Toy Soldiers

by Keith LaHue

  He'd find out soon enough. One of the ones that were tethered to him moved to the forefront of his mind as he entered through the kitchen door. Jane? He hadn't recalled naming any of them.

  He sat down at the table. "A little something to eat before I..."

  "You just had lunch. I'm not going to let you get away with delaying this....whatever you call it! I want those things you made out of the house. Dead or...never-has-been or..." Suddenly Mary was silent. She wasn't sure why. "Are they really alive?" she said weakly.

  "Not in the truest sense. They have the facade of life, you see they are attached to us in a way. Many are attached to me, and some to you. As I told you last night their life force is tied to those of the truly living...."

  "You meant it when you said I was a part of it all. Just go downstairs and put an end to this. I'll mourn for them with you."

  Dave gripped the edge of the table to facilitate rising. "I'll do it now. Best to get it over with quickly."

  Jane hadn't moved from her swing in front of her house for some time. She could tell he was coming, and that she would die soon. Good. Better to die than live this half-life. She would contact the creator. She wanted him to know the full impact of what he had done. This parody of life. She would not go back to an infinite loop, reliving the same day for how long? None of this was fair, and it was with a bitter taste that she realized she had never existed in the first place. This life was tied to those who lived outside of the construct, they hadn't the most rudimentary intelligence to them. It was all a lie, like the World Trade Center and the myriad buildings that were solid, with no way in. She'd changed some of that, still, there was much left to be done. Part of her wanted to continue, and part of her desired a true death, one where she wasn't an automaton designed to build this city that wasn't real. She sensed him coming. He - and it was a He, was near.

  She was going to unload on him.

  Dave descended the stairs with caution. He could sense the nearness of the beings, the thoughts flowing in and out of his head like water through a sieve. He fought it, wanting to shut them out, but he couldn't. They were a part of him, and Mary, and Davey. He'd even used some of the people he worked with, and those friends he had at the local bar he sometimes went to. They were lucky. They would never have to hear the sound of the death of an entire civilization.

  That was reserved for him.

  He felt for the light switch and turned it on. As he approached the table the voices in his head grew louder, a cacophony that made it impossible to filter out just one voice. As he grew nearer he saw a blue mist above Pangaea. He hadn't put it there. He reached the table and held his hands over it. Then suddenly –

  "- How dare you create us only to murder us without a thought." Jane was in communication now. The creator was here to put an end to all of this. She knew that all of the magic users were in on the dialogue, she had reached out to them as the being had approached. She was the voice that the creator would hear in his head, she bade the others remain quiet while she was talking, rather, thinking to him.

  "There is no other way. I'm sorry, but you all must go, I cannot keep you like this anymore. You see, you were intended to be a fraction of what you are now. I must say I'm impressed. You've done a spectacular job in continuing the creation of this world, Pangaea it's called. There are so many of you now! Many more than I intended."

  "I misspoke when I said 'murder us'." What I really mean is that you're going to send us back to that non-life, that horror of existing but not existing at the same time. Your arbitration is unfair."

  "What would you have me do?"

  "I want to be able to die, as all truly living things do. You will die one day, and this thread you have attached to us - will it go on after you're passing? I speak for those of us who can use this magic you're imbued with. The others that you strung to the regular people of your world cannot attain this state. I was the first."

  "You're Jane." Said Dave.

  "Yes, and I refuse to go back to that hell. Even though I'd never know it. You owe us, creator. You owe us a great deal."

  "There might...there might be a way for you to...how to put this. How would you like to be alive, yet un-tethered to the living in this world that I live in? I can sever it. There would be consequences. You would live out a normal life span and then die. Is that what you want?"

  "Explain this to me. And us."

  "I could sever all of you from the beings you are tied to. They would know nothing. Those of you that are not fully developed would become just as real as those of you that have attained sentience. It would be a hell of a daunting prospect. You'd have to remain within the confines of what is already here, you'd be limited to the size of this table. And it is a table you are on. You can build it to the edge, but no more."

  "And yes, you would die. You would remain conscious, and all that you can dream of would be yours. The magic users would remain magic users. You'd have to govern yourselves. So much to consider. One thing you must not do is disturb the lay lines that run beneath the greater structure that you are housed in. Is that understood? Any disruption of the mechanics of magic would result in chaos in my world. You'd have to be mindful of the rules."

  "You may contact me, but no other. At least not now. My son will eventually inherit this construct. Is that fair? Is that what you want?"

  Jane "heard" all of the voices in her head, most of them agreed with what the creator - Dave, had communicated.

  "Yes. That is what we want. I speak for the population you created. By accident or not, you must take responsibility for what you have done. Is that agreed upon? You can't just leave us. There would have to be some oversight."

