by Jason Letts
“Arent,” Mira whispered.
“And so it is. Then there’s a wanderer in this area who serves as the catalyst. He’s been here for some time, but for what purpose we do not know. He is a conduit, a blank slate, transferring energy through his body. He must be a rugged and hearty soul to survive in these high mountains and to do so alone,” they said.
But these words were puzzling, enigmatic, and yet vaguely familiar. Something struck a chord, and Will spoke up.
“Could it possibly be? That sounds like Fortst!”
“There’s no way,” Mary said. “He’s gone…he’s been gone for so long.”
“It couldn’t be anyone else! He must be out here somewhere!” Will said, his lip quivering.
“But you,” the twins continued, speaking directly to Aoi, “stand head and shoulders above them. The generator, the conductor, and the converter. For long you have expelled energy from your body, and only recently have you learned to receive it, but what you must realize is that your body serves no purpose in this equation at all. Every reaction, chemical or physical, that takes place under the web is at your command. Don’t fight this truth with your mind. Know it and own it, because it is you who can best prevent the catastrophic decline of life on this planet.”
“No, it can’t be true,” Aoi denied, looking pale and lost. “I’m just myself.”
“We don’t have time to teach you the extent of your grasp. You must trust yourself to use it when the time for action comes. So dangerous is the peril we face that even a single moment of weakness could see the fleeting shreds of hope slip away into oblivion. There is an unthinking monster haunting us, and he seeks to tear apart everything that is good and whole.”
“We know,” Mira said. “We lost the carafe shard when Arent arrived, and now he’s out there trying to get it back and doom us for good.”
“No. His danger is not the gravest that threatens us. There is a boy out there, clumsy and dull, who belongs amongst us. It is not evil that drives him, instead he is consumed by the will of his power, to disintegrate, collapse, and pulverize the creations in existence. No argument or call to reason can suspend him. His power is the opposite of mine, and we wage an unseen struggle over the possibility of life that extends through every second. But even laying a finger on the carafe shard, and the raw growth it causes, would allow him to grind away every last speck of life on the planet, including his own.”
Taken aback at these dire words and disturbed that all Goober had to do was rip the shard from a dolt like Neeko, deep unease wormed its way into their hearts.
“But that boy, Goober, helped us! We were fighting against the Sunfighters in the war together. I know he’s dangerous and strong, but he can’t be that bad. I can’t believe he’d do such a terrible thing,” Vern said, his brows scrunched.
“Then your belief is faulty,” the pair replied. “You say he helped you fight a war, but I say he only did what came naturally to him, trying to tear down what he saw was the dominant order. Drawn to the power of the carafe, he helped you fight Arent so he could get it for himself. His only move is to reduce the system of the world to a lifeless, static uniformity. That’s why he belongs with us and why he never should’ve been released.
“Let me explain how he’s attacked you without you ever even knowing it. How old do you believe yourselves to be, eighteen, nineteen? In reality, your bodies are somewhere in their mid-twenties. This is the kind of insidious punishment he inflicts on his victims. In fact, we are all aging because of him, all growing closer to the final state of ashes he wishes to see in us. Getting to the carafe shard will make his ability to bleach away life instantaneous,” they warned.
Roselyn looked down at her hands, and the others turned to each other, trying to investigate the claim that their age was being manipulated from afar. It was impossible to see anything specific because it had all been so gradual. The realization that their bodies were somehow foreign, changed, and susceptible to an invisible attack brought a new blend of fear into their own troubled hearts.
“So you must be able to tell us what it is,” Mira said. “What is the power of the carafe, the one power chosen above all others?”
For the first time, the pair of men seated in front of the beating heart turned to look at each other. Something passed through them, some imperceptible communication, and then they resumed their former posture.
“The carafe does exceed us, the group you refer to as The Specials. But it can never be hidden away from time as we are. It exists apart from the web, forever entombed within its diamond casing, always ready to divulge its revelation to a new master.”
“So…what is it?” Vern asked.
“We know what that power is, though we suspect all knowledge of it has died out long ago. But even that little piece of information has a power to it, one that could drastically shift the course of coming events. And it is for that reason you will only discover the truth of the carafe and its ultimate power once you have reassembled it. You must keep the shard from the ones who would exploit it for harm, you must make it whole, and you must do this with all possible haste!”
The group, still drenched in strange, smelly fluids within a hall of mashed human organs, which somehow began to look normal after all of the incredible things they had just learned, waited for any more information they could possibly glean. But when the pair spoke again, it brought the disappointment that comes with setting the astonishment of learning aside and facing the hard challenge of doing.
“No more words should be wasted. It is your time to go. This cavern has no entrance or exit, but we will fashion one to lead you out. We can see that your hearts are true, but you must mind your impulses lest they lead you away from your goal. Don’t worry about the mess. We’ll clean up. Now go!”
At this, the amalgamation of fleshy tissue and skin against the walls started to swirl and boil. Some of it turned to popping bubbles and disappeared, and this continued long after the spongy wall had given way to rock. The mountainside crunched and cleaved until a passageway stretched to the surface. Finally, sunlight trickled down through it and a breath of fresh air wafted into the chamber.
