by Micah Thomas
As in Prague, this place was preserved. Somehow, this was surprising. Thelon had thought the whole damned construct would be a pleasure dome and realized he should have traveled more. He was greeted by a family: a father, mother, and young toddling son. They took his hands and walked him back to their home without saying a word.
The road was mostly dirty, patchy pavement and gravel, but their house had a smooth dirt floor. The single-level structure was hand made. None of Eden’s magic was used on this. He could tell from the cracks and irregularities in the mixed stone and mortar, that this was real. Clutter-free, not a piece of bric-brac on the unpainted walls. No monitors nor displays of any kind, either.
Thelon’s stomach rumbled at the smell of savory food coming from the small kitchen off the side of the sitting room.
“Water?” the mother asked.
“Yes, please.”
He shouldn’t be here. The thought was crystal. Sober. He didn’t deserve their hospitality. To share a meal with these kind people would be so fucking selfish.
“It was real nice of you to have me in, but I have to go.”
The Father gave him a handshake and a kind smile. “Be good.”
Thelon was shook up. This was dumb. He needed to go home and face the music. Do the right thing. He’d run because he was scared. They’d understand that. Had to. He’d tell them that nothing like this had ever happened to him before and he flipped out. At the end of the day, he hadn’t really done anything anyways. I’m a good guy, he assured himself as he returned to the transport station and selected Chicago.
The Coppers were waiting for him when he got to back. They didn’t even beep once as they escorted Thelon back to the police precinct. They took him to a small interrogation room where a black cop sat in his dark blue policeman’s uniform.
“Thelonious, nice of you to come on in.”
Thelon slunk in the chair. His leg was shaking. Be cool, kid. You didn’t do anything. “You’re the famous cop: Officer Sanders.”
“I am. I’d like to talk to you about last night, but before that, was there a reason you went there? To Jodhpur?”
“Places to go, people to see.”
“You didn’t have any meaningful contact with anyone.”
“Yo, it was meaningful to me. That’s where the boss man if from, isn’t it?”
“In some ways, but I’m not sure that matters. Thelonious, I know you didn’t intend for this happen. In determining fault, your flight had an impact on the calculation. I’m sure you knew that. The law is clear. We could have talked through this.”
“Don’t I get a lawyer or something?”
“No, Thelonious. That was the old way. I’m the last stop now when somebody hurts someone else. You know this. Everyone knows this.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Son, we’ve begun to reconstruct the incident straight from the witness optics. You killed a young woman.”
Thelon could not remember the details, but rejected this. “No. I’d never do that. I’ve never hurt anyone.” I didn’t. I did not do it. Right?
“Then what happened?”
Just tell your story, man. Thelon let out a slow breath and tried to stop his voice from shaking. “The party had started. People were feeling it. Everything was right, you know? When things are clicking into place? I’d just gotten off the stage. I wanted to feel it how everyone was feeling it. Not as a performer, but as part of the crowd.”
“And then?” Sanders asked.
“I don’t know. I…I felt funny. Kinda sick.”
“Is that when you ran into Karen Tillerman?”
“Karen who? I don’t know any Karens.”
“The woman you assaulted and killed.”
Thelon’s chest heaved. He felt the tears and fought them back. “That wasn’t me.”
“Do you want to see the vids?”
“Fuck you, man. I didn’t do shit. I’d own it if I was a fucking freak taking jollies killing some chick, but that isn’t me. Scan me. Look in my head.”
“You don’t record a stream, Thelonious, so there’s nothing for us to review there, but there were more than enough witnesses.”
Thelon felt like he was going to throw up. He swallowed back bitter saliva in this mouth and his fear turned to anger. “Why are you doing this to me? Not enough real crime in this place to keep you busy? Why don’t you just go back to sucking Hakim’s magical cock?”
Sanders continued to wear a patient expression; passive eyes, no tension in his brow. “Are you done?”
“I thought you’d be different.”
Sanders waited.
