Program Erin

by Alex Fall

  "I guess," I agreed, my voice trailing off. There were no people around, so the camp felt strange, but other than that everything was in place. I wonder if this is from map building yesterday?

  "So I thought we could play a game tonight!" Fake Arty announced as he stood and stretched.

  I closed my eyes in slight annoyance, imagining all manner of things that would constitute a "game" for Fake Arty. "Oh no..." I groaned.

  "Don't be such a downer," he said as he pulled me to my feet. "We're going to start with cello practice like we usually do, but this time, you have to find your cello."

  "No."

  "Aw! I hid it in a really neat spot and everything!"

  I crossed my arms and stared at him. He pooched out his bottom lip and put his hands together as if begging. Fine...

  I began to wander from tent to tent.

  "You're getting warmer!" Fake Arty would occasionally chime.

  I wandered toward the south of the camp, checking in tents and under vehicles. The figment ran on ahead, well outside the camp, past the shower building, and into the streets. How far away is this thing? Is he going to make me waste my night looking for a cello? I'm not even going to get to practice at this rate.

  Instead of wasting time poking around, I walked towards Fake Arty. He looked up at the old buildings and the sky as if there was something interesting. Upon arriving next to him, I folded my arms again and said, "Where now?"

  "I bet that place had good food when it was open."

  I looked up to where he was pointing. On the ground floor of a corner building was a raggedy looking restaurant, now worn by age, the war, and looting. The windows were missing and the all that was inside was some broken wood and glass. The only thing that suggested it once was a restaurant was a sign hanging out on an arm with a silly looking pink and purple cat that read "Café Minou."

  "Is that supposed to be a clue?" I asked.

  "Nope! Now go to the end of the street, take a right and a left at the second alley. Bet I can get there first!" He rattled before taking off running.

  "What?" I shouted as he sped off. What a child. That's why I can't let him win. Sprinting at top speed, I made far better time than he did. The alley cut through the buildings to the next street over and had lots of metal staircases cluttering the way so I rested against one until Fake Arty showed up.

  "Oh wow...you're fast." He said between breaths.

  "No duh."

  "Come on. You're getting warmer."

  He led the way to the next street and took another right. I followed the wandering Arty as he babbled on and on about "I wonder what used to be in this building," or "I bet that place used to be cool." Eventually I zoned out, just going through the motions of following the person in front of me and wishing I had grabbed a coat. After what seemed like a minute or two, something pinched my sides and began to tickle me.

  "Are you ignoring me?" Fake Arty demanded but while giggling.

  "Stop it!" I writhed in the unnatural mixture of joy and discomfort before taking a lunge at my aggressor's head. He weaved out of my reach and took off down another alley, laughing like a fool.

  "Get back here!" I shouted.

  I chased him closely. So closely, in fact that he had to crash into a red trashcan to avoid me. I tripped on it and hit the ground, awakening my irritation. I'm going to break him now.

  My harasser ran out of the alley, across the street and dove through a wall of bushes. He's not getting away from me! I followed again, but lost sight of him once on the other side of the bushes. This area felt out of place. The grass was tall and sown with weeds, but I could tell that this used to be a large plot of well manicured lawn. The wall of bushes served as the edges for the plot, and I had popped in the left side of the grounds. The building that the lawn belonged to was large and majestic, originally polished, white stone but now yellowed with age. It wasn't square or rectangular like most of the other buildings that I've run across, but it had shape and character. The corner nearest me was broken down, as if something had crashed into it long ago, and even more, Fake Arty was crawling over the rubble to get inside!

  I picked up my pace and ran inside the building via the missing corner. Inside was dark and smelled dusty. The floor, carpeted with something like velvet, was silent to walk on. I could see well enough to navigate the grand halls, but it was hard for me to make out the engravings I occasionally felt on the walls or the impossibly large picture frames that seemed to have their own place set aside within the rooms and halls. What is this place?

