by Dima Zales
With a theatrical flash of thunder, the face is no longer discernable. The clouds float away, scattering across the sky.
“What the hell was that?” I ask.
Phoe’s gaze becomes distant for a moment; then she says, “According to the memories at my disposal, this is the way the Circle calls for rare town-hall-like meetings. Haven’s citizens will gather on one of the largest public islands, in a place they call Haven Hall. This usually happens once every century of existence or so, and involves someone from the Circle giving them a pep talk. This time, I suspect they will tell them what happened in Oasis.”
I get up and say, “Okay, how does that fit into our plans?”
“Let’s run the rest of the way,” Phoe says and gets up. “We still need to make sure the Guardians don’t spot us.”
As I run, I notice my muscles have completely recovered from my fight with Jeanine. Phoe runs next to me, clearly relishing her new body.
“So yeah, the plan,” she says before I even open my mouth to remind her. “You won’t like it.”
My laugh borders on hysterical. “When have you ever come up with a plan I liked?”
“I know, right? You’re a hard man to please.” She chuckles. “Seriously, though, this plan is so daring I don’t even know if I like it.”
“Let me guess. You want to go to this meeting,” I say, dodging a branch. “Am I warm?”
“Listen,” she says, her tone serious again. “To learn about the virus, we need access to the people who unleashed it: the Circle. Unfortunately, the members of the Circle don’t hang around Haven willy-nilly. They stay in the Sanctum, a place everyone’s memories depict as a rather unwelcoming area for anyone outside the Circle. During this meeting, though, someone from the Circle will be in attendance.” She glances at me. “I won’t sugarcoat it for you. I want you to get close to this Forebear from the Circle and Limbofy him or her. My hope is that this person’s memories will contain information about the virus.”
I stop running, my legs going weak. Phoe stops too.
“So your plan is to assassinate one of the rulers of Haven?”
14
“You make it sound uglier than my actual goal, but sure.” She takes a step toward me. “I want to get the son of a bitch.”
“And you want me to do this in front of every citizen here?” I step backward.
“No, nothing so suicidal.” She reaches for my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “I want to attend the town hall meeting in the hope that we’ll get the opportunity to do this unpleasant task stealthily.”
“Stealthily?” I pull my hand back. “They’ll recognize us as strangers as soon as they see us. You accessed the same memory as me. Jeanine knew I wasn’t a member of Haven because she knew everyone—”
“I have a solution for that,” Phoe says. “If I use all my current resources, I can disguise you as one of the people we Limbofied. I would be reduced to a voice in your head again, but it would be worth it.”
“You’ll make everyone think they’re seeing someone else?” I resume walking.
“No, it would be like shape-shifting from the fairy tales,” Phoe says, falling into step next to me. “You’ll have a different body. It might be interesting.”
I feared that was what she meant but had to check. Taking deep breaths to calm myself, I remember what it felt like when I was in Brandon’s and Jeanine’s memories; shape-shifting sounds like it’ll be similar.
“Exactly,” Phoe says. “And I’m thinking it should be Jeanine. Brandon would be a great alternative, because he had access to the Circle, but since some of the Guardians saw you Limbofy him in the cathedral, we can’t risk it. I could make you look like Jeff or Bill instead, the two other Guardians we Limbofied, but that’s still risky. The other Guardians might ask questions about their pursuit of you and why they didn’t come back.”
“Why do you even need me to shape-shift? Can’t you make yourself look like Jeanine?”
“Not with the resources I have. I’m basically operating on scraps. You, like every other legitimate Haven citizen, have a whole chunk of Haven’s computing power allocated to you. What I have are some unallocated resources left over from when the system tried to reclaim what belonged to Brandon, Jeff, Bill, and Jeanine. The good news is that I have more than one way I can have you shape-shift. For one thing, I can rerun the selection process you experienced when you entered Haven and guide you to make the choices that would result in a Jeanine-looking Theo. But that might put us on the radar of an anti-intrusion algorithm, assuming this place has one.”
