The remote’s link snapped away as it fell to the ground. Julian looked up with his own eyes into a face cruel and hard. “Julian Oldham,” said the man, rubbing at a stain of dried blood on his lips. “I think it is time for you and I to become … better acquainted.”
“I—” said Julian, the sleep sickness making his face numb. The lattice under his skin tried to fire, but his arms only twitched. Overtime wouldn’t kick in, and he —
The pain started then, pain beyond anything he’d felt before. Through the pain, he could hear the man’s voice in his mind.
“Don’t cry,” said the man. “This is the start of something beautiful. This is the start of the rest of your life.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“How’s the fit?” said Mike. He was looking at Zacharies, something in his eyes, measuring, calculating.
Zacharies touched the front of the suit they’d given him. It was form-fitting, stitched with a sigil of crossed sabers. “It feels… tight, master.”
Mike laughed. “I’m not your master, kid.” He stopped laughing, but a smile stayed in his eyes. “Hell. I’m not sure anyone’s big enough for that job.”
Zacharies touched the front of the suit again. “It feels very fine. I’m sorry if I caused—”
Mike held up a hand. “Zach? I get it. Shit’s gone weird, yeah?”
“A little,” said Zacharies, nodding. “I don’t understand how this Heaven of yours works.”
“No one does, kid. That’s the thing.” Mike gestured at the room around them. “Take this place, for example.”
“What of it?” Zacharies didn’t know what he was looking at, machines scattered about the vaulted space that stretched high and wide. Black and crystalline, the walls didn’t quite reflect light, catching the edges of his vision. “I don’t know what any of this is.”
Mike frowned. “No, I guess you don’t. Ok, let’s break it down. You remember the R&D freaks?”
“The men who wanted to… I think you said, ‘peel me like a grape.’”
“Yeah, those guys.” Mike pulled out a packet of cigarettes, offering one to Zacharies. Zacharies held a hand up. Mike shrugged. “Suit yourself. So anyway, those assholes put a call in.”
“A call?”
“Right. So these guys around you, they’re going to try and peel you like a grape instead. Different way, though. Outcome’s the same.” Mike pointed at one of the machines. “That guy? I was on a mission with him three, maybe four years ago. Real psycho. No offense.”
“Go fuck yourself,” said the machine, rising with a hiss and a whine. Huge metal legs stamped forward, the clank of metal against the floor a hard scrape of noise.
Zacharies stepped back, stumbling into another machine behind him. It swung into motion as well, standing tall above Zacharies. “Watch where you’re going,” it said.
“I…” said Zacharies. He looked at Mike. “What are these things?”
Mike was looking at the first machine, which had — somehow — spoken. “Machines, mostly. Whatever else is pure asshole.”
“Hey,” said the first machine. “Watch what you’re saying. You want to get pulled apart today?”
“Yeah,” said the second machine. “Place like this? Accidents happen. No cameras. Specialist Services guy like you, could just go missing, you know?”
Zacharies turned his head between the two machines. The second one spoke differently, some kind of softer way of rolling his words. “They… They are people?”
The first machine leaned backward, shaking, a loud laugh coming from it. “The kid catches on fast.”
“Yeah,” said the second. “A little too fast. What if we…” It moved forward, large metal legs clanking across the floor. Two quick strides brought it to Zacharies, a metal fist raised in the air.
Somehow Mike was there. Zacharies hadn’t seen him move, but the man stepped in front of him, hands up. “Guys, don’t. This isn’t part of the test.”
The first machine moved around Mike, something inside it groaning low, a bass rumble rising slowly in pitch. “Or what? You look a little out of your depth.”
“Or,” said Mike, “I will pull you the fuck apart. Maybe not today. But you got to go in for a service sometime. Chassis opens? I’ll be there with a pair of bolt cutters.”
No one spoke, the only noise in the room the mechanisms inside the two — Men? Machines? What are they? — machines. Zacharies was breathing heavy, his pulse pounding inside him. He threw a quick glance at Mike, but the man wasn’t watching him. Zacharies could see the stress lining the man’s face, the trickle of sweat starting at his brow.
He realized that this was the first time he could remember another standing in front of him, taking the whips of the slave master. Another other than his sister. The thought caught him off guard, and he —
“Naw,” said the second machine. “Not if I pull you apart here.” A heavy fist swung through the air, a whine accompanying it, and Mike danced back, leather soled shoes whispering against the floor.
The first machine snatched him up, raising Mike up in the air. The man thrashed, an arm trapped next to his body inside the metal fist. The machine brought the other arm up.
“No!” said Zacharies, and his gift lashed forward, touching — metal, new forged, the strength of a thousand men. There, at the core, the shell of a man, hidden deep in a cage of Heaven’s forging.
The first machine’s raised arm whined, holding in the air, and the thing’s head turned to look at it. “What—”
The arm sheared off, spinning across the room in a spray of sparks and fragments of metal. The machine stumbled back, Mike dropping to the ground.
Zacharies turned to the second machine, the movement in the corner of his vision warning him a moment of time before something ratcheted out from behind it, a weapon of some kind coming up over its shoulder. He pushed out with his gift, feeling — tiny fragments, each strong and deadly. Too many to hold at once, a belt of interwoven links. Tubes of steel, impossible heat, a weapon of the Gods. Zacharies raised a hand.
“No. This weapon? It is for the angels. It is not for you.” He chopped his hand down, and the weapon sheared away from the machine’s back, rivets popping, fragments of sound as they bounced against the hard surface of the floor. The machine hissed, swiveling around it’s middle, then took a step forward.
