Paradise of Lead Trilogy

by Mackenzie Morris

  Leena sits in Byron's lap and takes his face in her hands. "So, do you love me, Byron?"

  He glares at her. "We already had this conversation."

  "Just tell her already, man." Damien says. "We all know you love her. Why deny it and make her hurt like this? You're in denial."

  "No. I will never love her."

  "Fine. Goodbye, Byron Erikson." Leena crawls into the front passenger seat and puts her legs in Isidore's lap. "Hello, Isidore."

  Isidore grins. "Why . . . hello there, beautiful."

  "Leena, what are you doing?" Byron asks, his voice almost sounding hurt.

  "What? You said you didn't love me so I'm going to find someone who will."

  Isidore rubs her legs and looks in the rearview mirror at Byron. "Don't worry, Byron. I'll show her what love is."

  "You're a priest!" Byron screams.

  Isidore shrugs his shoulders. "So? I never took any vows of chastity."

  "What about your van?"

  "Just because you can't have sex in my van doesn't mean I can't." Isidore says as he braids his hair. "Now, enough of this. We have more important issues to deal with today. I need pills. And not a few. I need a lot. I've been having episodes and I haven't slept in three days."

  "We don't have the money." Damien says. "We found some people who can make them, but they are ridiculously expensive."

  "I know, but we have to do something or I'm not gonna be able to function for much longer. It's getting worse every day. And I've had some really freaky visions or hallucinations. I don't know the difference at this point. Some of them scared me."

  "What did you see?" Damien asks.

  "I'd rather not talk about it."

  Damien doesn't look amused. "Listen, it might be weird or painful, but I need you to share what is going on with you. Your magic is highly valuable for a reason and if you saw something about our future, then we need to know about it."

  "It's not always correct."

  "I don't care." Damien says as he puts his hand on Isidore's shoulder and they look at each other. "Tell us, Isidore. It's okay. I promise. You can trust me."

  Isidore sighs. "Do you remember the stories about the M.A.G.E.s they sent up into space about fifty years ago?"

  "Oh, what were they called? I should know this, being almost an inquisitor. Some stupid acronym."

  "Technological Intelligence Management Experiment." Isidore says.

  "So . . . T.I.M.E.?"

  "Think about that for a second. It's okay. I'll wait." Isidore starts whistling and taps his feet on the steering wheel.

  Byron closes his eyes and leans back in the seat. "Um . . . I really have no idea where you're going with this."

  "I recently figured it all out. The hallucinations I have been having are all making more sense now." Isidore says. "There's a reason why there were only three time M.A.G.E.s left on Earth. The rest are in space. I'm not a M.A.G.E. Time M.A.G.E.s don't actually exist. I am a T.I.M.E. I belong up on that ship with the rest of my kind."

  "Then why are you down here with us?" Damien asks.

  "I don't know. Maybe my parents weren't good enough? I have no idea what a technological intelligence management experiment is supposed to do. Maybe it never had anything to do with controlling time in the first place."

  "All I was told about the T.I.M.E.s is that they were engineered to be a new sort of mind weapon that could survive in extreme conditions, which is why they send them into space."

  "What do they do up there?" Leena asks.

  "They develop technologies for the Inquisition. Unlike M.A.G.E.s, the T.I.M.E.s are the allies of the Inquisition and generally work hand in hand. I can only theorize about myself. My parents were left here probably because they failed to be adequate for the job. Then they got together and had me."

  Damien shakes his head. "Your type of power isn't passed on genetically. It's all technology based. That's why you have to have that microchip. That's also why you were never in danger of being castrated like the others. There was no reason. Now, I am a little surprised that they didn't try to remove your microchip when you were in prison. If it was that important, then they would have taken it."

  "I actually know the answer to that." Isidore says as he rubs Leena's legs. "I was in close contact with the Inquisition the entire time. They would run tests on me and told me that they were trying to reboot me."

  Leena puts her hand on his shoulder. "Reboot you?"