I shudder, recalling what Phoe told me about the Test’s anti-intrusion algorithm’s capabilities.
“I doubt there’s one here,” Phoe says and turns slightly off our path. “It would be risky for the Circle to employ one, given how far this place has strayed from its original purpose, which, given all the weapons, I assume was entertainment rather than life extension. Still, better safe than sorry, so I’ll use the other option and simply tweak your existing body.”
She stops walking when she reaches a clear puddle of water. It’s too clean to be a rain puddle. Maybe it’s an underground spring? Since these water entities didn’t exist in Oasis, I’m not sure.
Phoe is looking at me expectantly, waiting for my answer.
“I get your logic for using Jeanine,” I say. “But what if I meet someone she knew?”
“Not if, but when.” Phoe gestures, and an empty water bottle appears in her hand. “Jeanine knew every single person in Haven, and you’ll need to know everything she knew about them, which will be a lot of information to take in. You have to keep in mind how long these people have lived together. Even if time here were one to one relative to the real world, many centuries have passed for most of these beings.”
“What do you mean if time—”
“Remember my earlier simulation of the beach?”
I nod.
“Well, similar to that scenario, thoughts occur much faster here, because our minds are simulated, not biological. That means that in a second of real-world time, the citizens of Haven might experience minutes, hours, or even days, depending on Haven’s computing resources allocation and the efficiency of the simulations.”
She bends down and fills her water bottle with some of the clear water. Despite the seriousness of our situation, I can’t help admiring her body in this position.
Straightening, she continues. “Without access to the outside world, it’s hard to say what the difference is. Based on Jeanine’s memories, it’s been a monumental journey. I can’t say how much time has passed because there are intentional gaps in her memory, which I don’t have enough resources to undo. So yeah, after all this time, she definitely knows everyone. Despite the Forebears preferring to stay on their islands, Jeanine’s had plenty of time to get to know every single person in Haven and vice versa.”
“Then I’m screwed, because I don’t know anyone here,” I say and watch Phoe take a small sip from her bottle.
“But we have access to Jeanine’s memories.” She hands her water bottle to me. “I will set up a link for you, and you’ll be able to recall the things you need. If necessary, I’ll help too. Though we still have to be careful to avoid in-depth conversations with people who knew her well, since accessing the amount of data that comprises Jeanine’s life is computationally challenging. She simply lived too long, and our resources are limited.”
“All right.” I take a careful sip from the bottle. The water tastes better than any drink I’ve had in my life. “I guess this idea is not as reckless as it first seems.”
“It’s pretty desperate, but beggars can’t be choosers,” Phoe says and disappears. The bottle in my hand also disappears. “Are you ready to turn into Jeanine?” her voice in my head says.
I shrug. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Phoe says, and a strong sense of vertigo hits me.
Once the world stops spinning, the sensation
s are similar to when I was accessing Jeanine’s memories, only much more vivid. I stick out my arms; they’re slender and feminine, with thin, manicured fingers. I look down and see ivy-covered curves, which makes me panic, so I look forward again. I decide it’s better to explore my new body through touch. My soft hands cup my even softer breasts, and the feeling isn’t unpleasant. I can’t help but touch myself between the legs—for good measure. I quickly pull my hand away. The lack of my usual equipment is terrifying.
Crouching, I look at my reflection in the puddle.
Jeanine’s symmetrical face looks back at me, her classical features contorted in fear.
“Phoe?” I say, my voice sounding like a harp.
“You should think at me from now on,” Phoe responds as a thought. “It’s best if you get used to communicating that way again, since we can’t have Jeanine speak to an imaginary friend in front of people. No subvocalizing either—nothing that can draw unwanted attention.”
“Okay,” I think and rise to my feet. “This is really weird.”
