by Travis Borne
“I don’t like this, but I think he’s right,” Kim said. “I don’t feel as nervous. I’m zero scared right now. Maybe it’s not a—”
“We are ready, please begin,” Several Boron announced synchronously. “Enter and follow the path. One person at a time, please.”
Jake was already walking. Kelly, Kim’s top assistant in the botany department, was next but displayed hesitation. Boron, quirking his head to the side one time as if perplexed by her reluctance, repeated, “Enter, please begin. Now.” The two Boron at the entrance to the path and the exit of the glass chamber waved a hand forward. Then at least fifty of them raised a single arm in unison, holding it straight out; a finger extended pointing to the dome at the end of the path.
Jake looked back at Kim, who stood near nine Boron guarding the entrance to the glass room. She nodded, sadly. They had to listen, no choice. And none wanted to relive the horror that had happened outside—young, she was so, so young; none wanted that, for themselves or any other. Still pointing, every Boron except those plugging in raised the other arm and made a fist. A clear warning.
En route were eight archways spaced evenly about the path. The aisle walls paralleling the route were hip-height—and nothing to rest on: the gleaming metallic edges were razor blades!
Jake went through the first archway. All had snapped out of the trance—which still seemed to perplex Boron, as a few were tilting their heads in contrast to the majority—and it was all eyes on Big Jake. The flat-tire, broken-down furniture truck was loping down Main, Main to who-the-fuck knows where. He entered. The red laser wall banded him with a shimmer of intense orange and yellow light.
A scanning device.
Jake stepped out the other side.
Wondering eyes were those of statues that’d been carved while the subjects were in the process of being possessed; wonderstruck, and to a painful degree, all were still just as afraid.
Jake stood more erect. His face no longer reeked of pain, and he didn’t look back. A new man. With more pep in his step, like a banker with a briefcase full of money, he continued along and into the next of the eight remaining scanners. Next was orange, then yellow, green, blue, purple, teal—then black-light. The ninth and last archway was the entrance to a tunnel.
Kelly took a step, slowly. She turned back one last time, then entered the first scanner. Again, its flat beam glistened upon contact, same as Jake. She too stood erect after passing through; her eyes popped as if she’d taken a hit of crack. Now hypnotized-like, she walked with a steady pace, following Jake by a distance of six feet; and too, she didn't bother to turn around for anymore meek goodbyes. And a line of people began filling the aisle like gum balls.
“There he goes,” Joey said. Jake entered the last one before the archway of the tunnel. Its black-light made his widely opened eyes and beaming smile glow. As he stood in this one, stopped for a second unlike the others, what seemed opposing magnets hovered once round, then back again. And he stepped out, melon-shoulder and all, with one leg up like a toy soldier. The finish line was foggy, and Jake disappeared into the final archway of the central dome, into the dome within the dome.
He shot up through the tube like a relaxed, happy worm, fully nude. Fields shifted the pathways like a train track and he was sent though the spaghetti-network opus which seemed to jolt to life. Gone.
Kim gulped. She reached for Crisp’s arm. Joey finally lost his subtle, overanxious, curious smile. Lion shook his head slowly; Ivy let hers fall. Kim tried to follow his route, only noticing he went into a few of the colored glass-bottom pools as if he’d been fired out of a gun barrel, then he was sucked back in; then through the cilia tubes, the clockwork factories, and toward the back of the building and into the mountain.
“Was he laughing?” Joey asked.
“It looked like it,” Crisp said. “But what in the world?” None were laughing at Jake’s laugh, though; the very word laugh just didn’t fit into their current situation.
Inprocessing, simply. But for what? And to where would this exaggerated network of noodles deliver them. Some sobbed quietly, tears falling to the warm, marble-like floor. Others shook their heads in dismay.
“Where is this sending us, Boron?” Kim asked without turning her head.
Boron responded, “As you see, Kim the botanist, this is a very simple and painless procedure. You will soon join the last of humanity, here, within the last civilized city on Earth.”
The Boron nearest the path’s beginning spoke as another person hesitated, “Next. Follow each other without delay. Remain six feet apart and do not stop, or else—please.”