  "I guess I'm like a computer or something. They told me that if they could reboot me and erase my memories, then they would still have a use for me. Apparently it is very difficult to find the exact physical conditions for someone to not reject the microchip and be able to use it effectively. They wouldn't risk killing me. My parents must have outlived their usefulness."

  Byron turns to Damien. "So, what do you know about our powers? What all did you learn as part of the Inquisition?"

  "More than you'd care to know. A lot of it was how our abilities are passed on genetically after the genes themselves are altered. Then there was the list of dangers and complications, the accidental use of magic when it isn't controlled, and the story of the one M.A.G.E. who wasn't a failure."

  "Who was that?" Byron asks.

  "Don't know his name. All I know is that his power is dark matter manipulation, he was born in Paradise, oh and he's the illegitimate son of President Evans. He doesn't have the President's last name, though, for security reasons. No one knows much more than that."

  Blice passes a piece of paper up to Damien. That's just a story, right? It's not true.

  "Oh, it's true. I met him one time."

  Blice coughs and spills his drink. Another note. You met him? Do you remember much about him?

  "He was about my age, black hair, and purple eyes. Kinda like you, Blice. You look a lot like him."

  Leena turns to Blice. "Are you him?"

  Blice shakes his head.

  "He's not him. All dark matter manipulators have those strange purple eyes." Isidore says. "I know a lot about stuff like this because I did a ton of research and spying while I was in prison. For being so technologically advanced, the Inquisition's computer systems are surprisingly easy to hack. Which brings us to our plans for today. We are going to track down one of the technology centers and hack into the isolated information data storage that the inquisitors use when in the field to transmit information back to Paradise. We are going to erase any mention of our names and whereabouts in case someone is spying on us. Plus, we can pry around and see what the Inquisition is up to."

  "How do you know where one is? Don't they keep them hidden?"

  Blice sighs and lies down in the back of the van then pulls a blanket over his head.

  Isidore laughs. "I found some coordinates in a certain friend's pocket."

  "What were you doing in his pocket?"

  "Don't worry about it. And no, it's nothing like what you and Damien have."

  "So . . . why does Blice have them?"

  "Hell if I know. He wouldn't tell me. I think he had the same idea as me."

  Blice makes another pained sound.

  "Blice, are you okay?"

  No answer.

  Leena crawls into the back of the van and joins Blice under the blanket. Her hushed and frantic whispers cause Byron to panic a bit. What is she saying? He can't make it out. As they try to listen to the one-sided conversation, the others look around at each other with questioning looks on their faces. When Leena cries out in pain, Byron turns around and pulls the blanket off of them.

  Leena pulls away from Blice and holds her wrist against her body.

  "What did he do?" Byron asks as he looks at the bruise that is starting to form.

  She hides her arm again. "Nothing. Don't worry about me. We were just talking."

  "Talking? I thought he couldn't talk." Damien says.

  Blice jumps up and grabs her arm as he glares at her.

  "Oh! I mean I was talking to him and trying to calm him down." Leena say
s with a small smile as she joins Isidore in the front again.

  Something isn't right here. As Byron watches Leena pretend to be okay and Blice take a handful of assorted pills, he can tell that there is more to them than what he has been told. Leena wouldn't hide anything from him, would she? No. Byron believes everything that Leena has told him and there's no reason for him to question her loyalty. Besides, Blice is simply insane. Maybe his mind has been deteriorating due to all the drugs he takes. Isidore and Damien don't say another word about it so maybe it's all in Byron's mind. He does know one thing. He will never let Leena be around Blice again. That man can't be trusted. Everything about him makes Byron uneasy and there is almost an aura around him that is threatening and dark. While that could be the strangeness and power of his magic, Byron has his own reservations about being this close around him. However, if Isidore and Damien can trust him and be comfortable keeping him around, then Byron will at least let him live after hurting Leena. He will keep his eye on him.

