Agents of the Demiurge

by Brian Blose

  “I wish you had not seen that,” a man said from beside him.

  Mott startled, then forced his features to stillness. “Does the woman want to harm someone or is she seeking attention?”

  “Beeta harms no one but herself.”

  “My name is Mott.”

  “Welcome to our village, Mott. We will have food and company tonight. Tomorrow, if you are able, you can help the men thatch roofs.”

  Mott's eyes drifted back to the crazy woman. It had been years since he traveled with his last companion. Keeno had been that man's name. He was a man with the face of a child and the heart of a snake. Until he turned on the Creator's Observer. Then Keeno had been a man without a face and the heart of a terrified child.

  Perhaps it was time for a new companion.

  “My sister was like Beeta,” Mott said.

  There was a sharp intake of breath. “What happened to her?”

  “I was always able to talk sense into her. First when we were children and then later when she chose a man. But I wasn't around all the time. The women knew not to let her have a knife, but one day she took a shard of pottery and used that instead. If I had been there that day, I could have stopped her. No one knew the right words to use. Everyone thought they needed to convince her that everything was good, but she knew in her heart that wasn't true.”

  “What else would you tell someone burdened with a heavy heart but that things are better than they seem?”

  “I always asked my sister about her thoughts and let her tell me the truth she knew instead of forcing my truth on her. Because I had never argued with her, she trusted me to understand. Everyone else in her life tried to make her better. She could never trust them again because of that. Everyone in our entire village became her enemy except for me.”

  “But why did you never try to talk sense to your sister?”

  “Because she was my older sister and I trusted her. She confided in me and by the time I was old enough to wish her better I knew the ways of mental illnesses intimately and didn't make the same mistakes as everyone else. Only I knew how to talk to her. Only I had never betrayed her trust.”

  The man was silent for a long time. Mott glanced over from time to time, noting the play of thoughts on the man's face. Finally, the man spoke. “We never knew. We wanted to comfort her, make her feel better.”

  “Of course you meant well,” Mott said. “It is no one's fault that you didn't know the things I know.”

  The man sighed. “You are wise, my friend. No one is to blame for not knowing the best way to support dear Beeta.”

  “You couldn't have known that your kind words would make it impossible for her to trust everyone in the village,” Mott added.

  “Not everyone in the village. My friend, you have never spoken to Beeta. Surely she would not think you are against her. You know the right way to calm madness. Would you be willing to speak with her? I promise you that everyone would think you a hard worker indeed if your labor tomorrow was words with Beeta instead of laying thatch.”

  Mott bowed deeply. “I would be honored to help that young woman. After the loss of my sister, I could never walk away from someone who needed help in the fight against madness.”

  Chapter 14 – Hess / Iteration 145

  He stalked the neighborhood on foot for two hours before returning home. Elza and Jerome sat in the living room, eyes glued to the television. They fidgeted as he entered the house.

  Hess shook his head. “I'm not interested in whatever you have to say. Elza – I don't even want to see you right now. And Jerome – I want you gone from my life forever.”

  Elza pointed at the television.

  “I don't care,” Hess began.

  Then the video caught his attention. An older man with a bulbous nose flinched as a red-hot poker contacted his chest, mouth open in a scream as flesh discolored and bled. The poker pulled away. The man on the screen wept while they watched.

  “What are you watching?”

  Jerome answered. “Ingrid.”

  Other marks began to fade, blackened flesh reverting to flawless skin. The poker descended again, once more glowing an angry red. As Hess flinched in sympathy, Jerome un-muted the television set, filling the room with hoarse moans and heavy sobs.

  “The man seen here, one Forrest Clark, has been positively identified by the Church as an Agent of the Demiurge,” a voice-over narrated. Ingrid's screams faded into desperate pleading as the poker pulled away.

  “Turn it off,” Hess said.

  Jerome turned her deep-set eyes on Hess, emaciated face looking like a skull in the flickering light of the television. “Why? This is what you wanted, Hess. The people are punishing Ingrid for you. You ought to watch the entire episode to take your pleasure in what you've done.”

  “This has nothing to do with me,” he said.

  “You blame Ingrid and Erik for everything you think wrong with the worlds. How is it any different when your darkest wishes are brought to life? You can't have it both ways, Hess. Either Ingrid is innocent or you are guilty.”

  Hess glared at Jerome. “Then open the sky. We'll vote next Iteration.”

  “No.”

  “Why not? Your job is to prevent situations.”

  “Not this time. I collect votes. That is my only mission. Though I sure as hell don't know how I'm going to get Ingrid's vote.”

  “Hess is right,” Elza interrupted. “You have to open the sky. Even if you had a way to find the others and get in to see Ingrid, this world isn't safe. The people are looking for us and now they know that identifying us is as easy as performing a prick test.”

  Jerome's eyes moved between Hess and Elza. “My present form may not be suited to breaking into a prison, but if that's what I need to do, then that is what I am going to do.”

  Elza leaned forward. “Why bother? Considering what is happening to Ingrid, his decision should be obvious.”

  “You don't know that,” Hess said.

  “Like you care.” Jerome nodded towards the television. “This is your revenge fantasy.”

