by A W Wang
The last billows detonate, and the remainder of my past burrows into me.
We get married and buy a fixer-upper cottage, and our first few years pass in bliss as we create our business and life together.
The sickness strikes.
My husband takes me on endless trips around the continents in a futile search for a cure.
The man in the black broad-brimmed hat appears outside the bay window and, later, gives me the damn card.
My last memory of the real world is a silvery band encircling my head the moment before I enter the Ten Sigma Program.
The cascade stops, and I float in a gray backdrop.
Once again, I’m me.
The long-forgotten sensation feels comfortable and right.
However, the ordeal isn’t over. Before I get too relaxed, a sheet of fast-moving, smeared glimmers rise from below.
It’s the cube layer.
I shudder.
The almost infinite amount of pinging datums sweep toward me, expanding to fill my view.
Explosions rattle my existence as the giant reservoirs of information burst. The hail of glows engulfs me in a blinding light.
My eyes open, and I suck in a deep breath.
The last vestiges of the ordeal dissipate, and I shiver, remembering my old body and gimpy leg. Even though the new one is superior in every way, the flesh feels alien as if I’m wearing a full-length costume over my old self.
When I search through my memories, the parts of my life—childhood, teenage years, college, and marriage—are all intact.
Even the sickness and my entire existence in the virtual universe are crystal clear.
I frown.
With the last explosion of the cubes, I have no idea of what happened with the data download.
But that’s not important…
The ever-present throbbing inside my head is gone.
I think back to my old gym teacher. Any fear I had toward the man has vanished. The war with the control mechanism is over.
Happy with the result of the endeavor, I give a silent thanks to Suri, who I miss more than anyone from the program.
Slowly, I sit up and study the surroundings as if waking for the first time.
Although the lines are sharper and the air clearer, things are the same.
I rise and head to the bathroom, tugging down the zipper of my uniform and pulling my hand out. As I clean up, my eyes wander to the metal lattice above. I still need to escape the death penalty and find my husband.
But at least I’ll do it as me.
When I return to the bed, the first grays of the new day break through the windows.
I’m not sure what’s coming, but I’m ready to meet it.
Three black knights clank down the hallway and stop at the door. The lead figure slips a folded parchment under the bars, and the group swivels and marches away.
I walk over and pick up the message, watching the retreating forms with suspicion.
After they disappear into an access corridor, I unfold the sheet.
A single word is written in elegant letters.
Tonight.
Thirty-Two
My second trial begins with footsteps disturbing the quiet of the night and a hazy shadow gliding over the reflections on the glossy floor.
Although the form is dim, I recognize the elegant movements belong to Victoria.
She’s alone, approaching with tight lips.
Odd.
“Is there any news on Jonathon?” I ask as she nears.
She stops in front of the bars and replies cryptically, “I’m working on something that will solve everyone’s problems.”
“It’s just that he did nothing wrong.”
Her gray eyes do the strange quiver, and she stares, evaluating me. An uncomfortable moment passes before she says, “You seem different.”
Unsure of what the proper response should be, I remain silent about my victory over the control mechanism.
“I’m afraid I have bad news.”
The hundred things that could have gone wrong with my sentencing rush through my head, and my thoughts again return to escape.
“What?”
“There’s no simple way to say this,” she replies. “It’s about your husband. He passed away a month after you entered the Ten Sigma Program.”
I blink. “That can’t be.”
She produces a yellowed paper and unfolds it. The title is “Death Certificate” and my husband Nick’s name is directly underneath.
“How?” I croak out.
“He died almost fourteen years ago, and the records are spotty from that period.”
“Fourteen?”
“Yes, you entered the program in 2051. It’s 2065 now. You were in there for fourteen years.”
I tremble and grasp at the bars to steady myself. This can’t be true. Not after everything I did to return to the real world. And everything I went through to destroy the last vestiges of the control mechanism and get my memories back.
Bleak emotions, heightened by the restoration of my past, flood into me. My eyes moisten, and broken, uncontrolled words pour from my mouth, “Nick was the most loving person. He invested a lot of time trying to find a cure for my sickness.”
In a soft voice, Victoria says, “I’m sure he was a good man.”
“On the outside, he was always the optimist, but he wasn’t perfect.”
“Few people are.”
I sniffle, meeting her stare. “When Nick and I first met, he partied too much, but he really turned it around when we started dating. He had a lot of silly notions, but you see, I was the common-sense one who kept him grounded. His dreams kept us moving forward. That’s why we were such a great team.
“But inside, he had a dark streak. When I left, I had to make absolutely certain he believed I was dead, so he’d go on with his life. I hope he didn’t do anything reckless…”
Victoria purses her lips, deep in thought.
Silence falls between us as I fight my muddled feelings. I’m the one who should be dead. So many times over. Like…
Like my friends in the virtual world.