  The creak of an old door fixed Fake Arty's position again. I dashed down the hall and cleared the doorway cleanly so as not get ambushed. Inside the conspicuously big doorway was the largest room yet. At first there was ceiling above me, but the further in you went, the more it opened up to a massive dome. There was an elegant stage opposite the door I entered, and there were so many neatly organized seats. I likely wouldn't be able to see in this room, except there was one tiny hole poked in the dome that allowed a singular shaft of light in.

  There was no sign of Fake Arty, but the grandeur of the room caught me by surprise. I could catch glimpses of deep royal reds and blues, accented by golds on the walls and on the stages. Shadowy engravings and moldings caught my eye, but were too dark to distinguish exactly what they depicted. I crept up the aisle towards the stage, repeatedly checking my surroundings and finding something new every time I looked around. As I got near the stage, I turned around to see that the ceiling that first was there was actually the second story's floor of seating for this massive auditorium.

  "You're getting warmer!" Fake Arty chimed. I couldn't pinpoint where he was, but I could easily guess that he wanted me on the stage.

  I pulled myself up onto the stage and took the view in. When I turned around and noted the massive stage curtains, I heard Arty's voice say, "Warmer..."

  I poked my head behind the curtains, but not before making sure he wasn't going to come up and tickle me again. There were strangely shaped pieces of metal all over, mixed together with oddly shaped plastic carrying cases and stands. Most of it looked as if it had all been organized, ready to be taken out the double doors directly opposite the curtains, but abandoned for unknown reasons. There were pieces hanging from cables from the ceiling, and it was more stagnant back here. The area felt cluttered by comparison to the open rooms I was just traveling, but backstage still fit the preserved feel. And even still, Arty said, "Warmer," with increased enthusiasm. How can he see me?

  I carefully poked around the clutter, listening to him say "Warmer" until I ended up in the far right corner of the room. All that was here was some broken tie downs, a couple plastic cases and....a bow?

  I picked the bow off the ground. The hairs for strumming were half torn and the whole thing felt smaller than it should be, but this is definitely for a musical instrument. Fake Arty poked his head through the curtains.

  "So warm!"

  I checked him to make sure he didn't come closer, then looked back at the ground. I leaned down and flicked open the latches for the thinner, longer case. Inside was a cello and a cello length bow. The realization hit me. All of this metal and all of these cases...are instruments? And this building... Is a concert hall?

  "Come on! Time to practice! You won't be asleep much longer!"

  Fake Arty led me back to center stage where he had me sit, set up my cello and play for him while he sat on the front row. This time he did not call out instructions, guidance or suggestions. He just let me play.

  I put my bow to the strings and strummed. It felt grand. It made me nervous to play in such a large room. The acoustics of the walls caught my tune and amplified every move I made. Even though Fake Arty was the only one watching, I felt an anxious pressure from being on stage. It felt like I was really playing.

  I paused when I noted Fake Arty holding on to the edge of the stage, resting his chin on the wooden floor. "Sounds beautiful."

  "Yeah...makes me nervous though."
<
br />   "Is that why you're smiling?"

  "What? I...I am not!"

  He snickered and stared at me longingly. "Hey Erin...I think I need to tell you something."

  "Let me guess...I'm beautiful?"

  "No. Something far more-"

  The sound of the zipper opening ripped me from my dream world to real life. Sharon dashed out of the tent, likely to go to the bathroom. My heart felt like it was racing, because of waking so suddenly. I fell back on my pillow and took a deep breath. What time is it?

  Five fifty-eight. I won't get much more sleep if I try to go back to bed. And this cold is killing me! When will it warm back up?

  I gathered up to take a shower again, a small something to look forward to every morning until the camp moved on. Sharon came back and dove into bed, but she seemed wary of me. She always seems that way when she knows that she woke me up.

  "You're not allowed to sleep in late today, you hear me?"

  "Yes ma'am."

  I picked up the pace and trotted to the showers, but Vick intercepted me.

  "Hey Captain. We've been talking to Rick and turns out, he is already planning on hitting a weapons depot soon. In light of our current objective, I believe it would turn out better to collaborate with him."

