It was an issue of psychological temperature, he felt, rather than a physical one. Perhaps it was the sort of the thing that most people would have ascribed to the spiritual, but that was outside of his frame of reference. Religion was cultural and performative, to Vivik, not a means toward a better understanding the world, and he preferred to keep it that way.
The malaise remained, indifferent to his preferences.
He paced along the planters filled with pale ferns that were the default landscaping of the Far Shores, their tepid growth contained by a concrete planter, and he wondered why in the hell he had to be a remote viewer. Vivik would have liked to have been something less necessary and more respectable.
Why couldn’t he have been a precognitive?
Everyone appreciated prescience.
Remote viewers were a regrettable necessity, like spies and prostitutes, Vivik thought, laughing at his own observation.
He felt that the way people looked at his protocol had started seeping into his private character, or perhaps that his protocol was an extension of his self-doubt. He felt slightly nervous all the time, like he had done something wrong, a shameful thing that would be inevitably be discovered and punished.
Vivik lived his life waiting for some obscure hammer to fall, but when he stopped to examine it, he was not sure what he had done to deserve such punishment.
His mother always told him that it never hurt to apologize, and while he was not as certain that was true as he had once been, it still seemed a good policy. He had done his best with that, but if apologies did not hurt, then they were not necessarily easy, either.
It was a burden, and Vivik was tired of carrying it.
He was not sorry for what he had done, not really. Here and there, perhaps, but looking back or anticipating, he felt like he had made most of the right decisions.
Emily caused trouble, he knew that, and he did not always approve. Some of what he had done had enabled that.
She had the best intentions, though, Vivik knew, and he trusted Emily to do the right thing.
Eventually.
Assuming he reminded her. Possibly, there would be some cajoling involved.
It was the destination, not the journey, Vivik thought, and besides…
He liked Emily. Nothing was ever simple with her, and if Vivik loved anything, it was complexity.
“Sorry that took so long,” Eerie said, surprising him. “I don’t have any of my stuff here.”
She wore a knit cap pulled low to hide her hair, and her body was lost in the folds of Alex’s sweatshirt. It seemed a little chilly for shorts, to him, but that had never bothered Eerie, though she did at least wear tights beneath.
“Don’t worry about it,” Vivik said. “I’m not in a hurry.”
“I’m surprised,” Eerie said. “Everyone else here is.”
“I probably should be,” Vivik said. “Maybe I have a different sense of what is important.”
“Maybe.”
“Are you really that mad at me?”
Eerie looked at the ground, shuffled her feet.
“Not really,” she admitted. “I have trouble dealing with Emily. She’s so much better than me at so many things, and she knows Alex so well.”
“I don’t think that is true at all. I think Emily is good at different things than you. As for knowing Alex, if I understand it all correctly, haven’t you known him since he was a child?”
“It’s not the same. I wasn’t supposed to do that, so I had to make him forget. Over and over and over.”
“I thought so,” Vivik said. “Is that why Alex is…the way he is?”
“Probably a little bit.” Eerie shrugged. “Alex is Alex.”
“I have something important I want to talk to you about,” Vivik said, leading her carefully away from the dorm, though no one was about, and lowering his voice. “I know all about your deadline.”
“You overheard?” Eerie gave him a look. “With your windows?”
“I’m not spying on you. I don’t ever watch the two of you, unless you are in danger. I shouldn’t have to tell you that,” Vivik said. “I also shouldn’t need to tell you that your situation is of interest to all sorts of people, and they are definitely talking about you.”
“Oh. Okay. I guess.”
“I know that you’ve only got two days left. I also know something else,” Vivik said, guiding her by the elbow into the green space between the buildings. “I haven’t told anyone else about this. I don’t even think Emily knows about it.”
“She could be in your head.”
“She’s isn’t,” Vivik said, shaking his head. “I know it.”
“How come?”
“She promised me. I believe her.”
“Geez,” Eerie sighed. “Boys.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, nothing. Tell me the secret.”
“You already know, right?” Vivik stopped in the middle of the lawn. “Because I will tell you, you must already know. Isn’t that how it works?”
“You still need to tell me,” Eerie said solemnly. “Rules are rules.”
“There’s a way out of this for you,” Vivik said urgently. “There’s a way to prevent the Church of Sleep from ever…doing whatever it is that it’s supposed to do. I’m sure of it.”
“What?” Eerie’s eyes were fantastically dilated. “How?”
“There must be a way, because Gaul Thule is very worried that you’ll figure out how to do it,” Vivik explained. “He talks to himself, when no one is around, and about half the time, that’s what he worries about.”
“Creepy.” Eerie shivered. “I don’t like that old man talking about me and Alex.”
“Not just the two of you. Ms. Aoki and Emily, too. He’s upset that we rescued her. He wanted to keep her away from you, or from Alex. I’m not sure.” Vivik lowered his voice even more, so that Eerie had to step closer to hear. “This is big, Eerie. We can do something.”
“Yeah. Yeah,” Eerie said, humming to herself, while golden motes of light orbited her. “You’re right!”
