I wait until she reaches me. “Hey, I need to stop in the med bay to—” I’m cut off when she throws her arms around my neck and squeezes tight. “Woah! Are you all right?” I say into her hair.
She pulls back just as quick. “I heard about Tristan bringing that woman to you.” She’s pissed.
I grimace. “Kamali, I’m sorry, I just couldn’t do anything for her.”
“Of course not!” She gives me a look like that’s obvious. “I can’t believe Tristan put you in that position. I’m ready to kill him! But I wanted to make sure you were all right first.”
I should probably feel guilty that she’s pissed at Tristan, not me, but I don’t. Not in the slightest. “Hey, take it easy on Tristan,” I say, hoping she won’t. “I think he was trying to nip that whole thing in the bud.”
Her look only gets darker. “He was testing you. Baiting you. I’m sure of it.” She crosses her arms fiercely in front of her chest, and the idea of leaving her seems as impossible as launching myself off the planet’s surface. I simply don’t have the power to wrench myself away, not when she’s looking at me like this—like she’s ready to do battle on my behalf.
“He probably was setting me up, but it’s all right,” I say, gently taking hold of her shoulders. I don’t like seeing her wrapped in rage, even if it’s directed at Tristan. “Besides, he’s right—I’ll have to face the fallout sooner or later. I was just hoping for later.”
She frowns. “We need to talk about that fallout. And I’m worried about your vision, too.” She glances around. The camp has settled into the usual routine of patrols, exercise, and a few people playing off-duty ballgames. She swings back. “You don’t have to answer to anyone for saving me. And you shouldn’t let anyone pressure you into… into something you’re not ready for.”
I frown because she’s right—I’m not ready—but it’s embarrassing when she says it out loud like that. I want to object, but she’s darting looks around again.
There’s no one to overhear us, but she still drops her voice. “Maybe we can find a quiet spot in the back of my barracks to talk.”
I’d like nothing better than alone-time with Kamali, but I really can’t put off fixing Lenora any longer. “I’d like to, but I told my mom I’d stop by and try to help Lenora.” I bite my lip, waiting for her reaction. My complicated relationship with Lenora has been a sore spot for us from the beginning.
“Oh… right.” Kamali steps back, then a realization steals across her face. “You’re going into the fugue with her, aren’t you? To fix her?”
My grimace takes hold of my entire body. “Yeah. That’s probably the only way to reach her.” I don’t like that she’s made that connection immediately—she and I shared the fugue just last night, and now I’m doing it with Lenora? The crumpled look on Kamali’s face is twisting my stomach up hard. I want to say it’s not even a sure thing I can fix what’s wrong and that it’s probably dangerous, but none of that would help.
As I’m struggling for words, Kamali says, “Well, then… I will… talk to you later.” She turns away and practically runs back in the direction she came.
“Kamali, wait—” But she doesn’t stop, and I don’t go after her.
What would I say, anyway? It’s not that way with Lenora and me… anymore. That’s not going to help. It’s only made worse by the fact that Lenora’s an ascender. Kamali’s parents abandoned her, all because of a liaison with her mother’s ascender patron. She has legit reasons to be disgusted by the idea of humans and ascenders together. Even so, I don’t know how Kamali could think I would want anyone else, given the way I am around her. I’ll just have to show her how I feel after I fix Lenora. If that’s even possible.
I suck in a breath and step up to the door of the med pod.
It slides open to reveal my mother sitting at Lenora’s bedside. My ex-patron is radiantly beautiful, as always, especially now that she’s back in a custom bodyform, a cybernetic body tailored to her unique personality. She’s unmoving—motionless the way only an ascender can be.
My mother stands as soon as she sees me. For a change, her beauty shines with a vitality that rivals the artificial perfection of the ascender’s best efforts. She was sick for so long, it’s still a shock every time I see her this way. Her long blond hair is full and lustrous again. The pale skin of her cheeks is flushed with pinkish good health instead of fever. Even the dark circles under her eyes have all but disappeared. The ascenders’ gen tech finally did its job.
