Michaels held his silence, scowling. Dunlevy’s face reddened as he spoke. “Your torture of lives and human dignity is justification enough for your punishment.” He shook his head. “I ought to kill you right now.”
Dunlevy brought his other hand up, aiming the pistol at Michaels’ head. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he paused, considering. Michaels only stared back, trying to still the trembling in his hands and the rapid beating of his heart. This is it, he thought. He’s going to kill me.
Dunlevy didn’t fire. The weapon pulled back to his hip, and he smiled. “But not just yet. Unlike the High Inquisitor and Citizen One, I see certain value on your talents.”
Michaels raised an eyebrow, “Talents?”
“Oh yes, my dear Gregory. You are a brilliant man, and your work with the mental cleansing and conditioning methods, as horrific and barbaric though they are, is a clear reflection of that.”
“So you’re… not going to kill me?”
Dunlevy narrowed his eyes, “We’ll see. What I need to know is if you believe there is a viable method to reverse the cleansing. To restore the lives you’ve ruined.”
The analytical portion of Michaels’ mind considered the possibility, almost momentarily forgetting about the gun trained on him. It wasn’t something he had extensively thought about before. He rubbed his chin, “I… I’m not sure.”
The rotund man downcast his eyes, “Then I’m afraid you’re not of any further use. Goodbye.” He raised the weapon once more.
“Wait!” Michaels threw up his hands. Dunlevy hesitated. “It… it might be possible.”
Dunlevy cocked his head. “I’m listening.” He didn’t lower the weapon.
Michaels’ statement had been a bluff. He hadn’t the faintest clue whether or not he’d be able to reverse the slightest bit of the conditioning. However, he really didn’t want to die. He stammered, “W-with a proper sensory stimulus,” he was grasping at straws, “a-along with drug therapy… I-I… I could d-develop something that c-could work to reverse the process.”
Dunlevy eyed him warily for a moment, then his face broke into a broad grin. “There, you see? I knew you could be counted upon!” He lowered the weapon once more. “He wanted to have you all eliminated, but I told him that you were too valuable an asset to waste.”
“He? Who is he?” Michaels almost didn’t want to know. Probably some figment of his demented imagination, he thought.
Dunlevy continued beaming, speaking with an almost reverent tone. “His name is Elliot, and he is going to reorganize this regime, restoring its humanity and purpose.”
Michaels frowned, “This man, he’s…” he hesitated, uncertain to how tactful he needed to be, “he’s the one you… assisted, isn’t he?” Michaels was unable to keep the disgust out of his voice. “He’s from down below? One of… them?”
The other man scowled, and hissed, “Haven’t you listened? There is no inferiority, no filth; we were all the same.” Dunlevy clenched his fist. “Just as many criminal and working class ascended as were left behind. Who knows how many, brilliant and otherwise, declined out of fear of the regime or lack of opportunity? It doesn’t mean they are any less of people! Don’t you see? The only reason for separation was to have an excuse for perception of superiority!” Dunlevy was almost pleading for Michaels to believe him.
Michaels sighed, not convinced. “Fine, whatever, let’s say that you’re right. Then who is this Elliot and why is he so important?”
The near-reverence seeped back into Dunlevy’s voice, making Michaels wonder even more about his sanity and stability. “Below, they called him Elijah. He engineered everything that’s happened in the last few days, planning it for years. He unified the factions of down below, and now he’s brought them, here, to the surface to end this society of intolerance.”
“Okay, but, who is he?” Michaels grasped for a better question. “Where exactly did he come from?”
“Here,” Dunlevy spread his hands out, “he was one of us.”
Michaels raised an eyebrow, “He was a Citizen?”
“Oh yes, a very important one.” Dunlevy spoke seriously. “He designed the technology responsible for dozens of things; the power grid, even the sterilization field.”
“Then why have I never heard of him?” Michaels narrowed his eyes. “Why was he in down below?”
Dunlevy frowned, “He was exiled, and he never told me exactly why. Even any information about him in the archives was erased or never existed.”
