Dysphoria: Permanence (Hymn of the Multiverse Book 7)

by Terra Whiteman

  “Ten steps ahead of you,” I said. “We’d already be gone if you weren’t holding us up.”

  Cassima nodded. “May I ask how you were able to enmesh our streams?”

  “No you may not,” said Adrial, to which Leid was silent in full agreement. “I’m afraid that kind of information might get us into trouble.”

  “I understand,” said Cassima. “We don’t want you dead.”

  “Tell that to the Framers on Halcyon,” I said. “Oh, wait; they’re dead.”

  He observed my smirk, unmoved. “They didn’t want you dead, either. The program wants you dead.”

  “The program?” asked Yahweh.

  Cassima was no longer smiling. “I need your help. The program has to be deactivated. We’ve been imprisoned by it for eons and it’s time to wake up.”

  Leid squinted, taking a step forward. “Who are you, exactly?”

  “My name is Cassima Shard, and I am one of the Twelve.” He turned in place, looking to all of us. “Will you help me, Vel’Haru?”

  Because helping me will help you, he’d finished.

  And then Pariah woke up, stumbling down the stairs asking what day it was, and Yahweh rushed away to take his vitals. Leid and Adrial took Cassima into another room to discuss matters further, and once they were gone Zira declared he’d never trust a Framer. Aela stalked off, worried as ever.

  What we’d been able to see in Grid was now gone, which I attributed to Pariah’s consciousness returning. Hopefully it was a two-way street and we were off their radar as well.

  ***

  Leid Koseling—;

  “You’ve come here to ask for our help, so surely you have a plan,” said Adrial, after closing the door.

  Cassima said nothing at first, studying the collection of books half-assedly stacked in the corner next to a stone table serving as Adrial’s desk. He thumbed the spines, aloof. Such a strange creature he was; half-synth, half anthropoid, draped in a black coat and form-fitting suit beneath. His boots were knee-high, and each step he took produced waves of red sparks across the ground. His face looked like a mask, painted on, but his hair was a shock of white and silver, seemingly organic. So much power in that little body. “Yes, mostly. Whatever you did to enmesh our streams kept Authority distracted long enough that I was able to come here. I need more distractions from you.”

  “That was an accident,” I said. “And distractions could lead to harm. For us.”

  “I know,” said Cassima. “It’s only for a little while. Do whatever you must, but keep yourselves from being found. I still have work to do, and others are growing suspicious of me. I can’t move freely without their full attention on finding you.”

  Adrial and I shared a look. Often we had entire conversations with only our eyes.

  “Why us?” he asked, and Cassima seemed confused by that question. “Why would you ask us for help and further risk exposing yourself?”

  “Because your kind has reached a level beyond us,” he said, something I’d never expected to hear from a race that called us ‘mongrels’. “You’ve broken the chains that still bind our kind. You’ve integrated a conscious stream without using athanasian material. You’ve bypassed the codebreaker sequence. You’ve found a way to shatter yourselves without a console. You’re everything we are and more, because you have free will.”

  I only understood half of what he’d said, but the admiration behind his gaze was enough for me to decide to trust him. And he must have seen the softening of my expression, as he asked again, “Will you help me?”

  “Yes,” I said, in a beat. I looked to Adrial, and he nodded his agreement. “But we need to know more about you and what you’re dealing with.”

  “That will come, I promise,” he said. “But the enmeshment is gone, and they will soon notice that I am gone, too. Can you give me the coordinates of your new location? I will keep them private, I promise.”

  And so I did, hoping I hadn’t doomed The Atrium in the process.

  Cassima headed for the door, pausing in the threshold. “I will find a way to return. Please don’t be alarmed if my appearance has changed. Remember, distractions.” He smiled, and then was gone.

  A second later, I couldn’t feel him at all.

  I exhaled, realizing I’d been holding my breath. Adrial stared at the open door, rubbing his chin,

  “And the plot thickens,” he muttered.