“You know what happens, right?” Vivik peered at the metallic sparks that lazily circled Eerie. “How do we do it?”
“I know that we find out,” Eerie said. “I’m not sure what we find out, though. It’s indistinct, like when you try to remember an old song, or lines from a movie, and you can almost remember, but not quite, like you know the shape of the thing, but the thing itself is elusive. You know?”
“Not at all, but I believe you,” Vivik said. “Okay, then. Plan B.”
“We have a Plan B?” Eerie looked impressed. “Awesome.”
“You’ll need to get the club back together.”
“Okay,” Eerie said. “Which club?”
“Your club! The Rescue Alex From the Outer Dark Club!”
“Oh, right. That one.”
“Except this time, we won’t be rescuing Alex,” Vivik said. “We’ll be rescuing you from the Church of Sleep.”
“Cool,” Eerie said, clasping her hands in front of her chest. “So cool!”
“Yeah. I thought you’d like this idea.”
“I hope we do better this time, though,” Eerie said. “We kinda didn’t rescue Alex, remember?”
“I remember, but he was rescued,” Vivik said. “That’s okay. If everyone gets rescued, then it’s fine. That’s what I think.”
“I think that, too,” Eerie agreed solemnly. “You’re smart, Vivik.”
“Wait till you hear my plan,” Vivik said, grinning. “You might change your mind. As far as I can tell, Gaul Thule is the only person who knows for sure what to do to stop the Church of Sleep.”
“He’s pretty scary,” Eerie said. “Will he tell us?”
“I don’t think he’ll want to,” Vivik said. “I think Emily could make him tell us, though.”
“I don’t know,” Eerie fretted. “I don’t really trust Emily completely. Maybe we should leave her out of this club activity?
I don’t want to ask her for help. She always wants stuff in return.”
“She is like that, isn’t she?” Vivik nodded. “Don’t worry, though. You won’t have to ask for her help this time.”
“I won’t?”
“You won’t,” Vivik assured her. “I’ll take care of it. Emily owes me a bunch of favors.”
“Thank you, Vivik!” Eerie hugged him again, and this time, he returned the gesture. “Thank you for helping!”
“It’s really no problem,” Vivik assured her, clumsily patting her back. “We are friends, right?”
“We are totally friends,” Eerie said. “I’ve been mean to you, haven’t I? I took it all out on you. That’s so bad.”
“No. No! Not at all. We just…we had some miscommunications. That’s all. But that’s normal, right? That’s normal for friends.”
“Yes,” Eerie nodded. “We are very normal.”
“I want you to understand everything this time. I’m going to be completely open about everything,” Vivik said, gently removing himself from her grasp. “I want to help you, I really do. That’s not my only reason to care, though. You know what would happen to Emily if the Church shows up, right? I can’t, uh…I can’t let that happen.”
“I know that,” Eerie said. “I think it’s cool. Emily is lucky to have a friend like you, and so am I.”
Vivik laughed, while Eerie gave him a puzzled look.
“I’m sorry,” Vivik said, wiping his eyes. “That has been coming up a lot lately.”
***
Gaul led him down the stairs, the dim lighting and the uneven length of the steps compelling Alistair to lean heavily on the railing to one side. The lighting was barely sufficient to illuminate the stair and the surrounding stonework, but anything further was lost to the gloom.
The stair deposited them at the mouth of a tunnel, and Alistair followed Gaul into it, ducking his head to avoid the low ceilings.
The walk down the tunnel was long enough to make him wonder if they were still on the same piece of property. There was a bend to the tunnel, but the darkness made it impossible to be sure how much of a curve was involved.
They emerged in another chamber, large enough that their footsteps echoed from unseen walls. The ceiling above was composed of finely carved stone vaults, though many of the arches showed signs of relatively recent restoration. There was a small table and a pair of chairs on one side of the room, which was otherwise empty, excepting only a massive oriental rug that just failed to conceal the trap door set beneath it.
Gaul kicked the rug aside, and then unlocked the trap door.
The door itself was secure and very heavy. Gaul gestured, and the door opened via the application of several tons of telekinetic force, applied at a very specific angle.
Alistair and Gaul both looked down at what was below.
A short ladder descended into what appeared to be dimly lit baths, stone arches decorated with tile frescoes and strange mosaics.
“That looks like a dungeon,” Alistair observed. “A wet one.”
“It has served that purpose,” Gaul replied. “It is a crypt, and also a crucible, where the Thule family refines itself.”
“You aren’t locking me in there,” Alistair said. “Why would I allow it?”
“I don’t plan on locking the door. That’s only required when the subject of the trial is unwilling. Since you’ve come of your own volition, the process should be much easier.”
“What process? What are you babbling about, boss?”
“I have no interest in your service if you plan to simply disintegrate when the Church of Sleep manifests,” Gaul said. “The Anathema are nothing more than an extension of John Parson, and they will cease to exist as soon as he realizes that he does not. To be of any use to me, you must become something other than Anathema.”