“And you just blindly followed him, believing everything he said?” Michaels didn’t believe even Dunlevy would be that stupid. “He probably made it all up! How can someone have been so important yet completely unknown?”
The bearded man shook his head, “He knew so much. Our history, the council, details about our security, the sterilization field, everything.” He shrugged. “When he first contacted me, I didn’t believe him. I thought it was merely a ploy by Wresh to weed out any dissention.” His eyes developed a far away look. “Yet with everything he said, the things he new… I started to believe.”
As Dunlevy lost himself in the memories those interactions, describing them as though in a dream, Michaels considered the things Dunlevy had said about the man. Simply by accomplishing as much as he had in recent days, Michaels admitted to himself that this Elijah, if he or any one individual had truly orchestrated it, had proven himself quite capable. Michaels didn’t, however, believe in any altruistic intentions, no matter what Dunlevy said. If this man is really as important as Dunlevy thinks, why has he come back and what does he want?
******
Elijah stood in the rising elevator. He gazed out the window on the city descending beneath him, mixed emotions flooding through him. I’ve come this far, he thought. I can’t lose resolve.
Victor, facing the doors, spoke, “Are you certain you want to do this?”
Elijah shot him a look, “Don’t question me. Not now. After all of this work, you want to just give up?”
“No,” Victor said with measured calm, “I simply want to make sure that you are certain.”
“Of course I am!” Elijah snapped, soft brown eyes lighting up with irritation. “I’ve brought us this far, haven’t I?”
Victor turned towards him, and Elijah felt a chill as the tall man’s icy stare bored into him. Even with the intensity of the gaze, Victor kept his voice passive, “This is not something that should be taken lightly. You need to know that.”
Elijah hung his head. “Yes, Victor. You’re right.” He raised it again, feeling a surge of determination. “But yes. I do understand, and I don’t intend to hesitate.”
Victor’s gaze softened, and he turned away, with a look on his face of… Elijah couldn’t quite catch it. Sadness? Before he could further contemplate, the elevator came to a stop with a slight shudder. After a soft ding, the doors slid open, and Elijah’s eyes lit upon the council chamber he had not seen in years.
Forgetting about the conversation and with nervous energy coursing through his body, he stepped into the circular room. He took a deep breath, trying to ensure that he didn’t get too excited. Stepping up the ramp, the soft lighting illuminating the room, he saw at the points of a crescent shaped table two cylinders rising out of the floor on either side of an ornate wooden podium.
Elijah cocked his head as he recognized the crisscrossing of lights and colors, resolving into the form of a young Franklin Lange, creator of Haven and the man who carried the title of Citizen One. Elijah smiled, drew in a shallow breath, and said, “Hello, Father.”
******
Desmond and Olivia walked back and forth through their crowd of children, passing comfort around with the occasional hush to one making noise. The couple of rooms were packed almost shoulder to shoulder, barely enough for people to sit down.
Quinton stood at the window, wielding his customary scowl. He had been watching through spaces in the blinds ever since the group had come up, not saying anything.
Desmond walked over
to him. “Do you see anything?”
“Nope.” Quinton replied in his gravelly voice, not looking away from the window.
Desmond shoved his round glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose with his index finger. “You’ve been staring ever since we arrived. You’ve seen nothing at all?”
Quinton responded, still not looking at him, “We want ‘nothing.’ ‘Nothing’ is good. ‘Nothing’ means we’re safe here.” He finally spared a glance towards Desmond. “If I see ‘something,’ I’ll let you know.”
Desmond blinked. “Oh. I see.” Quinton offered no further comment or conversation, so Desmond moved over towards Tanya and Eugene, who argued as loudly as anyone could while whispering.
“…should be paying back the Citizens for all they have done!” Tanya hissed.
Eugene sighed, “For the last time,” he whispered, “our task is here. We don’t leave unless everyone here leaves, and that only happens if we are discovered.”
