Lenders

by Johnson, John

  Greg brought up a new display which likewise caught Amy’s attention. It was in 3D, a picture of a winding network of tunnels all tagged with very tiny yellow markers, one was flashing. It had numbers on it. Coordinates perhaps? Their current position? He noticed Eddie typing something in on his right. He was working with the same tunnel network on his small slid-out screen. He tapped his finger on a flashing tag, and a whole series of tags expanded on both his and Greg's screen. Greg switched on the auto-pilot and the ship sped through the tunnel, now going forward. Forward is good, Jim thought, any direction, just not back there. Things were smooth, and their minds had snapped back into place.

  “Sorry Jim,” Eddie said pushing his screen away. He noticed Jim was a little distraught, but hanging in there. “We probably should’ve warned you. Hard to talk once we get moving past warp 6. Things get really choppy.”

  “It was fucking weird Eddie,” Jim replied, returning to his old, new self. “I felt like I was in the light forever, and only a moment, both at the same time. Where are we now?”

  “That was the worst part of the trip, for some. Many people like it. Some call it the nowhere, others call it the somewhere, but this—this is the in between,” Eddie replied. “The swirls of light are the imprints of consciousness. Brighter culminating areas are most likely civilizations. We perceive the wall as a two-dimensional cylindrical slice as we glide through it, but it’s all multidimensional—we are in the wormhole now Jim. It has a very solid edge so you don’t get any of that weird residual stuff.”

  “How do you know all this?” Jim asked.

  “We know a lot, almost—everything. We’ve explored other dimensions too. In some dimensions there’s raw consciousness. We each have a piece; it’s the most beautiful substance imaginable. Like a galaxy is bright in the physical universe, there the consciousness is—” He paused. Jim looked confounded. Too much information. For now. “Well, you’ll get your chance, and really I’m not supposed to directly answer your questions—not yet.” Jim remembered Amy, and where they were headed. He saw her sitting, quietly.

  “Almost there, hang on,” Greg said. “Quick, Eddie can you confirm?” The exit appeared brightly ahead and the ship was approaching it quickly. There was less color on the edges of the wormhole, less and less as they neared it.

  “Yes, we’re right on track. Fifteen seconds,” Eddie replied. “Don’t worry Jim, exiting is smooth. On my mark, in 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, Exit!”

  Jim held his armrest so tight he crushed the cushion destroying it. Amy was tense, stiff with her head and neck back and her eyes wide open. The exit was radiant white, bright white, the whitest light fathomable, and Greg dove the ship smack into it. Jim sighed releasing a deep breath. The exit was instantaneous; he was very glad they didn’t have to pass through the somewhere again.

  60. The Fall

  The ship rounded a cue ball—a large white moon as smooth as glass—leaving a bright stream of teal with white glitter in a ten thousand mile arcing wake. The planet below came quickly. It was also without craters, smooth as a grey polished stone save for deep claw marks banding the equator; as if the hemispheres had once battled, almost managing to separate. The jagged gashes turned to fine lines as they wrapped their way toward the bald poles. Fine stringy tinges of red made their destination appear torrid.

  Its parent star was ginormous, a blotchy blood-red giant with gaseous rings. Had it had decimated a thousand Jupiters, flattening each razor thin? The colors were banding layers of brilliance, every hue—saving the solar system from a look of gloom—and feathered their way to the outskirts where gas giants and brown dwarfs enforced a boundary like that of the Jewel City outer defense ships. Greg had the layout of the solar system positioned on the front and center panel in 3D. It was grand with thousands of planets, hundreds of thousands of moons—like something from a science-fiction novel.

  The landing gear descended and the ship hovered above a round clearing near one of the equatorial crevasses. Other ships had obviously landed in the spot before; the ground had been blown clear of its fine grey layer of powder. Having been disturbed by their arrival, sparkling beneath the giant’s fiery gaze, spinning dust revealed traces of a glimmering red ore.

  The four doors opened with a crack, followed by a pressure releasing hiss. Eddie nodded to Jim: a nod of friendship, goodwill—and goodbye. And Jim, not knowing exactly why he chose to do it, shook his hand.