“Elijah, come here,” my mom says, gesturing me over. She still uses my full name, just like Lenora used to.
“Any change?” I ask, but I can tell the answer just by looking.
“I thought I saw her dreaming or something.”
“Do ascenders dream?” I ask with a small smirk. “I didn’t think they hardly even slept.”
“Oh, they definitely sleep,” my mom says in a knowing way. Which only reminds me that Augustus was the ascender who seduced my mom and convinced her to carry his genetic experiment—me.
“You know, there are some things I’d really rather not know.” I wrinkle up my nose in disgust, only partially in jest.
She laughs—it’s clear and high-spirited, like before the disease ravaged her.
I can’t help grinning. It still seems a miracle—the normal, tech-induced kind the ascenders specialize in, not the kind my mother and Lenora both think I’m here to bring about.
“It’s time we brought Lenora out of her dreams,” I say.
My mother nods, and I lean over Lenora’s body to get a closer look. Not that I need to—if this works, it will happen in the fugue state. I just need a moment to get straight what I’m doing.
My mother’s soft hand lands on my arm. “She’d want to be here for this part of your work, Elijah.”
“My work?” It’s not like I go around healing ascenders of their mental problems every day.
“Yes, your work. You’re only getting started, you know.” Her eyes take on that shine—the kind she has when talking about her ancient religion or why she and Lenora created me. They’re both believers, and now that I’ve brought Kamali back, my mother expects more from me—probably more than anyone else in the camp. One reason I’ve delayed fixing Lenora was precisely to avoid my mother, who’s been keeping vigil over her bodyform.
I fix my gaze on Lenora’s expressionless face, but my words are for my mom. “If I’m able to repair the damage to her mind, the two of you are going to gang up on me, aren’t you?”
“We only want you to fulfill your potential.”
“My potential seems only to cause problems.” I clamp my teeth together. The last thing I want right now is a fight with my mother.
A voice from the doorway speaks. “That’s certainly true.”
My mom throws a scowl over her shoulder. Marcus is standing on the threshold. He’s Lenora’s ex-lover, an ascender who has both tried to kill me and saved my life—I still can’t decide whether he simply annoys me, or if I outright hate him. But he saved Lenora’s cognition, so I’ve been leaning toward tolerance lately.
Plus, I can’t seem to get rid of him.
Marcus strides in, his new bodyform a little too overtly masculine, with a bulked-up, muscular-appearing form that’s faintly ridiculous given the inherent strength of the ascenders. This is the first time I’ve seen him in his new custom job, and I’m all set to mock him for it when a small hitch in his step makes me frown.
“How’s the new bodyform working out for you?” I had assumed the twitches after the rescue were an artifact of his rental body, but now…
“Well enough,” he says tightly.
I grimace as his fingers give a small flick that doesn’t seem intentional. Rescuing Lenora’s cognition was difficult for both of them—she was left scattered, and he seemed affected as well. They both resurrected into rentals from his hastily-made backup. It took time to get custom bodyforms made outside of normal ascender society, and Marcus and Lenora are both reb
els now—apparently, damaged rebels.
“I thought the custom bodyforms would work better,” I say carefully to him.
“Cognitions aren’t simply an outgrowth of the substrate, Eli.” His voice is rough. I think I’m annoying him. “You should know that by now.”
I gesture to Lenora’s inert form. “How about for her?”
“Obviously not,” he says, the annoyance unmistakable now. “Isn’t that why you’re here? I’ve heard you finally decided to put some of those very interesting abilities of yours to good use, rather than hide in your tent all day.”
“You heard that, did you?” I ask with an arch in my voice. “That’s funny because I haven’t told anyone except my mother.” I peer at her.
She shakes her head and glares at him.
I give Marcus a lift of an eyebrow. “Spying, are we?”
He looks affronted. “Trust me, figuring out what you humans are going to do next isn’t that difficult. Besides, if you delayed any longer, I would have come looking for you. The natives are getting restless.”