“Coward!” Tanya’s eyes flashed with anger. “Just admit that you are too frightened to fight.”
Eugene rolled his eyes, “Yes, fine. I’m frightened. Now shut up.”
Tanya’s eyes shot wide open and her hand curled into a fist. Eugene looked past her and said, finally noticing Desmond standing behind her. “Hello, Desmond. How are you?” he said.
Tanya whirled around, elbowing Eugene in the stomach; he grunted in pain. “What do you want?” she demanded.
Desmond blinked, “I was just seeing how everyone is doing.”
“Fine,” she said hotly, “I always enjoy sitting around while other people do my fighting for me.”
The corners of Desmond’s mouth twitched in a slight smile, “Well, I want you to know that everyone here really appreciates you and Eugene looking after us. I don’t know what we’d do without you. Thank you.”
Unaccustomed to gratitude or similar positive emotions, Tanya frowned at the statement. She opened her mouth to make some dismissive remark, but, before she could say anything, Eugene cut in.
“You are welcome, Desmond. Anything we can do to help.” He said, massaging his stomach where she had elbowed him.
Desmond rubbed his chin, “How is everything looking?”
Tanya scowled, “What kind of question is that? How do you think it looks? We haven’t gone anywhere or seen anything since we came up here?”
Eugene gave her a hard nudge, “What Tanya here means is that we cannot say much about the tactical situation outside,” he said, glaring at the woman. “Sorry, my friend. We are in the dark as much as you are.”
Tanya struck his chest with the back of her hand and hissed at him, “We wouldn’t have to be if you weren’t such a frightened child.”
Eugene sighed, “Do we have to discuss this every five minutes?”
She ignored his question, “We should not have to be looking after these people! We should be out there, fighting and dying with our comrades!”
“Look, Tanya…” It was at this point that Desmond realized there would be nothing further to be gained from the conversation, so with a slight and unnoticed bow, he took his leave.
Olivia, tall and graceful with long off-white hair, leaned up against the wall with her eyes closed, rubbing the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. Desmond moved up next to her, leaning in close and kissing her on the forehead.
She opened her eyes, saw him, and smiled; he filled with warmth at the sight. “Everyone seems to be okay,” she said. “Most of the children are sleeping.” She gave a soft trickle of laughter, eliciting a smile from Desmond who knew the sound so well, “Most of the adults too.”
Desmond nodded, “Not much is going on, but if I understand correctly,” he added, looking over at Quinton, who hadn’t moved from his post, “that is what we’d prefer right now.”
Olivia took a look around the room, “It won’t take long before people become impatient, you know. We can’t stay here.”
“Yes, you’re right,” he nodded again, “but we may need to for at least a couple of days, if it comes to that. We have enough supplies to last that long.”
He stepped forward and hugged his wife, she folded into his embrace. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, “everything will be much better soon.”
Chapter 38: Remembering
Kaylee trailed a few feet behind Malcolm. His haste made her very nervous. All of her experience in trying to keep silent and out of sight screamed for her to dive into the nearest alleyway and listen hard for any sounds of activity, moving more carefully. Only Malcolm continued without hesitation, and she didn’t want to fall behind and lose him.
He didn’t even pause once they had reached the Institute itself. Kaylee was expecting to see guards around, but this sector of the city seemed, at least for the time being, comparatively quiet. Still without pause, he passed into the lobby area.
It was empty, including the island-style reception desk in the center near the back. Kaylee wondered if Rick had already come through. She looked around.
Kaylee gasped as she passed close enough to see over the desk. A dead man laid, glassy eyes staring into nothingness. His hand limply lay at his throat, and through his loose, bloodstained fingers she could see ragged flesh. Beneath him a pool of sticky red blood spread out, already turning a dusky brown as it coagulated on the tile.
