Alex watched, mesmerized by the horror of Mitsuru’s dissolution.
“You probably want to step back a bit,” Emily said, pulling him away. “Actually, you probably don’t want to watch this at all.”
Alex turned away queasily, the spell suddenly broken. Behind him, Alex could hear squelching and sizzling sounds that turned his stomach. His arm had started to ache terribly, the pain increasing by the moment.
“While we are waiting,” Emily said, taking his arm, “let me at least kill the pain.”
She put her fingers against the nape of his neck.
The pain stopped almost immediately.
“There,” she said, patting him on the cheek. “All better?”
There was something like a scream, what sounded like to Alex a simultaneous combination of all the sounds a human mouth could make. He turned around in time to see Mitsuru sit bolt upright and then cough up a coagulated mass of black jelly.
It seemed politer not to say anything until she finished.
Mitsuru struggled and wretched like a cat with a recalcitrant hairball.
“What…the…fuck?” Mitsuru gasped, looking at them with bewildered, bloodshot eyes. “Where am I? What is happening?” She blinked hard, and then her eyes finally focused. “What the…Alex? Emily? What are the two of you doing?” She gave them a hard look as she peeled herself off the floor, black gunk clinging to her skin. “Where are we? And why aren’t you wearing a shirt, Alex?”
He was saved from having to make a response when Mitsuru’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she toppled over, her cheek resting in a pool of her own congealed black blood.
Twelve
Day Three
I don’t want to sound ungrateful, Emily, but I’m having a lot of trouble with this.
I think that’s to be expected, Emily thought, setting aside her sunglasses. You’ve been through a great deal, and for better or worse, you don’t remember quite a bit of it. That must be jarring. You were dead, after all.
Was I really? Mitsuru held up her hand so that it was an outline against the sun and flexed her fingers. I don’t feel dead.
Neither do I, Emily thought. That doesn’t change the fact that I died. That’s the essence of the Anathema philosophy – the body must die for an Operator to transcend their biological limitations.
I don’t know. That sounds like religion.
It’s not a matter of faith, I promise you, Emily replied. There’s no need to believe. I’ve seen – experienced, really – it for myself. It’s a sort of transcendence.
Nonsense. Mitsuru was annoyed. Transcending what, exactly?
I’m honestly not sure.
Mitsuru laughed, and as always, it sounded crueler than she had meant it to.
May I tell you what I’m sure of, Ms. Aoki? Being dead or being alive doesn’t matter nearly as much as being able to think and talk and breathe. If you can manage that, the rest is a technicality.
You sound like Gaul. I don’t remember you being so assured.
Emily laughed.
I hear that a great deal, just lately, Emily thought. As much as I hate to share the credit, I think Alex might have started the process. Then, John Parson reshaped me.
What class is your protocol now?
I’ve never bothered to test it, Emily thought. It fluctuates, I’m sure, based on various circumstances, but it gets the job done, I would say.
Mitsuru glared, and an Etheric probe flared to life, testing the boundaries of Emily’s mental shielding.
Emily blocked her for a moment, smiling at Mitsuru. Then she allowed it gracefully.
Mitsuru was not gentle.
You were B-Class, at best, Mitsuru said, with accustomed severity. Now…
Emily snapped her fingers and the probe dispelled.
The possibilities are endless, if you just look at things the right way.
And have the right friends, Mitsuru thought. You’ve been fortunate, Miss Muir.
My entire family is dead, Emily thought, giving Mitsuru an unworried smile. By most standards, I’m dead. Everyone seems to find me terribly inconvenient, and I’m often excluded from activities in the club I’ve joined. Do you really think I’m lucky?
Maybe it’s bad luck.
That may be, Emily agreed, reclining her chair so that the sun fell on her more fully. I try to live in the moment, Ms. Aoki.
That aside, Mitsuru thought, gesturing at the scene around her. Why are we here? How are we here?
