by David Beers
She kept going until she talked about the dark man, his gray eyes standing in that floating building, and the gray light filling everything. Her father behind her, and rage inside her.
Salty tears lined her face, drying. “And then, I was standing in the middle of the street.”
The woman was quiet for a long time, and Nicki didn’t expect the question she asked. “Do you hear the voice anymore?”
Nicki shook her head. “No.”
Laurel nodded. “That lends more credence to my theory. Something wants you here, but it doesn’t want that voice here.”
“You keep talking about this something, this God. Did you not listen to what I said?” Nicki asked, feeling the first real anger she’d felt in this place. It had been a peaceful respite from everything else she’d faced, but this woman wasn’t hearing a word.
“Yes, I did,” Laurel answered.
“There isn’t a God. There is the Unformed and then there are a bunch of humans all scurrying around trying to survive It, willing to use anyone and everyone to keep themselves alive. That’s all this is. A battle between some creature outside of our control and us. The whole world created these religions for reasons I don’t understand, but they’re not real, because if they were, none of this would be happening. I don’t know where I am and I don’t know why you’re here, but none of it means there is some God that brought me here to teach me something.”
Laurel was quiet for a moment, and when she spoke, the softness in her voice slayed all of Nicki’s anger. It was softness that sprang from sadness, something deep, and something the woman hadn’t showed before. So far, she’d only showed an almost aloof indifference, not quite happiness, but close.
And now, Nicki heard the desolation.
“I had a family. A husband, a son, and a daughter. I don’t know what happened to any of them. I was the driving force behind our decisions, and I took them all over the world. We started in the Old World, but that wasn’t enough for me. I wanted to take my beliefs to the heart of the most autocratic Ministry in the world, and so we went to the True Faith. That’s where we had my daughter, and I had plans for her. My husband and I didn’t have any of the True Faith’s nanotech in us, neither did my son. I made sure she had it, though, because she was going to be the one to change things.”
Laurel shook her head, a sad smile appearing on her face even as tears filled her eyes.
“I planned on teaching her everything I knew. That’s a funny word, isn’t it? What I knew. I didn’t know a damned thing, and this blocked off world proves it. I had so many plans for her, but the problem was, my ego was too big. My ambition too great. That’s what I believed when I first got here, at least. Now, I just think my plan didn’t fit in with whatever brought us both here.”
She reached up and wiped at her eyes, stopping the tears before they could fall to her face.
“I don’t know what happened to any of them. I imagine they died just like I did. I like to think they didn’t, though, or at the very least that my children survived. I hope they didn’t inherit any of my traits though,” she said with a helpless laugh. “None of my beliefs, nor my determination.”
“What would you want them to have?” Nicki asked.
And then the tears came down the woman’s face, unable to be held back. She laughed, a watery, miserable thing. “That’s the worst part about it. I wish they had what I refused to even consider. I wished they had faith, Nicki. The same faith you refuse now, and the thing I’ve come to accept in this place. Faith that something is bigger than us, and that it’s guiding us. Guiding everything.”
“Why?” Nicki asked; there were other questions, but none felt as important. The woman had died for her beliefs, and now in death—or whatever this was—she wished none of them to survive her.
“I guess because I’m here. Because whatever is happening on Earth, whatever is happening with the Black, none of it really matters in the end. Even the Black is going to wind up facing the creature that put you and me here.” She paused for a few moments and then nodded to herself. “I should have seen this when I was alive, but I was too blind with my own ambition. Throughout history, all of recorded history, man has searched for God. Man has written books and built idols. I guess the cynical part of me always said that’s just our need to feel protected, but I don’t believe that anymore. That was God saying, ‘I’m here, but you’ll have to have faith, because I’m not giving you anything else. Just hints.’”
The woman wiped the tears clear from her face again and looked at Nicki still lying on the stoop. “How did we get here, talking about this?”
Nicki thought back, but quickly realized it didn’t matter. She only shrugged and stared up at the neon blue sky above.
“What was your daughter’s name?” Nicki asked.
The woman smiled wistfully. “No. Those memories are for me. They’re all I have and for some reason, I feel like if I tell you, I might sort of be giving them away.”
Nicki nodded.
“I’m tired,” the woman said. “I hope you don’t think me a poor host, but I’m going to go inside and take a nap. I’d invite you in but ….” She turned around, looked at the closed door and shrugged. “Rules are rules, I guess. If you’re here when I wake up, we can talk some more.”
Laurel stood and looked down at Nicki. “I thought I’d talk forever when I first saw you, but all of that just exhausted me. I’m not used to it anymore.”
She didn’t look like she wanted to hug Nicki, or give any sort of goodbye touch—and Nicki didn’t want to either. Whatever moment they might have shared had passed, and Nicki was again looking at a stranger.
“I can lie here for a bit longer?”