“It’s the same here as the old days. Going to lynch me on some fucking bullshit. Why’d you even let me run, huh? You could’ve busted me in a hot minute.”
“I wanted you to see what you’ll be missing. What this woman who died will be missing forever.”
Thelon slumped in the chair. “Thanks, Dad. Really taught me a lesson.”
“I hope so.”
“What’s next?”
“Everything from here is out of my hands.”
“You ain’t king shit?”
“No. I’m a cop.”
“Yeah right, you’re the colonel. Colonel Sanders! Holy shit. I just thought of that.”
Sanders sighed as he stood. “Son, you’re in trouble. Being cute isn’t going to help.”
“Well,” Thelon said and crossed his arms, “shows what kinda brotha’ you are. A house—”
Sanders raised his hand. “Stop right there. Good bye, Thelon. God have mercy on you.”
Thelon waited until Sanders left the room before he cried. He didn’t care that this would be recorded. He wanted his parents. No one could help him. He was fucked.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE LAST THING Cassie saw was Jeff pointing a gun at her. Then she was enveloped by the blue wall. She felt nothing as the energetic membrane took her in. Cassie thought she would pass through to stand on the other side of the barrier, still looking at Jeff, but no. She dematerialized. Her molecules traveled along some line of force where thought was impossible. She was herself, yet the ride was beyond description. Cassie felt her body reassemble in an a well-lit room. Alone, she took in her surroundings. It was a conference room; pleasantly warm wood walls, inlaid with brass detailing, classic art hanging in original frames, and a large desk in the center. There were no chairs. A handwritten banner stretched across the doorway. It read: Welcome Home. She was in. Welcome to the Matrix. Welcome to Tron. Only, where the fuck was she? No phone, no computer—there was only the door.
She took a few breaths and tried the door. Unlocked. It led into a grand hall. A train station. A bus station. A flying car station. This was nuts. Large platforms filled with people, then a beam of light and they were gone. Teleportation station, too. And it was full of travelers dressed in the style of every part of the world Cassie had ever seen, some in barely anything. Cassie stood in the middle of the station, letting strangers brush past her in their rush to get where they were going. She had no idea where to go.
Henry, baby, wish you could see this. Beyond the travel station, the city was breathtaking. This was the future; incandescent, translucent, all the way up to the sky and higher than she thought possible. She could see the sky, yes, and clouds, but also layers upon layers of city. Visually, the motion threatened to break her mind. A highway of light hovered above her with people traveling upon it, but it was also entirely transparent. Cassie shut her eyes against it. Shake it the fuck off. Move, soldier. Observe. Learn this place. Get lost so you can find out where you are.
She felt culture shock. Shell shock. Everything and everyone was pretty. Could her burdens be laid down now? No more foraging. No more running. Could it be so easy? She took gifts of water and bread, all freely offered by vendors, and wandered the city. If there was a dark underbelly to this place, Cassie didn’t want to find it. She was Zod come to Metropolis. She was Gulliver among Lilliputians. She’d have her baby
here, in this paradise. The little one would grow up and fall in love and have a wonderful life.
After a few blocks, she realized her leg didn’t hurt at all. This place had healed her. Could it heal her mind as well? Cassie walked on autopilot, flinching at every loud noise. She sought out suspicious faces in the crowd, but saw only smiles. Wanting to relax, she found herself at the lake front. A rocky beach with slate-colored boulders and sunbathers. Feeling faint, Cassie sat down. Spots in her vision, she thought she might throw up.
A couple came to her side. Funny, she thought. This was how I met Henry.
They sat on either side of her and held her hands. She heard them talking at her, but she didn’t understand. “I’m pregnant,” she said. “I need help,” she cried.
They sat with her, still talking in a language she didn’t speak until more people came. City helpers. Over the rest of the day, they gave her so many gifts and she dumbly took them and offered thanks. An apartment for free. Medical services, also free. Tutorials on everything. It was all that easy. She was in the land of Oz at the Wash & Brush Up Co. Cassie was in paradise. Everything would be okay and she wanted to trust this. She wanted the trembling anxiety and hyper-vigilance to pass. Please, let this be real.