A wave of revulsion coursed through Kaylee’s stomach, and a small amount of bile rose in her throat. Malcolm didn’t seem to notice anything at all. He moved with the same measure of purpose to the right side of the chamber, seeming to know exactly where he was going. He paused, as he arrived, staring at the hallway of the propped open doorway, which in large letters had above it: Natural Philosophy. He rifled through his clothing, and produced a small, marred square of plastic. As Kaylee leaned in to get a closer look, Malcolm took off moving once again.
Kaylee was glad that he was remembering, but his aloof behavior made her feel nervous. I wish he’d slow down and tell me what the hell he’s doing, Kaylee thought, but even if he doesn’t, I guess I still owe it to him to help however I can.
******
The hologram cracked the slightest of smiles, “Elliot. You’re still alive.”
Elijah cracked his own smile, “So are you.”
“Disappointing.” Lange replied.
“Not terribly. I’ve been relishing the chance to see you again.” Elijah snapped his fingers. “Oh, you meant my survival was disappointing. I see how you could say that, considering it was you who ordered my execution.”
Lange kept his expression even and ignored the question. “I take it that you’ve returned to exact some kind of revenge, Elliot.” He cocked his head. “Or is it Elijah they call you now?” He chuckled. “Elliot Jacob… It’s almost a clever combination, although ‘Elijah’ is a bit too prophetic for my tastes.”
Elijah shrugged, “Since the name was the only thing you ever gave me, I thought it fitting to discard it once you betrayed me.”
Lange’s expression cracked, and he frowned. “I gave you more than any child has ever been given. I took you in after your mother died. I gave you a place at my right hand in the paradise I created. What more could you have wanted?”
“All you ever gave me was isolation.” Elijah shot back. “Hiding me away to work on your projects. Using my expertise for your ends but keeping me locked up, chained to anonymity.” He slowly shook his head. “No, no. The disgrace of an illegitimate son was too much for the mighty Citizen One to bear.”
“You had your usefulness,” Lange admitted, “it’s a shame your constant, belligerent attitude got in the way.”
Elijah frowned, “Someone had to be your conscience.”
“No, you see, you were wrong then and you’re wrong now!” Lange shouted angrily. “Trying to undermine my authority. Trying to pretend like your pitiful philosophy on humanity meant anything. You were out of control and needed to be stopped! I only did what a reasonable leader would do. ”
Elijah smirked, “R
easonable leader... is that what you are?”
Lange bared his teeth, “Haven would be nothing without me; just another city, full of worthless refugees, spreading their disease and decay everywhere!”
Elijah shook his head, “Instead you have bloated aristocrats spewing decadence and perceived superiority everywhere.”
“Those fit to rule and live well should be able to do so. Should be encouraged to do so.” Lange said.
“So you make hundreds, thousands suffer so that those ‘best fitting’ can wallow in their own pleasures?” Elijah scowled.
Lange scoffed, “You haven’t changed at all, Elliot. Even living among that disgusting filth hasn’t changed your mind about them.”
Elijah rolled his eyes, “It’s funny how you call them filth when you treat your own Citizens little better.”
Lange raised his chin, “I only ensure that the best of humanity is treated in the best possible fashion. Anyone with the title of Citizen is overjoyed to be a part of the finest. Even the lower rankings understand perfectly that some are still higher than others. It they cannot,” Lange shrugged, “then they are re-educated until they can.”
Elijah’s eyes widened. “Is that what you call it? Your brainwashing is ‘re-education?” He shook his head. “You’ve changed, father. I remember when all Citizens were important to you. You devoted yourself to their happiness. I always thought it sick and twisted how everyone else fared, but now your own people, too? When did it change? Only the few matter, now? Or is it just you that really matters?”
“My city would be nothing without me. I am the head, the heart, and the soul of Haven. What would it be without me?” Lange said this with conviction.
Elijah continued to sadly shake his head. “So you now believe yourself to be their prophet, their God? You really have completely lost it, haven’t you?”
Lange glared at his son, “Defiant cur. You never were useful enough to justify my limited patience. Just like your mother.”
“My mother was an amazing person, and don’t you dare speak of her, you bastard!” Elijah snapped.
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