  I looked up at Adrial, battling a thought. There were more pressing matters, but I could no longer let this lie. “Listen, I’m sorry if—”

  “No,” he interrupted, pressing his pointer finger against my lips, motioning for silence. “You don’t have to apologize. You were right, and you always are in these situations. I need to swallow my pride; this is my problem, not yours.”

  I reached for him, and he obliged, wrapping me in his arms. It’d been centuries since we embraced like this. “Thank you for everything,” I whispered. “I know you’re trying.”

  He cupped my face and kissed my forehead. “My fealty is always to you. Everything is very formal here, but you are family.”

  At the doorway, Qaira cleared his throat. We both turned to him, startled. He watched us with a brow raised. “Sorry to interrupt, but since that Framer kid is gone we should probably get gone, too.”

  “Have you spoken to Yahweh? Is Pariah alright?” I asked.

  “Not yet,” said Qaira. “I’m about to head there now.”

  I nodded, and he left down the hall. “How is he doing?” I asked Adrial.

  “Who, Qaira?”

  “Yes. His sessions; how are they going?”

  Adrial sighed lightly. “Well, the damage is extensive. That’s understandable, though. He probably should have started therapy as a child, but he’s making progress. I can’t give you any more information than that. Doctor-patient confidentiality and all.”

  “But I’m his wife, and queen.”

  He smiled at my frown. “All the more reason not to tell you.”

  ***

  Qaira Eltruan—;

  At the lab, Yahweh sat beside Pariah amid towering stacks of satchels, crates and disassembled parts of instruments. They were speaking quietly to one another until I entered the room, and then they both looked toward me in question.

  “You two ready to leave?” I asked.

  “Give Pariah some time to eat and hydrate,” said Yahweh. “An hour at most.”

  “We might not have an hour,” I said.

  “I’m alright, Yahweh, really,” assured Pariah, but he didn’t look alright. He was paler than usual, and thin. Looking at him made my impatience wane.

  “I’ll grab you something,” I offered. “I think there’s some soup left, and your disgusting root juice.”

  Pariah laughed, which ended in a wet cough. Yahweh stood.

  “No, I’ll do it. I need something to drink, too,” he said, slipping into the hall before I had a chance to protest. Now it was just Pariah and I. Great.

  “Was there a Framer here, or was I hallucinating?” he asked.

  “You weren’t hallucinating.”

  Pariah considered that. “He didn’t seem intent on killing us.”

  “He wants our help.”

  “With what?”

  “Something about a program. I don’t know yet; you sort of interrupted everything.”

  “Sorry,” he muttered.

  “He found us because of you,” I added. “Your fuck-up put us on their map.” Pariah looked away, assuming I was angry. “It also solved my equation, so thanks.”

  He smirked. “Silver lining.”

  “Definitely.”

  Yahweh reappeared, and I moved out of the way as he juggled a plate and two mugs to Pariah’s seat. “Are you going to eat before we leave?” he asked me.

  “I’ll wait for real food in Crylle.” Bland food, but better than the slop we had here. Alright, small talk was over. “Pariah, you talked about a shard while you were in stasis. Do you remember that?”

  “T
he athanasian shard,” he said immediately, looking at me. “That’s what they’re made of.”

  I squinted. “They who?”

  “The Framers.” Pariah looked to the ground in thought, licking his cracked lips. “That head on Yahweh’s desk is made of a type of metamorphic rock that can resonate what they call the basewave. It’s like our obsidian, but—” He paused, tilting his head in consideration. “Our obsidian isn’t really obsidian. It’s another version of the athanasian stone, suited specifically to us. It amplifies our resonance.”

  I’d already figured we weren’t made of black glass, considering we were pretty durable. But that was neither here nor there. “You got all of that from absorbing a piece of Lelain?”

  “It was like I was in a dream,” he said, near-whisper. “I saw everything, Qaira.”

  “Everything?”

  “I saw them,” he said. “And they called themselves The Twelve.”