I sigh. The speculation about What will Eli do next? seems to circle me tighter and tighter wherever I turn. My mother’s expectations are probably the most extreme, followed closely by Marcus. And Lenora, when she resurrects, will be the most fervent among them. I shake my head and try to focus.
I turn to my mother. “I’ll message you when we’re done, all right? I don’t think it will take long.” I have no idea if this will even work, but I’ll know that soon enough.
“All right, Elijah.” She gives Marcus an extra scowl. “But if this one causes you any problems, I have a few ascender friends who could be of assistance.”
That sends both my eyebrows hiking up. Given Marcus could crush us both with his ascender strength, I’m a little surprised to hear the not-so-subtle threat. Then again, my mother has always been very protective of me, even when I didn’t realize it.
Marcus gives her a mystified look like she’s an ant who decided to speak.
She turns on her heel and marches from the med pod.
I smile at Marcus. “I wouldn’t recommend messing with my mother.”
“The thought never occurred to me.” He waves that away like some kind of inexplicable human oddity. “Perhaps we could get to work, now?”
“We?” I give him a skeptical look. “I thought you’d done all you could.”
“I have,” he says impatiently. “However, I’d like to make sure you don’t screw this up.”
I narrow my eyes. This isn’t the first time since he’s resurrected that Marcus has cared more than necessary about Lenora. They were seconds at one time, but I thought that fell victim to both their ambitions—hers to bring out my abilities, and his to control them. Right until Marcus saved her, they were still mortal enemies, as far as I could tell.
Now I wasn’t so sure.
“You’re worried about her,” I challenge him.
He looks away. Seeing Marcus uncomfortable is plain odd. “Let’s just say I understand what she’s facing. The dissociation of one’s mind is a primal fear for ascenders. We don’t fear dying, Eli. With backups, that’s seldom a possibility. We fear losing the thing that makes us what we are.”
“Your mind,” I say softly. “That I understand.” All too well.
He peers at me. “You’ve never explained precisely how you were able to destroy Augustus’s attempt at creating a bridge to the afterlife.”
“Really? Must have slipped my mind.”
He gives me a dark look. “At least tell me you’ve been watching for Augustus to resurrect.”
“Augustus and his creepy assistant Hypatia, too.” I frown. “I’ve thought there was something odd about her all along. Maybe Augustus wasn’t just tampering with his own cognition.”
Marcus nodded. “He would only attempt something with his own mind if he had a relatively high confidence in the process. There had to be prior experiments.”
“Including experimentation on other ascenders? Hypatia seemed on board with his crazy plans, though. I don’t think she was a victim in this.”
“She’s dangerous as well.” Marcus scowls at me. “I’m not hanging around the Resistance for my own entertainment. I’m assuming you’ll let me know the moment you sense either one of them resurrecting.”
“I promise, you’ll be the first to know. Right after I tell everyone else.”
His glare intensifies to loathing. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re too valuable to lose.”
Okay, that sends a shiver down my spine. “What are you talking about?” I don’t like the glint in his cybernetic eyes. Or the flush of color across his skin—a light, sparkly sheen that seems to say he enjoys making me uncomfortable.
“It’s possible that I’ve been studying your fugue sessions, as they were recorded in my labs.” He holds my gaze, no doubt enjoying the rise in heat in my face. “I think I might be able to induce a similar mental process in a different host. One that might have genetic similarities, or possibly identical genetic makeup, to yourself.”
He’s lying. I tell myself this to counter the chill running through me. “The other experiments, the ones like me… you told me they all died.”
“Fortunately, I have living tissue to work with.”
I narrow my eyes. “What the hell, Marcus? Are you cloning me?”
“You’re in no position to stop me.” He smirks. I swear he’s baiting me. “Let’s simply call it insurance.”
Insurance. In case I get blown up in the fiery fate that my vision foretells. Marcus doesn’t want to be aced out of his access to the fugue state just because I might be dead.
