All Those Explosions Were Someone Else's Fault

by James Alan Gardner

  “So now I record everything in advance. It’s fun sitting in the studio, blathering on without time pressure. I make sure I cover all the pertinent information, and edit out slips of the tongue. I used to add background music, but I got into copyright trouble. Seriously. I load all my soliloquies onto YouTube once the dust settles, but if I put in soundtracks, BMI and ASCAP get the video yanked. Cheeky bastards. Not coincidentally, BMI and ASCAP are run by Darkling shitheads. (Note to self: Fill their headquarters with anthrax.)”

  At the risk of being a yobbo, I didn’t wait till the speech had finished. The corridor I was in led up to a fire door: the hefty kind of door you’d put on a place where gas-fired boilers were heating up a storm. The door was well-fitted, with almost no clearance space between the door, its frame, and the floor. That was probably great for shutting in fires, but it meant I had to shrink very small to get under it.

  I eased myself down and began belly-crawling. At my current size, I had a long, long way to go—the proportional equivalent of at least a hundred meters. And the floor was a jagged landscape of concrete. To someone of normal height, the surface might have looked smooth, but for me, it was a nightmare of cliffs and craters. My Spark-o-Vision let me chart the easiest route forward, but it was still slow going.

  Meanwhile Diamond prattled on. “Now to business,” he said. “I’m the world’s greatest expert on the Light, which makes me pretty damned clever about the Dark too. You can’t truly understand one without the other. As you may have seen, I can give Darklings superpowers, but rest assured, they’ll never be more than temporary. The Dark and Light are like matter and antimatter; if you’re brilliant, you can bottle them briefly together, but the key word is briefly. Then, like matter and antimatter, things go downhill with extreme prejudice.

  “Why? Because Darklings are dead. D.E.A.D. Even the ones with a heartbeat. An entity produced by the Dark Conversion may believe it’s still alive, but that’s a delusion. Darklings have the same brains as the humans who previously occupied their flesh, so their thoughts and memories are similar to the originals. However, for lack of a better word, they’ve lost their souls. Their stories have ended and they’re just too self-absorbed to take the hint.

  “So Darklings can never play host to the Light. The Light will only fuse with the living. Any life will do—right now, rats and other vermin should be racing toward my portal, drawn by an urge to merge with the Light. Just be thankful this type of rift can only be opened on winter solstice, when insects aren’t active. Otherwise, you’d have mobs of superpowered mosquitoes and horseflies buzzing the countryside.

  “But insects will come eventually, drawn out of hibernation. Because the Light calls to life. All life. Including humans.

  “Any human within ten klicks will feel driven to embrace the Light. They may resist for a while, but the compulsion will grow. People are likely sleepwalking in this direction already. You might want to deal with that somehow; if not, some of those sods will die of hypothermia. Unless you Canucks can handle the cold as well as you claim. Furthermore, anyone who gets close enough to the portal will become super, at which point, they should be able to withstand the cold even in their nighties.

  “Actually, I tell a lie: A lot of them won’t become super. Believe it or not, there’s such a thing as destiny. Some people aren’t cut out for greatness, even when it’s thrust upon them. My rift is the best chance anyone will have to get supered up, but nine out of ten people just can’t handle it. They’ll flame out and die deader than Darklings. Sorry about that.”

  I thought about my own experience of getting powers. I had faced the worst moments in my life. Was it a test of mental strength? If I hadn’t been able to change what happened between me and Elaine, would I have died? The Light was ruthless—this I knew. It might subject each potential Spark to an ordeal and kill anyone who didn’t pass.

  “But,” continued Diamond, “let’s not dwell on the negative. Most of the rats and other vermin will die too. And my rift may kill ninety percent of the local human population, but there’s, what, three hundred thousand people living nearby? So I’ll add thirty thousand Sparks to the world.

  “And that’s just the start. What’ll happen once word gets out? Hopeful idiots from all over the world will flood in like a bloody gold rush, each one certain they’re special enough to become super. And some will be right! A cracking great lot of Sparks will be injected into the world, until they outnumber all the damned Darklings.