And they did as they were told. At the rate of inprocessing, completing all 140—Kelly shot up through the tube, naked as well, smiling brightly—all 139 remaining individuals would be inprocessed within about twenty minutes.
Kim looked about. She noticed a change after Kelly went. And each time a person passed the seventh scanner, teal, the code about the walls increased. With Kelly it had at least doubled. The slow-moving code—which was supposed to be doves, ice cream, or deceased loved ones, perhaps—became an intense kaleidoscope of now variously colored digits and large chunks of what seemed, fragmented code. Uninterpretable images flew by and around. Another went up, Nevin the town shoemaker. Then another, Julio from the pizza stand. By the twelfth person the code spiraling the walls of the room was an undecipherable blur, a violent hurricane, no longer anything even remotely pleasant, and the nine Boron that’d interfaced with the panel began to jolt spasmodically.
“Something is wrong,” Boron said, more mechanically, only the one standing next to Kim. His teal energy flickered. A thirteenth person passed the teal scanner and the nine interfaced Boron were ejected from their panels. The thirteenth individual had been Norton, a teacher, and he fell flat on his face just before entering the foggy tunnel. Every Boron weakened and took a knee; their suits lost the teal static charge. Their bodies now resembled the dull, flat appearance of ship when it had been powered down.
“Indeed,” Kim shouted. “Something is wrong—and that’s fucking great!” A flash of Jim hit her mind, empowering her. Fucking great! Just as he would’ve said it! Twelve had been sucked away, Norton lay motionless; he could be dead—but no more! All stopped entering. Those who had passed the scanners seemed dazed and confused, but alive! People looked to Kim standing between Crisp and Lion. She had another set of choices lined up and ready to fire off—and quickly she released one at the top of her lungs.
10. Part III - Kickoff
The builders exhibited concern not rivaled by humanity’s ability to feel compassion. As the sun began to set on the first day since the terrors, Vlad stopped working. He watched the humans below, displaying anguish and paying their respects, and came down from the wall with a few others. Not unlike humans, he and his comrades offered condolences to the large gathering outside the facility, a group including Ted, Rico, Jim, Jon, and most others who weren’t lending or currently tasked with a necessary duty in the facility. The remains were covered with black tarps and a few words were being spoken as the builders arrived. The ceremony soon completed with a moment of silence.
Because the bodies were mangled beyond recognition, the lenders, along with Ted and others who’d lost a close personal friend, were troubled about what to do with the remains. Put all in one mass grave? Bury the few who were mostly whole in separate graves? Or burn them all together.
Vlad suggested graves for the 32 unfortunates who’d perished while clawing at the outer-bay-door turned Gatling-gunned, melted Swiss cheese. He suggested there should be separate, unique gravestones: tributes, a memorial to the citizens, and he ordered the inner-wall drones to take over the task of separating what remained of the carcasses. Grateful, the humans bowed heads, and Vlad spoke a few words.
“Let these graves serve as a reminder to continue this fight, to persist undaunted in whatever form battle might present itself, be it lending for the longterm, or using actual physical might. Eve
ry part of our system is equally important. Like a single cog in a clock, if chipped the entire mechanism will cease to function. Rest in peace, humans who have perished. Now, builders, stop working!” Every builder around the wall stopped and there was silence for the first time that day. “Respect.” With his single word every one of them—around the wall’s rim, top or bottom, those who’d been rolling about or zipping up and down—stood erect, then folded in a slow-motion bow.
“Thank you, Vlad,” Jim said. He was one of the few initially helping to organize the body parts. “The ability to withstand time and fight, be it lending while enjoying a beer on a beach in a dream map, or on the front lines… Well, we must persist as you say, and, we will, for these deaths will not be in vain. A true moment of silence, please.” The moment, without clamoring background noise, was respectful and true: a tribute to Ed Barton, security guard, Ted’s good friend Charles, and the thirty others who had been lost.
