falling from the veil of silk, the upload generator struck the surface of the false city, dug, righted itself. Enemy warships swarmed.
i am silver, weaponized silver, humanized silver. i am
Alina appeared.
Mousy hair, weird knockers, a complexion that wasn’t sallow, wasn’t glowing, but was just intensely normal, and her eyes, colorless eyes. Breeder hips, a little beer belly, a connect-the-dots of moles, freckled shoulders, angled nose, big cheeks. She was the kind of girl who wasn’t hot, wasn’t really beautiful to anyone unless maybe they loved her. Cute in a way that felt like home. And there she was, suddenly there, somehow different, suddenly somehow different there.
Maire snarled at her, more animal than human, but then again, she’d never really been a human, had she?
“You again?”
“Us again.” Her voice embodied a confidence Paul had never heard in the girl.
Maire inhaled; lip corner upturned: grin. Judith, the realization melted into, swam through her breath. It’d gotten cold.
“Judith?” Paul stood. Confusion.
“Get away from her, Author.” Alina pointed. “Run.”
“You’re not shielded. Not shifted. How can you—”
how can you use that shampoo? the children who saw that it was blue, their dreaded hair beyond repair, ate nectarines on submarines.
“You wrote me.” Al turned away from Paul. A splay of fingers and Maire slammed to the ground. “West?” She didn’t look. “You shifted?”
“Yeah, girl. I’m up.”
“Hold your code.”
A flicker in the line, a snap to grid, and she was above Maire. The silver witch flinched as Alina struck her with a haze of metal. She jumped up, tangled with the girl. Another time, another place, Paul would have expected mud or jello, but there in the non, everything was gray, flares of static, that hum and tug of mercury. Their two bodies merged into a disgusting, flopping mess of limbs, hair, screams.
Maire tore away from Al, the sound of twisting metal.
“Why, Miss Alina, you have a secret.” Maire mimicked fanning herself, southern accent. “Do tell, honeychile.”
Alina swung, her hand silvered, but Maire dodged.
“What’s this about hope?”
Another swing, another easy dodge.
“Or is it— ‘Hope’?” Grin.
“Shut your fucking mouth.” Paul knew that voice: Judith, but it came from Al’s throat.
“What?” Paul. Almost a whisper. His face whitened.
“You didn’t know? She didn’t tell you?” Maire simpered. Giggled. “Oh, now this is rich.”
“What about Hope?”
“Don’t.” Alina breathed it as much as consciously said it.
“How long’s it been since our petite soiree in that cave? Days? Years? And you never figured it out? Some author you are.”
Paul shimmered.
“She killed her. Little ugly Allie killed your darling Ms. Benton.”
“It’s not true.”
They circled, the three of them, this slow dance of shimmer and merge. Paul stopped.
“You killed her, Maire. You—”
Flicker and thrash: he flew backwards, landed ungently on the non-ground. Maire didn’t stop. She shifted into and through Alina. Al shattered, dusted, re-formed. One hand to balance, one hand between breasts at the cardiac shield, she gasped for breath.
“Sam above, Allie within. Lots of soldiers to kill my children. Lots of shots. One wide shot. Guess where it went. Give up? Ms. Benton.”
“Paul,” she choked through wheeze, “it’s not true. I swear—”
And the sky opened up: incoming Judith fleet. They slammed into the Enemy horde, strafed the upload generator. Sam dipped down, tipped his nacelles. He swam back into the fray.
“Don’t believe me, Author? Who’ll you trust? Why don’t we ask Hope?”
Maire spun and wasn’t there. Wasn’t there, but she was. Not her, but her. The voice was different, the body splintering to a form West had etched behind his eyes long before they’d brought the author in, a form he’d met after re-birth from the Forever Dust: Hope. The body fell, meaty slap on non-pavement, but she wasn’t dead. Couldn’t be dead, because she gasped an inhalation.
Alina: “Don’t touch her! Jesus fuck, it’s not her, it’s—”
Paul, more lips and tongue than sound: “Hope?” He went to her, cradled her head in his lap.
