexpert attack as the one she was contemplating would be impossible to anyone else, since no one else in history possessed the the crucial information now laid before her. It was also her only option. Anything more sophisticated would require more knowledge of the system, knowledge she couldn’t get without first having access to it. A dictionary attack would have to do.
Picking up the digital camera, she bypassed the pictures of the screen, looking instead at what she could see of the terminal itself. There. By zooming in on the area between the screen and the keyboard she could make out a dark blur. Though it was not perfectly clear, she felt sure in gut that it was a port. Turning back to the sphere itself, she tried another command.
“Input interface display.”
A holographic keyboard appeared, the keys imbued with the deadwire programming characters. Oh yes, this would do. Cracking her fingers, feeling purposeful, excited even, for the first time in what felt like a long while, she got to work.
***
It took Iona the better part of the night and well into the day, and even then she had only worked out the framework of what she was after, but it was a start. She needed to double check a few things, add some alternative scripts in case some of the segments were not compatible. There was also the matter of the content, the password combinations that the program would need to test, but she would worry about that later. It wasn’t her most elegant work, but these were far from ideal circumstances.
Leaving her materials under the blanket, Iona emerged from her tent behind the bed, stretching and blinking her eyes against the light. She retrieved a scrap of paper and a pencil stub and scrawled a note for Luca, just finishing as a wave of sleep hit her.
***
“So you need what kind of cord?”
“I think an HX5, but you’ll have to check the terminal to be sure.”
“Ok...and you’re going to do what exactly?”
“You’re going to plug the sphere into the terminal. Then I’m going to tell you the commands to execute a program I’m writing. It will use the deadwire characters and run likely combinations of passwords. Since you said it times out after a certain number of tries, it might take a while. If you just leave the sphere plugged in, it will keep trying until the timeout, wait, and try again.”
“And you’re sure this won’t...trigger an alarm or something.”
&nbs
p; There was a beat.
“...no. In all honesty, I’m not. But I have a feeling that, considering all the other safeguards, the Guild will have gotten a bit...careless.”
“So you’re saying that we’re relying on one of the most powerful and secretive organization in the country to have gotten lazy?”
“Yes. But you’d be surprised how often that can happen. I’m a hacker, I see it all the time. People who should really know better using ‘password’ or ‘1234.’ It’s possible.”
“It’s possible. Great. That’s excellent.”
“If you really need this, whatever this is, it’s the best we’re going to get.”
Another beat, Luca’s this time.
“Alright. When will it be ready?”
“Tomorrow night, hopefully, or possibly the night after.”
“That only leaves us two nights until your match.”
Two nights. Or less. Iona felt something rising inside her, threatening to drown her where she stood. She had been distracted, reveling in the code, in not thinking.
“How does she...how is my opponent?”
“She doesn’t look great. I don’t know if it’s my imagination or not, but she seems kind of pale and tired. I’m not sure if it will be enough.”
She nodded.
“Oh, also you have a visitor.”
“A visitor?”
Her heart leapt in her throat. She’d been putting off thoughts of Kaius, trying hard to focus on anything else.
“It’s on your paper display. The guards should be around to get everyone in about an hour, so make sure everything’s...tidied.”
She nodded to indicate she understood.
“Three more nights.”
“Three more.”
***
The last person Iona had expected to see in a place like this was Lux. Yet here she was, looking strangely at home in the bare, concrete visiting area. Even here she looked like a queen, pristine in her cream velvet blouse and fur capelet. She smiled as Iona approached, a wan expression.
“Iona, you look...well.”
“That may be the first time I’ve heard you say that.”
“Well. End times and all.”
They laughed, with more feeling than they might have under different circumstances.
“How have they been treating you in here?”
“As well as can be expected I guess.”
“And your...match? Do you have any information about it?”
“I’m fighting a vampire. In single combat.”
Lux nodded several times, clearly trying to look unaffected, but Iona noticed her twisting the end of her capelet. Fur began to shed from it in a haze of dandruff.
“Lux, it’s alright.”
“Iona, I’m so sorry. I feel responsible. If I’d helped you more, if I’d seen what that vampire was,” she trailed off, then shook her head emphatically. “I should never have left you on your own like that.”
“Believe me, no one could have known what kind of monster Sylton was.”
“But I was jealous. I was jealous that you were giver to the Queen, and you barely even cared, and...I’m just so sorry. I wish I’d done things differently, I wish there were still something I could do.”
Iona took a deep breath, a sound escaping her that bordered on a sob. “You didn’t do this to me. It’s not a crime to be jealous. Sylton and the Progressives did it. Look, Lux, I will live or—well, either way, just know that we are even. All you have ever done is be honest with me, and that’s more than most.”
There was a moment of silence, punctuated by sniffling. Iona cleared her throat. “But if it would ease your conscience, or if you would consider it as a favor, there is something that I would like someone to do.”
“Of course, name it.”
“It’s about Jedrick.”
“The boy from your village? The one who died?”
“Yes, well, I’m not as sure about that anymore. Or at least not sure it happened the way I assumed.”
“You mean he didn’t die of illness?”