  “You really believe I caused this?”

  Jerome hesitated the barest fraction of a second. “Yes.”

  Hess lifted his chin. “What's your plan for getting him out?”

  “I can't get him out. I'll have to save Ingrid for last, break in, get his vote, and end the world.”

  “No,” Hess said. “That will take too long. The Church will be holding Ingrid at their headquarters in the city. I can get access to as many personal weapons as we need, and it shouldn't be hard to improvise some explosives.”

  Jerome raised a brow. “Seriously?”

  “I thought you did research on my cover identity. Jed Orlin is VP of Logistics at TFK Motors. My organization moves weapons for the Church.”

  “I'm just surprised you want to help Ingrid.”

  “Then you don't know the first thing about me,” Hess said. “I've wished for a lot of bad things to happen to Ingrid, but I didn't put him in that room to be tortured. And I'm not leaving him there.”

  Elza sighed. “Pipe bombs won't get you into a secure facility.”

  “I'll rig some propane tanks or something.”

  “You need to breach their security and create a diversion. That means heavy explosives.” Elza clasped her hands together. “But heavy explosives are kept secured.”

  “We could brew a batch of plastic explosives,” Hess said.

  “You're not thinking big enough,” Elza said. “This world never developed atomic theory. Consequently, it is possible to buy large amounts of radioactive material without alarming a government office.”

  “You want to set off a dirty bomb?”

  “Still not big enough, Hess. I have enough money in my trust fund to buy over a hundred pounds of plutonium. That should be sufficient to start a chain reaction without enrichment.”

  Jerome raised a hand to her mouth. “You know how to build a nuke?”

  “Why wouldn't I? It's just p
hysics and engineering.”

  Chapter 15 – Erik / Iteration 145

  When Simone entered, Erik was still giggling from his latest stunt.

  Instead of hanging him from the ceiling, his tormentors now bound him spread eagle to the cold concrete floor. Still naked, of course. The only times they placed coverings on him were when they started fires.

  “You gouged a man's eye out,” she said.

  “He broke my hand enough for it to slip free. I'd say he was asking for a friendly poke. His buddies nearly shit their pants when I licked the eye juice off my thumb.”

  “I've seen videos of what they do to you.”

  “Hot, ain't it?”

  Simone grimaced. “Distasteful at best. But what I find most disturbing is how rapidly you alternate between despair and lucidity. I am certain neither state is an act, which makes me wonder if you are sane.”

  “Come on, chica, use that big brain of yours. Why do normal people get fucked up from bad experiences? Cause they're children terrified of the future. Even your grandmas only got eighty years of memories to draw on. Shallow well, if you ask me. And you're all obsessed with the possibility that bad things will happen to you.

  “Not me. Cut off my cock and it'll grow back before I need to piss. Light me on fire and everything's peachy in five. Pain's a bitch, but it doesn't last. Neither will this prison. I'll get out. And even if I don't, this world will end. You all fade away like you never were and I go on my merry way.

  “You pathetic creatures are blips on the radar, honey. I'm real. You are not. Nothing you do to my body can stick. And despite your best efforts, there hasn't been a dent in my mind yet. Some day, all of this will be a memory I dust off every couple decades and say 'hey, I remember this one time when I got caught.' The problem with trying to torture a guy like me is you can't make me vulnerable.”

  “Ingrid hasn't been as resilient.”

  “Ingrid is a pussy,” Erik said. “Did he send a message?”

  Simone folded her arms. “Ingrid maintains he was a young woman last Iteration, living in a place called Kyrgyzstan.”

  “Fucking liar!”

  “Watch your language, or I will stop carrying messages again.”

  Erik stopped struggling against his bindings and took a deep, slow breath. “He was a man in America. He bought a farm in Sarver when Hess broke cover. Then he went rogue on us. I know it was him. Kerzon was with me a hundred percent and Drake wouldn't mess with me. It was either Ingrid or Griff. And action ain't exactly Griff's thing.

  “I know it was him. I fucking know. He referenced the time we set off the fire alarm at a movie theater, back in Iteration twenty. No one knew that story except the two of us. And he had that annoying tick where he licks his lips all the time.” Erik paused. “He did it the first day, at least.” He frowned in thought, rushing through memories of the previous Iteration. The man claiming to be Ingrid had never licked his lips after the first day their band met up to take down Hess.

  “I have a new question for Ingrid. Ask him if he ever told one of the others about the movie theater.” Erik frowned. Himself, Drake, Kerzon, Griff, Hess, and Elza were accounted for last Iteration. If he accepted Ingrid's assertion that he had been off posing as a child bride in some backwater country, then that meant seven Observers were accounted for. That left four suspects. Even if the dreamy Mariana left her study of animals, she couldn't act worth shit. Greg was a coward who hid within academia. Mel hated Hess and didn't do much besides obsess over art. Which left just San.

  San? Could she pull off an almost flawless impersonation? The crazy bitch was a thrill seeker with no sense of danger. She was also a close friend of Elza. But if San had been there, why had she helped them catch Hess in the first place?