***
In Eden, the oldest part of the city was the street level of the Near North Side. Far from the persistent hum and glow of rainbow bridges and beautiful smiling faces, Eva sat on a filthy mattress in the basement of a filthy rundown house. Mouth agape, a watcher observed, but saw nothing of the internal conversation going on.
Eva knew she wasn’t alone anymore in her mental cocoon. The thing was with her in the dark. She felt a frustration emanating from it. Stupid idiot. It’d been a child at a carnival, eating popcorn and cotton candy, riding a sugar and caffeine high, and now it was crashing. Eva let her eyes and imagination give shape to the entity. It was no longer an Amazon, but a hunched over harpy; her hair was in dirty knots, belly bloated and the rank smell of iron—dried blood—clung to her skin.
I need to be different, she thought as she held back her revulsion. She channeled literary figures from books she’d read. Be Jane Austen. Be Jo from Little Women. Be a knowing, wise lady.
Eva said, “You’re tired. How many days has it been since you rested?”
The entity shrieked at her. A bluster. Eva knew it wouldn’t hurt her. She wouldn’t be cowed by this bullshit. Failing to scare Eva, it shuddered and broadcasted contempt.
“You wear my body like a glove. You are powerful, but my flesh is human. Remember on the island? We both took rest. You—we—need rest.”
Eva pulled the entity close. The thing revolted her, but she resisted feeling disgust and projected comfort instead.
“Sleep.” She caressed it. Let it rest its reeking body against her chest. “Hush, now. Sleep. Dream. Rest.”
The thing cycled in its vibration from a fast-paced thrum to a low, steady pulse. Along with the close contact, Eva saw something beyond the exhaustion, beyond the appetites: the thing was afraid, but of what? It stirred and let out a moan. Eva perceived a nonsensical image from the mind of a child. A banquet of food was laid out—a feast—and ogres, cyclops, and huge brutes gorged themselves while Eva sat small, unable to fill her plate. The image vanished, but she felt sad and pitiful. Left out.. She had to ignore this and decode it later, but it seemed important.
As she had with her own emotions, Eva partitioned her mind. In one place, she let the comfort she gave to the creature flow and in that jar of self, she was also asleep. Beyond her constructed membrane of self, Eva kept another compartment of cold, analytical wakefulness. Oh, the lessons she’d learned from dissociation. She saw part of her remain in a horrid cuddle while her thinking self slipped upward and outward to the window, to the outside.
Awake. Present. Conscious on the surface. Eva took inventory as usual. Sitting on a mattress on the floor. Dim light from a naked bulb. Unfinished basement walls. It smelled wet. Moldy. A young woman with green hair and as many tattoos as scars on her bare arms stood by the door. She was alert, watchful, but said nothing.
Eva got up cautiously. The woman shuffled, nervous, bobbing her head and looking at Eva with that same weird expectation. Eva said nothing and walked towards the door even though the chick blocked the way.
“Whereyougoing?” the woman asked so fast she merged the words.
Eva locked eyes with her and saw madness there. “Out.”
“No.”
“Move.” Eva attempted to step around her, but the woman had twitchy meth-head speed and wiry strength.
She pushed Eva back. “No,” she repeated.
“What the fuck? Get out of my way.”
“Make me.”
Eva felt a rumble down inside. She checked the bifurcation of self and held back irritation. Emotion could wake the beast. She’d had power before, back on the island. She could do this. Focus. Compel her to sit the fuck down. Why wasn’t she sitting down?
“You can’t do it. You looked different when you woke up. I knew you would. God told me,” the woman said. She sounded proud of herself.
“I am a god,” Eva said.
“You are the vessel. Not god.” The woman leaned into Eva’s face and sniffed. “You stink.”
Eva backed up, nearly tripping over the mattress on the floor. “I’m warning you: you do not want to make me angry.”