“Sure,” the woman said. “I have a feeling, though, it won’t be too long.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m ready to go back inside, and I imagine that’s because whatever wanted us to talk is done. It was nice meeting you, Nicki. I hope you fix whatever is happening on Earth, but if you can’t, don’t worry about it too much. There are things at work in this universe larger than even in the Black.”
Laurel said nothing else, simply opened up her door and walked inside.
Nicki listened to it shut, knowing that she was alone again.
What had the woman said?
I think that I can’t talk with anyone, because without God’s presence, humanity loses all ability to have contact. And then, Because I’m ready to go back inside, and I imagine that’s because whatever wanted us to talk, is done.
Nicki smiled briefly, thinking how probable the conjecture seemed as she stared up at the sky. God was no longer here, unable or unwilling to venture here, and so Nicki was without human contact.
Nicki closed her eyes, wondering if she would be able to sleep on this black glass. It didn’t take long, but she had one clear thought before unconsciousness swam up for her: She thinks God allows us to interact, but that only means it’s God who allows us to do such horrid, horrid things to each other.
Seventy
What are things looking like?
The First Priest wanted to spit right where he stood. It just so happened he was standing in front of the glass windows in Trinant’s office, still staring at the massacre beneath him. Feeling the building saliva in his mouth, the urge grew stronger, and so he looked down at the floor beneath him.
What do you think they’re looking like? he responded with his nanotech. These … creatures are still moving toward us. The One Path is completely incompetent. They can’t do anything to stop them.
He wanted to add, just like everyone on the First Council, but managed not to.
How much longer until the reinforcements arrive? he asked instead.
An hour, the First Council’s Priest told him.
One hour.
It was enough time.
Listen to me, the First Priest said. I want you to follow my directions perfectly. Not a single deviation, do you understand?
Yes, t
he Priest answered, though the First noticed he hadn’t used ‘Most Holy’. The Council was already thinking him dead, perhaps thinking the entire world dead with what was happening elsewhere. He didn’t care at all. When he got back to the True Faith, he would make sure that this Priest was dead, along with the rest of the Council.
The First remained still, staring up at the screen in front of him. His eyes glowed with green dots, the only indication that he was using his nanotech. For the first time in over a day, he finally looked calm. He explained to the Priest exactly what he wanted to happen; it took a little over ten minutes.
The light in the First Priest’s eyes died and he remained standing for another minute, not paying attention to anything on the screens above him. He was done with this place, even if everyone else here was determined to remain until their blood spilled across the office floor.
He turned around and looked at Trinant. The other two Ministers were here, but they no longer mattered. When this was all done, there would be one Ministry left, because the other three were completely fine with decapitation.
“I’m going higher,” the First Priest announced.
Trinant looked up from the tablet on her desk. Annoyance wore as heavily on her face as exhaustion, and again, the First Priest wanted to spit. Everything since arriving here had been horrible. This entire Ministry was nothing but a horror show, but the First had made many plans while sitting in here being treated as a second class citizen. One of them was that if Trinant survived, the First would ensure she didn’t live until old age.
Still, he couldn’t do anything about it just now.
“What do you mean, you’re ‘going higher’?” the woman asked.
“You all can sit here and wait for them to come get you, but I’m going higher up. As close to the top of this thing as I can.”
Trinant sighed. “There’s only machinery in the floors above us. There’s no protection in them. Our best chance of survival is the plan we’re following.”
“I don’t care,” the First said. “I’m not waiting in here anymore. At worst, I can hide up above. They know we’re here, though—everyone still alive in this Corinth forsaken place does. Let me go now, or the True Faith will consider me a hostage.”
Trinant laughed at that, a genuine, belly-filled laugh. It grew louder and she leaned back in her chair, seemingly unable to control it. The First Priest stood there, taking one last insult—and knowing it was his last. Others had tried insulting him like this—Raylyn Brinson, the Hollowborne woman, and even Reinheld through his trickery. Each of them got what was coming to them. This woman would be no different.
Perhaps the world would continue underestimating the First Priest, just like the High had, but the First was coming to realize something: he was ordained by Corinth himself. There could be no other explanation for what had happened, and these fools here would see it soon.
The Minister finally stopped laughing, though she remained leaning back in her chair and smiling at the First. “Go on then, High Priest. Go wherever you would like. I certainly wouldn’t want anyone in the True Faith to think we held someone against their will.”
The First Priest stared for a second longer, trying to remember the way this woman looked at this exact moment. He wanted it imprinted on his brain, because when she died, he wanted to recall it.
He turned and left the room. No one followed, not guard nor Minister.
“Are you going to send anyone after him?” Yule asked.
Trinant glanced over at him before looking back at the reports rolling across her tablet. “No. I’m not wasting resources on that silly man.”
The Pope nodded. He didn’t disagree. If they were to die in here, then he would rather not die around the First Priest. The Pope had thought it a blessing to be rid of the High Priest, but now he felt the exact same way about the man who just scurried from the room.
“We can watch him,” Trinant said, looking up and smiling. “It would be a nice break from this madness.” She nodded to the windows stretched across the room. “You two want to do that? See what he does?”
