Archon's Queen

by Matthew S. Cox

  Hallways, white walls and green carpet, glided by. She stared at the scallop-shell flanges of frosted glass throwing light up to the ceiling in cones every few feet. By all rights, this was a middle-class residence tower, but to her it felt like a palace. Any second now, someone would scream at her for daring to set foot in such a place.

  His apartment was darker than she expected it to be, deep browns and burgundy dominated most of the décor. A leaping gazelle hologram galloped across the far wall between the two exterior windows, casting a radiant blue and green light. His maroon couch faced an unpowered holo-bar, its silver shell glimmering with the motions of the illusory animal. If the amount of stuff piled around it was any indication, James didn’t watch videos often.

  She floated over the threshold in his arms, gliding past the couch and around past a kitchenette to a tiny hallway with three doors. The first, on the right, led to a quaint room with a single Comforgel bed near a small table. The second, on the left, looked to be his bathroom. She imagined the far door was the master bedroom, but he had stopped at the bath.

  James gestured to the shower. “I’ll imagine you’d like to get the smell of whatever refuse you’d been frolicking in off of you.”

  Anna stared at the autoshower, filled with longing. “More appealed to the warm of it.”

  A pained expression crossed his face as he looked at her. “Yes, you should. Your lips are turning blue. I’ll fetch you a nightshirt.”

  He knocked moments later, while she basked in a cascade of hot spraying water. “Shall I leave it by the door or bring it inside.”

  Anna put her back to the door, not as embarrassed as she thought she would be. “You can bring it in.”

  He entered and left with speed borne of tact, and when she looked to the sound of the closing door, she spotted a large black button-down shirt draped over the sink. After running a double dry cycle, extra warm, she slipped into the improvised dress. Silent as a mouse, she slipped into the soft-carpeted hallway and looked each way. The hint of Earl Grey drifted in from the right; she crept toward it, and found him waiting in the kitchen.

  Doctor Mardling looked like he didn’t want to be awake at that moment, but offered a bleary smile and indicated two cups of tea arranged on either side of a tray of small pastries. She took a seat, as did he, and clasped her hands around the cup. It smelled somewhat different from what she had before, and he chuckled at the look she made.

  “Hydroponic… I take it you have not had the genuine article before?”

  Regardless of how hard she stared at the surface of the tea, she could not see her mother in it. “I have, but it’s been a very long time.”

  Clattering rose from her hands. The shaking had returned. She let go of the cup and blushed.

  “It’s all right, Anna. That is normal. Your body still wants that drek in your veins. It will pass.”

  She took one of the pastries, dipped it, and ate it almost whole. Another one died a dry death in two bites. After a sip of tea, she gazed at her lap, enamored by the black and gold tiger stripe pattern in the buttons while listening to the crumpets’ faint screams emanate from her belly.

  “I lost my bearings downtown. Tried to get some more.”

  Stretching across the table, he put a hand over her wrist. “That could not have been easy to admit, Anna. Thank you for trusting me enough to do so. You will make it through. The way you are acting tells me you are not proud of yourself.”

  “I’ve not been proud of m’self for quite a span.”

  A grin crept across his lips in time with the glimmer through his eyes. “You should be. I will help you find the life you deserve. It is my duty.”

  Eyes down, she took a long sip of tea and savored the core of heat it created inside her. “Thank you for paying the autocab… I was―”

  His hand squeezed hers. “I know. You have accepted at last that you cannot do this alone. You have taken the first step. Your body no longer craves the drug at a physiological level. We need only convince your mind of the truth of it.”

  A comforting smile drew a tenuous companion from her lips. She thought about her mortifying walk. “All those people talked to me like I was some kind of piece of rubbish.”

  Anger rippled in a flash over his face, gone as fast as it had shown itself. “No, Anna. You are about as far removed from rubbish as is possible to get. You are perfect, more than they could ever hope to know.”