  “Then the feces will really hit the flabellum, because the Dark and the Light can’t coexist. Live and let live is a lovely idea, but that’s not how the story goes. Dark versus Light, to the death; anything else is wishful thinking.

  “So congrats to any Sparks who might be listening. You’re about to get reinforcements in the war. But only if you keep the portal open. If you try to shut it down—and with enough Sparks on the job, I’m sure you’ll eventually succeed—then you’re closing off a source of useful troops for Armageddon.

  “Because trust me, Armageddon is coming. Dark versus Light for all the marbles. If you’re smart, you’ll walk away and let my portal generate an army. If not, you’re siding with the Darklings, however noble your intentions. You really don’t want the Dark to win this war. Walk away.”

  I DIDN’T WALK AWAY

  Nor did I think Diamond expected that to happen. If he seriously wanted us to leave his rift alone, he wouldn’t have mentioned killing 90 percent of the local populace. Eventually we’d see people dying, but until then, we might have said, “More Sparks … what’s wrong with that?” The average person on the street could be trusted with superhuman powers at least as much as the people who bought the Dark Conversion.

  But Diamond wanted us to know that hundreds of thousands of people would die. He was taunting everyone within earshot: “Stop me or else.”

  Diamond enjoyed killing. Darklings might be his number-one targets, but humans were in solid second place.

  Bastard.

  I FINALLY EMERGED INTO THE GENERATOR ROOM

  The place divided in two. On one side, six generators produced electricity. They were boilers that heated steam to turn turbines: not fancy, but I’m sure they worked well. Still, they weren’t slick-looking machines. They were built to give bang for the buck. The public was never intended to see this equipment, so it looked cheap and off the shelf.

  On the other side of the room was a different type of machinery, made to refine raw trash-gas into something that burned more evenly. Pipes came up through the floor, bringing untreated gas from the garbage mounds. After the gas had been processed, more pipes carried it across the aisle to feed the generators.

  Close beside the refiner sat steel drums with scary warnings on the side—chemicals used in the refining process. A forklift stood in front of the drums with its lights still blinking. I suspected dead-guy-in-the-washroom had been driving the truck shortly before his encounter with Elaine.

  The room held one more machine, smack in the middle of the floor: a rift projector ten times the size of the others I’d seen. All the usual elements were present, except that this robot hand was the size of one of those foam hands that people wave at football games, and at least a dozen brains shared an oversized glass jar. Electrical cables snaked out the back, hot-wired into all six generators. Disconnecting the wires by hand would be dangerous, but why bother? Each generator had an emergency shut-off switch; I could simply grow back to full size and throw the switches. The projector would shut down and the rift would close.

  Unless, of course, Diamond had booby-trapped the switches. Which I figured was a no-brainer.

  I scanned the room. Nobody in sight. Diamond must have set up his gear and then run off, leaving the projector on a timer or radio-controlled trigger. But no way would he leave his handiwork unguarded. There had to be gun turrets, robots, or something equally dangerous.

  I kept looking. Then I stopped and tried to notice where my eyes didn’t want to look.

  Yep
: an Ignorance spell. It was good, strong but subtle. On the other hand, I now had experience in seeing what I wasn’t supposed to. I forced my mind to ignore the Ignorance.

  Hello, Elaine.

  SHE STOOD IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FLOOR, HER BACK AGAINST THE PROJECTOR

  Elaine wore loose black clothes, including a hooded cloak. Very “Shadowed Stalker of the Night.” Yet another Darkling with Light-envy dressed in a Sparkish costume.

  Elaine’s creature-of-evil look was enhanced by a dark wet patch down her shirt. It may be possible to drink a man’s blood without spilling any on your clothes, but it must take practice. Elaine usually drank from a wineglass or Wedgwood, so she’d made a bloody mess. She likely stank like a slaughterhouse, but I was far enough away not to have smelled it yet.

  Elaine’s hood was thrown back and I could easily see her face. The skin was surprisingly pale, considering she’d recently consumed all the blood from a full-grown man. But her body was surrounded with an aura glowing in multiple shades of red. After filling herself with blood, she must have used all that juice to envelope herself with spells—probably both offensive and defensive.