  The hull of the ship steamed like ice on fire. Amy hopped out planting her feet on smooth marble-like ground. Gravity felt tight on every joint and she had to force her back straight. Happiness lingered from the adventurous flight, but at the same time the impending bleak reality began to smother her. She raised her shoulders and shuddered then crossed her arms. Jim quickly hopped off the wing of the ship and went to comfort her. It wasn’t a scorching world as it had appeared from above; to the contrary it was downright chilly.

  The doors closed and the ship speedily rose into the air. Jim lunged for the wing—because the high gravity didn’t allow for much of a leap. He managed to grasp it but his fingers slipped from the icy surface.

  Greg’s voice came over a loudspeaker, “We’re sorry Jim. Amy. We must go. We said our goodbyes at the mercado. Unfortunately we cannot drag things out here. You must hurry.”

  “Goodbye again Jim. Goodbye Amy,” Eddie’s voice said.

  “You can’t just leave us like this!” Jim yelled. His voice sounded flat in the thin air.

  “Follow this path,” Greg instructed. A green laser emitted from the nose of the ship and pointed to highlight the direction. “And Jim—this is not a high level map. Time here is equal to time on Earth so you must act quickly. After it’s done you will be logged out from here. Goodbye again.”

  “Wait—” Jim reached pointlessly, but the ship was gone. The thruster fired a moment later and it disappeared into the black void above. The space above looked lifeless, largely devoid of stars, and equally Jim had the same empty feeling. He kept looking up, procrastinating, hoping, but Amy was already headed down the path, walking quickly. He ran to catch up with her.

  “Amy, we can’t—”

  “It’s too late. We have to hurry Jim. The town is about to be destroyed. We might only have a minute.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing Jim,” she said walking even faster. “You think I’m a little girl. I might seem that way but I’m not. We made a decision and we’re sticking to it.”

  Jim stopped. He looked around. Nothing. They were utterly trapped, lost, abandoned, and had no choice. But maybe…

  Amy kept walking, then stopped again noticing he was still fighting it. She got mad. “You grab your balls Jim, and let’s do this. Now!” She yelled even louder, “Jim—I am ready! Like Greg said, and he was right. We already said our goodbyes. Why make things harder than they have to be? Now run!” Her voice no longer sounded flat in the curious atmosphere, it was robust with depth.

  Amy took off sprinting down the path. Apparent now, it was a dead end, a cliff. Jim snapped out of it and ran behind her. He was scared. His heart pumped, almost out of his chest. Mister stability, tough-guy, things had always been relatively easy for him. He’d been in control for most of his life, but surely not now. His fate was rolling out in front of him like a red carpet, and he had no choice but to follow it, to keep up with her. Again, she was right. Dammit why does she always have to be? The time had come to go into the unknown. All the quotidian work, for years, mundane living to exist, just surviving, the lending that made it all possible—and this was it.

  Amy made it to the edge first, by far. She was lighting fast—thanks to a lesson from Nanny in the carnival map. Jim lagged, wheezing, but finally got there. The air was thin yet Amy seemed unaffected. Gazing down she felt a pain that flooded her eyes, but just as soon wiped her face and held herself poised. She was strong and determined and there would be no more sadness. She had to believe something good, no, something great was going to come from this, from her l
ife. Maybe, just maybe, she would live on, in some way. But she could think forever, guess, speculate—it wasted time.

  “What is it?” Jim asked coming up from behind. The grey dust he’d stirred caught up with him. Scattering red sparkles danced about his feet. He looked left and right. What looked like claw marks from space were actually gouging zebra-striped canyons for thousands of miles. An icy breeze streamed lightly against the edge chilling his face as he looked over. He thought of the sombrero Felix gave him, a hat. Any hat would do right now, his bald head was frozen as if the moving air contained sticky molecules of liquid nitrogen. Amy shuddered but didn’t let it affect or control her. She was resolute and ready to go—standing tall against the pressing gravity.

  “I love you Jim. And thank you, for everything,” she said facing him.

