Dysphoria: Rise (Hymn of the Multiverse 6)

by Terra Whiteman

  We kept sneaking looks at Qaira—at least all the guardians did—but he kept his gaze steeled to the attica cast as Leid and Adrial prepared for our briefing. I wanted to know if he was okay and what had happened during his time with the Framers, though he hadn’t said anything since he’d returned. He had arrived back in Exo’daius at the center of the portal system, his uniform reduced to a little more than rags. We had helped him to his room to bathe and change. He had vehemently denied help, but we ignored him. Qaira had also denied needing food but his plate was empty when we retrieved it, his room hazy with malay smoke.

  Now he stood sentry at the table, his expression was typical Qaira; a thin frown and an apathetic (yet steady, always steady) stare. I figured he was waiting to share what he could with all of us here.

  The cast was a split-screen projection of the Avadaran Niaphali system and a vaguely filled out alpha-Insipian Halon IV system, which Leid must have updated before holding the briefing. We could see Exo’daius on the map, and it was sobering to realize this place, along with its surrounding environment, was no more special than any world we’d come to know prior.

  Each new discovery took the magic out of things—although every scholar understood that magic was merely science left unexplained. Still, even I wished for magic sometimes.

  The briefing’s purpose was simple: each of us knew different parts of the story. It was time to bring them all together to make a unified, cohesive theory, which would hopefully lead to a logical course of action. Hopefully.

  “Ten thousand Exodian years ago,” began Leid, “Halcyon was constructed by the Framers and their Rhazekan guardians, the Proxies. How or why they chose that location is unknown. It is also unknown as to whether the Proxies had lived on Philo with Framers, or if the Framers had taken their guardians to Halcyon. Judging by the murals captured by Zira’s team, the Framers must have at least explored Philo and recruited their guardians from the Rhazekan home planet.”

  “So why did they torch the place?” asked Qaira.

  “They didn’t,” said Leid. “The Framers expired and turned on their guardians. The surviving Proxies, in turn, started destroying everything in their wake. Philo included.”

  Qaira lifted a brow. “That’s a pointless form of revenge. The Rhazekan had nothing to do with the Framers.”

  “We don’t know that. We also don’t know if there were other Framers still living on Philo at the time.” At Qaira’s incredulity, Leid sighed. “You’ve met a proxy. Was she a reasonable being?”

  Qaira shrugged. “If they attacked Philo then that must have meant more Framers lived there.”

  Leid nodded. “We’ll run with that theory, since it’s the soundest.” A second thread-cast materialized beside the other. Leid noted our conclusions into the data-log.

  Meeting minutes, bullet-points and all.

  “So what of the Fehe’zin?” I asked. “They were also guardians of Framers. Does that mean multiple groups of Framers created guardians of different species all across Avadara?”

  “And why?” added Aela.

  “It appears as such,” said Adrial, stroking his chin. “As to why, I don’t know. Perhaps they were unable to procreate in Avadara, and guardian-conversion was the only way to continue their line.”

  Leid added Adrial’s rationale to the meeting minutes. “The Fehe’zin and other Framer-constituents can be pondered on later.” That was her polite way of saying stay on course. “If the Framers were once ambivalent towards us, what changed?”

  “They were never ambivalent toward us,” said Qaira. “There was a dissenting faction that moved into Avadara after they created it. The majority of the Framer civilization stayed behind, obeying their Codemaker’s Law.”

  Leid raised her brows in inquiry. “Why create a universe if you don’t intend to inhabit it?”

  “Research purposes, I assume.” Qaira nodded in my direction. “Sort of like the Celestial Contest. Or perhaps they were bored. I don’t remember; Sarine talked a lot.”

  “That was kind of an important thing to pay attention to,” snapped Zira.

  Qaira shot him a look, saying nothing.

  “What was the difference between the dissenting Framers and the obliging Framers?” asked Pariah.

  “Come again?” asked Qaira.

  “Why did the Framers who left their home universe expire?” he elaborated. “Obviously something is different, or else the Insipian Framers would have expired by now, too.”