  This wasn’t the same as the Blood Burn that Lilith had used in the alley. Blood Burn was crude, fast, and ruinous, an all-or-nothing tactic. Elaine had used the blood’s energy much more strategically, carefully weaving enchantments. Oh yes, she’d be strong, fast, and resilient for as long as the spells lasted, but they’d last much longer, and she wouldn’t crash into a coma when they ended. She might even have enough surplus magic to cast additional spells as needed.

  So the costume was appropriate. Elaine had abandoned her usual buttoned-down guise and had transformed herself into a full-on vampire sorceress, ready to wipe the floor with any opposition.

  No matter how small I shrank, I likely couldn’t get near her. Some part of her scarlet aura would surely be a force field I couldn’t penetrate. She might also have a spell to sense my presence. Since Elaine was expecting trouble, she had likely cast something to sniff out hidden enemies. She might already know I was in the room. If not, I didn’t want to give myself away by getting too close.

  But nothing I saw answered the jackpot question: What was Elaine doing here? Was she supporting Diamond’s scheme to make thousands of Sparks? Waiting to fight any Sparks or Dark Guards who managed to get inside the dome? That was crazy. What did she have to gain from a brazen last stand that would end in her being captured or killed?

  It made no sense. Even if Elaine were an Unbound fanatic eager to overthrow the Dark establishment, why would she help Diamond create a Spark army?

  Was she insane? Mind-controlled? Or was I missing something?

  I DECIDED TO ASK HER

  I know. It violates the traditional Spark approach to solving problems. I should have escalated straight to violence.

  And I’ll admit, part of me longed to give Elaine a good hard shake. Maybe slap her face.

  But my mere human strength wouldn’t hurt her. Besides, hurting Elaine wouldn’t make me feel better. I didn’t want an eye for an eye, I just wanted to hear her say she was sorry for what she’d done to Kimmi. To me.

  And I wanted her to mean it.

  That wasn’t going to happen, not even under the influence of my Halo. In our world, impossible things happen every second. But other things don’t. Even wish fulfillment has its limits. The best I could do was prove to myself I was a better person than she was.

  So I grew to Max Zirc size and said, “Elaine, we have to talk.”

  I WAS READY TO BE ATTACKED

  I was also prepared to shrink and jump if Elaine blasted me with fire, ice, lightning, or worse. (Elaine once told Kimmi, “Here are all the ways I could kill you in the next two seconds.” That was Elaine’s idea of making chitchat with mortals.)

  No attack came. She said, “I was wondering when you’d stop hiding. Who are you?”

  “Zircon.”

  “Oh, darling, rethink that name.”

  “No.”

  Elaine shrugged. “Only trying to help. What did you want to talk about?”

  “What you’re doing here. Why you’re helping Diamond.”

  “You think I’m helping him?”

  “You tricked your brother into coming here, then drained his energy to open Diamond’s portal. That sounds like helping to me.”

  “My, you are well informed.” She tried to say it breezily, but looked unsettled.

  “What I don’t know,” I said, “is why you’re doing this. What do you get out of it?”

  “Freedom,” she said. “From the status quo. The Dark Consensus.”

  I said, “I thought the Dark Consensus was a Taboo Truth.”

  “Taboos were made to be broken.”

  As taboos go, speaking of the Dark Consensus was pretty tame. Still, Darklings were never supposed to utter the phrase, even in whispers. The Dark Consensus didn’t exist—not at all. The Darklings who ran one country absolutely didn’t conspire with the Darklings who ran other places in the world. Canada was run by Darklings, the US was run by Darklings, China was run by Darklings, Russia was run by Darklings, and so on down to even Haiti and Burkina Faso, but heaven forbid that anyone suggest there was a global master plan. Each country’s leadership focused faithfully on their own nation’s interests. There was no Consensus: nope, nope, nope.

  “So you’re rebelling,” I said. “Becoming Unbound for the good of the world.”

  “Yes.”

  I knew she was lying.