  Anna’s blush outlasted the remainder of the Earl Grey. After seeing her attack the tea pastries, he had made her something a little more substantial to eat. Some manner of instant meal with fish; it was not glorious, but it was handy and quick. Whatever the doctor had done to her had given her an appetite again.

  Once she had eaten, he led her by the hand to the spare bedroom. She sat on the edge, looking up at him. Memories of the cold trek through the city shivered through her still, and she thought about her emergence from the autocab; naked into the world from a womb of metal and plastic, she had gone straight into his arms.

  The Doctor had been there for her.

  The amused smile that formed from the way she stared up at him made her blush. This man wanted to look after her, and did not yell or hit. At thirty-five, he was older by about twelve years, but it wrapped him with a safe feeling.

  Unsure of what came over her, she leapt to her tiptoes and kissed him on the lips. His eyebrows shot up, remaining there until after she stopped and sank back onto her heels.

  “Anna… You know you do not have to trade yourself any more. I am here because I want to be, not because I expect anything in return. You are special, more special than you understand. I will be here for you… no strings.”

  She blinked and sat on the Comforgel pad. The weight of her body activated it, sending a ripple of orange-red glow spreading through the otherwise dark violet block. Her mind swam with an attempt to figure out why she had done that as she reclined and slipped under the blanket.

  “It’s not that, Doctor. I wanted to.”

  On her side, she peered through a curtain of fast-approaching sleep at the man in the doorway. After exchanging weary smiles, he swiped his hand at the wall panel, and the room went dark. Amid the soft glow of the warming light, she lay still, watching as he backed out of the room.

  The door and her eyes closed at the same moment. Not having to worry about who or what might interrupt her sleep, she drifted off.

  nna sat cross-legged on the Comforgel pad, listening to the clatter of cookware echoing from down the hall. She stared at a modest stack of boxes that had appeared on the little table by the bed during the night. The topmost item was as welcome as it was mocking, a clear plastic packet of black lace undies.

  Someone had stolen the last set of such things she owned from the club while she danced. The idea of it repulsed her, wearing someone else’s knickers, but she had not had the money to spare to replace them. Not that such things were expensive, but every credit had been eaten by the zoom monster. Besides, what did she need them for anyway? They would have been on the floor more than on her.

  Her hands shook at the thought of chems.

  He had done a fair job of guessing her size, realizing how much of a view he had gotten last night brushed her face crimson. She slipped out of the shirt and put them on before plucking the tags off. While appraising how they looked, she caught sight of a mottle of healing red marks on the insides of both forearms, the remnants of derms. It seemed irrational to want to hide them from him, he knew full well what she had done to herself, but she grabbed at the remaining boxes, eager to cover them before he could see the badges of shame.

  He had replaced her pants with something similar to what she had lost. Long, baggy, black, and bedecked with an excessive amount of pockets. Cloth, rather than nylon, these were much warmer and did not make the same strange noise when she moved. Another box held a plain white shirt, long enough to be tucked into her belt. Yet another had black socks and a pair of boots that looked less military and a touch
more feminine. Despite the one-inch heel, the soles were rubber and would be good for working with Mr. Carroll. The final box contained a long black coat made of synthetic wool.

  Putting on everything but the coat and boots, she went toward the clattering and found him nudging two fried eggs off a pan and onto a plate by some sausages. He smiled and motioned for her to sit. Once she had settled in and they both had a mouthful or two, he cleared his tongue with a swig of coffee and gave her a pleased look.

  “You scrub up quite well.”

  “Thank you for the clothes, Doctor.”

  A glimmer of light danced off his fork as he made a dismissive wave. “I could not leave you running about in the buff. Think nothing of it; I hope they are to your liking.” He smiled. “Oh, and please call me James.”

  A touch of pink crept through her alabaster face. “I don’t like the zoom you know.”

  He took a bit of sausage, nodding until he could talk again. “I imagine not. You seem quite keen on keeping that other little nipper away from it.”