  O

  FLUX PERPETUA, I

  (IN THE GARDEN OF THASADEM)

  ????—;

  I LOOKED OUT INTO THE GARDEN OF THASADEM each morning; the flush of violet, white and blue flora soothed my mind and reminded me of what we protected.

  Mia and Asepoei were already outside, enjoying their refreshments in the open air by the vine-woven gates. Mia noticed me from the panoramic pane four stories above, and she waved.

  I waved back, with slightly less enthusiasm.

  Kima appeared on my right, his gold, voltaic eyes watching the scenery beyond. We were dressed in the traditional red and silver robes of the cathode-anode Aphoric Engines. “I heard Simi talking to Karr yesterday,” he said quietly, never taking his eyes off the pane. Mia waved at him too, and he waved back with a strained smile. “They are beginning the calibration in three days.”

  “The preparatory tests have all come back in our favor,” I said. “We are ahead of schedule. I heard Simi say that yesterday.”

  And that made us proud. We strove to be useful—after all, that was why we were made—and if our usefulness took on another role than that meant we were closer to invaluable. Simi, our caretaker, said so. Simi was always nice. Karr was not so nice, always business-as-usual, but he never mistreated us. He was the head of our program, Simi an assist. There were dozens of other people involved in the program, but those were the only two I cared to know. Once the calibration began, Simi would no longer tend to us. She would stay in Thasadem, while we’d be transported to the Orbital Station.

  “We synchronized well last time, yes,” acknowledged Kima, saying nothing else, moving to the stairs to join the others in the garden. I watched him leave, then looked back at the pane. The sky metamorphosed from pale pink to light blue-green as daybreak officially settled in. Our nebulous sun winked a glorious orange. Somewhere up there soared the Orbital Station. Thinking about it made me excited, but in the anxious sense. I inhaled; my lids feeling weighted and I knew it was time to refresh. On cue, Simi appeared in the entrance with her usual warm smile.

  I bowed my head and followed her into the garden. Mia welcomed me with an arm raised, a flock of butterflies dancing around her form, some perched on her powder-white skin.

  Mia.

  The Garden of Thasadem was your favorite place. This is where our story begins.

  And this is where our story ends.

  XII

  RELENT

  Cassima Shard—;

  THERE WASN’T MUCH TIME; I HAD to act quickly. In order to execute my plan there were three things I had to do. The first was to find out which sectors had access to the legacy script.

  Now that the enmeshment was gone, Sarine wouldn’t be able to hold off Authority from looking into me for long. The longer she stalled, the guiltier she’d appear. Getting her into trouble was not my intent. For that, I could no longer be Dracian.

  And Teleram was past due for some fresh controversy.

  You couldn’t tell anything was happening from the casual bustle of Teleram. If anyone had seen the Vel’Haru streams either they hadn’t known what they were, or they hadn’t cared. Either was a possibility. Caring about them was outside the parameters of their roles. I was willing to bet none of them even knew what a breach meant, unless any Halon IV residents were amiss. Unlikely, that.

  In Innovation, Etann was preoccupied with an architect siphoning fragments from his console. He saw me enter and I caught his gaze before he mouthed one moment.

  I waited by the door, trying to look casual. The worry on Etann’s face when we’d locked eyes caused me slight apprehension. I hadn’t checked in with anyone or read any feeds since my return to Alpha-Insipia. Had Authority and Inspection already released something about me?

  But the apprehension was misplaced. Once the architect was done and Etann came to greet me, all he asked was, “Are you here about the Regal?”

  “No,” I said. “Sarine?”

  “She came in here a while ago, asking about you,” he said with shifting eyes. “Asked me about your character.”

  On Authority’s command to investigate me, undoubtedly. “And what incriminating things did you tell her?” I said, in jest.

  “Nothing,” he said quickly. “I just thought she may have mentioned it to you.”

  “She didn’t, but that’s not why I’m here. I need to relearn another fragment.”