  He looked below, moving his head, squinting his eyes to see. He thought of the portal above the rapids in the fantasy world and hoped to find something that could catch her, anything. Then he saw. No! Bodies littered the canyon, far below on a ledge, hundreds of them. Bleached-white skeletons; none had a trace of flesh. But, how can that be… Wait! There could be life on this planet, Jim thought, a chance! He’d lost all lucidity now; it had been fading in an out, more out than in, like his mind, wobbling back and forth since he’d first logged in with her at the beach. Amy on the other hand, had never faltered. She was a rock, as lucid as could be, his much-needed crutch.

  “Amy—wait!”

  “We cannot wait,” she replied firmly and spoke quickly, “I want you to push me. And if you don’t I will jump, but I would rather not do it myself—please Jim.” He hesitated. He just couldn’t. Amy took a stance, then leapt.

  Jim caught her arm and easily stopped her, then turned her small body around to face him. He wanted to tell her there might be life on this planet. Something on the devoid rock were they found themselves could be alive; perhaps there’s a city! Something had to have eaten the flesh from the bodies, it was just too cold for them to decompose by themselves.

  But—it could be part of the choice. An illusion? Like his mind, and his new senses and capacities, it was dizzying. He knew—he was all fucked up. Amy on the other hand was firm, she’d made her choice.

  “Back in the Old Town mercado,” he said, “Greg said it was my choice first.”

  “Jim, don’t do this, you’re rationalizing,” Amy said. A tiny tear escaped her flooded eyes. Silently, a raspy whisper escaped her lips. She pleaded, “Please.”

  Gravity-enhanced surface tension made his eyes glass, and layers of tears were an avalanche with his next words. “I love you,” he said. His core was frozen, the outside of his fingers numb, but Amy was hot, heating his palms. He held her shoulders firm in his two strong hands, and she warmed his heart with a smile.

  It was the hardest thing he ever had to do. Face to the icy air he watched her fall. She looked up to him, falling backwards with that same perky smile she’d had when they first met, and waved. Jim’s face flooded. He couldn’t even return the smile or move a muscle. Unleashed, the tears poured out, coming down his cheeks as if a dam had exploded. His mouth locked and his teeth cracked under the pressure. He was frozen solid. What have I done!

  Slow motion—glistening with red starlight his tears neared the ground. The droplets splashed into the fine dust of the grey rocky edge at the same moment Amy departed from life. He spun around forcefully after hearing the faint, crack—and his every emotion exploded like a supernova. Anger, sadness, despair, agony—he was heartbroken. Loss made hate boil again, hotter than ever. His fists cracked and every muscle in his face and body clenched tight enough to tear tendons and fracture bones. Capillaries burst in his eyes and blood seeped down onto his cheeks. The mental and physical pain of the push branded his anguish like a hot poker to the spine. Emotions were a tornado of fire, setting his skin on fire from the inside out. Veins popped throughout his muscular arms and his face flushed redder than the deep red of the giant star. And he fell to his knees.

  Then it happened. His eyes went wide, his mouth agape. His arms and head shot straight back. The rush surged within him.

  61. Purple Status

  Cheering spread throughout the facility. Rico could hardly communicate with Rob Mills who commanded the intercom in the safe room. The noise, cries of joy and sighs of relief, was however a good sound to hear.

  “Abell, make a sweep on your way back, and be careful,” Rico said. Abell nodded and after clearing the door carried his pipe into the hall. Ron shadowed him, with a much smaller pipe. They were returning to the broadcast room, logins or help could be needed. The hallway looked like a monumental fireworks celebration had taken place within. The walls were charred and pitted, but structurally intact.

  Rico decided he could handle the control room solo, the automation was asking him to make some verifications about their recent savior, to hold off temporarily, and gave him a checklist to attend to. Although he could override many of the systems and burst outside excitedly, he decided to heed the advice of the system and take caution. All was quiet except for David; he was tightly restrained and drooling, face to the floor, his mumbles had turned into incoherent noises and faint whines. Rico worked diligently and anxiously assessing damages, and marking off one completed task after another. He took the alert status down a notch, from red to yellow, and kept busy while keeping a watchful an eye on the ship outside.

  Its just-in-time arrival had saved everyone from certain death. The lower nose of the ship was open and three humans wearing immaculately clean bright-orange jumpsuits stood on the ramp waving. They looked friendly, were smiling, and carried no weapons.