“Paul—” Alina pleaded. Hands to fists to hair: frustration, weeping. “It’s not her. Don’t touch—”
And Benton spoke, if such a ruined form could speak. Paul’s mouth moved over the impossibility of sobs. She spoke.
“You’re letting your hair grow out.” Semblance of a smile. “But I liked it short.”
“Hope—”
“They’re all dead here.” Fingers interlaced with his. Her voice was becoming echoes, static, and “What’d you do to her? Why’d you write? Why…?” Two tears, more blood than water: “You’ve killed us all.”
Such ferocity barely contained in the sky: the upload generator shattered; a thousand vessels carved the earth.
He stroked her hair. “Hope, I—”
“There’s no Hope anymore. No hope. Nothing. But she’s with me.” A smile so bright from assemblages of flesh and muscle: impossible. “She’s saved me.”
“I’ll save you. We’ll save you!”
“Paul…” She pulled him closer, whispered. “The Purpose will be completed.”
He hatcheted an inhalation. Her eyes were silver.
He threw the body to the ground, clambered away and to his feet. The body shattered into blood and silver rivulets, dissipated with haze and static. Where Maire had been, where Hope had been: nothing.
The wind picked up.
Sam appeared above again. He folded from his vessel form, all shivers and digits, landed with a few stumbling steps as his human form.
“Allie? What happened? We got a beacon and…”
She didn’t answer. Wasn’t talking, wasn’t moving, just stood there beside Paul looking at the place where Maire had been.
“Paul?” No answer. “Adam?”
Silversens registered negative. West shifted to normal. “We found Maire. And Hope. And—” He shook his head. “I don’t fucking know.”
Alina looked up at the author. Caught his gaze down. A small hand grabbed a large hand. Just for a second, West could have sworn he had seen a merge in those hands.
HEILIGENSCHEIN
[login]: query((?))
[username]: Hocking, Peter: [variant trace: lock] [password]: ******* [verification]: [sample approved.]
[login]: success. [/login]
[search]: query((?)) [search]: [[Paul + Hughes] + [silver]] [search]: [run]
[/run]
∆
[run]: [system: override] [run]: [command: interject]
[/run]
∆
[run]: [read]: author: la biblio[“o]mnithèque universelle agent 66.14.7.050. title: of loss, of ruin: An Introduction. publication: Ein Journal des Instituts für die Erforschung des Heiligenscheineffektes.
[full text]:
Thank you, [Hocking, Peter], for your interest in [Hughes, Paul].
As you know, la biblio[“o]mnithèque universelle is still recovering from the effects of the Forever Dust. As such, results to your initial query may be incomplete or irretrievably lost. We are working to refine our recovery methods, and we assure you that the best teams of quantum-X string theorists are making valiant efforts to contain the loss of our database and re-integrate the mind-essence of our host soul caches.
[Hocking, Peter], your inquiry regarding [Hughes, Paul] presents several unique difficulties in that access to biographical elements of that particular string are severely restricted due to [[security + protocols] + [threat + matrix] + [containment + Forever + Dust]]. We hope, [Hocking, Peter] that you will understand our concerns when [(excerpts are expurgated due to aforementioned secur
ity concerns) + (incomplete data retrieval prevents total output of designated inquiry elements)].
We hope that you find [(designated output): [Hughes, Paul]] helpful and informative.
Sincerely,
agent 66.14.7.050 primary avatar re: [Hocking, Peter]: [inquiry #77.75.140] la biblio[“o]mnithèque universelle
[/read] [/run]
∆
[run]: [read]: author: la biblio[“o]mnithèque universelle agent 66.14.7.050. title: of loss, of ruin: An Introduction: technical specifications [re: search results.] publication: Ein Journal des Instituts für die Erforschung des Heiligenscheineffektes.
[full text]:
[Hocking, Peter] [trace:(lock: 68.166.235.153)], your search re: [Hughes, Paul] was generated [Q3:07.14.2064] by temporal servers [B.0-B.6] [Sedna Core Information Archive: tight-beam encrypted transmission] outside of the plague zone quarantine demarcation [refer: Forever Dust]. la biblio[“o]mnitheque, in conjunction with des Instituts für die Erforschung des Heiligenscheineffektes, maintains quantum computing facilities [Omega-point hyperthreading techbase reverse-engineered from target Whens (salvage law compliant)] utilizing the best semantic web search engines available [B-LGoogle @ 147zettabytes/sec.(147x2^70mb/sec.) on MS/Halliburton™ dedicated a-zero servers].