  “The Codemaker added some kind of programming into Avadara,” said Qaira, evidently struggling with this concept. “Or maybe into the dissenters themselves. Once they crossed and stayed there for a certain amount of time, a self-destruct sequence was initiated. The Codebreaker cypher, Sarine called it.”

  I was taken back to Akkaroz, at the time of Leid’s expiration.

  Initiating Codebreaker sequence, she had said with those empty, clouded-over eyes. Yes, it all made sense now. That sequence had been a form of damage control. Eventually the dissenters and any trace of their legacy would implode.

  “Apparently the cypher doesn’t run indefinitely,” said Adrial. “Or else Leid wouldn’t have ever made it back.”

  “Something else must happen after the cypher runs its course,” added Zira. “Something that brings us closer to the… source.”

  We all looked at him, expectantly.

  Zira pointed at Leid. “Look at her eyes, and look at what she can do. Whatever transformation takes place raises us another step up the ladder, closer to Framer physiology.”

  “Except stronger,” said Qaira. “Because Leid can frame in every universe, not just Insipia.”

  “All of this was intended,” said Pariah, seemingly to himself, as if he’d come to some sudden revelation. “The Fehe’zin thought they were protected in Halcyon, called to it by the relic. It’s no coincidence that the relic shattered the moment Arigul was… sacrificed.”

  Sacrificed. Whatever power had been housed in Halcyon needed something equally as strong to release it. Halcyon had been a pen, the Fehe’zin its cattle, awaiting slaughter. Exodian resonance of any form had been the key to that lock.

  And with that thought, the last puzzle piece slid into place. “Oraniquitis must have been among the ones who created Halcyon,” I declared. “She intended to go back, housed in Qaira, to give him that power and knowledge.”

  Everyone fell silent, reflecting on that.

  “So why Leid, then?” asked Aela.

  “Better her than me,” muttered Qaira.

  “Why did the Proxy relic choose Leid instead of anyone else?” she elaborated when everyone else failed to respond.

  “She’s the only one of us not bound by that Codebreaker sequence,” said Adrial, glancing at Leid. “Judging by Oran’s methodical planning and foresight, it appears the Proxies were not bound by it, either. They weren’t insane from expiration.”

  “Only loss,” murmured Leid, her eyes cast to the table, remiss. “Stronger or not, there are ten million registered Framers in the Halon Supercluster alone. My abilities mean nothing against that many. If and when they come again, they will have much better defenses. Our novelty has worn off. They know what to expect now.”

  “How long will your shield hold?” asked Qaira.

  “Not long,” said Leid, shaking her head. She was able to restore the proxy shield that had enveloped Enigmus’s island. Tiny strings of script scrolled in red iridescence along its boundaries. “They already know where we are. I’m just cloaking our activity.”

  “Where to next, then?” asked Adrial.

  “Good question, and I expect an answer in no more than a day,” said Leid. “Everyone except for Qaira and Yahweh are to direct all of their attention to finding a suitable sanctuary in the Multiverse. It can’t be inhabited, but must suit our basic needs. More importantly, it must be remote. The further away we are from detection, the longer we have to prepare.”

  Prepare for what?

  Did Leid actually plan to
enter war with the Framers? No, that was far too rash for her; without a doubt there was another card up her sleeve.

  “And what are you having us do?” inquired Qaira, a lascivious grin lifting one side of his mouth. Of course he enjoyed the thought of war. Why wouldn’t he?

  “You and Yahweh are to work on finding a way to integrate grid data with attica. We will also need to develop new methods of defense against the Framers.” Leid’s eyes slid to Sapphire’s vacant seat. “She was one of our oldest and strongest, which means none of you hold a candle to them as it stands. Even without their full abilities, they’re about on par with a noble.”

  “Can’t you just frame them to be weaker?” asked Zira.

  “I’m unable to alter people. I wouldn’t do that anyway. Ethically we are better than that, aren’t we?”

  “Fuck ethics,” spat Qaira. “They don’t deserve our mercy, not after what they’ve done. If you could frame them out of existence the moment they crossed into the Multiverse, we wouldn’t have to waste time on other measures.”

