Thursday Midnight

by Zachry Wheeler

  CHAPTER 2

  Only after living in the city does one appreciate the loudness of silence. Jonas awoke to the shriek of his own thoughts. His eyelids twitched open, which made no difference to the darkness. He stared into an unknown void, but the softness of a down pillow and the warmth of a familiar blanket kept him rooted to an actuality. All the same, his thoughts would scream regardless of the world he inhabited.

  A laden sigh punched through the black like a bullhorn, prompting a gentle rustle beside him. Anna stirred beneath the sheets, drawing a mild grin. His hand wandered through a fabric tunnel to find her naked back. Fingertips walked up to her shoulder, cueing a sleepy moan. Jonas rolled onto his side and nuzzled her neck before pressing a light kiss onto her cheek. She gripped his hand for a fleeting moment, then retreated to a deep slumber.

  Jonas rolled to the edge of the bed and sat up, allowing his bare feet to fall onto a dense carpet. The weight of his upright body sank him into the mattress, a dense spongy material that hugged his every contour. He reached over to the nightstand and tapped the base of a lamp, which filled his immediate area with a soft red glow. A thick shade and low voltage kept the output minimal, just enough to prevent knee knocks while preserving Anna’s rejuvenation. His gaze swept over the foam board covering the wall. The bed sat a full foot away to avoid racket from shifting and other more provocative activities.

  His drowsy eyes wandered the room, or at least the parts he could see. Not that anything would warrant much regard, as they preferred a more spartan existence. The outline of a simple dresser cut through the dark over by the bathroom door. A hamper rested on the ground beside it, filled with a small heap of dirty garments. Chores often took a backseat these days. Anna picked up the slack without complaining or appealing for balance. She was thoughtful like that, even while helping to remake the world.

  Jonas shifted his lips and returned his gaze to the bed. Anna faced a sea of darkness on the opposite side, tucked and tuckered under a pile of blankets. Swirls of long auburn hair flowed from beneath the fabric, glistening under a red sheen from the dim lamp. Jonas smiled with silent affection, then turned away and climbed to his feet.

  A flank twist and shoulder roll sent muted pops into the black. His naked body floated through the crimson haze like a listless apparition. He visited the bathroom and secured the lightproof door before flicking a wall switch. The burst of muted light was blinding by comparison, causing him to shield his eyes and recoil. He relieved himself on the inner wall of the toilet bowl, careful to dampen the sound. The flush would have to wait until after securing the perimeter.

  Jonas washed his hands under a thin trickle of water, then lifted his gaze to the mirror while drying his hands. He raked a hand through his shaggy hair and noted another item for the neglected chore list. His head tilted from side to side, examining a small collection of zits and blemishes. A mystery bump along his jawline caught his attention, a hive perhaps, maybe an allergy. He poked at it for a moment, then dismissed it altogether. With puberty in the rearview, he wondered what new issues his mid-twenties had in store. The curiosity was mild at best, as abeyance treatment was no longer a concern.

  Jonas grabbed a bathrobe from a nearby hook. With his waking routine complete, he killed the lights with a cautious flick and returned to the red-tinted darkness. His silhouette drifted through the bedroom before ducking down a narrow hallway. He stepped inside an adjacent den and closed the door behind him, careful to form a tight seal before turning on the lights. Blue filters bathed the room in an icy glow, a deliberate choice due to their calming tones. The area was smaller than the bedroom by more than half, a shoebox by comparison. The main structure was hundreds of years old, so perhaps the builders saw it as a home office of sorts. Or given its history, a panic room.

  Like everything else in the sub-level, the room had no windows or external entries. Instead, four walls of layered cinder block enclosed an intricate computer network. Foam board and thick carpet covered every surface from floor to ceiling. An assortment of simple yet sturdy desks formed a convex workstation around the interior. Numerous server towers rested on padded risers, feeding rows of flat-screen monitors. A chilled breeze encircled the room, compliments of an ionic cooling system.