“I know you said the records were spotty from back then, but were there any details about how he died?” I ask.
“A lot of terrible things were happening around that time. But I can make more inquiries if that’s what you require.”
Although her expression remains sympathetic, an odd feeling rises from her last words. I flick my eyes over the surroundings, not understanding where the strange sensation is coming from.
Remembering Jonathon’s reservations, I wipe my nose and take a slow breath, trying to control the emotions I should conceal from Victoria. “No, that won’t be necessary. He probably did something foolish or got into some accident.”
“I’m sure he loved you until the end.”
“How could you know that?”
“By what you just said.”
The question of my sister Emily, my niece Darla, and my other relatives forms on my tongue. But instead of asking, I tighten my lips.
Finally, Victoria says, “Grieve later. We have other business to attend to. There is still the matter of saving your life.” She takes a deep breath. “The President is coming.”
After twenty black knights arrive, cold metal clangs, and Victoria pulls the door open.
Although five minutes have passed, I barely have control over my sorrow. Despite my misgivings, I take a breath and step into the freedom of the alcove, wiping my eyes.
The overhead balconies and walkways are empty.
I could try to run, but to where? And for what reason?
My husband is dead.
With my past returned, the emotional toll has hit harder than anything I experienced in the virtual universe.
For better or worse, I’ve got no other choice; I’m committed to being a ten sigma in the here and now.
Victoria assumes a cold veneer. “Remember, everything that happens tonight is for the
good of the nation. On a chessboard, a ten sigma is superior to a queen. You are far too valuable to have your life simply extinguished.”
I return a shallow nod, worried that my voice will break by speaking.
“Please don’t be so downcast. Something good can come out of this crisis,” she says mysteriously.
Not understanding which crisis she’s referring to, I stay silent as the black knights assume formation to either side. In the yellow of the gaslights, the stares poking from behind their masks look more ominous than usual.
I nibble on a nail, fighting to hold things together.
This meeting is for my life.
“We’re still trying to find any others from your family, but a lot of records were lost during that period, so it will take some time.”
“Thanks,” I say, stifling another sniffle and resolving not to volunteer any more information.
She touches my arm. “Mary, what happens now is far more important. Be contrite and, above all, obedient like a ten sigma should be.”
Instead of waiting for an answer, she marches down the passageway.
With taut lips, I follow.
The guards keep pace with ready weapons, staying in a rough circle around us. As their booted steps clack on the floor, their eyes scan in every direction.
At the end of the corridor, we leave the glows of the gaslights and enter the spacious hub, only stopping when we reach the column of moonlight falling from the overhead dome.
While the seconds pass in dead silence, a sense of strangeness creeps up my being.
Footsteps approach from the blackness opposite. The President steps into the dim bluish light with eight of his bodyguards, who are dressed in white with gold trim. Although their uniforms are ceremonial, the eyes of the rather large men are alert and they move with competence.
“Secretary,” he says, nodding to Victoria, “I’m not sure why we are having this meeting. I made my position clear.”
The presidential bodyguards keep their attention focused on me, the biggest threat in the area, as Victoria steps forward. “Mr. President, with all due respect, our ten sigma here presents a great opportunity for us.”
He glances at me. “Why isn’t it manacled?”
“To show you she isn’t dangerous.”
The strange sensation crawls up my shoulders, and I will my body to stay still as the President pinches his chin.
After a moment, he says, “Whatever stunt you think you’re pulling by doing this.” He draws a breath in anger. “We’ve discussed this before. I’m here out of respect for you. But there isn’t anything that will change my mind.”
As Victoria responds, negotiating for my life, the sensation turns into a familiar feeling. With alarm, I realize, the spiders are again dancing on my nape.
I flick my eyes, searching for danger, focusing through the moonlight to the different actors. The President’s guards are tense, while the black knights stand stoically in their positions.
Even though nothing seems out of the ordinary, something is wrong.
One of the guards brings up his weapon.
The black knights react faster and armor-piercing rounds fly.
A heartbeat later, the racket stops, and the eight white-clad bodyguards lie across the floor as shredded heaps of flesh.
With a blood-speckled face, the President stares in horror. “What is the meaning of this?”
Victoria replies in a frosty tone, “This is exactly what it looks like, sir.”
“You’re a traitor.”
A black knight holds out a knife, and Victoria takes the handle. “I’m saving the country. Things aren’t getting any better under you. They’re getting far worse. Your stubbornness has cost us millions of people. Without elections, you’ll be in power until nothing is left.”
“You’ll never—”
Victoria leaps forward and stabs him in the throat.
His eyes widen from shock, and gurgles pour from his mouth as he collapses to the floor.
After his body stops twitching, Victoria leans over a puddle of blood and pulls a wrapping off the hilt of the knife.
She turns to me. “They’ll find your DNA on the murder weapon.”
“Why?”
“Never let a good crisis go to waste,” she says, backing past the circle of black knights.
