“I believe I’m ready to die,” he answered flatly.
“You can’t die,” she said. “We need you.”
“You’re wrong,” Erik replied. “If you believe that, then you still don’t understand me. This is all amusement… there is no purpose here.”
“Erik, you’re our leader.”
“I’m not a leader. I’m a figurehead. I don’t give orders, you don’t consult me. You take orders when I’m here, but that’s almost never. I put you in charge for a reason.”
“You changed me,” she responded. “You told me the truth about this world.”
“There is no truth, that’s what I told you,” he said to her. “It wasn’t a riddle, it wasn’t a paradox. You’re just like Argus. You think this is all ultimately for a good cause - or something like that. Don’t you?”
“Isn’t it?”
“No. But it doesn’t matter. If I really believe what I’m saying, then I don’t care what you believe. It doesn’t bother me that we philosophically disagree. You are the only person capable of carrying on these operations that I am willing to trust at the moment.”
“What about Morgan?”
“Too obedient,” Erik said. “She needs to take orders, needs approval, and craves respect. Argus doesn’t trust me. I suspect he may end up on the other side. He’s not enough of an extremist - I sense an impending ricochet of character in him. Pixel… well…”
“I can’t replace you, I don’t even know what you do, precisely,” she replied, sounding somewhat anxious at this unexpected request.
“I do whatever it takes to break as many of them as possible,” Erik answered. “Knock down their towers. You will have all of my resources. Morgan will be as loyal to you as she was to me, and you know about the network. Do whatever it takes. I can’t tell you my strategy because I don’t have one. I let reaction take me where I want to go.”
“What are you going to do in New Mecca?” she asked, changing the subject - seemingly on purpose, as her discomfort levels had visibly increased.
“I’m aware, as I’m sure you are, of the hypocrisy of my disposition. Argus has been pointing it out to me more frequently lately. I believe that the only validation for my philosophy would be my own death. To continue alive as such, while supporting the ideas that I support, would only further degrade my identity. It is time to be a martyr for that which I love most, the only thing I love. I will die ruining this world.”
“But--”
“Do not try to talk me out of it,” Erik said. “One thing that our religious reflections have in common with us is a passion for martyrdom. I will make the rest of our conversation short. I am going to kill no one in New Mecca once I arrive - at least no more than is necessary to achieve my goal. In Cleveland I am picking up a large stockade of LSD, a chemical which is reported, according to our affiliates at the outpost, to drive those who ingest massively large doses of it permanently insane.”
“Why don’t you just kill them?” Shiloh asked.
“Because that is not a goal worthy of my death,” he replied. “Whether you take my advice or not is none of my concern - I trust that either way, you will continue to tear down the towers of ego this theocratic renaissance has inspired. But I believe I have been going about things the wrong way. By killing our enemies, we only give them further reason to be afraid, to shore up the defenses. Perhaps we strengthen them with each blow. But to drive them mad, and let them live… who knows what kind of effects that might have on the future history. Imagine permanent chaos… one that spirals outward, infecting all those who see it. If the operation is successful, as I’m sure you will be waiting for news of it, then I suggest you try similar operations in other cities in the IAE. And I also suggest that you use higher and higher doses. Scar the mind of this world forever, Shiloh. Our contacts in Cleveland have assured me they can synthesize this chemical repeatedly, ad infinitum.”
She only stared at him, saying nothing, letting his words sink in. He stared back, memorizing her face, knowing it would be the last time he would ever see it.
“I’m leaving Morgan, Pixel and Argus here,” he said. “Watch Argus, he is a ticking time bomb. Tell Morgan and Pixel of my plans. They will be very valuable assets to you. I do not wish for them to die with me, and to be honest, I believe it will be easier for me to pull this off without their help. The chemistry as of late has been… toxic.”
“So this is it?” she replied. “This is the end of you?”