  "So . . . ever kissed a priest?" Isidore asks as he pulls Leena closer to him.

  "Eyes on the road, Isidore." Byron says. Change the subject, change the subject. "I think I'm starting to like this van."

  Isidore smiles a big smile. "Really?"

  "No."

  9

  "This should be it. What do you think, Blice?" Damien asks as they approach the tiny grey shack.

  Blice growls and crosses his arms.

  Leena places her hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

  Blice sighs and pushes the doors open. They step inside as the dense dust glitters in the light coming in through the windows. It is as tiny on the inside as it is on the outside. It is barren and abandoned, nothing here but peeling yellow wallpaper and a rickety wooden floor where tiny insects scurry into the dark recesses of the room.

  Byron looks around. Where are these supposed computers and technology that they came looking for? There's nothing here. Even if there were computers in here, it is far too small to house anything of any considerable size. The floor creaks under his weight. "I'll get us some light." He holds up his hand and a flame ignites in his palm.

  Blice walks to the opposite wall and places his hand on a part of the wall where the wallpaper has peeled back. There is a small popping sound and he pushes the wall aside to reveal a steep staircase leading down below the house. He motions for them to follow.

  They descend into the complete darkness. When Byron's boots clank on what sounds like a metal floor, he holds up his hand and the light fills the place with an orange hazy glow. He notices a switch on the wall and he pulls it. The fluorescent lights on the ceiling buzz and flicker to life.

  Isidore gasps as the rows and rows of computers, radios, and all manner of technology turn on and their multicolored lights begin to blink. "Guys, I think this is more than just a field technology center. This is way more than what I was expecting to find. Any thoughts, Damien?"

  Damien goes to a computer and begins typing furiously on a computer. An error sound rings out and he steps back. He tries another one. This time, the screen flashes and he pulls up a large page of text and code.

  "What's that?" Isidore asks as he goes to it and studies it. When he places his hand on the console, there is a surge of power and the lights go dark as the entire place shuts down. In the darkness, Isidore screams out. "Damn it."

  Just as Byron is about to cast his magic again so they can see something, there is a spark of electricity and the entire room comes to life again.

  "Fixed that." Damien says as his sparks die down. He picks Isidore up from the floor and helps him to stand. "Are you okay?"

  Isidore holds his head in his hands and leans against the wall. "I don't know. Do me a favor. Look on that computer monitor and let me tell you the first line of text there."

  "What?"

  "Just go to the computer and I am going to say some numbers and I need to know if it matches what is on the screen."

  "Okay." Damien pulls it back up. "Go ahead."

  "449-072345-991123-1113-5-676623-0000002" Isidore says. "I see that in my mind."

  "I'll be damned. That's an exact match. I wonder if your microchip . . . downloaded the information."

  Isidore pushes his hair out of his face and looks down at his hands. "Um . . . look at this." He holds out his hands to them. "I'm not feeling very good."

  In glowing white on his hands and up his arms are strings of numbers. Damien studies it for a while. "I recognize this. I've seen it before when I was in Paradise. This is an Inquisition security program. Think of it like an anti-virus for T.I.M.E.s."

  Isidore groans and drops to his hands and knees on the floor. "I can tell. Do something. My head feels like it is going to explode. There has to be a way to turn it off."

  "I'm trying. I'm not the most computer savvy person here." Damien says. "You're gonna have to walk me through it. I don't know what I'm doing. I just know the basics."

  When Isidore screams out, Blice goes to Damien and pulls him away. He drags a chair from across the room and begins typing. The screen flashes blue and a hologram appears. The blue particles dance in the light and Blice pulls out something from inside his shirt and places it inside the middle of the cube. The other computers in the room flash green and a voice comes over the computer.

  "Access Granted. Shutting Down Security Measures. Welcome, Mr. Evans."

  Blice goes to Isidore and places the same object on his head.

  Isidore jumps and takes a deep breath. "Hey, what is that? I feel better. Thanks."

