Jim couldn’t believe it. Had it really gone this far? This deep. Our oblivious town, he thought. We really are just sheep.
“This is why we attempt to save humanity,” Greg continued sadly. “Not because of the human bodies, the vessels—meat popsicles as a quirky friend calls them—but for the consciousness that can be caught, attracted to a system—then held, trapped forever, for as long as the system wants. Take for example Felix; and Rosita also, partly and under different circumstances. Their consciousness upon death, attached itself here, in this map, to this copy. Felix has decided to stay here, to help us. He’s our in-between component, and friend.” Felix nodded. Jim noticed Amy’s tears had dried up, she was always the stronger one.
The implications of this, horrible, unfathomable—hell, he thought.
“But why does Amy, have to, die? Can we not activate this—savior—another way?” Jim’s mood was weighted by the new information. If, it’s true—but why wouldn’t it be? The extent of technology, and what is possible. It’s an end, a beginning. He thought of the town, and the possibility of endlessly trapped slaves. Something in his mind constructed a wall and he didn’t want to take it there; he kept his deepest thoughts on the idea imprisoned.
“Jim, Amy, estas bien?” Rosita spoke but really didn’t know what to say. She held out a hand in comfort but Amy was comfortable clinging to Jim and didn’t respond to it. He was her rock, and, Amy was his, probably more than she could know.
“No, I’m really not okay, not at all,” Jim spoke calmly, drained. Amy held his arm and looked into his eyes.
“I’m okay with whatever you decide Jim. I don’t want to die,” she said, “but I must believe that they do know what is best, for the greater good. For everyone, our friends. Our town is family.”
“Jim,” Greg continued, “if you decide to proceed we will take you to the map, and it can be done anyway you and Amy want. The map will delete Amy—permanently. Her body will die on the outside, and there will be no trace of her consciousness. She will be—erased. If not, you return to your town—you live and continue on, and fight for as long as you can hold out. The world is yours.”
“But why, why—why?” Jim pained. He put his hands on the table not knowing what position to take. He moved them nervously. It made him uncomfortable and he squirmed in his seat. He was overloaded with anxiety—like when he and Rico couldn’t get the power rerouted—again he felt like he had to take a shit and couldn’t hold still. He turned to Amy, she calmed his movement. Their glassy eyes met passionately. Their lower lids were unable to dam the flow of tears. “She doesn’t deserve this. After all she’s been through.” He directed his words to Greg while staring at her.
“I can promise you this Jim,” Greg continued. “You will know everything if you go through with it. You will know why it had to be done, and you will understand your choice. Your town will have a chance—it is the only chance of being saved. You yourself Jim, will be saved.” Eddie nodded to Greg like a doctor giving a bad prognosis.
Have they done it before, Jim thought, told others about this goddamn fucking choice?
“That is all we can tell you,” Greg went on, “you must choose whether to believe us. You choose to believe if we are even real. And if we are, you choose to believe that what we are telling you is true. You choose to save the many, or save the one. You ultimately decide, based on what you know to be right in your heart. You hardly know us, but we shared a meal together. We’ve talked, even laughed a little. We enjoyed some really great tequila and each other's company. We wanted you to know us first, at least as much as possible, given our circumstances.” There was a long pause.
“Jim, the time has come,” Felix said. “You must choose Señor.”
He looked back to Amy. He wanted some way to know. Like a bad dream, but it wasn’t, as much as he yearned for it to be.
Amy couldn’t decide either, and she couldn’t provide any absolution. How does one choose to die? I think I’m a fun person to be around. I try hard, I care about others, why me? Her thoughts made her want to cry more, but she held it in. She gathered herself, mustering her strength as she had done so many times throughout her life. “I love you Jim. I said that, and I wasn't lying. I’ve been through a lot. My body has been slashed and chopped and I’m in a coma right now. Who knows if I could even help much longer, or will ever awake from it? If there’s a chance the town can be saved—” Amy swallowed hard. The wind shifted the canopy above them, allowing a ray of light to shine inside. A tear glimmering like a bright shining star caught the light and descended her cheek.