  Anna looked up, pausing in mid bite. She could not recall if she discussed Faye with him at length. “Yeah. Sometimes it runs away with itself. Like this thing in the back of my ‘ead. The chemicals kept it in a cage so it couldn’t hurt anyone or shit on me to Old Bill.”

  “What exactly does the little imp in your head do?”

  She ate a few more bites as if trying to avoid answering. He rubbed his chin, making faces as if he could see the images of her father’s fist in her mind.

  “Sometimes ‘lectric things just bugger themselves when I lose control of myself. Like if I get scared, or embarrassed, or cheesed off… things tend to explode. It’s why I don’t have a NetMini; got tired of replacing them.”

  “Is it only negative emotions?” He raised an eyebrow. “Would it do the same if you were ecstatic?”

  Anna’s lower lip quivered. “I don’t know.”

  James made a series of fascinated expressions at her retelling of how things go haywire whenever her emotional state reached a peak in any direction. Nodding his way through her stories of various catastrophic events, he smiled broader and broader as she kept on about working for Mr. Carroll until she had had a close call with strange government men.

  “Those chuffers.” James grumbled. “They are officially known as the CSB, Clandestine Services Bureau. They splintered off from MI6 some years ago amid William’s intense paranoia about psionic individuals.”

  Anna shivered, rubbing at the side of her neck.

  Anger reddened his face. “Yes… The registered are given electronic leashes.”

  “Bombs, James.”

  He shot her a hard look.

  The contents of her plate became quite interesting. “Sorry.”

  Dropping his utensils, he reached across and took her hand. “No, no, Anna. I am not angry with you. It is the whole establishment treating us like we are beasts.”

  “We?” she whispered, looking up. “You’ve got a nice flat, nice job…”

  “Yes. We are very much alike. Although our areas of specialty differ, we are both of the Awakened.”

  She nibbled on sausage, speaking between bites. “Wot’s that mean?”

  He glanced to the window and smiled, waving a hand around has he orated. “Psionics have been known to mankind for quite a few generations… ever since that Sievert girl in the Colony in 2204. Then you had the Moore twins in Hertfordshire six years later, and that poor Myshkin child who barely escaped Moscow in 2243.”

  Anna gasped. “Is it true they shot her?”

  James nodded. “Indeed, but she survived. She told the world about the horrible state of affairs for psionics in the ACC. More often than not, they are killed on sight.” He let out a grim sigh. “Sometimes entire families are culled.”

  Anna found it difficult to continue eating while he rambled on about stories of the Allied Corporate Council murdering psionics in front of their own families, too terrified of what they might be capable of to give them a chance to speak. Some, especially young children, vanished in the night. Many thought they forced them into secret military projects, but others suspected sadistic experiments searching for way to ‘cure’ psionics out of the human race.

  “Can’t say it’s much better ‘ere.” Anna stabbed a bit of egg. “The crown’ll stick a bomb in your head and make you dance like a trained dog.”

  “Exactly, my dear, but to get back to my point…” He jellied a piece of toast. “There is something more than simple psionics emerging from the genetic destiny of mankind. The Awakened are a leap forward. We are psionics, yes, but we are much more powerful than the rest. I fear if they discover this, they will become a tad more aggressive.”

  “You think? So what makes you believe I’m one of these? I’ve seen about psionics what can make electricity do what they want it to do. I’m not that unique, not special. If anything, I’m poor at it since I can’t control it.”

  “Oh, but you are.” His hands made the flatware jump when they hit the table. “Electrokinesis has been documented, but so far in all reported cases, the individuals could only redirect existing electricity along a conductor. They had to make direct contact or touch something metal that also touched someone in order to use it as a weapon.” Scenes of her one-sided battle with the Crossmen came to the forefront of her mind without reason. James leaned closer. “Tell me, Anna. Have you ever made lightning arc through the air without a wirepath? Have you ever controlled the flow of electricity without touching the object it ran through? Have you manipulated enough amperage to kill a man instantly?”