  Jonas lowered himself into an ergonomic office chair. A yank and spin brought his gaze to a large black monitor. He reached across the desk and powered a relay unit, resulting in numerous screen flickers. Various tech logos appeared as the machines booted from slumber. A muted hum broke an otherwise arrant silence.

  A pair of screens off to the side powered up first, as they always did. Jonas spun for a better look and surveyed grids of night vision camera feeds. Trees and bushes mostly, along with dirt trails and stony walkways. Some of them focused on external doors while others offered sweeping views of a roofline. A red icon blinked at the lower corner of a forest panel. Jonas steeled his gaze and tapped the icon. The feed rewound itself to a few hours prior, brightening to a dusky glow. After a brief wait, a deer wandered into frame and paused to nibble at some brush. Jonas grinned as the doe lost interest and moseyed along. He reset the live feed and spun back to the main terminal.

  “Flushing approved,” he said under his breath.

  A handful of command prompts appeared on the main terminal. Jonas roused a mouse and clicked the first, which cloaked his online presence under a multi-tunneled proxy. He clicked the next, which initiated a sequence of redirects that opened numerous websites on peripheral monitors. A third click filled the remaining screens with traffic stats and analytics. With everything online, he flexed his fingers and started scanning through his subterranean cockpit.

  The first stop was always the easiest, a nest of anti-war forums that recycled the same talking points over and over. Jonas could copy and paste most of his replies. The chats were rarely stimulating, but it was important to maintain a presence. The pro-human side remained small, but decently represented. He had garnered a respectable following and even some fervent friends, which served as a mental boost for the more challenging tasks ahead.

  Jonas shifted his attention to the next terminal where he scanned the NExUS news feeds for anything relevant to the mortal plight. He always managed to uncover a smattering of stories that called back to the transient scourge. Posing as a sympathetic eternal, he commented from the other side, trying to offer a nuanced perspective while resisting the urge to outright lecture. Most responded with vitriol, but some regarded his words as a welcome dose of sanity. It always perplexed him how beings so old and wise could swallow a thinly veiled stream of propaganda.

  The worst of the lot was also the most important. The dark web hosted an amalgam of sites deemed too toxic for public consumption. NExUS treaded lightly when trying to regulate access, as all it took were cries of “free speech” to incite an unwanted wave of political chaos. The transients had been soundly defeated, but a lingering hatred remained alive and well. Gaining traction within these forums was a nigh impossible task, but also critical to the world that Jonas sought to construct. After reading the replies to his latest posts, he bowed his head and sighed with disappointment. A common refrain that never got easier.

  One site in particular carried a profound sense of dread. The Invaders Forum offered a virtual bullhorn to the vilest of fanatics. Serving as little more than a ranting stump for radicals, the site was home to some of the most prominent voices inside the anti-human league. The movement dated back to the Savage Gap, a period of instability known for its extreme violence and toxic rhetoric. But alas, many eternals continued to fight the war after centuries of relative peace, trading blood and carnage for words and caps.

  Jonas hardened his mind before clicking the link, but a sudden ping prevented him from doing so. He received an instant message from Undo84, the avatar of his father Gaius. Not the most inspired of usernames, but it was an easy one to flag inside the forums.

  [Undo84] Morning.

  [Rauha] Ditto. What’s up?

  [Undo84
] Have you seen the IF yet?

  [Rauha] Was just about to. Why? Should I brace myself?

  [Undo84] Might be a good idea.

  [Rauha] Okay, logging in now.

  Jonas navigated to the Invaders Forum and logged into the site. His jaw slacked open as his profile filled the screen. The latest post had amassed thousands of replies in less than 24 hours, more than every other site combined over the last month. Jonas had created the Mortal Vestige sub-forum, an umbrella for his underground campaign. The first post was a confession of sorts, a launch point for a more permanent presence inside the Invaders Forum. Much to his surprise, it had gained a viral following overnight.