“I know,” Phoe replies. “Move around and get used to this body. Let’s test your proprioception and kinesthetic awareness.”
“My what?”
“Touch a finger to your nose.”
I do as Phoe says. The motion is smooth and easy, and my nose looks smaller if I focus on it.
“How did you know where your nose was?” she asks.
I shrug, which draws my attention to how narrow and slender my shoulders are.
“The sense that allowed you to touch your nose is called proprioception. Pick up that pebble, throw it in the air, and close your eyes.”
I do as she says, but a second later, as the pebble is about to hit me on the head, I dodge it, my eyes still closed.
“As you guessed, it was kinesthetic awareness that allowed you to avoid that pebble,” Phoe says. “Proprioception is closely tied to kinesthetic awareness. Let’s walk for a while.”
I open my eyes. My eyelashes are strangely visible. Must be because they’re longer.
I start walking. This time, the movement of my hips doesn’t feel odd, even though they’re swaying in a way that’s unusual for me.
“Try to summon her weapon, but with the most unobtrusive gesture you can,” Phoe suggests.
I open my right hand and will the weapon to appear. The iron fan—Jeanine’s weapon of choice—shows up in my hand. I half-expected it to be one of my flaming katanas, but I guess this makes sense.
“Yeah, I don’t do half-measures,” Phoe says. “You should be able to use this weapon by relying on Jeanine’s muscle memories. I just made them available to you.”
Acting on instinct, I unfold the fan and thrust it at the nearest branch, cleaving it in two. At the same time, I repeat the handstand somersault Jeanine used during our fight, and leap closer to the tree trunk. I slash at the oak, leaving deep gashes in the wood.
“This is going great so far,” Phoe says. “You’re getting the hang of that body.”
She makes me jump, run, dance, and perform a whole range of other tests, all of which I complete to her satisfaction.
“You’re very lucky Brandon is dead.” Phoe mentally chuckles after I perform a formal bow that everyone gives members of the Circle. “We won’t need to worry about you kissing a man—or worse.”
Though I’m no longer an innocent virgin, the idea of having to kiss or “worse” anyone as Jeanine didn’t enter my mind. I’m still not used to thinking along those lines. Now that Phoe mentioned it, though, I’m grateful we eliminated that possibility—quite literally. I can’t imagine kissing anyone but Phoe, and especially not a man.
“I’m so flattered that you can’t picture yourself kissing a man over me.” Phoe’s thoughts brim with mirth. “I think we’re ready to get into conscious, long-term memory retrieval. I’ll set up the link if you’re ready.”
“I’m ready,” I say and close my eyes, preparing for something.
“It’s done,” Phoe says. “How do you feel?”
I open my eyes. The feeling overcoming me isn’t unfamiliar. This happens when I forget a factoid and spend an eternity trying to recall it, even though it’s on the tip of my tongue, and then I suddenly remember whatever it was. What makes this different, though, is the sheer amount of factoids.
One example is the smell of forest air. Before Phoe linked Jeanine’s memories to mine, the smell was in the background. Now, however, I know that the smell was carefully formulated by Jeanine to be the exact scent of the springwoods she recalled from her childhood on Earth.
Every tree, every bird, and every animal—even the mushrooms—was carefully crafted over the years to make Jeanine feel at home as she strolled through her domain.
“She made this place?” I inadvertently ask out loud. Then I mentally add, “Sorry about speaking.”
“The Forebears, including you, can reshape Haven to their will in certain limited ways,” Phoe explains. “It’s another parallel to how the IRES game operated. Only that game shaped itself based on its user’s subconscious fears, but Haven was hacked to reshape itself based on conscious control. I can tap into some of this interface, which is how I sped up your healing. The limitation is that Haven accommodates multiple users at once, and thus multiple wills can clash. You can’t walk up to someone and will them to have horns—not unless it’s something they desire and other members of Haven don’t mind. On their private islands, though, the Forebears’ only limitation is their imagination.”