“It’s strangely reassuring that you’re still the same jerk you were before you knew I could bring people back from the dead.” I glare at him, but I’m tired of our verbal sparring. And besides, I came here to do a job. Then I need to get back to Kamali and consider what fate I have ahead of me.
Marcus tips his head, acknowledging my insult, and it almost makes me laugh.
I turn back to Lenora. “How are we doing this, then? She’s not responsive outwardly. How much can you communicate with her via transmission?”
“There’s an occasional coherence, but it almost seems accidental.” His voice is tight. “I’m certain all the pieces of her cognition are there—I felt them as I carried them and as they transferred, one by one—but I’m not at all sure how you’ll manage the cohesion necessary to restore her, Eli.”
The softness in his voice makes me look up. “I’ll do what I can. I promise.”
He says nothing, just nods.
I take a seat on the floor, cross-legged, resting my hands upturned on my knees—it’s my meditation pose, and it’s no longer necessary for me to enter the fugue state, but it’s a convenient way to leave this reality without falling over and smacking my head on the ascender-tech flooring of the med pod.
“Let me know if you sense her cognition is restored,” I say.
Then I close my eyes and shift into the fugue.
My first sensation is that my vision is blurred.
I focus harder on Lenora’s fugue-state form, but it’s not something wrong with my eyes—whatever that means in this plane of reality. Her delicate face and limbs are genuinely buzzing in such a high state of flux I can’t clearly see her. I rise up from the floor, leaving my physical body behind to approach this vibrating, chaotic essence that lies prone on the ascender-tech bed.
Unlike her physical form, her fugue-state form is human-looking—long blond hair, amazing curves, mile-long legs. I don’t know if she was this stunning when she was human—before she took the nanites into her brain and ascended—or if this is some melding of her human and ascender selves. That’s the question that burns through much of the Resistance, in human and ascender minds alike—do the ascenders have souls? They have fugue-state forms, but what are those, exactly? Kamali’s dancing fugue-state form lived on past death, affirming everything every believer wants to believe abo
ut life after death—including Kamali herself. Which is why I should tell her, even if she’ll hate me for bringing her back. But ascenders are a whole different story. Lenora’s fugue-state is almost too perfect to be human—did it change when she ascended? Can souls change over time? What does that even mean? I don’t know—and I’ve yet to see an ascender in the fugue state that has actually died.
Although Lenora looks tormented enough, she may wish she had.
It spikes pain through me to watch.
I reach a hand toward her, cautious. This flipping between states reminds me of the ascenders’ personal key—the complicated, multi-quantum-state shape that’s really an amorphous cloud of information which only settles into a key under certain conditions. Conditions also hidden within the matrix of its own data. I’ve handled enough ascender keys now—Augustus’s, Hypatia’s, even the keys that kept Leopold and Marcus trapped inside their own minds—that I have a deeper understanding of how they work. I probably could tamper with one, nudging it just enough of a shift to change its form… and that might help me here. But most of all, Lenora’s indeterminate state reminds me of the key itself—she’s flipping through a dozen possibilities at once, when what she really needs is to be locked down into a single pattern of cognition.
What did Marcus call it? Coherence.
I plunge my hand into Lenora’s scattered state…
…and I’m wrenched immediately from the med bay and flung into a fuzzy gray box.
There are a dozen Lenoras here.
It takes me a moment to adjust.
The room is like the one I found Thompson trapped in—the human painter who was my main competition in the Olympics and murdered for it. He was lost and angry, which is how Lenora must feel. Or maybe all the Lenoras. There is literally a dozen, sitting and standing and staring at the walls of her gray box, which must be some representation she has conjured for the trap of her mind. One Lenora is curled up in the corner, crying. Another pounds on the wall with her fist and shouts static-filled words at it from two inches away. One mutters as she paces the length of the room. I’m not even sure she’s using words—in the fugue, speaking in pictures is as sensical as anything else. Regardless, the picture-sounds are going by so fast, they’re unintelligible.
The Illusory Prophet Page 4
