by Paul Anlee
Her efforts had paid off. Her bulky avatar had grown slim and solid, and her mind had become sharper through rigid discipline and determination.
The four Trillians advanced, and Mary backed away warily. As she retreated, she relaxed her body and breathing. She held her hands open in front of her in a standard Wushu stance—another gift from Darya—left hand in front, both palms up.
She glanced around for a weapon. A short wooden pike with a metal tip on a nearby tabletop was the closest thing she could find. Where did that come from? No matter. Keeping her eyes on the men, she lunged for the pike, secured it with one hand, and yanked hard toward herself
Ow! Her fingers came away empty and scraped. Surprised but not ready to give up her prize, she grabbed the pole with both hands. The rough wood tore the skin from her hands but didn’t budge.
The Trillians laughed in concert, rushed forward, and grabbed her arms and legs. She’d been tricked, again, by Trillian’s control over everything in the room.
She struggled but they held her fast. They lifted her onto the tabletop and secured her wrists and ankles in iron cuffs. Heavy chains ran from the cuffs to a large, ratcheted wheel.
She put on a brave face. “Really, Trillian! The rack? Could you be any more cliché?”
Inside, she was petrified. Not the rack!.
The four Trillians stepped back and watched Mary pull futilely against her bindings. The Trillian closest to the head of the table turned the wheel enough to take up the slack in the chains.
She braced herself. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Exist outside your perception of pain.
The Trillian at her side looked on with the appearance of compassion. “I am sorry about this. Truly. I’d hoped that passing a little time alone here might make you more amenable to cooperation. Sadly, you’re more stubborn than that.
“You’re right, of course.” He looked around the cell with distaste, “Once recognized as such, this inane parade of psychological threats has no more effect on a strong-minded Cybrid than a circus fun-house.
“But I promise you that this, however cliché it may be,” he said and patted the slab supporting her, “this is going to be different. So I’m going to give you the courtesy of asking you again, nicely, to cooperate. If you do, we can be done with all this nasty business and set you free.
“I would really rather not hurt you. That’s the truth, but you’re not giving me any choice, Mary. Alum has ordered that this rebellion of yours be quashed, and placed me in charge of carrying out his command. I will do whatever is necessary to fulfil my duty to The Living God.
The wheel tightened a fraction more, pulling Mary’s arms and legs uncomfortably taught. She could no longer twist or pull. She stopped resisting and let her body slump in the device.
“Don’t worry, dear,” one of the Trillians said. “You will feel pain and it will be excruciating, I assure you. But the damage won’t be permanent. Not today. This is just a taste of what’s to come. We’ll return another day, and do this all over, and over again if needed, until you tell us where Darya is.”
“Please…” she whimpered.
“What’s that?” Trillian said, moving his ear closer to her mouth. She lunged her face upward, snapping, but he pulled away before her teeth could clamp onto his flesh.
“You’re going to regret that,” he snarled. He nodded, and the Trillian at her head wrenched on the wheel. The chains tightened several more centimeters.
Mary’s body exploded in agony, and her screams echoed down the outer passageway. It took her minutes to return to her senses. Her joints screamed, and every limb felt stretched to the limit, just short of tearing.
One of the Trillians extracted a scalpel from a roll on the table and held it up for her to examine. The jagged, rusty blade was sure to make a painful mess of anything it cut.
Mary’s pupils contracted as she focussed on the knife. She sobbed shamelessly. “No. No, please,” she begged.
Trillian moved his face closer to hers. She could smell his breath and feel the puffs of air on her face as he addressed her in a quiet, sweet voice.
“It’s entirely up to you, Mary. You will tell me everything you know about Darya, where she is, and what she’s planning. You will tell me today, or tomorrow, or the day after. But you will tell me.”
He placed the cold blade against her sternum. He signaled to one of his other selves to tighten the rack a little bit more.
Mary cried out as every last bit of slack was removed along the length of her spine and limbs.
“First I’m going to open you up,” Trillian said in a cold, diagnostic voice. “Then, I’m going to release your entrails.” The blade traced the proposed arcs along her stomach. “And then, we’re going to see how you like the stench of your own guts burning.”
She yelled and clamped her eyes shut, anticipating the searing sting of the first slice. It didn’t come. She waited.
Nothing. The room was silent. She opened her eyes.
All four Trillians were staring, mouths agape, at what she’d been calling the Window to Hell. She followed their gaze.
Darya and Timothy stood on the other side, flames licking at their legs, swords drawn. They stared back at the four Trillians surrounding Mary.
No one moved. The seconds drew out.
Darya’s mouth worked silently, and tears streamed down her cheeks.
Mary didn’t need to hear to understand what Darya was saying. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Two of the Trillians popped out of existence, and instantly reappeared on the other side of the glass, beside Darya and Timothy. The Trillians grabbed for the intruders, but a blinding flash forced them backward. When they could see again, Darya and Timothy were gone.
The Trillian standing over Mary glared at her. “We will continue this tomorrow,” he growled. The four Trillians gathered at the door. As if by afterthought, the last one to depart waved his hand back over his shoulder, and Mary was released from the rack.