  “Which, Inspector?”

  “Framer role designation and permissions.”

  Etann hesitated. “Those… fragments are intended for gatekeepers only, Dracian.”

  Gatekeepers; so I needed to know about them. “Have you noticed the grid malfunctions today?”

  “You mean the feedback, and the additions in the sims?” asked Etann.

  “That wasn’t us,” I said, daring to tell him something I shouldn’t. My dedication to the plan had wavered. I didn’t want to do what I must if Etann refused to retrain me. “I believe we have an extramural breach. I need that retraining fragment to see who I must speak with next.”

  Again, Etann hesitated. My offer of knowledge hadn’t tempted him to give me what I needed. I couldn’t blame him. He was following protocol, no matter how rigid. “If I can receive clearance from Inspection, I’d be happy to retrain you. This isn’t the usual fragment, you understand. That should be easy enough to get.” His tone raised at the end of his reply, as if that had been a question more than a statement.

  “Yes,” I said, sighing. To Etann it would seem that I was only mildly inconvenienced, but it was much more than that. “Easy enough. Could I ask that we use a console out of physical view? I don’t want any visitors seeing the retraining fragment, as this is technically confidential. I’ll send a message to Inspection now. You should receive clearance in just a few minutes.”

  “Of course, Inspector,” he obliged warmly, which made this all the more difficult. Etann led me to a quiet area of the Innovation Vector, bordered by rows of data rigs and restoring stations. There weren’t many others in the vector currently, but the few that were disappeared from view as we turned the aisle.

  Etann activated the console preemptively. I stared blankly ahead, pretending to send a message to Inspection. I watched from the corner of my eye as he entered credentials that gave him clearance into the legacy archive.

  And then I stepped behind him, pressing my index finger to the base of his neck.

  ***

  Regalis Sarine-376—;

  Two hundred members of the Halon System Regencies were in attendance to the briefing regarding our Grid breach. The Insipian Qualification Directive was getting orders from the Reticulum to move into Sim-2 and eradicate the threat, whatever the cost. They hadn’t waited for Authority’s response, sending Adon flashing messages reading GENOCIDE IMMINENT.

  Their choice of wording disarmed me. I had never seen a message sent by the Reticulum before (as never before was there a reason), but I hadn’t expected one so… savage. Cold.

  Automated.

  It was as if that had been a reflexive response. No one else seeme
d to question it; they only began to prepare envoys and group Feelers together to sniff out the threats. My gaze lingered on the Feelers siphoned in for priming; their lightless eyes and expressionless faces brought on a pang of sympathy this time. And fear, knowing I could be among their ranks very soon.

  Cassima, where were you?

  I was questioned by the Directive about Dracian. They demanded to know where he was. I couldn’t tell them, nor could I lie—not while Adon was present. I told them the truth, that I didn’t know, and that he’d disappeared prior to my summoning.

  After decisions had been made, envoys were set to deploy and Feelers were accomplishing what Dracian and I could have only dreamt of, Adon and the IQD pulled me in for an exclusive meeting about my elusive partner. Adon had said he’d give me more time, but obviously in light of our circumstances that was impossible. I understood.

 

  Grid warned me that my vitals were spiking. Of course they were; I was frightened. What would happen when that bar reached 0%? I could barely focus. Images of a garden kept invading reality, slicing through coherency like a razor-cage. But I’d have rather been in that garden than here.

  “The progress on your investigation into Inspector Dracian,” began Adon, in front of two dozen pairs of questioning eyes. “How is it?”

  “In the short period of time I’ve been given,” I said slowly, making that fact known, “I’ve visited and questioned two acquaintances. Both said he was acting out of character. When I asked them to describe the Inspector, they gave me the profile of a very different Framer. Inspection had assigned him to a case regarding a severed Feeler. You were correct in saying they are not aware of the Breach. He must have assigned himself to it.” I was so sorry, Cassima. I had to make it look like I was still on their side.