They were sitting poolside in the sunny courtyard of a pink stucco hotel. The day was perfect, quite warm, with a steady breeze, cotton candy strands of cloud stretched from one horizon to the other. The pool was like a round-cut sapphire, blue and glimmering, encircled with umbrellas and cabanas. The air was filled with odors of grilling chicken and the ocean, somewhere nearby.
Why not? Don’t you like it? Emily glanced at her. You must know where we are.
This is Baja, a weekend trip I took with Rebecca not long after I became an Operator. Mitsuru stared around in wonder. Everything is the same. Even the weather.
This is a simulation, Ms. Aoki. The stress of rebooting your backup triggered the psychic defense routines that were implanted in you. You are in shock, and I think your guardian angel suspects you are being tortured.
That’s not quite right, Mitsuru said. I’m not sure what this is.
You haven’t had a body for a while. Your brain is protecting you from damage by substituting a more pleasant reality, cherry picked from happier memories. All the design of Director Levy, no doubt.
If this is my trauma simulation, then why are you here?
I have enough telepathy to worm my way inside your head, so I thought we would come and explain things. Besides, when I checked on you, it looked nice. Henderson is quite dreary.
I can accept that. Mitsuru pointed at the pool, and the young man floating nearby, clutching a pair of pool noodles and kicking lazily. Why is Alex here?
I thought it would be mean not to bring him along, Emily said. And I wasn’t sure that you would trust me.
“I just wanted to go swimming,” Alex said. “Don’t worry, I won’t eavesdrop.”
Mitsuru folded her arms and gave him an icy stare. Alex paddled mournfully to the opposite side of the pool.
If I really was dead, I can’t remember it.
Come back to the Far Shores with us, Ms. Aoki.
Mitsuru. You’ve earned that much.
Emily smiled.
Come back, Mitsuru, Emily thought. I’ll have Vivik show you everything. I don’t keep secrets, you see. I don’t believe in them.
I just don’t understand how any of this can be happening. A backup? How is that possible?
Your implant was designed by Gaul Thule. He never offered anyone else the same opportunity. Did you never wonder why?
The sun had started to work on Mitsuru, slowly forcing her muscles to relax as they warmed.
I can only tell you what I know to be true. The Auditors betrayed and killed you, because they were afraid of your protocol. The Anathema enslaved and exploited your body and abilities, even after death. Your mentor implanted a device in you that was secretly maintaining a copy of your identity. I’ve orchestrated the activation of that backup and restored your body, incidentally transforming you into a new sort of Anathema. You’ve been through a great deal.
Mitsuru grimaced, entranced by the movements of her hand.
How are you different from anyone else, then? Mitsuru asked. You just want to use me.
I won’t lie to you or try and make you do anything. I hope you’ll help me, Mitsuru Aoki, but I won’t try to manipulate or control you. Ask Alex, if you don’t believe me.
“I mean, she hasn’t done it lately,” Alex said, shrugging. “That I know of.”
“What a ringing endorsement…” Emily made a face. “You’re no help at all.”
Alex blanched and nearly tumbled off his floating perch.
“Wait! That didn’t come out
quite…”
“You are the least helpful boy, really.”
“She really does seem different, Ms. Aoki,” Alex said, climbing out of the pool. “I’m not sure how to describe it, but if she was up to something bad, I think Emily would probably tell you to your face, like it was no big deal.”
“Alex!”
“What? You probably would. I think you can trust her, is what I’m saying,” Alex said, pulling a towel around his shoulders. “I do.”
Emily blushed and smiled.
“I don’t know,” Mitsuru said. “I need some time to think.”
That’s what the simulation is for, Emily thought enthusiastically. With time dilation in effect, you can spend weeks in here and it will only take a minute or two, back in the real world.
“Good. I have a lot that I want to think about.”