“Just the beginning of the end,” said Erik, and with that he turned and exited, hesitating for not even a moment; his pilgrimage to New Mecca resumed, now solo.
4. Jihad
The “Holy City” was unlike anything he could have ever imagined. Hanging high in the sky was a crescent moon, perfect for the occasion. It rose horizontally across a large, circular opening in the center of the city, around which were symmetrical towers that lined four enormous triangular city blocks, compromising the entirety of the IAE-proclaimed "center of the world." Roads circled around and through the design, but none intersected the circle itself, above which the brilliant moon rose, reflecting the light of the sun onto the darkened city.
Erik had seen photographs of New York. That was what this place had once been called. It looked nothing like it now. Unlike most of the cities scattered amongst the wasteland, even Vegas, the third largest city in the IAE fold - all of the buildings here were very new. What once existed had been razed to the ground, and this brilliant homage to Allah was erected by the Neo-Muslim conquerors who annexed this continent shortly after the “World War III” nuclear cataclysm.
Its many towers stood tall, scraping the sky, their walls made of large panels of reflective glass, absorbing solar energy to power the city cleanly and infinitely, free of charge. The difference between the Neo-Muslims and their predecessors - the key component that had allowed them to take over most of the world - was their willingness to embrace futurism and technology, and to do away with the archaism that had held back their predecessors. Combined with an arduous Islamic sense of empiricism, it had been inevitable that they would conquer. The pathetic Christian West, weak in its beliefs and lax in its discipline, stood no chance. Neither did the few atheists that bothered to resist. The Catholic Church had officially collapsed years beforehand, with only small, cult-like splinter contingencies still in existence. The timing was perfect - divine, the invaders claimed.
The Neo-Muslims took over the large, chaotic North American continent first, and then expanded into South America. Smarter than their elders, these new children of Allah knew that by forcing all to convert to Islam or slavery, only further war would be enacted, and resistance eventually cost a hefty price to those who resisted. A simple tax was enforced instead, allowing each religion or religious community to form its own Islamic-American Empire protected state. Many of the “mainstream” Christians, fractured and traumatized by the Muslim takeover, but too terrified to resist (for the most part), took to Central America. All those who did not proclaim to believe in one universal God were executed on the spot.
The IAE eventually annexed Central America territory by territory before expanding into South America, conquering that continent as well. Technology of the kind Shiloh presented to Erik in the City of Maximums was usually only found in major cities, like New Mecca, or IAE military installations. The factional states were not granted access, but the official IAE states - all of the major cities on the North American continent - enjoyed the benefits of modernity in extremis.
Getting to New Mecca had not been easy. The weather on the path to Cleveland was awful, and Erik had come down with the flu a week before he made it to the Negatives outpost. Once he had arrived, on the verge of death, he was slowly nursed back to health over the course of two seemingly endless weeks. During these long days, he dreamt strange nightmares, and would often wake up shrieking deliriously - at least that’s what comrade Elronde told him, as his sole ward during those strange episodes. Elronde Dalmati was t
he head of the Cleveland Negatives outpost in Erik’s absence (and this was the first time he had ever been there).
Morgan and Pixel had arrived as well, although Argus did not come with them. Once Erik had regained lucidity and finally started to overcome his illness, Morgan informed him that both she and Pixel would be honored to die at his side. Now that Argus was no longer amongst them and undermining Erik’s authority, the toxic tension that had been building before had departed. He told them that they could come to New Mecca, if they so desired. During his recovery, he formulated the specifics of the plan. It was suggested by Morgan that they might escape and not have to die once the initial chaos had started. Erik told both her and Pixel that they were free to do as they wished, but he had no intention of leaving New Mecca alive. Without further disagreement, Morgan dropped the subject.