“If you’re okay with it Amy—but I don’t know if I could—”
“I want you to. I want you to be strong. And—remember me.” They hugged. They squeezed each other tight and their tears broke loose, mixing, twinkling in the light. During the long hug they had decided silently to each other. He held her, then pulled away to stare at her. He wanted to absorb every detail of her face. This is how he would remember her.
She smiled, brightly with a wet face. She saw the roulette wheel in his eyes, and the marble had taken its slot. She knew he’d been messed up for a while, his imagination and emotions, and his instincts, like every other part of his mind were twisting his reality, fluctuating and finding their slots. And she knew he’d be okay. She also knew—although it didn’t matter any longer, or never had—that he wasn’t actually gay. She could see him through and through, beyond time, just like she’d done with Myron in repairing his wound. She could not repair Jim, it was his mind, his choice, but knew in her heart that he was stronger than he allowed himself to be, and he was going to be fine and move forward with courage and strength and determination—without her.
Felix rose to his feet. He was in tears. Rosita too. Greg couldn’t help it, he hugged Eddie who’d teared up as well, they all had. Others around had noticed and thought it was a proposal, or an engagement. Clapping began. The food stand owner came out of his trailer and stood next to his family, clapping: his three sons and daughter in front of him, and his wife, a beautiful family. Jim noticed. He saw how hard they worked. He knew the town was in trouble, and this is what would be saved. Good people, people like this family standing strong, together. And the group of six at the table got close with one another. They shared tears, and for a time couldn’t speak. They banded together and hugged as one. Jim saw in their eyes, he couldn’t help it, maybe he was ignorant, but he saw truth.
“When you are ready we can go,” Greg said, still composing himself. The moment was powerful, a decision had been made, and they were ready. Amy nodded up at them with drying tears.
Jim, yet still reluctant, managed to assemble his final decision. Amy taught him what it was to be strong, and it was time to prove it. He took a deep breath while holding Amy in his arm, and together they said, “Yes, we’re ready.”
58. Flying
To Jim, what seemed like mere hours was quite different for Felix and company; weeks had passed. Time in Old Town, as the outsiders had explained, had slowed upon their arrival. They had been sent, just in case. The call was made because the earlier visit—a request for the code under desperate circumstances—raised a red flag.
Felix and Rosita waved. They held an arm around each other, watching as Jim and Amy were escorted away. Rosita was upset about the circumstances and the decision but trusted her man. He didn’t explain it to her, but said it was for the best, that one day she would understand, and—that sometimes knowing less is more. He also didn’t explain anything regarding why he knew more than he should: about Mr. Quain Renmore—his buddy Q, the circumstances of their first meeting, and how they became friends and talked for hours; that was another story altogether.
They departed in the opposite direction Felix had driven Jim and Rico. As Amy passed the old saloon she turned around. She paused to get a last glimpse of Rosita and Felix who were standing at the mercado entrance next to the old blue pickup truck. Her hair rustled in a gusty warm breeze. They waved again, but
Amy didn’t, she only smiled.
She looks so innocent and young Rosita thought sadly, deserving of so much more. The breeze reached the couple as they watched her slip from view. It was strong and blew Felix’s hat off. But he didn’t reach for it because his attention got sidetracked. He felt something, something powerful. They both did. It was a mix of peaceful feelings, including one that said: I’ll be okay. Felix knew a bit about Amy and her power; she had sent them a final goodbye, a feeling that could say a great deal more than words. The breeze conveyed her essence, and her good will. It carried a vibrant resilient strength that halted Rosita's tears, and with it, she couldn't help but smile. She put her hand on her heart and took a deep breath, absorbing Amy’s powerful last message, a message of love.
