by Paul Anlee
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 to 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 c
an 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.”
“The challenge?”
“It’s no trivial effort to wipe out the complete concepta and persona of a Full Cybrid instantiation and reprogram them. We have security, remember?”
Just then, half a block away on a street segment suspended vertically in the air, a dazed looking man grabbed his head and yelled in pain. His back arched and his arms flung outward. He shook himself violently as if to dislodge some horrific attacker from his shoulders. He dropped down on all fours, stood up again, and ran away at full speed, screaming the entire way.
The man disappeared from the local view in three dimensions, but Darya and Timothy had no trouble tracking him by shifting their vision, first “blueward” and then “strangeward”, as he barreled down the road in agony. He re-emerged in their local 3-D space, where the road ran in front of them.
The man came to an abrupt stop, clutched his head again, and screamed in anguish at the sky. His features grew indistinct and then melted like plastic on hot asphalt. He slouched nearly to the point of collapse. When he stood erect again, he was a Trillian.
The transformed man regarded Darya and Timothy, wearing the same avatar image as him. “Hello,” he said.
Darya felt a deeper communication pulse, requesting her Trillian instantiation tag and an update on local conditions. She reached under her jacket, where her sword was neatly rolled up in a small sheath on her belt, and grasped its handle. In a fluid motion, she pulled the handle from its holder and flicked it outward as her arm made a backhand swoop.
The blade elongated fully at the moment it contacted the new Trillian’s neck. His severed head flew into the street.
“Run!” Darya hissed at Timothy, pulling him down the street with her.
They took a quick couple of turns through a complex mess of ten dimensions. When they stopped to breathe, they were still a kilometer from the UN Plaza but there were no Trillians in sight.
Darya rolled up her sword and stashed it back in its sheath.
“What was that all about?” Timothy asked, winded and confused.
“Just the wrong place at the wrong time,” Darya answered. “None of the other Trillians bothered to talk to us. I guess, the first thing the new ones do is get a local update. After this, I expect they’ll all start checking in with each other.”
Darya’s image shimmered and her Trillian disguise fell away. She was herself again. Timothy looked at his hands; they were his own once more. Trillian’s preferred white jacket was replaced by the smart black leather piece Timothy had chosen for the adventure.
“Thank you!” he said. “I detest carrying the appearance of that man.”
Darya frowned. “Unfortunately, that was the only extra avatar I could bring inworld. Let’s hope Trillian isn’t looking for our faces. We’d better start avoiding all the clones we see.”
“I agree.”
They set out again. Their one small advantage, the ability to see in all ten dimensions at once, was only helpful if they spotted the Trillians before getting spotted themselves.
Each time a Trillian came into view, the pair turned outside of his 3-D space as casually as possible. When they could, they ducked into side streets, back alleys, or shops. They held their breath when they passed within touching distance of a stumbling Trillian who couldn’t see them only an arm’s length away in an alternative dimension. Darya hoped Trillian hadn’t thought to adjust all of his clones to see in ten dimensions yet.
When the UN Plaza came into view, the pair let out a sigh of relief. There didn’t appear to be any more Trillian instantiations here than anywhere else in the New York labyrinth. They headed toward a busy hot dog vendor next to the plaza, the same one who’d been cheerfully serving hot dogs to throngs of people the last time Timothy had been here.
Wearing Trillian’s face!
“Keep walking,” Darya whispered. She split off, clambered over the nearby fence and walked quietly along the trees behind it.
The former First Footman obeyed without question, paralleling her path with a confident nonchalance he didn’t feel. When he arrived within a dozen meters of the stand, the Trillian noticed him with some surprise.
“Timothy! I wasn’t sure we’d have a chance to meet again.” He searched around uncertainly. “But, where is your lovely companion? I do so wish to speak with her.”
A flurry of possibilities flew through Timothy’s mind. They hadn’t practiced this scenario at all.
“She’s…she left me,” he sputtered. “Not that it’s any of your…. I don’t need her to deal with the likes of you.”
Trillian threw his head back and laughed. “Perhaps you imagine a good old-fashioned round of fisticuffs, do you? Why don’t I call over a few more of me and we’ll see how your bravery holds up?”
Hotdog-vender Trillian wiped his hands on his smock and stepped around the cart toward Timothy. He was so intent on the former Footman he didn’t hear the rustle of leaves or quiet footsteps behind him. He did hear the whoosh of the blade an instant before it removed his head. He died with his startled eyes wide open.
Shocked customers and passersby shrieked and fled in all directions.
“Let’s move before any more of him get here,” Darya said.
Taking advantage of the pandemonium, Timothy dropped his fists and blended in with the crowd, doing his best not to attract further attention.
After a series of quick turns in other-dimensional directions, they broke free from the excitement and located the familiar office building.
Today, unlike their first visit, the place was bustling with activity. A loud, impatient woman pushed past the others in the lobby and strutted purposefully to the Receptionist. Darya used the distraction to pass through to the offices behind.
“Can I help you?” a voice intervened.
Damn! Darya stopped short of the threshold, and searched her memory for nameplates she’d seen when she’d last opened a portal into Vacationland.
“Oh, hi, there. We just thought we’d pop in and speak with Reg.”
“Reg isn’t here,” the gatekeeper answered curtly. “He doesn’t work here anymore.”
“He doesn’t? Well, that’s a shame. How about Drew? Is he available?”
The Receptionist pointed to a chair. “Have a seat right there and I’ll ring him.”
“That’s okay, we know where he is,” Darya replied, as she grabbed Timothy’s arm and pulled him through behind her.
“Hey!” the Receptionist cried. “You can’t go back there.”
&nbs
p; “Sword!” Darya whispered in Timothy’s direction.
The two strode into the shared corridor over the young lady’s protests. They could hear the Receptionist calling for Security. They carried on.
As Darya walked, she snapped her sword out. Her mind was already working on reopening the portal to Vacationland. The links to the pipe code she’d inserted into this distorted version of Alternus were all in place.
Behind her, someone screamed. She heard a scuffle and spun around in time to see Timothy kick over a wounded attacker. The assailant was too astonished by the gaping wound in his belly to avoid Timothy’s foot.
She caught Timothy’s eye and held it. Move on. No time for sentimentality now.
Darya heard someone rush up behind her. She ducked low, and slashed a wide arc.
A fierce-looking brute gasped and put a hand to his thigh, where her sword had opened a gash through his pants. Before he could advance, she delivered a jump-kick to his chin, propelling him backward into two others who were closing in.
In the moment of stunned silence that followed, Darya and Timothy bolted for the nondescript door where the open portal waited.
“Locked!” she cried, and slapped the door.
“Allow me,” Timothy offered, and kicked it open.
It was hard to say which of them was more surprised. It certainly wasn’t the Trillian clone with crazed eyes who’d been waiting inside to greet them.
“Hyaaaaaah!” he bellowed, almost comically, and leaped from the desk with murderous intent.
Darya whirled to one side, and slashed at the Trillian’s throat. His cry gurgled through blood, and he thumped lifelessly to the floor.
The portal shimmered over the far desk. Darya grabbed Timothy’s hand and they dived through without looking back.
20
not a single person marred the tranquility of the impossibly long, pristine beach, though the weather was perfect for swimming. While the tranquil tropical paradise was alluring, the sight filled Darya with foreboding. Over thousands of visits, she’d never seen Vacationland so deserted. All in all, the effect was disturbing.
They’d nearly knocked over her favorite Cloud 49 table when they came hurtling through the portal, wild-eyed and out of breath. She noticed the lack of patrons immediately.