This report represents the best assemblage of non-deepblack declassified intelligence fulfilling your designated search parameters [Paul + Hughes] + [silver]]. Due to ongoing security concerns regarding your line of inquiry, our engines have limited output, in cases removing sensitive passages and expurgating entire documents. This report embodies the most complete analysis of [Hughes, Paul] available to the public at this time. Due to ongoing concerns this Institute has [re: security clearance: Hocking, Peter], your access has been limited. You may re-query the database at any time after [Q3:07.21.2064] given bandwidth availability and continued access rights.
For your convenience, physical report [re: inquiry #77.75.140] has been printed on week-dissolve fiber. Your access to the digital output will expire [Q3:07.21.2064] to conserve resources.
We hope that you find [(designated output): [Hughes, Paul]] helpful and informative.
agent 66.14.7.050 primary avatar re: [Hocking, Peter]: [inquiry #77.75.140] la biblio[“o]mnithèque universelle
[/read] [/run]
∆
[run]: [hack] [hack]
[display]: author: la biblio[“o]mnithèque universelle agent 66.14.7.050. title: untitled. direct/direct: [tracking lock]: [lock] [ghosting: subset]: [ghost] [full text]:
direct: [Hocking, Peter] re: [Hughes, Paul].
Well, you have balls, I’ll give you that much. Listen, I don’t have much time, so I’ll get right to the point. I’ve hacked the backend of lb’otu to send you this message and give you special access to your search results. The sysops would usually time out your connection and draft a threat matrix asap, given last year’s lockdown. I’ll let you in for as long as I can. Consider me your guardian angel.
You’re not unique. Everyone wants to know why he did it and where he went. I ran a search on you, and I think I know why you’re asking. I’m putting my ass on the line for you, not that I expect anything in return, but it’s information that needs to get out. Read it. Spread it.
If you’re looking for answers, you might not find them here. Much of it’s there, the influences, the actions, but as for intent…Who knows? We can fumble around the edge of his intent for as long as we’d like and never get to the core. It’s obvious he was troubled. He thought that he wrote worlds into existence. Given the forty billion dead across seventeen charted systems, given the silver infestation, maybe he did. I’m not a religious man, but he’s the closest we’ve found to Omega.
Fuck this, I’m out of time. You’re safe for now; I’ve shielded your transmissions i/o lb’otu. Look around. Try to find meaning. As meticulous as he was at analyzing himself, you think he’d have done a better job analyzing his creations. He spent twenty-seven years undermining existence, and we’re still suffering the aftershocks and still trying to find intent. Lawyers love this case.
This is the last you’ll hear from me. I need this job. Good luck. Purpose be.
agent 66.14.7.050 primary avatar re: [Hocking, Peter]: [inquiry #77.75.140] la biblio[“o]mnithèque universelle
[/hack] [/display]
∆
[/search] complete: [display]
search results: [[Paul + Hughes] + [loss + ruin]]: [translate: standard]: author: unknown. title: “An End of Us: An Ontological and Epistemological Discourse on The Forever Dust.” publication: Ein Journal des Instituts für die Erforschung des Heiligenscheineffektes.
[recovery team notes signal shatter; text incomplete.] [la biblio[“o]mnithèque universelle confirms textual probability to statistical significance +/-33%]
…] deny that the Forever Dust was the defining metaphysical and cosmological event in the history of the first universe, the least of whom, those charted survivors. More than an historical crux from which we delineate the major eras of humanity into pre- and post-argent, the Dust is an evolution, a chimera of […
…] far lower than first believed, the ignition point of the silver catalysis experiencing total sub-spatial anchor diffusion consistent with first universe crossover. The magnitude of the primary […
…] found that contrary to their initial fears, the consumption line of the dust zone experienced a near-predictable transition to clean space.