  Leid stared at Qaira, frowning at his short-sightedness. “You forget what we are. The goal is not to hide in the Multiverse; it’s to be able to explore alpha-Insipia. This is our home. We will not be driven out of it permanently.”

  “Amen,” said Adrial. “Leid has offered the Framer Authority a truce. If they decline, we will force them into a truce by any means necessary. That requires us to have access into Exo’daius.”

  “They could seal the tear at any moment,” I said.

  “They can’t,” said Aela. “Not with Leid around.”

  I kept forgetting about her new abilities. In fact I wasn’t quite sure of what all she was capable of anymore. No one was, not even Leid herself. That would be the fun part, figuring all of this out. Despite the constant threat of imminent death, I found myself somewhat excited for the task she’d assigned me. “When do we leave Enigmus?”

  “As soon as we can find another place of residence. No more than a day, as I’ve said.” Leid bowed her head. “The Court is adjourned. I’d start packing now, if I were you.”

  *

  Packing would be easy for everyone except me. All of my ingredients and tinctures would take over a dozen satchels to clean out. That was impossible—or, at least more labor intensive than anyone was willing to put up with—so now I had to figure out which items I could live without.

  Nothing. I couldn’t live without any of them.

  With a hopeless sigh I sank into the seat at my desk, mulling over what to toss. It wasn’t long before the pharmacy doorway flickered, and I turned toward the sudden shift in scenery.

  Ah, Zira. Not even back for a couple of hours and already looking for a fix. “If you want your usual, you’re going to have to take my entire month’s stock. I’m liquidating all the compounds.”

  Zira shifted uneasily, averting my stare as usual. “I’ll take it, but I was looking for something else.”

  I tilted my head. “Oh? And what would that be?”

  “Something…” He hesitated, struggling to finish. “Something to lighten my mood.”

  With a subtle nod I left my desk and combed through my stock. Veesa Athularium would do the trick. It was from a plant found in the Arvos System that secreted an anti-depressant like chemical that promoted a certain feel-good neurotransmitter. I’d extracted and concentrated the chemical. It had taken a year of work to perfect the dosage, but Adrial had been a very cooperative patient despite a few minor setbacks.

  I selected the tincture. “How much do you need?”

  Zira shrugged. “A few weeks’ worth, perhaps.”

  “It’s none of my business,” I began, pouring the stock into individual vials at my bench, “but if this is about Sapphire, you shouldn’t avoid mourning. It’s a necessary process.”

  “You’re right, it is none of your business,” said Zira, coolly. “And it’s not just about Sapphire. Thanks for your concern, though.”

  I shrugged, bringing him the vials in a small satchel. I gave him the stimulant stock in one satchel and a dosage dropper in another. “Please don’t combine these. It could induce mania, which nobody needs.”

  Zira nodded, reaching for the satchels. I held firmly to them.

  “I’m not handing these over until you look at me,” I said.

  Surprised, Zira did. He said nothing, however, looking at me as if I’d smacked him across the face.

  “I’m not Ixiah. I didn’t make his mistakes, and I don’t deserve to be stained with them because of how I look. Obviously you aren’t mourning properly, because you still haven’t gotten over—”

  I was cut short when Zira shoved me into the wall, holding me there with a firm hand against my shoulder. It wasn’t violent, just forceful, and he leaned in so that our faces were inches apart.

  “Alright,” he said, quietly, “I’m looking at you. Now what?”

  It was my turn to be silent, shocked by what had just happened.

  My hesitation made him grin. “You don’t even know what you want, do you? You think any of this is about Ixiah?” Then, Zira released me and snatched the satchels out of my hands. He didn’t look back when he vacated the pharmacy.

  I was left staring after him, rubbing my shoulder absent-mindedly. It wasn’t until minutes later that I realized what Zira had meant. Oh.

  Well, now I felt very stupid.