  "I am willing to do that. Be aware that everything comes at a cost, and you may find one day that you no longer wish to continue with this. In that case, I can..."

  "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. So the Mages will retain the power to build to this edge you speak of." Jane listened intently to the voices in her head, they were coming from all over Pangaea. "There is one thing we want that is not within our ability to create. You must do this for us."

  "What?"

  "We would like to have a real sky. And day and night. Can you do that?"

  "I can create the illusion yes. You are aware that while you will be alive the environment will remain a creation of magic, subject to all of the rules that I'm sure you will become aware of."

  "Then do it. Create the sky and untie us from these beings you used."

  Dave sighed. He was going to catch hell for this. He cut off contact with the Mages while he gesticulated over the table, creating the illusion desired by...by the people of Pangaea. The blue mist lifted, and while he could not see it, he could tell the sun was shining all over their world. Then he cut the cords he had tied these beings, these beings he had not created in the truest sense, but rather given a part of himself, and the others they were connected to.

  He reconnected with Jane. He could feel the happiness at seeing the sun. He had only a few words for her, and the others: "Go now, and live."

  Dave wasn't sure how he was going to explain this to Davey and Marigold. He supposed the truth would have to do. As far as his order was concerned, he saw no need to let them know, seeing as what he had done broken many of their by-laws. He had done his best to shore up the damage to the lay lines, which had mostly reasserted themselves into what they were supposed to be. He would not let them interfere with them again.

  He climbed the stairs, turning off the lights as he left the basement. Of course, in Pangaea, it was high noon.

  He smiled at the thought.

  50

  Tom, Jimmy, and James were sitting in an outdoor cafe in Paris when the news broke via the creator. James had flown there. They all hated that term, “creator”, yet it would half to do. Jane was back in New York, briefing those near and far of their new situation. Tom could tune into the briefing when he wanted to. Right now, he was more interested in the glass of wine he had in
front of him. Not the fake alcoholic beverages he'd experienced prior to the new reality. It had more flavor, and the effect was new too.

  He raised his glass in a toast.

  "To life." The three clinked glasses together, and the toast was made.

  Later, after James flew back to LA, they were in the Malibu home. James and Donna were having a few friends over. Ken was here, along with several of those that had rapidly developed awareness. They'd left the Mage to continue creating as far as he was able to. James especially liked flying.

  Booze was real now, as Jimmy and Tom were discovering not too far away from where Donna and James were snuggling on the couch. Sex was better too; James and Donna were in the process of making an art out of it.

  The phone interrupted their warm embrace. Donna fumbled for the receiver. Strange to have these things work properly. Donna held the phone to her ear and replied with only monosyllabic noises. James wondered what she could possibly be talking about.

  She hung up the phone.

  "I have to report to the studio tomorrow morning," she said to James.

  "What for?"

  "I'm an actress. And you're an actor. I have to go to work. And I'm guessing you will too."

  "She smiled and sunk down into the couch, and James' body.

  In the Bronx, Jerome had returned to his family home to find his entire family waiting. Camilla had come with him too, he made introductions all around. He hugged his mother for what seemed an eternity. Then he just bathed in reality.

  He thought of the feeling of a spike hitting his vein. The rush that came after. He'd have to go to the park tonight. First, he'd need money. Maybe his mother's purse was laying around.

  Jane sat on her front porch, just swinging. There was quite a bit to be done. They'd have to live just as those on the outside lived. They'd need cops, lawyers, plumbers, everyone. They were going it alone on auto-pilot. She'd had enough of that. After the gathering a Central Park, the feeling among the crowd was euphoric.

  She wondered how happy they'd be once reality sunk in.

  Dave was delicately explaining the situation to his disbelieving wife.

  "I thought you were going to destroy them! Instead, you imbue them with life, real life!"

  "It's not actually real life. More like a close facsimile. They'll carry out all the functions of life, but they can't exceed what I've, for lack of a better term, been limited to, both in magic and ordinary life.

  "Oh Dave, how could you."

  "How could I not? No harm will become of this. I gave them just enough to be happy. They deserve that, and when I pass, so will they. They are limited by my own intellect. So they won't get all that far. And they stay there. They won't hurt us. Or anyone."

  "Wait, you said they're limited by your intelligence?"

  "Well yes."

  "You have an IQ well north of 160. Or did you cheat on the test?"

  "I didn't cheat."

  "We'll have magically created geniuses running around."

  "They can't leave the table. I made sure of that. And while they might come close to me mentally, I did put common sense provisions in."

  "I think we're in trouble. Are you going to tell your son?"

  "I'll have to."

  In the basement of the house on Tenth Street, magic was happening. For the very first time in the history of Pangaea, the sun was going down. And with that brought sleep for the first time. The sun faded, and Pangaea became quiet.

  * * *