“Yes. Yes, I do. Let her out. She has great work to do and you can’t stop her. No one can.”
Eva willed herself to stay cool as glanced around for anything that could be used as a weapon. The woman followed her gaze with a fidgety smile. There was nothing. This would have to be ugly.
“You can’t hurt me. Do you understand that? She needs me even if I’m merely a vessel. I’m the only vessel.”
The woman laughed at this. “I’m your backup. Something happens to you, I will become the vessel. That’s why I’m here.”
Eva realized the woman was telling the truth. There was a sick madness to this woman that was an echo of the bitch that lived inside her. Either Eva didn’t have powers while the thing slept, or this woman had an immunity thanks to her own fucked up brain. There was no way out without a fight.
“Are you so sure? You don’t know her like I do. For all you know, she’s playing a little game here. You know her games? Maybe I’m supposed to fuck you then kill you. Or kill you, then fuck you?” Eva said.
She saw a glimmer of doubt in the woman’s eyes. She was thinking this over. She was confused. Now was the time.
Eva took a wide step towards the twitchy bitch and the sucker punch landed squarely on the left side of her head. The woman went down without a sound. Eva’s hand hurt, but she couldn’t believe she’d knocked someone out with a single blow. She was giddy and nauseous as adrenaline crept up her spine. No, no, no. Calm. Tranquil thoughts.
Winging the door open, she sprinted through a dark corridor. Stairs. People lay around in stupor, practically dead bodies barely moving with shallow junky breathing. A crack house. Eva quietly tip toed through the living room to the front door. It wasn’t even locked.
Freedom. She felt relief. Eva didn’t even care where she would go next, she was out of the house and in control. She laughed despite herself. Then the laughter got out of control. Soon she was shrieking and weeping so hard she was unable to walk, let alone run. Eva looked at the sidewalk as she stumbled down, tripping on her own feet. It had been too much. She felt the endorphin-induced cataleptic faint take her down, down, and inward to where the thing inside laughed and screamed with her.
Eva was furious, but she didn’t give in to shock or fear. In her cocoon of thought, she saw that her partitioned self was still sleeping, and wrapped in her arms was a simpering piece of the demon about the size of a doll. She was an ugly thing, a shriveled crone black as a bog body, flesh like caked oil. Dissociation worked both ways, it seemed. I got you, little fucker. I got you. Now, tell your big sister, who are you afraid of?
CHAPTE
R TWELVE
DAN HEARD HIS husband come home. Pockets emptied into a bowl in the foyer. Shoes slipped off and put on the shoe rack. Being married to Sanders came with a Mr. Rogers ritual costume change. All this would happen before they talked about their day.
A common problem in Eden was finding one’s niche. Dan, too, struggled to find something to do with his days. The wonderment phase had lasted deep into the first year. This was an ideal retirement. He could read all the books he ever wanted. Take in sights—such breathtaking sights of all points in Eden. The wilder developments predicated on the mysterious and magical technologies hadn’t been there in the beginning, but Dan had shared the communal sigh of relief at being removed from war, poverty, pain, and homophobia.
They were not a chosen people, but people who chose. When the new normal settled, the city acclimated to the wonders, and Sanders had taken his job while Dan was left to find a way to occupy his time. In some ways, this wasn’t terribly different from before. He’d retired early from the force while Sanders continued to work. He was used to the loneliness, but at least in Phoenix he had a community, friends who knew him, wine tastings, and neighborhood parties. The question of what to do hadn’t been as urgent, but sure, he had considered it then as well.
In their relationship, Dan was often the support mechanism; a comforter and rationalizer for the stresses Sanders kept bottled up. Now, when Dan needed to draw from the well, he found Sanders unable to give as much as he received. “Are you not listening to me?” Dan asked.
“Huh?” Sanders was not. His posture, usually erect and alert, was uncharacteristically hunched.
Dan couldn’t let it lie and followed his husband into the bedroom. “This place is a lie, honey. A big fucking, bug fuck, crazy lie.”