A little guilt ran through Yule, but as he looked at the windows, his answer solidified immediately. “I’m okay with it.”
“Me too,” Benten said.
Benten was lying on a couch on the other side of the room; his eyes were closed and his hands across his stomach.
The Old World’s army had already arrived, and were now in position around the Globe. Both the True Faith’s and Constant’s arsenals were arriving soon, and that’s what everyone was waiting on right now. Yule continued getting updates about the Old World, and none of them were good. There had been no sightings of the weapon, nor Nicki, though—and that was confusing, to say the least. The Black’s followers shouldn’t be able to rise like that, not without the weapon to lead them …
What do you know, old man? You know exactly as much as the First Priest, who is now about to climb into the machinery portion of this huge globe.
The left half of the windows changed, showing the First Priest walking down the hallway. The camera was in the corner, so taking an overview look at him. Every 10 seconds or so, the view changed as he moved.
Yule leaned back in his chair. The code change had bought them some time, but the last update the general brought said that the attackers were beginning to break it more rapidly. The reinforcements would arrive first, but what exactly they were going to do was still being worked out.
No exits nor entrances were working. The place was completely sealed off, and Spyden said none of their own hackers were yet able to modify the code.
Yule’s hopes weren’t high. It’s not like the ships could simply start blasting away at the Globe, even if they managed to hit everything beneath the Minister’s floor. The orb was too large, and too many necessary components would be destroyed with such indiscriminate shooting. The general was working out possible strategies, and she was supposed to bring them soon. Yule had been praying, going to Daniel’s room to speak with him from time to time, and now, he thought he might watch this fool try to maneuver his way out.
There would be a time, later, in which the Pope would regret that decision. He had witnessed a lot of pain in his life, with the greatest concentration over the last month—and yet, he would forever hear the First Priest’s screams echoing in his mind until he drew his own last breath.
The First Priest didn’t really care where he was going. He had told Trinant ‘higher’ because that seemed the easiest way to get him out of the room; they would buy that he wanted to get further away from the invaders, and thus not ask too many questions when he left.
The thing was, the First Priest thought these Ministers were all idiots. Not insane like the High, but idiots just the same. Perhaps it was being so lofty for so long that made them not use their heads. They were used to those beneath doing the thinking, and then taking the credit for it. The First Priest hadn’t ever been so lucky; he’d been the one toiling to make sure things happened, to ensure that Corinth’s will actually came to fruition.
They’d all watched the same thing in those windows—each of them able to witness the same actions take place.
Only the First Priest had taken anything away from it, apparently. The others were still waiting on those beneath them to figure out the best course of action.
The High Priest used to do the same, but it was the First that had been tasked with determining the course.
The Globe was locked down. That much was true. Somehow the Black’s crazies had disabled the ability to open up any ports, windows, or doors along the outer perimeter. Ships could fly right up to them, but there wasn’t any way to actually get out.
It was the last part that the First Priest realized was false, though he didn’t feel the need to share it with any of those idiots behind him.
He passed hallways on his right and left, not bothering to even look down them. All he really cared about was getting to the edge of the Globe, to one of those windows that
lined the entire place. As long as he kept moving in a straight line, he’d eventually get there.
The idea had first come to him yesterday. He’d been staring up at the windows inside Trinant’s office, a constant undercurrent of worry streaming through his mind. Now, he understood Corinth had chosen him, but yesterday, he’d felt forsaken. The cretins were moving up floor by floor, killing everyone in their paths with those sickening gray strands hanging from their hands.
They would soon reach the First’s floor and he could already imagine the way it would feel when those static strands wrapped around his face—burning and scratching. It would feel exactly as it had back in the High Priest’s home, when the surge had nearly peeled him alive.
The First almost didn’t see it. None of the others had, missing something so obvious—and that’s why he now knew Corinth was with him.
He’d been staring at Trinant’s windows for hours. Watching those bloodlust filled people hack code and then kill. All the time, the answer had been right there in front of him.
Literally.
The windows.
The place was lined with them, from the very top of the Globe, to the very bottom. The One Path’s ostentatiousness knew no boundaries, its arrogance unparalleled. The entire place was made of glass, including the room the First Priest sat in.
Glass shattered.
The exits might not be working, but what the hell did that matter when one could be made?
The idea slowly crystallized in his head over the next few hours. Leave this room. Find a window at the Globe’s perimeter. Have one of the True Faith’s ships open it with a shot … and then leave. Yes, leaving that way would be dangerous—maneuvering out a shattered window into a transport. Yet, it was certainly less dangerous than waiting here.
No one else saw the answer, yet they all watched the same thing he had.
Walking down the hallway now, he finally slowed, catching his breath. He’d walked to the opposite side of the Globe, wanting to be far from Trinant’s office, and he had finally reached it. Glass windows lined the hallway in front of him. He saw no one else, and that was exactly what he wanted. Corinth was delivering everything just as it should be.