The plan was thus: Elronde, in the weeks prior to Erik’s arrival in Cleveland, had planted various LSD supplies inside of the different water facilities in the city. Each of the four large blocks of New Mecca had two water purifiers. In these factories, humidity was pulled from the air, as well as ground water from beneath the earth, purified in large vats and then re-routed to the city’s water lines; these were the vats that the Negatives would need to infiltrate. Elronde had informed Erik that they would need to dump vast amounts of LSD into the purifiers - a few simple doses would not suffice; he believed that around sixty gallons of pure, liquid LSD per facility, synthesized to maximum potency by his genius hand, would do the trick. That was four hundred and eighty gallons of liquid LSD that needed to be dumped. Then the chaos would begin, and Erik Silas could finally die.
He had split away from Pixel and Morgan. Elronde had come along for the mission also, as well as four volunteers from the Cleveland outpost. They were each taking one facility, then checking back on each other’s work ad infinitum. The purpose for this was because they expected casualties along the way. Elronde had secured various routes for all of them through the city’s unguarded sewer systems, but once they had actually infiltrated the plants and spread the bizarre contagion, chaos would become a factor, and She didn’t take sides.
The others had already departed. Erik waited for the moment to feel right. He didn’t know why, but pondered the many possibilities for his stalling. Was he was afraid to die? He didn’t think that was it. The suggestion, however, filled him with some strange sensation. The hairs on his arms stood on end, his heart beat erratically. The world around him was vivid and bright, painted with juicy colors. He’d never seen any photographs of New Mecca, and although he’d heard stories of it, this was the first time he’d ever viewed anything quite like it. There was no stench of corruption here; it looked pristine, respected, honored. Ordered.
He turned away from the circle and began to walk back down the west side of the city. The facility he was to poison was in the closer half of this block - Morgan headed to the farther one. He suspected he wouldn’t see her again, or Pixel either, for that matter. She had headed to the far end of the east block of the city. There was a sewer entry way in an unguarded alley a few blocks further that he was supposed to enter through, and then he was to follow directions displayed for him on a GPS data map programmed by Elronde for the mission.
He passed the people in the streets, wondering what they were thinking. Were they praying to Allah, or Jesus? New Mecca housed many Christians as well as Muslims - citizens of various different sects of each. Mormonism was long ago outlawed in the IAE (although it persisted in Mexican territories), but nearly every other denomination had some presence in the capital city. What would happen to those people, once they were thus poisoned? The city was so arrogant in its belief that God has chosen it, so lax in its security. He was expecting far more resistance. Elronde had suggested that the facilities might be somewhat guarded, based upon his surveillance, but almost passively so. Some problems were to be expected, but according to Elronde, these facilities were, up to the location of the purifiers themselves, frequently left completely unguarded. They had been infiltrated multiple times by his own agents in the process of stocking the LSD supplies for the operation inside. They had yet to be detected! If divine providence did exist, then Allah must have wanted New Mecca broken and He must have wanted Erik Silas to do it.
A young woman looked at him, her eyes heavily made-up. She seemed to find him strange as she walked past, but not strange enough to stare. His military fatigues were gone. He had been outfitted and groomed to the latest fashion, as all of them had, in order to fit in more appropriately amongst the citizens, so as not to arouse unnecessary suspicion. He passed a family that regarded him not at all, then a young man who glanced only momentarily. He picked up the pace, heading to the facility. He didn’t know what he’d do once he dumped the drug. Erik didn’t suspect that he’d actually go around, checking on everyone’s work; he had a feeling that after he’d poisoned that purifier, he’d have very little will left in him to do anything else at all.
He reached the alley, headed around into a dark curve at the end, another lane, this one unobservable to the street parallel; at the end, he found a sewer lid, just as Elronde had said he would. Erik reached into his pocket, grabbed the GPS, and headed down. As he descended the ladder, he pondered the oblivious family, the curious female - all soon to be insane. Permanently changed, and radically so. Was it remorse that he felt, or guilt? Those emotions were alien to him; he could not believe that they were his. But something strange and inexplicable was happening. That he might fear his impending ending occurred to him once more, and the thought was, as typically, brushed aside.