  XIV

  VALEDICTION OF A CAGED EXISTENCE

  Qaira Eltruan—;

  AS THE OTHER SCHOLARS LEFT TO our new refuge, Adrial, Leid and I surveyed Enigmus from the hill overlooking both its courtyard and the Khel’Hanna Scar. A sudden flash of memories came to me

  —staggering down the hill toward the gated yard, injured beyond repair, as Zira and Ixiah looked up from a game they were playing—

  The shock that had been displayed in their eyes was amusing now, not so much then.

  “This is a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” asked Adrial, evidently pained by the thought of what would happen next. I could empathize, but would never admit it.

  “We can’t leave anything behind,” said Leid, near-whisper. “They can’t know anything about us.”

  Adrial sucked on his malay cigarette, sullen. “I’ll meet you all later, then.”

  He flicked the cigarette down the hill and headed for the Scar. I watched it roll away in a ribbon of purple smoke. Leid was remiss, gazing over the obsidian spires, reluctant to proceed.

  “We’ll make a better one,” I encouraged. “One that’s completely ours and doesn’t reek of centuries-long subjugation.”

  Leid closed her eyes, trying to imagine that. She smiled, exhaling. “I love you.”

  I responded by kissing the top of her head. She smelled of lavender. Always lavender. “I’ll wait for you at the portal. Let’s get this show on the road.”

  Her eyes lifted to the sky and she raised her hands as I followed after Adrial. I didn’t look back as the demolition began. Its thunder cracked across the sky like a war-cry of a new era.

  Music to my ears.

  O

  EPILOGUE

  Regalis Sarine-376—;

  CODEMAKER SEQUENCE ACTIVATED…

  RETRIEVING DATA…

  TRANSFERENCE INITIATED…

  NEUROTRANSFERENCE COMPLETE.

  WELCOME BACK, REGALIS SARINE-376.

  Oh, that savage, impetuous woman.

  I’d see her dead, if it was the last thing that I did.

  *

  THE CROWD OF REGALS AND MEMBERS OF Authority all hushed as I entered the room. A few of them quietly asked how I was as I moved into position around the smooth, oval table. Normally it was only a dozen or so Regals present for non-conforming events, however word of a cross-breed capable of placing three Framers into stasis had attracted some attention. Now the room was teeming with Regals, some not even from the Halon IV system at all.

  I didn’t respond to the disingenuous questions about my well-being. None of them actually cared, more inter
ested in speaking with a Framer who had suffered a true death for the first time in six millennia. Oddly, some of them had a glimmer of envy in their eyes. Having your neck broken was nothing to be envious about. I still had a headache from the neurotransference chamber. I wanted my old carapace back; I hadn’t been conscious to choose this one.

  The theme tonight was ocean fauna, and aquatic cephalopods, sponges and other nonsense flitted and floated around us distractingly. The walls shimmered gold and aquamarine, symbolizing the colors of most oceans on the habitable worlds across Halon IV.

  “Sarine,” greeted Genozophi-155, trying his best to appear solemn, “I’m so sorry to hear about Lelain and Lassiter. Luckily you were retrievable.”

  My partners weren’t so lucky. No one would dare fetch them out of Simulation-1 for a transfer. I didn’t blame them. Still, the thought of their permanent absence made my chest tighten. It was very uncomfortable. “Thank you. What has Authority discovered while I was in stasis?”

  “Exo’daius went dark after Lelain and Lassiter were severed from the grid. Yesterday we were able to pick them up on the obelisks again and sent a team of shells into their territory.” Genzophi activated the grid-cast for everyone to see. It showed piles of obsidian rubble and a few still-standing, screw-like pillars amid a yellow field. “It appears they destroyed everything and left, Regalis.”

  “Has the grid picked up anything in the Sims?” I asked.

  Genzophi shook his head. “No, they’ve figured out how to cloak their activity.”

  “Shatter-star,” I cursed under my breath, yet still audibly enough for those closest to me to hear. “Did you have the shells survey the wreckage?”

  “For what?” inquired Adon.

  “For anything,” I said, more than irritated by their ignorance. Authority had little knowledge of the Insipian Qualification Directive. They had never managed it without me, and I was willing to bet no one had even read the operating procedure for the Breach ephemeris. “Bring the shells back out and analyze everything. I want every piece of rubble searched.”