I start walking, attempting to hold off the flood of memories as I try to internalize the implications of such a strange setup.
“No time for awe, I’m afraid,” Phoe thinks at me. “Now that you don’t look like yourself, we don’t need to hide in the forest or fly under the island for cover. You can fly straight to Central Island. Can you recall where it is?”
As soon as I think of the island, memories come pouring in. If I fly to my right, passing by the ten closest neighboring islands, I’ll reach Central Island.
“Go then,” Phoe urges.
“Fine,” I think and spread my/Jeanine’s giant owl wings. “Let’s fly.”
15
Flying as Jeanine is almost fun, because accessing her experience and muscle memories forged from centuries of flying somehow dampens my fear of heights. The sight of the islands around me triggers memories that further distract me from my anxiety.
To my right is a large island that belongs to Iris. Even from this far, I can see the pink circle of Iris’s giant rose garden, a feat that took her three hundred years of calculations and care to develop.
To my left is Caleb’s island, with perfect statues that depict every person the man has ever laid eyes on—in precise anatomical detail.
I pass by the unremarkable wilderness of the island belonging to Sara, one of my—I mean, Jeanine’s—closest friends. Sara has spent the last fifty years meditating and writing poetry in iambic pentameter. Given how close she was to Jeanine, I recall what Sara looks like and make a mental note to avoid her, since she might know Jeanine intimately enough to pick up on any irregularities I might introduce to Jeanine’s behavior.
As I get closer to Central Island, more winged people come into view, all headed in the same direction as me. By the time the giant dome of the island is visible, the trickle of people looks like a huge flock of birds.
I enter the dome and expertly start my descent, taking care to avoid even small crowds and anyone who was more than an acquaintance to Jeanine.
Central Island is huge—at least ten Oasises would fit comfortably inside it—and it’s spectacular. It looks as though someone took every major ancient wonder, spruced it up, and placed it somewhere on the island. I use Jeanine’s memories to recall that the structures are themed based on the area of ancient Earth they came from. The Statue of Liberty is near the replica of what can only be the Empire State Building, and the Leaning Tower of Pisa is near the Coliseum.
“It’s like the largest theme
park ever created,” Phoe comments. “Especially given our destination.”
She has a point.
The giant castle everyone is flying toward looks suspiciously like the one in the beginning of Disney movies, only scaled up to where the top spire threatens to pierce the island’s dome.
I land on the cobblestones leading to the massive castle gateway. The crowd of Forebears is so dense I have no trouble remaining incognito as I enter the enormous hall where the meeting is supposed to take place. I struggle not to let the memories overwhelm me as I recognize the faces surrounding me; if I let every piece of information flood in, my brain will melt from the overload.
Phoe snickers. “Brain melting is a physical impossibility for you now—if it ever was possible—but your approach is sound. Keep your head down and get as close to the front of the hall as you can.”
I carefully push my way through the wings and limbs blocking my path. It’s a menagerie of scantily clothed, Youth-looking bodies, and on any other day, my proximity to them would affect me. Today, however, I examine them clinically. No one pays me much attention; they’re all preoccupied exchanging theories about this meeting.
“A new member so soon? Jeremiah didn’t spend even a day as the Envoy,” I overhear a red-haired man say.
“No,” says a tall woman. “I think this has something to do with—”
I lose track of their conversation in the cacophony of voices around me. In Oasis, we never had gatherings so large. At the crush of so many people, I feel something primal awaken in me—a fear of sorts. I suppress the feeling, focusing instead on the lush decorations. Based on Jeanine’s memories—she was part of the crew who built this place—I knew the hall would be amazing. However, now that I see it with my own eyes, the frescos, the statues, and the intricate glass mosaics are beyond breathtaking.
Eventually, I can’t squeeze through the crowd any farther. It’s simply too dense. I’m about forty feet away from the stage, and I have to settle for that.
