Tempus Regit

by Edmund Hughes

  The rail car slowed to a stop outside of one of the towers. Archer followed Ada outside and stared up at the building they were in front of. Looking upward gave him a strange sense of vertigo, his mind imagining what it would be like to stand atop one of the towers, or fall from one of them.

  “He’s expecting us,” said Ada. It took Archer a second to realize that she wasn’t talking to him, but to the Watchers standing guard at the door.

  He followed her inside and across a spotless, brightly lit lobby. Archer’s ragged shoes left tiny dirt marks on the tile with each step. He had a momentary bout of shameful self-awareness at just how filthy he was.

  Ada led him to a hallway lined with odd doors on either side. She pressed a button next to one of them. It glowed bright orange, and the doors snapped open, revealing what looked like an empty closet on the other side. She stepped into it and nodded to him.

  “Come on,” she said.

  “Uh…”

  Ada frowned at him, her eyes severe and judgmental. Archer stepped into the closet, shaking his head a little, wondering if it was some kind of test or game.

  She pressed another button on the inside of the door, which closed immediately after. Nothing happened for a moment, and then Archer felt his stomach lurch as the closet shifted underneath his feet.

  “What… the hell?” he muttered, setting his back against the wall.

  “I suppose this isn’t something a smog would know much about,” said Ada. “How did you think people made it up and down the towers? Think about how exhausting it would be to walk up that many flights of stairs.”

  Archer tried closing his eyes, but it only made it worse.

  I would take the stairs over this in a heartbeat.

  It went on for a while, longer than Archer felt like he could handle. Finally, the doors slid open again, and Ada was leading him down another hallway, and into a room at the end of it.

  The space was large and dimly lit, with a curtain splitting it in half down the center. Soft piano music came from behind it. Archer didn’t recognize the song. Three guards sat in chairs along the wall, next to the curtain, looking bored and tired. One of them stood up as Ada approached, and though he didn’t salute, he clearly recognized her.

  “The Overseer is expecting me,” she said.

  The man beckoned to a second guard and whispered something into his ear. The man carried the message beyond the curtain, returning after a minute and nodding to Ada. She looked at Archer, smiling slightly, and then led him forward.

  CHAPTER 5

  The Overseer was not what Archer had been expecting. He’d never seen the man before, either in person, or on any of the news programs that he’d glimpsed occasionally on the public TVs in the coal district.

  He was perhaps in his mid-fifties. His hair was grey to the last strand, but he wasn’t balding, and he had a distinguished, neatly trimmed beard. He wore a black turtleneck and black pants with black boots. The outfit lent weight to his already commanding physical appearance.

  “Overseer Tensmoth,” said Ada. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

  “You are,” said the Overseer. “I quite enjoy playing my piano in peace. It’s very hard to get into the right state of mind to do any… serious composing.”

  He slid to the side of the piano bench and slowly rose to his feet. There was something about him that reminded Archer of his father, a certain kind of confidence born from age and experience. Overseer Tensmoth stood with his shoulders relaxed, one hand clasped over the other at his waist. His eyes scanned over Archer as he walked forward, his expression unreadable.

  “The younger one, then?” asked the Overseer.

  Ada nodded.

  “It’s worth a shot,” said Ada. “Refitting one of the armor skins to a new biological profile would cost over a hundred million. And it would take at least a year.”

  “We still have an eighth in development,” said the Overseer.

  “We’ve had the eighth skin in development for half a decade,” said Ada. “It’s not going to plan, and you know it.”

  Overseer Tensmoth let out a slow sigh and crossed his arms.

  “This is all a distraction from what matters,” he said. “You recovered Trevor’s armor skin intact. But you didn’t find his body.”

  Archer tensed slightly at his brother’s name. It still felt surreal to him, and more than a little anticlimactic.

  After everything Trevor and I went through… He’s just gone now?

  “If you’re trying to make a point, I don’t see what it is,” said Ada.

  There was an intensity between her and Overseer Tensmoth that made Archer feel a little uncomfortable. Their conversation was straightforward enough, but there was an undercurrent of something else below it. Archer felt vaguely voyeuristic, like a fly on the wall, or an eavesdropper.

  “He might not be dead, Ada,” said Overseer Tensmoth.

  “His odds out in the wasteland on his own, with no weapons, and no food… They’re not very good.” Ada frowned and looked over at Archer, as though she couldn’t decide whether to be polite or honest.

  “You know how much Trevor means to Tempus,” said Overseer Tensmoth. “He’s more than just a warrior. He’s a figurehead, a symbol of hope. A young, charismatic, handsome man who represents everything we consider to be good about ourselves.”

  “And he’s gone, Elijah,” said Ada, in a quiet voice. “He’s not coming back.”

  “We don’t know that for certain,” said the Overseer. “But what we do know is how it will be viewed if his brother steps forward as a replacement.”

  Archer furrowed his brow a little more deeply. He’d been in the public eye before. Trevor’s entire life history had been scrutinized in the beginning, and then glorified as he gained influence and media attention. Archer had been cast in the role of the antagonist in the initial narrative pushed by the media and biographers.