“We will fight, and win,” Rico said, as heads rose up, “for them, for us, for the Earth! We’ll fight with a six-inch-round well-water pipe as a drone-smashing baseball bat if we have to.” He nodded seriously to Abell. Abell returned it with a resolute grin. Rico sucked in a breath; releasing it like a leader, he continued, “Everyone will work together and there can exist no more Davids or Georges. I’m honored to be here with each and every one of you. Jim, thank you for suggesting we not go with Herald. You were right, and with our new friends—” Rico looked up to Vlad and the eleven other builders who’d arrived to join their ceremony; he nodded solemnly. “—we will succeed. We possess potently empowered minds now, and powerful intuitions, creativity! A gift from the purple status—from Amy. We are family!” Rico raised an arm, tightly clenching his fist. Others followed, as well the builders, and the helper drones gestured as well, leaning to the side and extending their tiny arms.
It was an absolution, a kickoff of forward momentum with impassioned resolve and certitude. Altogether, 81 individuals, mostly town commonfolk and half of the town board, had departed with Herald in the chrome glob that had morphed into a sort of saucer. That left 65 in the town, plus Jon. Sixty-six bonded as family. The builders, as well as hundreds of inner-wall maintenance drones, resumed work full speed; too, they were seemingly roused, hot blooded, driven. Once again humanity was connecting with technology, and the feed-empowered machines were beyond friendly, helpful in ways that would’ve taken years otherwise. They cleaned at a brisk pace, fabricated, repaired, and accompanied the citizens hand in hand to reign in normality. And unlike humans, they continued on through the night while people slept.
11. Lia's Push
Lia was progressing by leaps and bounds. A credit to the regeneration technology, but surely it couldn’t have produced such drastic changes in the few short days that had passed? Herald’s team had done something to her, said it would take weeks to months—depending on her mindset, whatever that meant. Or was the expedited healing attributed to her reinvigorated passion in the real world, just knowing that she would walk again? Perhaps it was Amy’s gift, and after, the ultimate sacrifice that made Lia try so intensely? She even had Abell retrieve her old prostheses. The plastic legs were still in her closet, thankfully not melted down. The big man fetched her wheelchair too; it was stored away in one of the closets of the lending facility.
Lia overheard Jim discussing options. He was next to Ted near the HAT, and Marlo—as odd as it seemed, a wizard on screen—accompanied them. They discussed needing one more lender because the system was hardwired to work with pairs. And four persons would be able to log in to Marlo’s map. Once inside, they’d discuss options for the rescue, if it could be classified as one; they diligently neglected to categorize it as a suicide mission. Upon hearing, Lia decided. She ignited her willpower.
Amy had told her, “Lia, you have the most beautiful brown eyes.” Now, her large eyes were glossy like root-beer lollipops with singularities beaming out from the centers, passion stirring an explosion of resolve and determination. She attempted to stand, gritting her teeth. Push, Lia, she told herself. Push. Up, Lia, you can do this! Pain burned her as if battery acid was leaking into the cracking web of scars covering the left side of her body and face. Abell attempted to help but she pushed him away.
You can do this, you will, push, Lia. I’m doing it, Amy! The determination radiated from her like an aura: gritting teeth, straining muscles, long-since neglected folds unfolding, red faced and almost glowing, hints of new neon-pink skin under the cracking, crusty web exposed on her neck, and tendons pushed outward as hard as she was pushing upward—and every lender in the facility held their breath. Only the light snoring of a new lender, Bertha, and the hum of the machines near Ron’s and Devon’s stations could be heard.
Her words came out as a stutter. She did her best, standing now, a drop of sweat descending both the good skin, and bad. Her unstable plastic legs wobbled. “I—” Lia spoke. Her right leg folded and she went forward. Abell’s leap to aid was the detonation of a nuke, but she forcefully grunted a powerful, “No!” as she caught herself against the odds, and pushed up again. It was the loudest, clearest word she’d spoken in years. “I—want to go. For—Amy.” And she fell into her chair. Abell repositioned her and she didn’t force him away, this time. Her beautiful browns sent him the thank you he knew so well, and she turned to face the others watching her: Jim had a tear traveling down his face, so did Ted, Rico, and most others, or, they’d already wiped one away, or the dam was ready to burst.