  The facility, and the town had taken extreme damage, defenses were at half capacity. For reasons unknown ship #11 was unable to complete its auto-repairs. If the town needed air support it could spare no more than one ship from the outer perimeter, especially because drone forces were now alert to their current state of weakness.

  “Rob Price, come in,” Rico said on the intercom to the safe room.

  “Rob here.”

  “Rob this is Rico. We have control of the facility. There’s a ship out there. It saved all of us and there are three people standing on its open ramp. They’re waving us in, but I need you to hold everyone back for now. Slightly open the safe room door and send out security. Instruct them to perform a sweep of the facility, quickly then get back to you. I know it’s cramped, just hang on a little longer.”

  “You got it Rico,” Rob said.

  Kim Mills was standing right next to him. She was sick of being squished and wanted out. Waving hands sounded great to her and she added questionably, “They’re waving—that’s great isn’t it? Why should we keep them waiting if they saved us? At least send out a runner.”

  “Well they’ve been signaling us since the ship’s door opened a few minutes ago. But the automation is telling me to hold temporarily. We have a few checks to make plus it advised against exiting until further auto-repairs have been completed.” He paused, remembering what Jim had said in company of Nelman at the bottom of the shaft, make decisions. He decided to go against the recommendation of the automation, partly. “Kim, that does make sense. Give me two minutes then send out the runner.”

  New security team member Joey stood near Rob. He overheard and was jumping at the chance. “Okay, we’ll have Joey check it out,” Rob said. “As soon as the he returns I’ll get back to you with an update.”

  “10-4—and Rob, be careful. They’ve been waving steadily for almost five minutes now, no change. It’s a little odd, but they did destroy the entire drone army that would’ve certainly done us in.”

  “Understood Rico. We’re on it.”

  A call came in from Ted at the BROCC. “Rico come in.”

  “I’m here Ted. What is it?” Rico replied. He put Ted on screen. There was a lot of commotion and crying going on behind him.

  “We have some bad news. It’s Amy—she’s, she’s gone.” Ted moved aside so Rico could see
. “It happened a few minutes ago, very sudden. And Jim, we can’t log him out, he’s seizing up.” Rico could see Bertha sobbing above Amy, her face glossy with tears. Young Doc was tending to Jim, patting his forehead with a damp cloth. He was as red as a tomato and his body jerked every few seconds. Drips of blood leaked from his pressed eyes. Old Doc consoled Bertha from behind. Many others surrounded her and Amy.

  “My God—” A needle stabbed his spine sending icy prickles throughout his body—a completely new emotion. “—Ted. I’m so sorry.” Rico put his hand on his face and rubbed his eyes. “I, can’t leave the control room right—”

  “Wait, something is happening Rico,” Ted interrupted. “Her body—” Ted hustled away to to see. She was changing color. The slight radiance that had returned earlier was fading and she became pale, then grey. Dark spots appeared on her arms in web-like blotches; then her legs, neck, and face. The spots grew like accelerated black mold. Something, was eating away at her from the inside out and her body appeared to be deflating.

  Gasping, Bertha put her hand over her mouth and stumbled backward. Others assisted, catching the large woman before she tripped on the steps that descending into the sleeping area. Most of the lenders had logged out, unexpectedly because of the thunderous cracking, and watched in horror as her body became thin and disintegrated before their eyes. Abell and Ron arrived, just in time to see the horror. Her skin fell off, her blood dried and her eyes fell into her skull. Her one-armed skeleton appeared so tiny and frail, but soon even it disintegrated—her bones got thinner and thinner until all trace of the human being that was once Amy—crumbled. Her robotic arm fell onto the floor. In less than a minute only the blackish powder remained, and her clothes—but, there was something else, something metal. And it began to glow. A three-inch metallic sphere. It became brilliant and illuminated the room with a purple glow, brighter, then brighter. Arms rose to shield eyes. Bertha and the lenders took another step back as the little ball resting in a powdery pile of ash started to spark and rotate. Old Doc knew, it was the anomaly he had found! Surely though, it was not cancer. The sparks became almost violent. And the remains of the nicest young women anyone could have met—blew off the table.