The GPS took him to his destination, a vent, already unscrewed and leading into a storage room inside of this purification facility - named officially: Hydro B1. He pushed it aside; it clattered to the floor out of his grasp, dropping down into the room with a loud, metallic crash. He froze for a moment, expecting footsteps to come running or shouts to erupt; there were none. After a moment, he slowly climbed down into the room, and then turned to face his bounty - what Elronde’s selected couriers had been slowly bringing in night after night for months on end: sixty gallons of liquid chaos.
Erik grinned like a fascist.
His eyes gazed around the room, lit by a small fluorescent light in the center of the ceiling which occasionally flickered. The containers were ovular, although flat on bottom, and unscrewed about two-thirds of the way up. There were twenty of them total. It should have taken him no more than fifteen minutes to dump them all. With the end so close to realization, his heart beat impossibly faster.
He praised the arrogance of the religious idiots in the city above him, so carelessly believing themselves safe from his Shaitanic jihad against existence. Las Vegas had taught them nothing, and the other two cities he had dusted contained no lessons for those cretins. He had expected so much more danger, but Allah had opened the path up for him directly, repulsed by His own offspring and wanting them exterminated.
Still grinning, he removed the cap from one of the three gallon containers. Inside floated what looked to him something very similar to water, although slightly off in color, seeming slightly more yellowed. For a moment he thought he could see a rainbow in it, dispersing over his own reflection. The impulse seized him to touch the liquid, to even taste it, not caring for what it did to him, letting his desire make the risk of such a thing irrelevant. Lacking the necessary danger to appease his addiction to risk, he took one of his own, embracing the very chaos that he so worshiped. His finger entered the liquid first; it felt cold, like ice water. His hand was next, diving up to the wrist, and he cupped the cold nectar in his palms, lifted it to his mouth and drank, taking sacrament of chaos. Then, without warning, he was drowning in it.
5. Black
A demon stared at him with purple eyes, violet halos spinning like galaxies around a black hole at the center of his universe, trapped in its gravity, sucking him in. “ERIK!” the creature screamed. He was still grinning like a fascist. Then there were lips; he s
aw skin, rubbery, pink, soft, female; Morgan’s lips. Skin faded from red to pink; vision, watercolor, blurring around the edges, her violet eyes trailing.
He tried to speak, but there was no sound; only vibration and then falling once more into the pit; magnetism pulled him to the center of the earth, sucking his soul like bleak metal to black positive, his own negative the damning natural influence. His skin tingled, yanking from the viscera, splitting his atoms.
He was suddenly running. Behind him he heard footsteps.
Wait. No.
Now he stared at a wall. It moved before him, animated like a sack-full of wriggling worms. He could see the particles of the world accelerating. He put his fingers to the mirage; felt the cold energy entering him through his own cells. It moved from the inside of his lower flesh to his eye, like a spike piercing through. He gazed in wonder as blue-paint blood splattered the wall. Then he was running again.
“NO!” the demon screamed, the halos spinning faster.
She was gone now. He was on the street, lying on his back. A cloud passed overhead, a smiling face. People were jumping over him, shrieking. A voice, he heard it.
“ALLAH! HAVE MERCY!”
He sat up, looked around. A man was cutting himself with a knife, blood flowed freely. He saw Erik, their eyes locked like magnets. The man rushed toward him, the knife held high.
The scene changed. Beside him was Pixel, an angel, her aura - or his - making Erik think of the fluorescent light in the room with the…
“What happened?”
Something…he couldn’t remember…
“What…?” he questioned, confused.
“LSD,” said Pixel, speaking with the voice of a man.
It was black then. It felt black forever.
There was a light; dim, at first. Slowly, shapes began to come into focus. A face appeared, and he recognized it, although he could not say how. The face stared down at him with beautiful eyes, not like the purple halos of that female demon, but still sucking him into their own vacuum.
Strange Violence Page 4