  I scratched at my temple. "That's...a conversation for later. I don't have an answer for that right now. I'm going to take a shower first." The wind outside was brutal. As I began to resume my trot, I turned and said, "Tell the crew to keep our equipment separate from theirs."

  Again, the showers were soothing, but in the next room over, there was an obnoxious man whistling. I didn't know who it was, and it made me much more uncomfortable being unclothed while a male was right around the corner. These showers have no doors after all.

  I fought against myself trying to fall asleep in the showers in order to get in and out quickly. I want to avoid the whistler. I also want to avoid Nicolette. After drying off and bundling up in my fleece coat, I stepped outside and met the wind. It had me cringe and move slower. Tents fluttered, wild grasses rustled, and the restaurant sign sound squeaked in the steady breeze.

  Wait...restaurant sign? I froze at the exit of the shower building to stare.

  Café Minou. Pink and purple cat. It’s the ground floor of the nearest corner building. It's...real? Has that always been there? I could almost hear Fake Arty say "I bet that place had good food when it was open."

  No, it can't be. I must have noticed that when I was scouring the area yesterday. My subconscious mind must have pulled that memory without me even really taking note. I have a strong photographic memory.

  Taking a second look, I dismissed the thought and headed to grab some breakfast. Or at least, I tried to dismiss it. I went through the motions of gathering a meager meal of bread and jam, but my mind was fixated on Café Minou. How did I remember that? I barely even remember taking note of the buildings markings. I mean, yes I remember seeing that sign, but it didn't stand out.

  I swallowed the remainder of a granola bar that I was currently chewing on. I can't stand it. I have to know.

  "Sup captain!" Wyatt said cheerily upon entering the tent. I did not even acknowledge him. My mind was one track at that moment.

  Basic tactical gear. Pistol, knife, cable, flashlight, maybe a grenade, and some clear goggles. Once in my tent, I gathered everything with haste and efficiency, ignoring the confused Wyatt that followed me repeatedly asking, "Captain, what's going on?"

  I left behind my nice coat and donned a black hoodie. There's no telling what I'll run into. Then, I walked with a fast pace to "Café Minou."

  "Captain!" Wyatt grabbed my shoulder and spun me to face him. "I...am really sorry about that."

  If he hadn't acknowledged the spark of irritation that he just caused, I'd have punched him.

  "What's gotten into you? I mean, this is weird, even for you," he continued.

  "I need to find out something. If you're going to follow me, shut up while you do it."

  Resuming my route to the café, Wyatt did indeed follow, but he still grumbled to himself about how he never gets any respect. I ignored him.

  Once at the café, I paused to examine it further. Windows missing and inside gutted, it was as my dream portrayed. It was uncanny.

  "Is this the place?" Wyatt inquired.

  "No," I uttered distantly. Next I turned my attention down the street. What was it again? Take a right then the second alley on the left? I began to jog in that direction. Wyatt trailed me in a confused and curious state.

  Second alley on the left. It was where it should have been. And there were even metal stairs along the walls. In a sense of deja vu, I was even inclined to rest against the same staircase after jogging. Once Wyatt caught up, I departed again. Traveling up the road, I arrived at the next alley much faster than in the dream because I wasn't wandering anymore. I now knew exactly where I was going. I don't recall coming this far yesterday though. The sense of familiarity with my surroundings totally left me, except for what I dreamed. I stopped suddenly at the correct alley. I knew it was the correct one because there was a red trashcan here. It was much more faded and thrown much deeper into the alley than I remember. I wouldn't trip on it this time. This time I continued without waiting for Wyatt.

  "Hey, wait up! Where are we going?"

  Across the street.

  Through the bushes.

  Across the weed sown lawn.

  Now I stood on the rubble that was once part of the wall for the concert hall. It was all here. Certain details felt off, but it was here. Wyatt joined my side and we both spaced out, staring into the darkness inside. I could feel my pulse rising. A touch of adrenaline entered my veins. How do I know this place? Was I brought by here while I was knocked out at some point?

  "Is this the place?" Wyatt asked calmly.