She looked to the window but it was dark and empty again save for the eerie glow of the flickering flames below. She was alone again.
Was it really Darya and Timothy at the window, or did I hallucinate that? It must have been, or why would the Trillians have left so abruptly?
Mary rolled herself off the table and collapsed onto the cold floor. She agonized her way to the nearest heavy wooden leg, slumped against it, and gave into her pent-up tears.
She knew better than to get up her hopes. Clinging to hope could be deadly here. Besides, it was likely just another ploy to crush her spirit.
If so, it was pretty effective. I’ll give him that—she told herself. She couldn’t help but to hope.
What if it was them, what if they did come for me? And where did they go? Did Trillian capture them, too? Or worse, kill them? Oh, Darya, you shouldn’t have come. I hope you got away.
30
Darya and Timothy emerged in a dingy hotel room in Alternus.
“Hey, I recognize this place,” Timothy said. He opened the characterless stain-resistant curtains and looked outside at a jumbled New York City.
Nothing had changed since they’d escaped that madhouse some months ago. The streets and buildings still ran at impossible angles, and a section of the Brooklyn Bridge still protruded into the air halfway up the wall opposite the window. He pressed his hands against the glass to steady himself as he marveled at the urban tangle before him.
“Switch your vision to ten dimensions; it’ll all fall into place,” Darya advised.
He adjusted his virtual perceptual processing. Buildings, streets, and sidewalks arranged themselves into sensible order.
“Yes, that’s better,” he said.
Something was still odd about the scene, though. He let the rhythm of the city permeate his mind.
Most of the people were walking along calmly as if there were nothing different about their world. Others were gingerly feeling their way along, carefully checking the sidewalks before them wit
h outstretched umbrellas or toes. They’re not relying on sight alone. It looks like they can feel but not see the 10-D twists in their paths. Interesting.
Timothy watched for a while longer, remembering how lost he felt last time he was here. So many mindless carbon copies, all on their way to…whatever they’re on their way to. Copies?—his eyes flitted up and down the street.
“Trillians,” he hissed. “Dozens of them!” He grabbed Darya’s arm and tugged her away from the window.
“I see that,” Darya replied nonchalantly. “They’re everywhere.”
“If Trillian has clones of himself all over out there, how will we be able to leave this room?”
Darya waved her hand between them and transformed into yet another Trillian.
Timothy’s eyes widened and he froze.
Has Darya been subverted by Trillian? Am I next? Should I run?
The Trillian before him laughed and spoke in Darya’s voice.
“Don’t worry. It’s just a disguise! Here, have a look at yourself.”
She gestured to the mirrored closet door. “Pretty convincing, don’t you think?”
Timothy walked around the bed cautiously, without taking his eyes off her, and choked down the sense of dread building within him.
He looked into the mirror.
Trillian looked back at him. Timothy’s hands flew to his face, the Trillian’s face. He poked and prodded, trying to feel his own features below the disguise.
“Darya, I’ve seen you do many magical things, but this has to be the most distasteful ever. Who am I? Really?”
“It’s okay. Relax! I assure you that you’re the same old Timothy as always. I just thought it would be prudent to wear this image as we explore out there.”
“But, why? There are so many people out there. Can’t we just go as ourselves, or how about some other disguise,” he pleaded.
“Isn’t it obvious? If Trillian is everywhere and we don’t want our movements to be restricted, we should look like Trillians, too.”
“What if one of them talks to us? Won’t he recognize us?”
“I don’t think they actually talk to each other.”
“Well, whatever they do.”
Darya looked back outside. “Whoever is coordinating them, I haven’t been able to eavesdrop on their communications. I don’t know the right protocols.”
“Then let’s hope no one bothers us.”
“In the worst case, we have these.” Darya reached for a belt loop under her jacket. She pulled out what looked like a roll of chromed spring steel, tightly wound and attached to a handle.
“What’s that?”
In answer, Darya flicked her wrist. The spring steel unrolled and snapped into the form of a familiar jian, the same kind of Chinese martial arts sword he’d often chosen to spar with inworld.
“What kind of magic is this? Have you wrested control of the local simulation back from Trillian?”
“No such luck. This is pure and simple technology, as effective in Alternus as it is anywhere else.” She swished the sword back and forth a few times, admiring the snap of its flexible blade.
“The principle is memory steel. When the blade is rolled up, like yours,” she unhooked the rolled-up sword attached to Timothy’s own belt, “the metal is in a potentiated shape.”
She gave the handle of the second device a rapid backhand flick and the sword unfurled. “Flicking it this way provides enough energy to overcome the embedded magnetic strip that holds the blade wound up. As it unfurls, it ‘remembers’ its preferred shape and folds along its length to make the sharp edges.”
She handed the sword to Timothy. “The technology is ancient, from the time before the original Earth was lost, but it’s surprisingly easy to simulate in a variety of inworld scenarios, which makes it particularly useful to keep around.”
Timothy made a few appreciative slashing moves with his weapon. “It does comfort me, a little, to know we’re not entirely defenseless.”
“I thought it might.”
He lifted the blade for a closer inspection. “Remarkably sharp,” he observed.
“Indistinguishable from an integral blade of the finest steel,” Darya confirmed.