Let me tell you one more thing to occupy your time, then, Emily said, forcing Alex out of their telepathic conference. He pouted for a moment, and then made for the bar when he realized they were not going to relent. The night you saved Alex from the Weir was the most heavily orchestrated moment in recent human history. To all the principals involved, except one, whether Alex lived or died was immaterial. What was important was that you survived, Mitsuru, or did not. Because, honestly, everyone thinks you’re the deciding factor.
***
“This was a trap, wasn’t it?”
Emily laughed uproariously, stirring her margarita with a little plastic sword. Hundreds of the novelty stirrers were stored beside the dormant register at the untended but fully stocked bar.
“This is not a trap,” Emily said. “This is a resort.”
“This is just like the last time, in Thailand.”
“It was Vietnam. Ha Long Bay. How can you not remember that?”
“I try not to put much thought into it.”
“Is that so?” Emily blinked, her features quite still. “I think of it often. It was one of my life’s happiest episodes.”
Alex hurried over to the bar, though his beer wasn’t empty. He felt a sudden need for something stronger.
“I’m a fucking idiot,” Alex muttered, searching through the bottles neatly arranged on glass shelves, still too inexperienced of a drinker to know what he might prefer from the vast selection of liquors. “I fucking fell for it again.”
“You’re being overdramatic,” Emily said, sitting on the other side of the bar and hanging her purse prudently on the provided hook, as if she expected to be served. “What is it exactly that you suspect me of doing?”
Alex kept his eyes on the bottles, one metallic label passing by after another, unread.
“You said I could go swimming to pass the time, while we waited for Ms. Aoki to wake up.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“You made it sound quick,” Alex said, grabbing a green bottle at random. “Now we’re stuck here for…what? Weeks? Months?”
“I don’t know how long. That depends on how fast your friend gets herself together. I brought you along because she trusts you. This is for Ms. Aoki’s benefit. You don’t have to stay – you can go sit in a hot room with two unconscious women until this is over, if you prefer.” She eyed Alex with worry as he put the green bottle on the bar. “And I don’t think you should drink that.”
“That’s it, isn’t it? It’s not your fault. It’s mine,” Alex said, sighing as he took a pair of pint glasses from under the bar. “I don’t really want to go back and sit there in the dark, by myself. I might even be able to help Ms. Aoki if I stay. I just think that if I stay here, I’ll get myself into trouble.”
“I’m serious, Alex. Don’t drink that,” Emily warned him. “It’s crème de menthe. And what sort of trouble do you mean?”
“You know what I mean,” Alex said, opening the bottle. “I kissed you.”
“Don’t worry about it too much. You just got a little overexcited, that’s all. I needed to borrow some of your strength, I wasn’t flirting,” Emily said, wincing as he poured a healthy measure of crème de menthe in both glasses. “I’m not planning to tell anyone, much less Eerie. I feel it all, remember? If she cries, then I’ll probably cry, too. Please, please don’t drink that.”
“You see? If I stay, things will only go farther. I can’t trust myself around you.”
Alex picked up his glass and motioned to her.
“You’re acting like I’m interested,” Emily said, pushing the pint glass aside. “I just told you that I’m not.”
She put forward the glass containing the remainder of her neon-yellow margarita, now mostly ice, and Alex clinked his pint glass against it.
“Alex, please, for God’s sake, don’t…”
Alex pinched his nose and threw back the half-full glass of crème de menthe.
He promptly coughed it back up, spreading a thin scum of white liquid and foam across the floor. Emily wrinkled her nose at the suddenly prevalent smell of mint.
“I told you not to do that,” Emily observed. “How drunk are you?”
“Very drunk,” Alex said, wiping his mouth. “Way drunker than I expected.”
“You drank almost an entire pitcher of margaritas,” Emily said, rattling the glass in her cup sadly. “What did you expect?”
“I don’t know,” Alex said. “What the fuck was that shit? Why was it so minty?”
“I told you not to drink it. That was crème de menthe.”