“I thought you were on my side?”
As she drifts toward the gaslights, her shoulders hunch and her gaze loses focus. In a child-like voice, she replies, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want things to turn out this way, but there was no path to save your life.”
My rage rises and my hands ball. “You’re blaming this on me? What about all your promises?”
“Mary, I never lied to you. I did as I said I would and found your husband. Forgive me, but Victoria the person was the one on your side.” Her eyes do the familiar quiver, and she replies in a cold, calculating tone, “Victoria the stateswoman needs to act in the best interests of the country.”
“You said I was important.”
“And you are. On the global chessboard, there are hundreds of pawns, knights, and bishops moving around. There are even some rooks. But, we are the only nation who has ten sigmas, the only fighters worthy of the rank of queen. You are one of those. However, I have twelve others and more on the way.
“So, let’s be honest. You’re flawed and operating far below peak efficiency. You failing to fulfill a mission would be the worst thing for the program.”
“I’m just as capable as any other ten sigma.”
“Really? A ten sigma doesn’t pass out from random thoughts or have clandestine meetings with traitors. Nor does a ten sigma remember or care about its prior family. Your emotions for your past are disturbing, and your actions are not in the best interests of this nation.” She holds out her hands. “Opportunities like this don’t come around often, and I need to take advantage of them when they do. I sacrificed a marred queen to remove an error-prone king.”
The logic makes perfect sense, and I hate her for it. “I’m not going to let you get away with it,” I say, eyeing the twenty armored figures surrounding me.
She holds up the wrapping that was around the murder weapon. “The evidence says you killed the President, and I’ll be the one running the investigation.”
A door swings open, and she disappears down a narrow access corridor before I can take any action.
The black knights center their weapons on me.
I push on the balls of my feet, ready to dodge, studying angles of fire and formulating a strategy to get a weapon and kill everybody in sight.
The one nearest the President swivels, aiming his rifle at the black knight to his far left, and fires. The form goes down, the armor jerking with death spasms. Stunned, I watch as the barrel swings to the right, firing again and again, mowing down the others. Each falls without a word or taking any defensive measure. When we’re the only two left, he tosses the rifle down with a clatter.
Before I react, he draws his knife and stabs himself through the heart.
After he slumps to the floor, I’m the only one standing in the blood puddles leaking from twenty-nine bodies.
All the witnesses are dead.
Now, it’s my word against Victoria’s.
Approaching footsteps interrupt my thoughts.
No time to think. There are battles to fight and not to fight.
I drop the crumpled death certificate and rush to the final black knight. As I yank the knife from his chest, a ten sigma in battle-mesh rounds the corner with another dozen elite guards in tow.
“Stop!” Ekton hollers.
I snatch a nearby rifle with a full magazine and run back down the hallway, putting my escape plan into motion. When I reach the right location, I jam my blade into a wall seam and pry away an access panel.
Faint glints from the gaslights reflect off thin metal pipes. Beyond is the dark maw of a drainage tunnel that leads into the sewers.
Ekton rushes at me, reaching f
or a throwing weapon.
I jump into the blackness.
Thirty-Three
After hitting the top of the concrete tunnel, I yank the fake covering behind me and kick at the pipes feeding the gaslights. When one breaks, I hold my breath and scoot by, striking the knife at a rusty grate.
Sparks fly, and the jetting gas ignites with a whoosh.
Heat flashes past my hands and over my face as I jump into the passage. Although discomforting, I have bigger problems than minor burns that will soon heal. Using my feet as brakes, I slow my descent down the narrow tube. A few meters pass before the slope steepens, and I slip on a slick patch of concrete. An uncontrolled slide finishes the final leg of the short journey, and I tumble into a dark corridor of the main sewer system.
Glad not to have broken anything, I roll to the side of the circular entrance and jam my back against a filthy wall. Loose granules spill from the brittle surface while I spend a moment listening for signs of pursuit, gulping at the dank air.
Only the flames hissing from the busted gas pipes disturb the silence. The orange glows shining down the tunnel and dancing on the dried sewage remain unbroken.
Nobody is pursuing, which is in no way surprising.
Victoria wouldn’t let Ekton form a one-man posse. Why risk an asset when she can spend a few minutes cobbling together a force strong enough to guarantee victory without any loss?
I set the rifle against the wall and wrap my arms around my knees. Shivers run over my body, and bleak thoughts gather.
I’m exactly where I wanted to be when I had a husband to get back to.
But now, there’s nothing.
Stupid.
Who is Victoria? What is she?
I think of her quivering eyes and wild personality swings between being vulnerable and being cold.
Like she was two people.
Tugs reach from the depths of my mind.
I tense, waiting for a debilitating torrent of data. Nothing happens for a moment, then hazy glows form. They’re letters, which resolve into a single word…
Jackets.
The truth flows into my consciousness.