Emotional overload. They were one like no other time; their circumstances, Lia’s conviction, and love just as shared by a close-knit family, traveled through every soul, bouncing between every eye.
Lia was exhausted from the effort, but no longer wanted to live only in the dream world, and no longer wanted to be carried around by Abell! What Amy had done, that is what did it. It gave her renewed purpose; it told her what she was going to accomplish. She was not going to lie down anymore. Lia would be walking soon and knew it through to the bone. Strong enough to disregard the regeneration technology, her faith was enough to succeed, and surpass this tribulation. Her personal mission: she yearned to unleash her speed in the real world once again.
Earnestly, Jim nodded to her, eyes glossy. He remembered Amy’s strength when his went to shit. He could truly see Amy, the one he had known so well, alive in Lia’s eyes. Lia had received Amy’s strength, and willpower—unstoppable willpower! Lia’s passion reached into his chest and set his heart on fire. He knew she had been very close to Amy. Amy had brought them all together, but her ultimate gift gave them all the ability to feel it true, in ways they couldn’t before.
Yes. Jim had hesitated at the bottom of the chrome ramp, now days ago, almost wanting to rush back up and tell everyone to forget it, that it was suicide, but now he knew. It was not just him, and it never was. Had he tried to call it off the others wouldn’t have listened. He, as well as the four awake lenders who were in the room, and Ron, Devon, the twins, Rico, and Ted, felt the same. Even Marlo looked on, and it seemed he too, the old gray-haired wizard who’d un-donned his hood as a gesture of respect and reverence toward Lia’s first stand in over a decade, was impassioned and emotional. And mutually, the trio leadership team, along with Marlo, of course, decided. Heartfelt nods went round. Lia would be the one, and a new member of the leadership team. When Marlo’s map was ready she would log in with Jim, Rico, and Jon.
12. Campfire Correlations
Marlo, as though he’d headed home for the evening off, appeared in his castle, on his throne. He sat as though Lia’s push had pushed him into exhaustion. His great room was a grand and magnificent space, dimly lit by candlelight, and he began to speak, aiming his attention at Lia. After praising her passionate conviction, and her remarkable accomplishment, he changed the subject, saying, “Do you know why Herald recognized you, Lia?”
She didn’t reply, but thought deeply about the other day. Aboard the chrome glob of a ship, Herald had recognized her, a
nd right off the bat, although she not he. And he made sure she got all the help she needed. She received the same regeneration technology that had been used to heal Jon’s burn scars and regrow his hand and eyes after they’d been able to revive him.
And Lia was grateful, yet did not know why Herald had singled her out.
Marlo went on with his refresher. “Two decades earlier, when they picked you up in El Paso, atop North Mt. Franklin peak amid chaos, you were distraught, and like Ted, had been given a powerful sedative. Rafael and Felix told me it was bad, an awful drone attack, the end of the world, fire, fury—an extremely close call.”
Lia shook her head, then her eyes sparked.
Marlo continued, “After the harrowing experience, both you, Lia, and you, Ted, really needed the pills Ana gave you. The both of you remained asleep throughout the entire flight and slept for the entire next day, here, in Pueblo Viejo. Felix recommended this town to Herald, his home town. A short venture for supplies and repairs, he’d suggested—to make use of his fully stocked bunker. And Herald and his team agreed, having not much of a choice otherwise. But Herald departed, very quickly. Early the next day with Ana and Q and his two lenders, Manny and Red, after they’d made only the most essential repairs to the hover-jet, more aptly named hover-turtle because they were unable to rehabilitate the jets, they left to search for Amy.”
Marlo disclosed much, what he knew about Herald, all he learned from Felix, as well Rafael. And in the broadcast room they huddled around the HAT as if it was a campfire, as if they were sitting around his large chair in his large castle, listening, and keeping relatively quiet so as not to awake the sleeping lenders. Lia and Abell, Jim, Jon, Rico, Ted and the techs, and four other lenders listened with open ears. The wizard cozied up in his thick robe and made himself comfortable on his throne, as if it was to be his bed, and he continued to explain. His recollections became more and more discursive as if he really was tired.