“So where are we headed,” Jim asked. He was holding Amy’s hand walking behind Greg. Eddie was leading and merely pointed. Jim recognized the area. They had come to the edge of the town; a few ironwood trees and some dry overgrown grass edged a nearby canal. The vegetation got thicker and taller the further they walked, eventually providing substantial shade.
These trees no longer exist, he thought, none of this. It would become the gardens behind his building, northwest of the town. They continued along the canal until reaching its source, a small spring, exactly where the wall would be placed several decades into the future. Jim knew it well; besides what little the Atmowater Generators could squeeze it was their primary source of water. The builders had likely built the wall atop the natural well to take advantage of the abundant supply of water, and to secure it; almost too perfect. The more time he spent in the Old Town map the more he found himself putting things together, becoming familiar with the distances. He knew where he was, for now.
They crossed a small bridge over the canal just before the spring and continued along the overgrown path into unfamiliarity. Another thin canal broke from the spring and meandered in the direction they were heading. Jim realized, they’d just passed the would-be boundary of the great wall.
“Almost there. We have a ship,” Eddie replied. Amy’s eyes widened at the thought.
The brush thickened and Eddie pushed his way through first. Greg went next holding some brush aside for Amy and Jim followed last. The path ended by opening into a clearing: a spring-like oasis. They were beyond a wall of trees and the town was no longer in sight. It was green and grassy and looked almost manicured. The canal had become a clear-water creek after winding its way through the brush. Ahead and to their right the water cascaded into a serene pond. Like a line had been crossed, the area looked incongruent. But there was nothing more heading out, the grass quickly evaporated into desert. Green sod was the beach, dry dust was an ocean. The view unloaded for hundreds of miles—flat, nothing.
Jim put his hands on his hips and looked around. The expanse looked similar to the desert Felix had taken them through in his beat-up truck. They had walked a good mile, at least. Greg scanned the area briefly—nobody anywhere—then reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked to be a set of keys dangling a small device. He pressed a button and the ship appeared in front of them, wavy ripples delivered it to existence. Some sort of cloak! Amy’s eyes lit up, like the adventure she’d always wanted.
It looked like a minivan with chicken-wings—Jim’s first off-the-wall thought anyway. Like those of the pre-2020’s: families would cram themselves in; when people still went on physical vacations. But this one was quite sleek, longer, with a high-tech look to it. A memory flashed. Jim thought about the newer models, those released just before the war.
Greg pressed another button and four top-hinged doors opened with a faint hiss. Amy was already encircling the glossy red craft while all stood back admiring her inquisitiveness. Greg crossed his arms and leaned back. They watched her. Like a kid with a birthday surprise she was quickly drawn to peek inside. Then, she got in.
Jim stepped forward to do his own inspection, sure, he was interested. None of the lender maps had anything to like this, nothing with the power to thrill. The aft thruster was large, he knew it would boogie.
The craft had sporty appeal, accented in matte black, outlined with thin white stripes. The squarely-rounded tube between the short wings was seamless and designed astutely. An eight-inch molding that doubled as a step followed the edges, melding with the short five-foot wings and diminishing toward a long pointed bow. Additional smaller thrusters under the wings bulged elegantly. The inside had comfortable seating for six, three rows, no windows. The four rear passenger seats were centered between the wings where the doors were almost twice as long as the pilot’s doors.
Jim walked around the side, stepped onto the wing then ducked into the craft. He remembered a smell; it teased his distant memories. Amy was already seated, awing, eyes round. The rear seats were elevated compared to the pilot’s seats up front. Greg walked around to the starboard side. As he entered the panels came to life. After taking his seat a steering control with two joysticks moved toward him and stopped between his legs. The instrument panel was far in front, out of reach, curving around the cockpit like one big horseshoe. Its surface resembled the 3D screens in the control room.
“Would you like to sit up front Amy?” Eddie asked. He didn’t have to stay it twice. She excitedly jumped out and off the wing and hopped inside. After she sat her steering control came out and positioned itself. She touched it and forgot all else. Eddie knew that Greg made it happen, for only his set of controls would have activated otherwise. Greg tapped another button and their seats glided forward nestling them within close reach of the glossy screen that came to life with a myriad of colorful controls. It was about sixteen inches in depth and wrapped around the both of them and a convenient angle. Trance-like, Amy floated her hands above it.