  The initial hope quickly faded as he read the responses, everything from all-caps insults to unsettling death threats. Jonas gnawed at his lip as he pondered a reply. His fingers fell to the keyboard, but another ping stole his attention.

  [Undo84] See it yet?

  [Rauha] Yes. I haven’t the words.

  [Undo84] Whatever you do, don’t reply.

  Jonas ruffled his brow.

  [Rauha] Why not? We finally have their attention.

  [Undo84] Yes, but the last thing you want is a flame war.

  [Rauha] What do you mean?

  [Undo84] This is something that needs to settle first. Think of yourself like a court lawyer. Your job is to lead the jury to a desired conclusion without forcing their hands. If they entrench, then you lose the narrative.

  Jonas sighed and shifted his lips.

  [Rauha] Good point.

  [Undo84] Just let it rest for now. I will chat with the others and coordinate a response, see if we can steer the ship a bit. In the meantime, start working on a follow-up post.

  [Rauha] Can do.

  [Undo84] Great job, by the way.

  [Rauha] Thanks.

  “Love you, pops,” he said, but could never type.

  A soft hand grasped Jonas’s shoulder and slid down his chest. Anna wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his temple. Her long auburn hair and silken robe glided across his skin, morphing his woe into contentment. A grin stretched across his face as he gripped her hand and glanced up to meet her eyes. They kissed before exchanging some waking pleasantries.

  “Good evening, love,” she said and lowered herself into another chair. Her smooth legs crossed over one another as she straightened the lapels of her thigh-high robe.

  Jonas spun to face his partner. The thin fabric left little to the imagination, not that he needed to conjure an image. His eyes claimed their prize and a smirk followed.

  “I know that look,” she said, adding a sly wink.

  “Sorry, hard not to think about last night.”

  “No apology needed, but a repeat may be required.”

  Jonas smiled wide and they shared a playful chuckle.

  “So was that Gaius?” she said.

  Jonas nodded. “Yeah. The post blew up.”

  Anna gasped in response, puckering her freckled cheeks with a jubilant smile. “Really? What happened?” She leaned forward and folded her hands across her chest, like a child yearning for storytime.

  “2,000 replies over 24 hours.”

  Her jaw dropped open, which she immediately covered with an open palm. “That’s incredible! You broke through. You actually broke through.”

  Jonas downplayed the assertion with a grunt and cringe. “Don’t get too excited. It’s just a whirlpool of hostility at the moment. Dad is going to rally the troops and enter the fray, try to muster some sort of dialogue out of it. Not getting my hopes up just yet.”

  Anna scooched forward and gripped his knees. “But you got a reaction. Your foot is in the door. Now you just gotta play the cards right.”

  Jonas grinned. “That’s what dad said.”

  “Smart man.”

  “Smart lady.”

  Anna smirked, then leaned in for another kiss.

  Jonas returned the smirk and met her halfway.

  “I’m so proud of you,” she said, then exhaled a satisfied breath and flopped back into the chair. An air of comfort fell between them, but did not last. She studied Jonas through a pensive gaze while shifting into strategy mode. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

  Jonas groaned in response.

  “This movement is going to need a face. And if this post gains traction, you’ll need to come to grips with that sooner than later.”

  His gaze lowered to the floor. “I know. It’s just ...”

  She cupped his chin with a delicate hand and lifted his gaze to hers. “Just nothing. This is the entire reason we are here. It’s the reason we do what we do and live like we live. The remnants are behind you and look to you for leadership. Two years we have fought for this. Two years. And if you have managed to break through the barricade, even a little, then you cannot lead from behind a curtain.”

  Jonas offered a slow nod. “You’re right.”

  “Damn right I’m right,” she said with a frisky tone, then poked his ribs.

  Jonas flinched into a snicker.

  “You don’t have to forge your sword just yet, but at least think about it. I would rather you have a plan, even a bad one, than be blindsided by a call to arms.”