“This is our whole lives, right here. Let’s do this,” Vern urged, leading the others between the strangely smooth walls. Mira and Aoi were the last to leave, and Mira tugged on Aoi’s shirt before they entered.
“I have to ask them something. I’ll be right there,” she said. Aoi turned, her dark eyes full like a moon during an eclipse.
“But you and I need to…nevermind. It’s OK. Go on,” Aoi said, entering the passage.
Mira watched her go, wondering what she meant. But there was something else itching inside her mind, and so she returned to the two hairless men seated on the platform. The beating heart behind them had started to slow to normal, but Mira still felt all of the trepidation of the challenges they faced. Though they looked so regal and magnanimous, they still inspired some nerves within her. Meekly, she made the approach to talk to them alone.
“Excuse me,” she began, and then started looking around for how to continue. She found it difficult to meet their gaze when it was directed solely upon her. No wonder Aoi had so much trouble with it. Touching her throat and clearing it, she forced the words to come.
“The boy you mentioned—we named him Goober—he said something to me once. It was ‘the natural movement of humanity is war’. I’ve never forgotten that, and since then I’ve always refused to believe it. But now we are again forced into the situation where we have to take what is not ours. So I have to know. Please tell me, is it true?”
Their gaze softened, and she felt relieved now that she had expressed herself. They weren’t angry or disappointed in who they had entrusted their mission to like she imagined. Instead, and with only the most minute changes, they appeared intrigued.
“Girl, what is your name?” they asked.
“Mira Ipswich,” she answered.
“Mira Ipswich, know that the natural
movement of humanity is not war. But it is the easiest, and it takes a special degree of courage and perseverance to resist it. For ourselves, we are non-violent, and we like to believe we possess those attributes in order to lead by example. But you are part of a long chain reaching back through your power to when we were first made, and that chain can influence you in subtle ways you can never know, making it difficult to stay true to your belief. When the time comes, both your ideals and your life will hang in the balance. Which will you be willing to sacrifice?”
Taken aback, Mira had trouble comprehending what they could mean or the implications of such a choice. She said the only thing that came naturally for her to say.
“You should know I have no power,” she stated.
“Is that so? Then perhaps you’ll be free of an ancestry reaching through your power to direct you. Your decision will rest entirely on your shoulders. Before the first being died, he told us if all of the powers ever returned to the web, it would buckle under the weight, crash down, and destroy the Earth. He knew he created one whose sole intent was to accomplish this, but if that had been the power he kept he would have done it himself. We can’t know if it’s true, but it is now up to you, and her, and the rest of you to prevent us from ever finding out,” they said.
It was hard to know how to reply to such a charge. She felt no matter what she said she would be making a mistake, and that same feeling came to her when she first reached within her mind to contemplate choosing between her life and her ideals. But after all, she had to be herself, and if she were meant to make a mistake, she would own it.
“We’ll find a way, and we will do it right.”
She had intended to say more, but she stopped herself and decided that was enough. The two men nodded politely, leaving her unsure of how they reacted or how much confidence they had in her. No more needed to be said, and Mira turned from them and took to the tunnel leading to the surface. Expecting to have to chase after her friends, it surprised her to find them right there at the top, not far from their bags, which had escaped damage during the fight. A light snow fell, and the fat flakes drifted toward the ground all around the mountain range.
“Oh, I didn’t think you’d be waiting for me,” she said.
“Of course, how could we go on without you?” Will responded.
The others were standing around, and only Vern and Aoi hadn’t turned to greet her arrival. Aoi still looked troubled, and Vern had his hands on her shoulders.
“This doesn’t have to be a big deal. It doesn’t have to change anything,” Vern said.
“How can you say that? What am I supposed to do?” Aoi pleaded.
Both of them looked so absorbed in their conversation that it was as though they were alone. Mira sighed and turned to the rest of the group. Everyone was still covered in slimy ooze, and she could feel it sticking to her, drizzling down, and coating everything from head to toe. They had a long ways to go and a lot to do, and a hot bath didn’t seem to fit in anywhere.
“It’s times like these I wish I had a toothbrush.”
Chapter 4: The Drifter and the Wanderer
The light Neeko cast was unavoidable. It blinded Jeremy to everything but the roughest outlines no matter how fervently he shielded himself from it. But as deeply as it penetrated, it didn’t get into his head like the baby’s incessant crying, which permeated his mind and echoed even into his dreams. The worst part of following after a walking star was the sickening feeling that he was once again going to be outshined and left in the shadows.
“Please! Let me just try it for a second! It’s not fair you get to hold onto it all the time,” Gloria howled, covering her eyes and coming as close to the intense source of the light as she dared. Jeremy knew that once someone got close enough, the brightness made it impossible to tell where Neeko was in all of it.
“I can’t give it to you, Gloria. It belongs to me. It always has,” Neeko replied. Gloria stomped her feet and stumbled. They were still navigating a rocky plateau high in the mountains.