  Blice slips the necklace back beneath his shirt and helps Isidore to his feet. He goes to another computer and begins typing.

  As he types, Byron is still trying to understand what just happened. "Mr. Evans?"

  "He must have stolen the President's key card. Nice job, Blice. When did you get a chance to do that?" Damien asks.

  Blice ignores them.

  "Well . . . thanks." Isidore says. "Will these numbers on my arms go away?"

  Blice shakes his head.

  "Okay. This is because I'm a T.I.M.E., isn't it?"

  Blice nods his head as he continues typing. He turns the monitor so everyone can see. You're welcome. Surely in your twenty years of life, you have learned not to go around touching technology that you aren't synced to. Your microchip will attempt to sync to any computer if you let it and when that network is protected, things like this happen. Be glad I was here and knew what was going on or you would have shut down and some of your files could have been corrupted. Not to mention you could get a virus.

  "Corrupted? Files? Virus? I'm not a computer. I'm human, right?" Isidore asks.

  Blice types again. You are a T.I.M.E. You left human behind a long time ago. Your brain works with codes and data. That microchip in your brain controls all of it. You just attempted to download ten petabytes of data. Your microchip memory is only five hundred terabytes. That's when the security system kicked in. Be glad. It would have been an even worse outcome if the antivirus wasn't active. For once, you can thank the Inquisition for saving your life. Overloading your microchip is an instant death sentence. If you can't hold the information, your body shuts down because your brain ceases to function on even a basic level for human vitals. It's not pretty. Your normal memories are still stored in your mind as any human, but other things can be locked away in that microchip. I advise that you don't go making love to any supercomputers.

  Leena starts giggling and she hides her face in her hands. "Is that why he is in love with his van?"

  Blice types again. Actually, yes. He is drawn to any and all technology and that attraction gets confused in the brain with human emotions and sexual attraction. There are reports of T.I.M.E.s trying to mate with radios, computers, cars, power substations, and more. It's not unnatural for them because their minds are altered to the point of accepting an identity of both a human and a machine. It's a bizarre side-effect that has never been fixed. Don't feel bad about it, Isidore. You can't help the
way you feel.

  "Really?" Isidore asks. "You're not joking, are you? Well, this explains so much about my teenage years. Oh God. I'm a freak."

  "We already knew that." Damien says with a smile.

  Everyone jumps up when the sound of footsteps sound on the floor above them. People are talking to each other as they make their way down the stairs. Byron starts to panic and he reaches for his shotgun, but then stops when the men enter the room and wave. Red shirts, white camouflage pants, and assorted weapons on their hips and backs. Rubble Rebels.

  Blice turns his back to them and pulls out a bandana from his back pocket which he ties around his head. He then slips on a pair of sunglasses.

  Damien shakes hands with the leader with the flame thrower on his back. "Hey there. What are you doing here?"

  "We received word of a technological interference out here and surprise. We found this. Don't bother trying to find anything valuable on these computers. There's nothing. It has already been picked over and a ton of information was deleted a long time ago. I think this used to be an Inquisition base of operations, actually. But that would have been years ago. I'm Rubble Commander Alexi, by the way. Wait, I remember you all from that battle in Rubble City. You should think about joining us. We can use M.A.G.E.s."

  "Well, we're not all M.A.G.E.s. The woman doesn't have any abilities and that silver-haired guy over there is a T.I.M.E. who got left behind down here on the ground."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Pretty damn sure. You just missed him trying to overload the microchip in his brain."

  "Isidore Williams?" Alexi steps forward and they shake hands. "Pleased to meet you. You have quite the bounty on your head."

  "Believe me, I know. We are trying to figure out some things about how I work."

  Alexi's eyes land on Blice. He steps up to Blice and eyes him curiously. "What's your name?"

  Blice doesn't say anything, of course.

  "He can't speak. He had an accident with his dark matter magic when he was little." Damien says.

  Alexi reaches out and pulls Blice's sunglasses off.