“I thought so, but I wasn’t there. I was hiding in the woods like a coward. That’s where I was when—that’s why the Progressives caught me. I started spending a lot of time out there before he died and after. I couldn’t face it anymore. But something Sylton said when he attacked me, makes me think Jedrick was inside the Progressive compound somehow. I’m not sure, but I think maybe he’s alive.”
“Iona, I don’t want to upset you, but you know just because he was there way back then doesn’t mean he isn’t dead now.”
“I know that, I know. But I just need someone to try. I just need his fate to be known at least.”
“ And if he is alive? What do you want me to say to him?”
“I don’t even know. I’m not sure I want you to say anything. Sorry doesn’t seem to be enough. Maybe just check in on him? I have money I’ve left you in my will, you could use that in case he needs help.”
Lux nodded, tears rolling down her porcelain cheeks in a way that somehow made her more beautiful. Iona was sure she looked a mess.
“I’ll do what I can.”
“Thank you. And Lux? Thank you for being my friend.”
Under the table, where the guard couldn’t see, Iona squeezed her hand. It was cool and soft in a way that was refreshingly human.
***
It took Luca an inordinate amount of time at the store to settle on a cord, or rather, several possible cords, that Iona might be able to use. Finally giving up, he bought them all, reasoning that he could return the ones that didn’t work. Worst case scenario, he would hopefully be coming into some money soon.
Coming back to his apartment, he quite literally ran into Mykal in the hall. Luca almost didn’t recognize him. He’d gotten a haircut, his normally shaggy locks now short, that lovely wavy hair Luca had loved to run his hands through now straight and slicked down to one side. He looked funny and uptight, like a banker.
There was something more than the hair that struck him, though, a difference to his posture, his aura, that Luca couldn’t put a finger on
“Oh...hi. Nice haircut.”
“Thanks. Sorry, I know it’s been a while.”
“Yeah, I was getting worried about you.”
“I’ve just been, you know, going through some stuff.”
“Yeah, you said that. What kind of stuff?”
“Uh, just, you know...could we actually, maybe, go inside?”
“Oh, right. Sure.”
They were still several feet from his apartment door, with Mykal blocking the way, his shoulders taking up half the hall. There was an awkward exchange as they tried to navigate who would move back and who would go forward. Luca hated how polite they were being. It was like they hardly knew each other. Part of him hoped Mykal would laugh in his face, mock him, sweep him into a kiss. But instead he gave a tight smile, bowing as he moved out of the way. Luca wanted to punch him in the face.
“Here you go.”
He found himself embarrassed by the mess, though it was no more than Mykal had seen before. Clearing off the couch, he motioned for him to sit, but he remained standing.
“I actually just came to get my...you know, some of my stuff.”
“Are you kidding me? You basically live here. Then I don’t hear from you in almost a week, and you show up just to get your stuff?”
“I need it, I’m kind of...moving.”
“You’re what? Moving where? You found a place?”
“Yeah, sort of. I’ve been staying at my parents’ actually. We worked a few things out. But now I’m moving again. I’m...yeah.”
“Alright. Well. Good for you, I guess? Thanks for...letting me know?”
“Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t-this is all coming out wrong.”
A simmering fury that had started when he saw Mykal rose in him, fury at Mykal for being like this, fury at himself for not seeing it coming.
“Yeah, I would say it is. Look, I’m happy
for you that you’re getting your shit together. I mean, Dieda knows it’s about time, but this is the way you thought you would tell me? Just show up and ask for your stuff? What is happening with you? If this is how you start acting like an adult, you’re gonna need to try a little harder.”
“That’s not what…I wasn’t trying to do it like this! Can I just...can I just have my stuff? Please?”
“Sure, take it. Here you go, here are some clothes, have these shitty boots, might as well take this magazine you bought last week, wouldn’t want you to think I’m stealing from you or something.”
It was a low blow, and he knew it, but he couldn’t think past the red in his vision. Who did Mykal think he was? He thought he could just crash here for however long, grace Luca with his presence until he got bored, and then move on with his life and forget the impoverished, drugged out blip that poor little Luca had been?
Noticing the bong and packet of matra on the desk, Luca remembered reluctantly they did not belong to him either.
“I guess you’ll be...wanting these too?”
“Oh, no. That’s alright, thanks. Keep them.”
Mykal backed away a bit hastily. Looking at him again, Luca realized finally what was different. Now that he saw it, it was obvious: he was sober. All traces of matra were gone from the scent of his clothes, his usual haze—drooping eyelids and a lazy smile—replaced by a presence that was more anxious but more real, like a live wire buzzing beneath his skin.
Luca wanted to be happy for him. But something about seeing how he’d changed, gotten on with his life without saying a word, all the while Luca was wondering and worrying after him, made him suddenly sad. Maybe it was wrong, but he mourned the person Mykal had been. And perhaps he mourned a bit for himself. He felt the anger wash out of him
“Well, thanks for this, I’ll...get out of your hair.”
Luca looked at the floor, unable to speak. There was much he wanted to say, but in the rush of emotions he didn’t trust himself. And anyway, what was the point? Clarity? Closure? It was plain to see that what had done, whatever it had been, was for the better for one of them at least.