“Is that French for disgusting mint slime?”
“I suppose that’s a matter of perspective.”
Alex belched, and then stumbled to the sink inset in the bar, nearly dropping his glass as he struggled with the tap.
Emily sighed and then filled the glass for him.
“What are you doing, Alex?”
“I figured I’d get really drunk before I had you send me back,” Alex said, spilling water across his chest as he drank. “Since you said I’d having nothing to do but sit in a dark room.”
“That seems like a terrible way to pass the time…”
“It’s worked for me before.”
“…and no matter how drunk you get, you’ll be completely sober when you leave the simulation.”
“Oh.” Alex considered it. “That’s probably for the best. I was a little worried about what sort of hangover I was going to have.”
Alex eyed the bottles behind the bar.
“No, no, no!” Emily hurried around the bar and dragged him away. “That was not an invitation to get as drunk as possible.”
“Are you sure?” Alex dragged his feet as she pulled. “Because it sounded like one.”
“Please behave yourself! This is all for the benefit of Ms. Aoki’s recovery. I don’t need to have to take care of you as well.”
“You’ve been reading by the pool for hours,” Alex said. “What are you talking about?”
“Yes, but what if she did need something from me? It’s not that I don’t want to help, it’s that I haven’t been invited to.”
“So, you need to be ready, just in case.”
“Exactly.”
“Which is why you’ve had like, four drinks so far.”
“I’ve had two-and-a-half, with dinner,” Emily replied primly. “You finished my third drink. Remember?”
“I did?”
“You did.”
“That was rude.”
Emily nodded.
“Sorry, Emily.”
She smiled in a resigned fashion, steering him into one of the many vacant seats scattered about the covered porch. The setting sun gave everything a coppery hue, and Emily’s skin shone with a ruddy warmth beneath her trim bathing dress.
“I feel like I say that a lot,” Alex sputtered, cheeks reddening. “I feel like I’m always apologizing to you.”
“Why do you think that is?”
Alex laughed.
“You sound like Ms. Levy,” he said, slurring just slightly. “Turning the question and shit. Say what you mean.”
Emily smiled an
d sat down across the table at him. For the first time in his recent memory, she looked tired.
“What is it that you want me to forgive you for?”
“What?”
“You keep apologizing,” Emily said, popping an ice cube into her mouth. “What did you do to me that you feel so bad about, Alex dear?”
He looked away, his cheeks the approximate color of the evening sky behind him.
“Should I forgive you for not falling in love with me?” Emily smiled, but her eyes were wet. “Is that it?”
“No. It’s…”
He gestured, unable to find the words.
“You chose Eerie,” Emily said. “I may never understand exactly why, but I accept that. I’ve moved on to other, better things. You didn’t break my heart, because I only thought that I maybe liked you. Consider yourself absolved.”
“I told you, that’s not it!”
Alex’s shout stunned them both. When he continued, it was in a more reasonable tone, with an expression of chagrin.
“That’s not what it’s about. This…this is about you,” Alex said. “You died, Emily. You died, and I never even noticed how desperate you’d become, the position I put you in…none of it. Not one fucking thing. I was too busy to notice…no, to want to notice.”
“Oh, Alex. You’ve already told me this…”
“You died,” Alex said, looking at her blearily. “That is the very worst thing. Worse than Margot, worse than everything.”
“It’s okay. I made the best of it,” Emily said. “Let it go.”
“No, I want you to…”
“Alex, listen to me,” Emily said, her tone silencing him. “I am not just your ex-girlfriend.”
He looked away.
“My life is not about you. Whatever happened to me, whatever does happen, that’s the result of my decisions,” Emily said, prodding him in the shoulder. “I’m am not your mistake.”
“Emily, you don’t…”
“I’m an empath, Alex. You know that I understand perfectly.”
“I just, it was so sad, when you…”
The Church of Sleep (Central Series Book 5) Page 32