…] hadn’t been for the discovery of the untainted genetic code of the arc female (later identified as Patra Jennings West, Enemy line -FD), the continuation of the species would have almost certainly relied upon XY splitting and double-X recombinant techniques. Viable male codes were plentiful; the pre-Dust attacks on Sol-3 (native: standard: Earth) and Alpha Centauri AB (Proxima Centauri destroyed in native civil war only twenty years prior to loss of binary system: AC A destroyed by Sol-3 forces. AC B hidden by native forces in a megascale system enclosure, later the site of the Dust trigger.) had in effect eliminated the female of both species, due largely to metallurgical contaminant’s ability to destabilize double-X codes via chromosomal synch/dislodge.
The discovery of the arc female allowed primary expansion of both species. Cross-pollination difficulties resulted both from basic atmospheric requirements (nitrogen active agent in AE-line humanoids; oxygen active agent in Enemy-line humans) and sub-genetic differentiation. Silver un-process rates for affected sample: AE: 99.9>%, E: 0.00~47.1%. *
The arc female’s voluntary life partner, one Enemy-line Adam West, was […
*refer: “La Séparation L’argent et la Poussière: Une Analyse d’Improbability des Existences Auteur-Créées,” la biblio[“o]mnithèque universelle, FD+MCDVII.
[/display]
∆
[run]: [read]: author: la biblio[“o]mnithèque universelle agent 66.14.7.050. title: of loss, of ruin: accomplices [re: Hughes, Paul] publication: Ein Journal des Instituts für die Erforschung des Heiligenscheineffektes. [full text]:
[Hocking, Peter] [trace:(lock: 68.166.235.153)], your search re: [Hughes, Paul] includes supplementary information to your primary search string [[Paul + Hughes] + [silver]]. This supplemental information is intended to provide a context for the crime and suggest possible accomplices. It is unlikely that [Hughes, Paul] was the sole catalyst for our current socio-political desolation [refer: [[post + Forever + Dust] + [Heiligenscheineffektes]]]. As such, we at la biblio[“o]mnithèque universelle have included a partial analysis of possible [(influences + inspirations + peers) + (accomplices + [Paul + Hughes])] that might have [participated/precipitated] the tragedy of 2050 [refer: “An End of Us: An Ontological and Epistemological Discourse on The Forever Dust”].
We hope that you find [(designated output): [Hughes, Paul]] helpful and informative.
agent 66.14.7.050 primary avatar re: [Hocking, Peter]: [inquiry #77.75.140] la biblio[“o]mnithèque universelle
[/read] [/run]
∆
&nbs
p; [/search] complete:
[display]
search results: [[Paul + Hughes] + [forever + dust]]: [translate: standard]:
author: […] Dela[…]unay]. title: “of His loss, of His ruin.” publication: Ein Journal des Instituts für die Erforschung des Heiligenscheineffektes.
[recovery team notes signal shatter; text incomplete.]
[la biblio[“o]mnithèque universelle confirms textual probability to statistical significance +/-45%]
excerpts:
…] and upon his disappearance in 2005, on the eve of his twenty-seventh birthday, friends and family simply assumed that he was hiding from his long-before prophesied death, perhaps on a beach, perhaps on the road. He’d spoken of it all the time, that ouija board prediction; few knew just how much it had terrified him.
Those of his immediate circle who had actually read his books might have recognized in his disappearance the opening theme of his third speculative fiction novel.* Solipsistic, self-indulgent to the extreme of alienating his potential audience, he’d gone into hiding after its completion. He somehow felt responsible for the deaths of fictional characters, whom he seemed to believe actually existed, actually lived and died in nearby parallel existences.
By 2006, people had stopped looking for him.
By 2010, his books had started to come true.
*refer: Hughes, Paul Evan. broken. New York: Silverthought Press, 2010.
broken: Alpha: 1.4.0: 17 December 2002. He’d disappeared. They searched, friends, family, the authorities. There was no evidence that he’d been to Panama City or Charleston or the writers’ conference. They waited, but there was no word. No body. In time, many forgot. He’d disappeared.
[/display]
∆
[/search] complete:
[display]
search results: [[Paul + Hughes] + [criticism + posthumous + negative]]: [translate: standard] :
Broken: A Plague Journal tst-3 Page 13