“I’ll give it right back, Neeko! Don’t you trust me? I want to know what it’ll do to me!” Her shouting continued until the ever-present wailing of the baby distracted her. “Can you shut that thing up? I’m losing my mind!”
She’d stopped to let Neeko continue on so the light would fade. When Jeremy caught up to her, she was fuming. Her red hair was covered in green slime as though she’d been trying to rip it out.
On Knoll’s part, he had plenty of good reasons to cry. He hadn’t eaten much because Neeko never allowed enough time for them to find sufficient food. The light scratched at his face. His clothing was soiled. Flies often landed on him and crawled on his skin. Lastly, Jeremy had a foul odor and always held him awkwardly.
“Don’t you think I’m trying to get him to be quiet? Nothing works with this kid. As soon as you put him down he tries to crawl away. It’s a shame we can’t let him,” Jeremy said.
“Well you’ve got to figure out something, because I can’t take any more of this,” Gloria said, calming down from her tantrum. Knoll unleashed another furious yelp, and the two of them buckled and put their fingers to their ears.
“Maybe if I shake the baby it’ll get him to quiet down. It’s about the only thing I haven’t tried,” Jeremy suggested, causing Gloria to contort her face in deep contemplation.
“Let me think about that,” she began. “If you shake the baby, he’ll probably get tired. That’ll put him to sleep and the crying will stop!” She clapped her hands together, excited at the prospect of relief.
“Exactly! Boy, how nice would it be to have quiet for a change? OK, here we go.”
Jeremy held the baby out in front of him. Knoll floated there in the air against the backdrop of white light streaming continuously behind. Gloria nodded to him, urging him on.
“No, I get the feeling there’s a problem with this. How is the baby going to fall asleep with all this light? It’s been days since this started, and I’ve barely slept at all. It’s probably because of all the brightness.”
Grumbling, Gloria turned and marched toward Neeko, who was somewhere further down the long winding plateau. She shut her eyes and put her hands out to make sure she didn’t bump into anything. After a few halted steps, she called to him.
“We need you to put away the diamond for a while! Just don’t use it. That way the baby will be able to go to sleep!”
“No,” Neeko answered.
“I hope the thing cuts your wrist and slices your hand off!” she howled.
When Jeremy got to her again, she returned her fingers to her ears and looked at him with a frazzled, heart-wrenching glare. Her eyes were red and some dirt marked one side of her face. Twitching her nose, she took a whiff and quickly took one hand from an ear to plug her nose.
“No wonder the baby is shrieking. He stinks like the backside of a horse!”
“And what am I supposed to do about that?” Jeremy asked, lost for any way he could stop it.
“Clean him up!” Gloria ordered, ignoring all of his intonations.
“Oh yeah, I’ll just reach in there and scoop it out,” Jeremy snapped.
“OK, you won’t do it? I will. Give him to me?” she offered.
Her hands were out, dripping green toxins. She stared directly at him, unflinching and unwavering. Sometimes Jeremy managed to think Gloria was a decent person to live around, if a little stupid, but in this situation everyone present managed only to add to his misery.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” he noted, pulling the baby closer to his chest and refusing her invitation. “No, there’s got to be another way. If only there were a stream around here we could dunk him in and let the water clean him.”
“Yeah, you could use a good dunking while you’re at it,” Gloria snarled as she started to look around at the area. “I don’t see anything around here, much less any water that would do the trick. Here, I’ll wander around and see what I can find.”
Sighing, she hobbled o
ff to the side exhibiting a morose and unenthusiastic air. Though the sun was starting to set, Neeko’s light made it difficult to see the terrain around them or the greater landscape of the mountain chain around. It seemed like they were perpetually trapped in some sort of bubble, stuck together for better or worse. They continued on, Gloria zigzagging back and forth along the edges and the slopes.
“Here! Look over here!” she shouted.
Carrying his smelly baggage, Jeremy hustled over to see what she’d found. He joined her on a rocky ledge next to where a small stream flowed down the mountainside. There were a few feet between the rock’s edge and where the swift and icy water flowed.
“I don’t see a better spot to set him in the water. Guess we’ll have to forget about it.”
“No,” Gloria protested. “This spot is perfect. Just hold him by the hand, lie down on the edge, and lower him in. You can do it. Who’s the baby, you or him?”
The current flowed steeply downhill. Jeremy imagined losing his grip on the baby’s hand, perhaps because of the moisture, and seeing him cascade down the mountain. Dropping down, he kneeled on the edge of the rock. He held Knoll’s hand tight, but the baby continued to scream and squirm. Pulling away the blankets until the baby’s chest was bare, he suddenly stopped.
“There’s our answer,” Gloria lamented.
“No, I’m not going to do it, Gloria. So cut me some slack. You think I know anything about babies? Just that they grow up to be people.”
Jeremy started to cover the baby back up. Knoll already had goosebumps and was shivering, but reapplying the blankets soothed him and brought his crying to a whimper. Gloria sat down beside them so close it made Jeremy uncomfortable. He didn’t like being close to her because of her toxic hands, and he knew she knew it.