“Great idea! How should I go about it?” Alistair’s words dripped with sarcasm. “It’s not a philosophy or a political alignment, you know. It is more of an ‘every cell in my body’ sort of thing.”
“Tell me, Alistair. How was your body deconstructed? In a fire, I know, but did you not asphyxiate on nanites volatized by the fire long before that happened? Your body was deconstructed on a cellular level, then rebuilt from components synthesized from your surroundings. Would it be so strange for the same process to have different results?”
“That’s the traditional definition of insanity, I think.”
“Yes. It would be insane. Irrational, even.” Gaul gave Alistair a weary look. “You do not have a body. You have a collection of organized nanites and a biological memory. Your form is rebuilt from a template each time you return.”
“I know all this. What’s your point?”
“The waters in this chamber are infused with nanites, along with a powerful psychedelic agent derived from a fungus discovered on this property, and nowhere else. The chambers were designed to have a powerful impact on the human mind, in decoration and in dimension. If you choose to descend and immerse yourself, and remain there for a night, or perhaps a little longer, you will be changed.”
“Changed how?”
“John Parson used this place as his model when he created the Anathema,” Gaul said. “He succeeded only in creating a pale imitation of the original.”
“Are you saying this could reverse the process?” Alistair gave him a doubtful look. “It can transform me from Anathema back to human?”
“That is impossible. Your body is gone, and all that remains of it is a memory. John Parson’s memory of you, to be completely accurate. Did you never wonder why he witnesses each transformation, and is personally present at the creation of each Anathema?”
“I just thought he was a sicko,” Alistair said. “If you can’t give me back my body, then what are you offering?”
“The nanites that make up your body are cloned from those of John Parson. They lack an individual imprint, and require instructions from their source – again, John Parson – to function. His dissolution means your own. The solution, then, is to provide that unique imprint to the nanites within you.”
Gaul pointed at the dark chamber below them.
“You will go mad down there, rather quickly. Telepaths are particularly sensitive to the dimensions of the vaults. You will be forced to find irrational solutions in order to recover yourself. You will do so, however, I have little doubt, and in doing so, you will shatter the connection between John Parson’s consciousness and your own.”
“Even if that works, I don’t see how it helps me.”
“I’m not finished. These waters will poison you,” Gaul said. “Your body will replace damaged cells with new copies, rendered from the raw materials around you. The easiest and fastest material to work with is the nanites within the water. These nanites will have already been implanted with an imprint of your body and consciousness.”
“From where?” Alistair asked. “I thought you said mine was destroyed.”
“The memories are my own,” Gaul said. “Who knows you better?”
“This is very convenient.”
“I have anticipated these events.”
“Obviously, but how do you know this will work? Is that also prescience?”
“Not at all,” Gaul said. “This has been done before.”
Alistair gave him an expectant look.
“Emily Muir has already visited us, and gone through the same process,” Gaul admitted.
“And it worked?”
“There is no way to be certain until the Church manifests, but the probabilities are high.”
Alistair thought about, and then nodded and reached for the ladder.
“Take off your clothes, first,” Gaul commanded, blocking his way. “You will go in with nothing, and you will become nothing. That is the beginning of it.”
“Spare me the new-age bullshit,” Alistair said, pulling off his shirt. “I appreciate the save, boss, even if it is all fucked up, but this won’t square us. You know how valuable I can b
e for whatever you are trying to do. You’re gonna owe me, and I want my payment up front.”
“I had assumed as much,” Gaul said, taking Alistair’s clothes and shoes as he shed them. “What is your price this time, Alistair?”
“I’m tired of not having a name or a title. I’m tired of not having a home. I’m sick of everything about my lone wolf, bachelor lifestyle.” Alistair grinned as he handed Gaul his pants. “I want a new name, and I have one in mind. I really took a shine to that niece of yours, Gaul.”
“You must be joking.”
“I want you to break off her engagement with Grigori Aushev – after all the shit you’ve caused, I think we both know she isn’t marrying an Auditor anyway – and I want you to announce our engagement, instead.”
“Perhaps there is no need for you to descend after all,” Gaul said. “You have already gone mad.”
“I’ll want a job and a title, too. Something prestigious.” Alistair stripped off his underwear, and then let it drop to the floor. “We both want the best for Gabby, after all, and she can’t be married off to a servant or a bodyguard. She deserves an executive, don’t you think?”
Gaul moved aside, and Alistair started down the ladder.
“I will have to discuss this with Gabriela,” Gaul said, watching him go. “I will not do this without her assent.”
“If she isn’t into it now, I’ll just have to win her over,” Alistair said. “I’m going to make her very happy, future Uncle Gaul. I’m going to be very progressive about it, mind you. I want to take her name. I think she’ll like that.”
Alistair stepped from the ladder into the tepid water.
“Drink the water,” Gaul suggested, reaching for the trap door. “That will accelerate the process.”
Gaul shut the trap door behind him, and then, after quite a long time, left it unlocked, only bothering to roll the rug back over it.
The Church of Sleep (Central Series Book 5) Page 52