  I was Trevor’s evil, jealous brother.

  It had turned into somewhat of a metaphor relating to the differences between the social castes in Tempus later on. Archer was a representation of how the rich elite viewed all of the smogs, who were supposedly jealous, spiteful, and angry over the cards they’d been dealt in life. It wasn’t true, or at least, it was an oversimplification that did a disservice to everyone, but it didn’t matter.

  The only saving grace was the fact that his identity had become as much of a shield for him as a target for upper class abuse. Some of the people of the coal district had felt a certain solidarity for him, at least some of the ones who’d recognized who he was. Archer had been given food, clothing for himself and his mother occasionally, but usually it was just words of encouragement, or familiar pats on the back. They accepted him as one of their own.

  “He’s different from Trevor, but once he puts on the skin, nobody is going to care,” said Ada. “Once he’s risking his life for the city, they’ll see him in a new light.”

  “If he can even wear the armor skin,” said Overseer Tensmoth.

  “No reason not to try him out,” said Ada.

  “You want to try him out, don’t you?” asked the Overseer. “You’re excited about this. About having a chance to shape and play your own pawn.”

  Ada didn’t say anything, and seemed to only resist looking over at Archer through force of will. The Overseer let the silence hang until the tension in the air was thick enough to induce mental suffocation. Finally, he turned back to look at Archer.

  “Your name is Archer, right?”

  Archer met the man’s eye, resisting the urge to glance over at Ada before answering.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you willing to fight and die for this city, Archer?”

  He didn’t answer.

  Be honest, or stay silent. That’s what Ada said.

  The Overseer started laughing. He waved a hand toward Ada.

  “Give me a moment alone with him,” he said to her. “Guards, leave the room with her and make sure that she d
oesn’t eavesdrop.”

  “Elijah, that really isn’t-”

  “You’ve already started this game, Ada,” said the Overseer. “Don’t tell me you’re in over your head, already?”

  Ada glared at him, her eyes filled with cold, undisguised fury. She looked over at Archer, her expression softening into anxious concern. Archer nodded back to her, summoning what confidence he had. She left the room, the guards following behind her and tightly shutting the door.

  The Overseer stared at Archer for a couple of seconds without saying anything. Finally, he walked over to a cabinet on the side wall and began rummaging around in it.

  “Do you drink, Archer?” he asked.

  It was a question that almost didn’t need an answer, though Archer knew better than to voice that fact aloud. Alcohol was expensive in the outer city. He’d tried a few shots of cheap vodka with Sabrina after she managed to smuggle a small bottle of it out of the brothel, but never could have afforded it on his own.

  “No,” he said. “But not because I don’t enjoy it.”

  Overseer Tensmoth flashed a curious smile at him. Archer realized that there was probably a formal way in which he should have been addressing the man, but couldn’t guess at what would have been appropriate.

  I should just keep my mouth shut, and let him do the talking.

  “Here.” The Overseer poured a cup of orange colored spirits for each of them and handed one to Archer. “Enjoy. It’s some of the most expensive bourbon in all of Tempus.”

  Archer sipped at it. He actually enjoyed the taste, but it had been almost a day since he’d last eaten, and the liquid was hot and painful in his stomach.

  “You look exactly like your brother,” said Overseer Tensmoth. “A little younger, and a lot rougher, but the resemblance is absolutely uncanny. You know that we still haven’t officially announced his death yet?”

  Archer bit back his initial response, waiting for the other man to continue instead.

  “If you wanted an easier path forward,” said the Overseer, “we could find a way to pass you off as Trevor. Perhaps if we shaved your head… added some scars to your face. Say that you were injured in combat and suffered memory loss.”

  “Are you… being serious?” asked Archer. He wished he’d kept the question to himself immediately after it left his mouth. Overseer Tensmoth looked incredibly amused by his reaction.

  “The world is a much rougher place than it would seem on the surface, and that’s saying a lot,” said the Overseer. “Even your conception of it, coming from where you come from, is a shallow, feel good mixture of hopes and lies.”

  Archer nodded slowly, trying to seem as though he understood where the conversation was headed.

  “I suppose it’s too much to ask for you to be as devious as Trevor was,” said the Overseer. “So be it. The media channels will tear you to shreds, of course, but I guess it can’t be helped.”

  “I haven’t done anything wrong,” said Archer.

  The Overseer sighed and sipped at his bourbon.

  “In all honesty, I never believed what Trevor said about your supposed attempt on his life,” he said. “I was a younger brother myself, once upon a time. You probably worshipped him, to a point.”

  Archer felt as though he’d been poked in a souring, open wound. He stared down at the cup in his hand, wishing that he could skip to the end of the conversation.

  “I considered your brother to be a close friend and ally,” said the Overseer. “I’d like to be able to have a similar friendship with you.”

  “Alright,” said Archer.

  “It’s not as simple as just agreeing to hear me out,” said the Overseer. “You might have to do things, go against what your heart, or gut, is telling you to do. How much as Ada asked of you, already?”

  “I… just met her.”