  “What, are we storming a castle?”

  “You know what I mean, silly.”

  “I will give it more thought. I promise.”

  “Thank you.” She patted his cheek and stood from the chair. “On that note, I need to run out to the store. We are low on blood and I could use a change of scenery. Do you need anything?”

  He puckered his lips and scanned the den before ending with a shrug. “Nothing comes to mind, but thanks.”

  “Y’know, it wouldn’t kill you to get out for a walk. How long has it been since you’ve seen the moon? Or hell, even the sun in your case.”

  Jonas glanced at the video feeds.

  Anna rolled her eyes. “In real life, doofus.”

  “I’ll get some fresh air soon. I promise.”

  “You better, otherwise I’m going to steal your razors so you can grow a neckbeard like a proper shut-in.”

  Jonas snort-chuckled. “Aw, that’s mean.”

  “Hmm, guess you’ll just have to punish me then.” Anna winked and tapped her bum as she walked away.

  Jonas grinned as she strolled through the door and into the hallway. His smile faded as her silhouette merged with the darkness. A sudden anxiety filled his mind, like a small child losing sight of a parent. “Hey,” he said to nothing.

  Anna reappeared soon after, cutting through the black with a graceful stride. She gripped the doorframe with both hands and leaned into the room. “Love you too.”

  They exchanged doting smiles as she backed away and slipped into the shadows.

  Jonas spun back to the main console to resume his daily scour. After a quick mental reset, he refreshed the post and scrolled through the latest comments. An unrelenting rancor oozed from the screen, prompting him to double-check the security feeds. He sighed and carried on, forced to swallow a torrent of hatred with poise and dispassion. Moments later, a toilet flushed from afar.

  “Thank you, dear,” he said with an elevated tone.

  “Welcome,” she said from distance.

  CHAPTER 3

  [Invaders Forum / tMV - 2.8K replies, 323 followers]

  [Post: Anonymous, 10.03.2580 AD, 444 EA]

  In response to the hatred ...

  In response to the bigotry ...

  In response to the death threats ...

  I understand.

  There was a time in my life when I wished the same for you. I saw humanity as the rightful stewards of this planet, but with the clarity of hindsight, I must also concede that we were poor caretakers. You, on the other hand, have proven yourselves exceptional caretakers. You created a civilization that exceeded our will, our capacity, and our most ambitious dreams. Please know that we do not intend to disrupt that achievement. We only wish to contribute.

  This, of course, rais
es an obvious question.

  What?

  What could the remnants of a fallen empire contribute to a world that is undeniably better off without us? Ironically, the answer is quite simple from a mortal perspective. All it takes is the recognition of a singular and undeniable truth. When it comes to our shared survival, we have something of tremendous value that you do not.

  We are the Mortal Vestige.

  [End Post]

  A random mess of personal vehicles littered the parking garage of a downtown office building. The tarnished doors of a service elevator rested in wait along the wall. A shrill ding echoed around the enclosure, cutting through an eerie silence. The doors rumbled open, allowing a small group of business personnel to emerge with purposeful strides. Four men and three women carried the vibe of a traveling sales conference. Handbags and briefcases swayed in rhythm to the ceaseless jabber. A man in a pinstripe suit took the lead, guiding the group through a maze of concrete pillars. He strolled up to a lonely doorway and leaned into a push bar lock, adding a hollow clunk to the racket. A firm shoulder opened the heavy pane, allowing them to slip inside one by one. With everyone accounted for, he released the door and swiped the dust from his suit jacket.

  They entered a long service tunnel filled with conduits and access panels. The concrete walls curved around them as a near circle, falling to a flat walkway about a car length in width. Steel pipes and cable bundles clung to the ceiling. Caged floodlights lingered overhead, reflecting off puddles of standing water. A choking humidity hung in the air like an invisible fog.

  The troupe soldiered down the passage under a haze of displeasure, their heels clacking like hammers on stone.