  None of the Observers had the guts, the talent, and the motive to do it. Which left one other possibility. “Actually, Simone, forget that last message. Instead, I want you to tell Ingrid 'there is a twelfth'.”

  “A twelfth Observer?”

  “That's right, sister. We got ourselves a sleeper agent. Guy aligned himself with the wrong side, cause I'm going to find him.”

  Simone nodded. “And what do I get in exchange for passing this message?”

  “There's a postage stamp up my ass.”

  “Erik . . . .”

  “Same deal as last time. Ask a question and I'll give you an answer.”

  “Then I want to know what Hess did that was so wrong.”

  “I told you before. He tried to change the world.”

  “I want specifics, Erik, or your message doesn't go.”

  He took a deep breath. “Dear old Hess has always had a bit of a soft heart, you see. Took in orphans and shit like that. Tracked down serial killers from time to time . . . . Anyway, I never cared about any of that. I do a fair amount of what the others deem participation.

  “But then, in Iteration one four three, Hess makes himself king. He takes some tiny nation and conquers most of the known world. Sets up national academies and a welfare system. Gets his woman to do fancy accounting that bankrupts everyone except them. Turns the entire world upside down.

  “He touched the entire world. Everyone was either under his rule, under the rule of someone allied with him, or under the rule of one of his enemies. I never had a problem with the orphans, but this was too far. He stopped observing. The Creator gave him a holy mission and he went rogue so pathetic creatures like you would have happier lives.”

  “Is that really so terrible?”

  Erik laughed. “Hell yeah, it is. I don't expect you to ever understand the big picture, but the lot of you are ants living in the dirt. What would you think of a man who bulldozed your house for the benefit of an ant colony?”

  “We are not ants.”

  “Oh, I know. Ants have better character.”

  Simone rolled her eyes. “Why did you take that man's eye? Did you do it in revenge for the pain he caused you? Or were you motivated by hatred?”

  “There were a lot of reasons to get pokey with my thumb. I don't like you creatures to begin with, and your whole Church opposes existence.”

  “Not existence,” Simone said. “The Creator.”

  “I thought we were done arguing about what you people want.”

  “So you put your thumb in a man's eye because you hate us?”

  “And I like to see fear when my punishers look at me. Plus I'm stuck here. You know, the whole prison aspect. I managed to get a hand free, so I had to take advantage of it. Hess might have figured out a way to escape, but the only option I could see was doing some damage.”

  She leaned closer. “Whatever you feel for Hess borders on obsession. I can't figure out if it is hate or love or some combination of the two.”

  “Don't go analyzing me like a person again. I don't get into love or sex or even companionship. I'm not built that way. I don't need another person to get me. The Creator does that.”

  There was a knock on the door. Simone checked her watch. “Our session is up. I will talk to you again tomorrow.” Before she put a hand on the door, she turned back. “I finally watched a sunset.”

  “Beautiful, right?”

  Simone nodded. “Will this world really cease to exist?”

  “Just like all the others. Some day everything you know will be just a memory in the head of some eye-poking asshole.”

  Chapter 16 – Hess / Iteration 145

  Elza took the lead in their planning the moment she mentioned building a nuclear weapon. She turned off the television, herded them into the dining room, and began to outline their course of action.

  “Our most immediate concern is hiding from the Church authorities. We will assume a nation-wide hunt is under way. Given that our obvious tell has been revealed to the world, we can expect at a minimum for every citizen to be tested once. Anyone who managed to avoid the mandatory testing would be identified as a suspicious person.”

  She fixed her eyes on Hess. “The most obvious way to avoid capture is to
disappear, but if you intend to launch a rescue operation, we can't go into hiding. We will need the advantages provided by my wealth and your position if we intend to succeed.”

  Hess nodded.

  “Then we need to pass their test. That means two things. First, we must appear to retain an injury inflicted on us. This shouldn't be too difficult if we can get reliable intelligence on which area of the body is most likely to be targeted. A shallow layer of latex will suffice to replicate a laceration or shallow puncture wound.

  “The second thing we need to worry about is blood. Both the blood that remains on the wound and the blood that stains the testing implement. While our blood flows quite believably outside our bodies, its tendency to vanish within minutes of its exit will be their primary means of identifying us.

  “Which is why we will require frequent, large blood transfusions.” Elza pointed to her wrist. “I know from experience that our bodies will not only retain foreign blood, but subsequently shed it in a mundane manner.”

  In response to Jerome's expression, Hess whispered, “She likes to conduct experiments.”

  “I didn't realize her hobby extended to studying our nature.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because our purpose is to study the people,” Jerome said.

  “No, I mean why didn't you know about her experiments? I thought you had the summary of our entire lives in your head.”

  Jerome rolled her eyes. “It's an executive summary. It's more of a highlight reel than a comprehensive history.”

  “We don't have time for these tangents,” Elza said. “If you want to get Ingrid out of prison, then we need to begin our preparations.” She pointed at Hess. “Get liquid latex and acrylic paints from a craft store. Black, red, blue, and yellow at a minimum. Pay with cash and get home quickly.”

  She pointed at Jerome next. “You're coming with me to the hospital to help pick up some type O. I can bankroll the purchase, but someone with pale skin needs to perform the transaction.”