“I don’t imagine we can walk down the streets brandishing these things, though. How do we hide them? Can we fold them back up?”
Darya demonstrated the technique. “Push the tip into a hard surface as you bend the blade against the edge, whichever way it doesn’t want to flex. If you push hard enough against it, it will butterfly open. Then you simply roll it up, and the internal magnets will do the rest.”
After a few tries, Timothy got the hang of it. He could snap it open in an instant, and roll it back up in a few seconds. “Wait, doesn’t that mean the sword is useless against a hard surface?” he asked.
“Indeed. The jian has always been more about slicing than stabbing. It’s designed for harassing, discouraging, and incapacitating. Aim for soft tissue like the tendons, muscles, and neck. Avoid clashing with another blade or fighting shaft.”
“Hmm…not as comforting as I’d first thought.”
Darya laughed. “Only for use if absolutely needed. It’ll be quick and efficient, and it might give us a few more minutes inworld if Trillian discovers us. Our best—our ultimate—defense is simply to run.”
“I would much prefer to rid this world of a few Trillians before we flee, if it comes to that.”
“And now you’re well equipped and well trained for that, should the opportunity arise.”
Timothy grinned. “Yes, I am. Okay, let’s go find Mary.”
They left the hotel lobby and merged into the flow of pedestrians. Darya adopted a casual, unhurried pace, and Timothy did his best to emulate. Nobody paid them any attention, including the other Trillians passing by.
Timothy moved a little closer and whispered, “Where are we going?”
“I don’t know exactly,” she answered.
He stopped in the middle of the stream of pedestrians, causing the very closest to halt or bump into him before the flow could adjust itself.
Darya grabbed his arm and pulled him along. “What are you doing? Don’t draw attention!”
His feet resumed forward motion.
Darya checked for traffic and shepherded him across the street into a quiet alley. “If we’re going to pull this off, you need to act naturally.”
Timothy searched for words. “Naturally?” He gawked at the people moving on the opposite sidewalk, and at the skyscraper jutting out horizontally in 3-D a few hundred meters overhead. “What is natural about any of this?”
“Remember, you wanted to come with me,” Darya pointed out. “You need to pretend like we’re in New York City in Alternus. All of the other Trillians are.”
“All of the other Trill…. Darya…. I’m not…. You…. You don’t even have a plan,” he stuttered, and stamped deeper into the alley to struggle with his anger.
Darya allowed him a moment of privacy before joining him.
“I do have a plan. Not a great one, maybe not even a very good one, but I do have a plan.”
Timothy jammed his clenched fists into his pockets. Anyone standing at the entrance to the alley or peeking out of one of the windows above would have been looking at two identical Trillians, arguing with one another.
“So what’s your plan?” Timothy demanded.
“When we last saw Mary, Trillian was fishing her out of a swimming pool.”
“By the hair,” Timothy added.
“Yes, by the hair. The point is, she was in Vacationland. I think she’s still there.”
“Well, we’re not; we’re in New York City.”
“For now. I didn’t dare enter Vacationland directly from outside. We would’ve been too easy to detect. My strongest connections are still to Alternus, even in this crazy version. I was hoping Trillian hadn’t cut off all external connections yet. It seems I was right.”
Timothy calmed down once he had a clear problem t
o focus on.
“Okay, that’s good, but how do we get to Vacationland from here?”
“Remember the first time I opened the portal from inside that empty office complex? I think that’ll be the best way in. Trillian will be less likely to detect our new activity if we follow roughly the same route.”
“And where’s the building?”
“I’m not a hundred percent certain, but I think I can retrace our steps from the UN Plaza. First, we have to find the plaza and, for that, I need you to be okay walking the streets of New York. Are you good with that?”
She saw the pained look creeping across his face and before he could open his mouth, she preempted his anticipated complaint. “Yes, yes, even in the mess that they are.”
“Okay. I can do that,” he said quietly.
“Are you sure?”
Timothy glared at her. She didn’t flinch.
Finally, he let his shoulders relax and his anger seep away.
“Better?” she asked.
He sighed and nodded.
They left the alley and returned to the main sidewalk. Most of the people walked along as if nothing was unusual. Here and there, distressed individuals asked the less perturbed for help. They were ignored unless they physically obstructed a pedestrian’s path, in which case, the foot traffic smoothly adjusted to flow around those who persisted in blocking the way.
“To the Partials, nothing has changed about New York,” Darya explained. “As part of the simulation, they were adapted to the new configuration. And the Fulls who were trapped inside Alternus when Trillian merged it into the 10-D maze probably have no idea what happened or why the city is so bizarre.”
She pointed with her chin across the street. “Look. Some of the Trillian clones are having trouble navigating as well. I’m guessing those ones must’ve been converted from Fulls, and only see in 3-D.”
“What’s his point in turning everyone into versions of himself?”
Darya grimaced. “I wish I knew. At first, I would’ve said it was to make it easier to find us, but that can’t be the reason anymore. As far as he knows, we left Alternus for Vacationland or some other inworld, or even for the outworld. It could be a narcissistic indulgence, or maybe he enjoys the challenge.”