  Archer chewed on the edge of his lip, knowing that he was being drawn out. He needed to stop talking, and even more, stop listening.

  “If I hadn’t agreed to go along with her gambit, with you attempting to take your brother’s place, what do you think would have happened?”

  Archer didn’t say anything.

  “She would have killed you,” said the Overseer. “And made your body… look like Trevor. Otherwise, she’d know that I’d continue the search and keep him alive in the hearts and minds of the people. It’s just how the game works, Archer.”

  He’s lying. He has to be.

  The Overseer was smiling, clearly pleased by the way he’d gotten under his skin. He finished his bourbon and cleared his throat.

  “It’s still too early for us to really talk,” he said. “All that I ask is that you keep your options open and do what you’ve already learned to do naturally. Trust no one.”

  He nodded to Archer and then reached into his pocket, pulling out a small remote and pressing a button on it. The guards and Ada came back into the room, all of them unaware of the conversation that had just taken place.

  “He’ll make a good Metal Knight, if the skin will have him,” said Overseer Tensmoth. “Take care of him Ada, will you?”

  “Of course.” Ada nodded to the Overseer and then smiled at Archer.

  CHAPTER 6

  “We’ll get started first thing tomorrow,” said Ada. “You’ll need to make your decision between now and then. The process will involve installing a very basic neural node against the surface of your skull.”

  The two of them were outside the tower, walking through the inner city. Archer expected Ada to lead him back into the rail car, but instead, she carried on past it.

  “Where are we going?” he asked. He was frustrated, and the emotion was slipping into his tone. The last few hours had been a mess, and despite the opportunity presented to him, Archer felt as though he’d had more freedom as a smog.

  “To the Prime Complex,” said Ada. “You’ve heard of it before, haven’t you?”

  Archer slowly nodded his head. It was the building in which most of the Metal Knights lived in their off time, along with a number of other, notable, rich residents.

  “You’re not heading back to your smog shack, in case that’s what you were thinking,” said Ada. “You’ll live in the citizen’s district for tonight, and from now on, if you go through with this.”

  Archer stared at her.

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that,” said Ada. “Why? Do you want it to be harder?”

  “I just want it to make sense,” said Archer.

  Trevor disappears and I get to take his place. It’s everything I’d thought I ever wanted…

  Ada led him down the side of the street, past several groups of people dressed in fine leather and vinyl clothing. He earned a few odd looks, as he was still dirty and in rags, but it didn’t matter.

  They cut through a small park, complete with real trees, real grass, and a small pond at the center. Archer had only ever seen parks on the TV and read about them in books. A few people in the coal district had large enough yards to do basic subsistence farming, but outside of those and the underground ecofarms, he had nothing to hold up for comparison.

  “We’re allowed to just… walk through this?” he asked.

  Ada let out an amused laugh.

  “It’s a public park,” said Ada. “The Overseer pays for a caretaker who makes sure that everything stays nice and pristine.”

  “This place…” He still couldn’t believe it. “I don’t even feel like I’m supposed to be here.”

  “It’s time for you to start looking at the world differently,” she said. “If you accept this opportunity, you’ll have the influence and monetary allowance of a high citizen, Archer. You’ll be able to do just about anything you want.”

  Archer blinked, thinking of something that should have been on his mind from the beginning.

  “My mother,” he said. “She’s… sick.”

  Ada nodded.

  “I know,” she said. “I’ve already gotten in touch with her hospital, if you can e
ven call it that. As soon as we know whether you can use your brother’s armor skin or not, I’ll pay to have her transferred into the inner city.”

  Archer felt a pang of mixed emotion in his heart, concern and anxiety and hope. They had advanced medical treatments in the citizen’s district, including drugs to treat memory conditions. Maybe it wasn’t too late for his mother’s mind to be saved. She might regain some of what she lost. She might remember who he was.

  Ada’s already figured out how to get her hooks into me. She’ll use my mother however she can to make me do whatever she wants.

  Archer stayed silent, knowing that it would be foolish to voice his paranoia out loud. Ada led him out of the park and stopped at an intersection, waiting for a rail car to pass by before leading him across the street and into a large squat building ten stories high and wider than it was tall.

  The building’s lobby was empty, a modest space with a smooth tile floor and little lockboxes lining one of the walls. There was an elevator, but Ada glanced over at Archer and interpreted the expression on his face before he even needed to object. They took the stairs.

  Exiting out onto the seventh floor, Ada led Archer a short distance down the hallway before stopping in front of a door with the number 789 on the front of it. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a strange, square key, and pressed it into his hand.

  “It’s a keycard,” she said. “Keep it on you at all times. Or better yet, find a wallet to put it in, if you don’t have one.”

  Archer did not, in fact, have a wallet. He nodded.

  “The apartment is already furnished,” she said. She smiled as though she’d made a bit of a joke.

  It took Archer a couple of seconds to figure out what she meant.

  “This was… Trevor’s apartment.” He stated it, rather than asking. Ada nodded.

  “Here.” She took the keycard back from him. “Let me give you a quick tour, just so there are no surprises.”