  Anna looked at her lap, fidgeting. “Yes.”

  “How difficult was it for you to do? There have only been two other recorded cases of spontaneous generation over the past century and both from old men who had spent their entire lives practicing it… In the Colony of course, and what they could do was closer to a stunner. No one has yet been documented who could do what you did.”

  “Colony? Which planet?”

  He scoffed. “No, not a colony, the Colony. The US… or whatever it is they call themselves now that they’ve stolen Canada too.”

  “UCF?”

  He waved dismissively. “They’re a bit more lenient on psionics across the pond. I have half a mind to go there so I can continue my work in peace.”

  She pushed her empty plate closer to the center of the table. “What…”

  A small flat robot slid from a space on the wall and came floating by, collecting the plate, cleaning it, and depositing it back in the cabinet. Anna remained silent until it had once again blended into the white tiles above the sink.

  Anna blinked. “…work?”

  “I have been researching the brains of psionic individuals, scanned data mostly, tissue when I can get a hold of it. From a structural and genetic point of view, I am searching for what the trigger is to make someone Awakened. I think I found it, or at least the start of where to look deeper.”

  He finished his coffee in one long sip, put it back on the saucer, and sighed. “But it has so far proven to be unrepeatable.”

  “I don’t want a bomb in my head. I don’t want to be tied to zoom either. It’s gonna kill me. I don’t want to feel so―”

  “You are not cheap.” He stepped around the table and stooped at her side. “You are Awakened, Anna. Your abilities are far beyond what an ‘ordinary’ psionic is capable of. That is why you fry things when you get emotional. My research has led me to conclude that children born Awakened have a habit of possessing strange traits that can make their nature difficult to conceal.”

  “How many of us are there?”

  “Well.” He stood up straight, rubbing his chin. “There is of course, you. I know of one other, a woman, in Britain. I’m of a mind there is one in Japan and one somewhere in the Colony―but all I have to go on are some old files lifted from a genetic research project. There was not much there, something about an attempt to militarize a pyrokinetic.”

  Anna stare
d at her hand. “That’s fire, right?”

  “Indeed.”

  She felt drawn to this man, this guardian, this protector who shared the same fear―that the government would find out what they were. Anna stood and embraced him, letting him hold her in silence for several minutes before another wave of zoom-trembles sent a spark lapping at the counter from his food reassembler.

  “You are not out of the proverbial woods yet with that chemical. You will need support. I would very much like you to stay here, with me, where you can be safe.”

  Anna nodded once before looking away and to the side.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I can’t leave Penny to wallow in that awful place… or Twee, um, Faye.”

  “I’m sure they’ll”―another wave of blurriness rippled through her mind―“benefit from having you as a friend.”

  “James… I want to be with you, I’ve never felt so safe.” Her arms tightened around him. “I have to do something for them first.”

  Whirring accompanied the small bot as it tended to his abandoned plate and gathered the utensils for cleaning. James glanced at the wall, a faint hint of frown at the corner of his lip.

  She stifled another tremble. “Are you angry?”

  His face relaxed, his warm breath fell over the top of her head. “No, Anna… I am worried. I do not want you to do anything reckless.”

  ine Clifton Hill sat amid a strip of residences that had been rebuilt a few centuries ago, soon after the war. Constructed in an archaic style, the buildings held ten accommodations stacked vertically, each the size of a one-story house. Advertised as ‘full-floor flats,’ they were the purview of the not quite wealthy.

  Induced trees sprouted through the footpath, their trunks twisted in an artistic manner through decorative iron grillwork. Branches fluttered in the incessant wind. Rain still came, but it had fallen off to a weak drizzle her new coat shrugged off. Bundled in it, Anna felt like a different person from the one who existed only a night ago. No one so much as offered her a second glance; she looked like she belonged. Her no longer bare midriff gave her warmth, and the presence of underclothes embraced her with long lost dignity.