  I looked him in the face. The answer was yes, but a surreal fear kept me from admitting it. I just...stared at him. Then I produced a flashlight and my gun, and entered the building carefully.

  "Whoa. OK, I don't know what we're getting into, but I am SO glad I brought my Templar Units," Wyatt commented. He also conveniently brought a flashlight as well.

  Our lights flooded the long bedarkened halls. Cobwebs caught the light from almost every corner. The carpet was soft and dark, a sort of black and gold diamond pattern. Gold engravings on the wall of angels sitting on vines overlooked us as we crept through the halls. The colors weren't as vibrant as they were in my dream, the ornate paintings weren't as huge as they were in my dream, and the area wasn't as clean as it was in my dream, but...it was all here. It was just as I remembered...or, re-remembered.

  "Man, what was this place?" Wyatt gawked. "A painting like that would be worth so much in the Decapolis! I can't even tell what it is! An eagle? A pineapple? A pine-eagle?"

  "Here," I called out once I found the two leafed doors leading into the main chamber. Large, knobby brass formations coated the door, forming a side view of a woman's face on either door. I pushed the door open, producing a loud, echoing creak.

  Some birds took to flight inside the the main auditorium. They found shelter in nooks at the top of the dome. A single shaft of light poured in from the ceiling, casting a soft white glow on the neatly organized seating. There were leaves here and there, and the dust was thick wherever we went.

  "Man! The engravings must have taken forever here in this room! What is this, a theater?"

  "Concert hall probably," I replied. I wasted no time. Quickly, I progressed to the stage.

  "So...is this where we were going? Hey, wait for me!"

  I hopped onto the stage and threw the curtains aside, ready to shoot anything that wasn't supposed to be there. But backstage felt different. The cases, metal pieces, and stands had all been shoved to either side of the room to form a path. Some cases were broken, there were gouges in the floor perhaps from old machinery, and there was far more trash than there should have been. But...it was all here. More adrenaline entered my system.
This can't be real.

  But is it here? Is it possible? I made a beeline for the far right corner of the room. Almost immediately, a case caught my eye, one that was approximately the right size. It had been sealed safely, preserved perfectly, left...exactly for me. This is not possible. It's not possible! How is this memory in my head?! An unnatural panic took me. I yanked the case out from under the other clutter, cleared a spot on the ground, set it down, fell to my knees, popped open the tarnished clasps...

  And inside...was the cello and the bow.

  * * *

  "Oh my, you're back early," Fake Arty said.

  "YOU!"

  After I brought the cello back to my tent, my mind screamed for answers. I took enough sleep pills to knock myself out, because HE was the only one that would know.

  "Hey, Erin. Calm down," my figment said, suddenly defensive.

  I snatched the collar of his shirt. "I want answers!"

  "About what?"

  "You know what! How did I know that cello was there?" I shouted.

  "Erin, this is what I was trying to tell you last time. I-"

  "Don't *cuss* with me! No games, no switching subjects, just answer me!"

  He held his hands up. "OK... Just, please calm down," he whispered.

  I let go of his shirt but kept him facing me. I bored into his eyes with mine.

  Fake Arty rubbed his hands through his hair out of stress. He took a deep breath and held it in for a few seconds.

  "Erin...I...am not a figment of your imagination. I lied. My name, my real name, is Keegan Laverdiere."

  I felt my fists go lax and my arms lowered to my sides. "...What?"

  Again, he rubbed his hair in anticipation. "I am a Benevolent. I am called a 'Seeker' but I am the only one there is. Basically... I'm a mind reader."

  I felt my teeth clench.

  "I can only really read minds when people dream because they're natural mental barriers are a bit weaker then. That's why I can only reach you at night. I am also Dream walker, just as the real Arty and his wife were. When I go to sleep, I wake up in another world. I've been that way for quite a while. And using the sciences of that world, I...invented the drug that gave Lenburg all their powers. I thought I was helping, but the people I let use my medicine, they went crazy. They took the city by force, and forced me to work for them. So I sit up in a tall apartment, scanning through people's minds and finding whoever they need me to. But when I found you...you were different."