  I. Knew.

  As if her thoughts were slopping over into mine.

  WAS ELAINE DELIBERATELY PROJECTING IDEAS INTO MY HEAD?

  She could do that if she wanted, with the right kind of spell.

  And maybe she had good reason to say one thing but communicate another—if she wanted to hide the truth from somebody watching.

  Of course! Diamond had to be watching. I felt stupid for not realizing. Diamond would plant cameras here in the generating station to watch whatever happened. He was spying on Elaine, and she was pretending to be a loyal coconspirator.

  What was she really?

  Dark Guard.

  That was another mental spillover. Knowledge that sprang into my mind as soon as I asked the question.

  Elaine belonged to the Guard. She’d been assigned to take Diamond down.

  Now that made sense. Elaine was a talented wizard with impeccable self-control. She’d make an excellent Guard recruit. And Diamond had killed so many Darklings, of course the Guard would go after him.

  Elaine was a covert agent pretending to be a rebel. Somehow she’d ingratiated herself with Diamond and infiltrated his scheme. As soon as she found an opening, she would move to destroy him. In the meantime, she played a fanatic, ruthless enough to sacrifice her own brother.

  Well, shit. In the “enemy of my enemy” sense, Elaine was one of the good guys.

  HER EYES WIDENED, THEN NARROWED

  One of the good guys? Not so fast.

  “You’re reading me?” she said. Her face turned even more pale as she summoned her blood to cast a spell. “You’re—”

  She stopped. Then broke out laughing. “Oh, perfect! You’re one of mine.”

  I opened my mouth to ask a question, but she made a gesture and I froze. Not from fear—from the force of some magic that had abruptly paralyzed my muscles.

  “You’re one of my minions,” she said, still chuckling. “One of my crumbs cast upon the waters. We share blood, you and I.”

  Oh crap.

  “Do you know how vampires acquire blood?” Elaine walked slowly toward me. “Of course you know: We buy it. From donors who willingly bleed in exchange for the trickle-down. Our donation centers are run like the Red Cross. Except we pay, and the Red Cross doesn’t.”

  She smiled. Her teeth thrust out in a gleeful fang-on. “One more difference: The Red Cross keeps each donation separate, but Darklings mix them together. We throw ten donations into a pot, stir well, then parcel them out again. Do
you know why?”

  Elaine waited for me to answer. I couldn’t. She smiled more broadly.

  “We mix them in batches of ten,” she said, “because that gives us blood bonds with all ten of those people. We did experiments—too little blood and the bond doesn’t work, but one tenth of a liter will do. Every time I feed, I gain a perfectly legal blood bond over ten complete strangers. Isn’t that fabulous? All those teens desperate to buy the right lipstick … university students sick of Kraft dinners, who just have to have a good restaurant meal … single mothers who can’t afford diapers … elderly cat ladies running out of Whiskas … the drunks, the street kids, the long-term unemployed … every greedy damned taker who wants a free lunch rather than work for a living. They snatch a quick buck from the trickle-down, then think they can walk away with no strings attached. Ha! I can drive down any street and feel the blood connections: ‘He’s mine, she’s mine, all four of them are mine.’ If I snapped my fingers, they’d throw themselves at my feet.”

  She lifted her hand and rubbed her fingers together teasingly. But she didn’t actually make her fingers snap. If she had, I don’t know what I would have done.

  “Blood calls to blood,” Elaine said, “and my blood is stronger than yours. As simple as that. A Spark like you normally has a high degree of resistance to vampiric influence. Say I used the Voice on you: Maybe it would work, maybe it wouldn’t. But you willingly gave me your blood before you became a Spark. That wasn’t a one-time purchase—you sold me an option on your future. Now I’m going to exercise that option to the fullest.”

  She had finally reached me. She brushed my cheek with her hand. I wanted to flinch away, but I couldn’t. In my head, I heard her voice: «Pretend to resist me. You can’t, but pretend. Diamond will just think your mind is stronger than I thought.» She leaned in, mouth aiming for my throat. «Break away and destroy the generators,» Elaine said inside my brain. «Never tell anyone I work for the Guard.»