“Wow, this is great. Can I fly it?” Amy rejoiced. Greg grinned and leaned his head toward her teasingly. He put a finger on his chin, as if pondering the idea. He couldn’t help himself and his grin burst into a smile. It told her—there was a chance. She elated even more. While she focused on the colorful controls bouncing with joy, he noticed her.
Has she forgotten why we are here in the first place, and to where we’re going?
No. This is Amy: strong, alive, and able to overcome anything. She put what needed to be put in the past, in the past, didn’t dwell, and moved forward. The present controlled her and she made every minute count.
Eddie moved his head slowly side to side smiling big while climbing onto the wing. Her happiness was contagious. It infected them as if she had quantum control over their minds, some sort of infectious power. Glancing at Jim he said, “She’s great,” and buckled himself into the seat.
Sitting next to Eddie, the old Jim, for a second, stabbed him with his eyes. Given the chance he could build up some hate, and quickly. Crush in their skulls, he thought. Then steal the ship, or flying mini-van with wings, or whatever the fuck it is, and fly the hell away. Away with Amy, escape, and hide, let her live and enjoy all the wonderfully things life has to offer. But he remembered the pain, and the bad things, her injuries, her robotic arm and the horrible stories she was able to tell him without breaking down. And he remembered why they were there, and forced those thoughts out. He had to—if he was to actually go through with what was next. So, he just nodded in response to Eddie, who didn’t notice the evil I’ll-fucking-kill-you look he’d given him because Amy had entrapped his attention; her vivacity was a drug for all in her company.
“Everybody in. Buckle up. The doors are closing, hands and feet inside.”
“Well, can I?! I know I can I fly it,” she said. She was itching for a big fat yes, and couldn’t sit still. Greg turned to her as the doors came down making it dark inside.
“I’m sorry Amy but—” Greg paused. She frowned. “—yes, you can.” She jumped up out of her seat, but not by muscle action. She actually floated and had to grab one of the joysticks to bring herself back down. Lucky it had a high ceiling.
It didn’t surprise Jim, but Edd
ie gasped. Greg’s eyes went wide and he thought about what he’d just witnessed. This part of the map, outside the bounds of Old Town, was a high level area, nothing any human could modify or change—but she’d broken the rules. No flying, no magic, no special tricks, not here—yet he had just witnessed one. He knew this section wasn’t low level, like the incomparably more simple lending maps of a basic system, it had rules, set-in-stone solid rules. But she did arrive here, he thought, somehow entering a higher level map using only her mind, and that in itself… He didn’t know what to think really, but admitted to himself he didn’t know everything. He shrugged it off as an oddity and without a choice to do otherwise continued with his preflight checklist.
There wasn’t much to do, and it almost appeared as if Greg was just acting like a pilot. He pressed a few buttons on the center console. The inside of the ship is simple, so it has to be simple to fly, I could…Jim thought, the fractious idea popping back into his head…before it’s too late. But, and he pulled himself together again: the restaurateurs and their small taco stand, the townspeople of Jewel City, Rico, and the few friends I’m much closer to now; I must retain my lucidity, and the perspective. The decision has been made.
Amy wriggled with excitement, and the ship quietly separated itself from the ground.
A string of azure blue light surrounded the ceiling; one of emerald green encircled the floor. Otherwise the interior was dark, windowless, and sealed. They sensation of floating grew stronger and all screens lit up brightly. It was now as if—they were in a convertible! They wings could be seen, and the back of the ship, everything. The interior projections were seamless, three dimensional, with immeasurable resolution. It was as if they were outside—yet it was a temperature controlled interior, not an actual convertible, totally sealed. The air conditioner blew and the end of the hot desert air was refreshing.
Lenders Page 48