Zacharies swung his hand sideways, palm open, and the machine flew through the air to crash against the wall, the sound mighty and terrible. Then, silence. He turned to Mike, and held out his hand. “Master?”
Mike took his hand, wincing as he stood. “I’m not your master, kid.”
Zacharies frowned, looking at the fallen machines. “A master cares for his slaves.”
“I didn’t do much of that,” said Mike. “I’m pretty sure you cared for me.”
“I’m no master,” said Zacharies. He held up his hands. “I… It’s never felt this strong before.”
“No shit.” Mike winced again, pulling out his packet of cigarettes. The box was crushed, and he pulled a crumpled cigarette from it, lighting it with a hand that still shook. “What do you call people back home who look out for you?”
Laia. “We call them family.” The first machine was struggling to its feet, and Zacharies stepped around Mike, lifting his hand into a fist. The machine rose into the air, legs and remaining arm flailing.
Mike put a hand on his shoulder. “Zach? Put him down.”
“But he—”
“He’s an asshole,” said Mike. “You got to think, though. You want to be an asshole too?”
“Yeah,” said the machine. A nervous laugh broke from it. “Listen to the man, kid. You don’t want to end up all messed up like me. Put me down. All a big misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding,” said Zacharies. “You were going to hurt my…” He gestured at Mike, the words not coming.
“Friend,” said Mike. “You can just call me a friend, kid. Here? We’ve got families too, but friends are bet
ter. They’re the family you choose.”
Friend. The word felt strange, the link shifting it around in his head. Zacharies let his hand fall, and the machine crashed to the ground. It started to clamber upright, sparks still spitting from the side of its shoulder. “Friend?”
“Yeah, kid.” Mike held out a hand. “Friend.”
Zacharies reached out, his hand tentative. They shook “I don’t think—”
“C’mon,” said Mike. “Let me buy you lunch.”
“You can eat after this?” Zacharies felt the sweet sickness in his belly, his blood still rushing in his head.
“Yeah. Gotta eat, you know? Keep up your strength.” Mike started to walk towards the door, walking wide around the first machine.
“Mike,” said Zacharies.
Mike paused, turning back. “Yeah, kid?”
They’re the family you choose. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a friend before.” He looked down at the suit he wore, the crossed hammers etched against his chest. “I think I’d like one. I’d like that very much right now.”
“Sure, kid,” said Mike, as he turned and walked back towards the door. “You can buy me lunch tomorrow.”
⚔ ⚛ ⚔
“Heaven is very complicated,” said Zacharies, his plate empty in front of him. He’d eaten two lunches today, separate courses of something Mike had called scrambled eggs and bacon. The bacon had been salty, crunchy against his teeth, and he’d never tasted anything quite so good.
Mike had said that everything was better with bacon, leaning backwards in a chair. They were in the same — cafeteria — room that Zacharies had eaten the bagels in. He’d wanted to come back here, the memory of the food making his mouth water.
“A little complicated, sure,” said Mike, tapping ash from his cigarette. They’d paused on the way here beside a machine of metal and lights that spat out another box of cigarettes.
“You have no slaves, and no masters.” Zacharies pushed his fork around the side of his plate, his hands moving without him thinking about it. “Yet, you have masters, and slaves.”
Mike tipped his hand back and forth in the air, the cigarette trailing smoke. “Sort of,” he said. “You… Maybe the best way to describe it is to say you get to choose your master.”
“What if you don’t want a master?” The flash of anger was hot and quick, his voice too loud. “I’m sorry, Mike. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s ok, kid.” Mike pulled on his cigarette. “Not many people run solo these days. A few on the edges. Illegals, mostly.”
“Illegals?”
“No link,” said Mike, tapping the back of his neck. “No trace. Off the grid. Illegal.”
“What makes them…” Zacharies turned the word over in his mind. “…Illegal?”
Mike frowned at him, then said, “Kid. You want another coffee?”
“Yes please,” said Zacharies. “May I… May I have cream again?”
Mike laughed. “Sure,” he said. “Be here in a sec. You can order coffee too, if you like.”
“I… How?”
“The link,” said Mike. “It’ll let you do things. Order coffee. Order a hooker. Whatever.” He waved a hand again.
“And… Illegals can’t order coffee?”
“Sure they can,” said Mike, “but not from anywhere that doesn’t suck. You need cash, a job that pays in kind, something close to the grid but not on it. Borderline living. Not my thing. Not my thing at all.”
Illegal. The link chattered away at Zacharies, the meaning of the world falling into place. “What crime did they commit?”
“Who?”
“The illegals. What crime did they commit to be illegal?”
“They’re not linked, kid.” Mike frowned at him. “Maybe it’s not technically illegal. Will be soon. There’s a new law coming.”
Zacharies touched the back of his neck where a machine had whispered against his skin. He couldn’t feel a cut or mark there, but knew something was inside him, talking to him, helping him understand words in a language he didn’t speak. “They… What do you mean, it will be soon?”
“Ok,” said Mike. “It’s like this. It’s kind of… useful for syndicates to know where people are, what they buy. Who they’re buying it from. Relationships they have. Who they argue with. The porn they download.”
“Porn?”
“Later,” said Mike. “So, we’ve applied a little pressure on the civilian government.”
“You are the masters of the masters?”
Mike frowned again. “No, we’re—”
“You are making people do something they don’t want to do, are you not?”
The coffee arrived, the waitress putting the cups on the table. Both of them ignored her, silence stretching across the table. Mike spoke first. “It’s better this way. The possibilities—”
“I don’t know, Mike,” said Zacharies. “I think that…” He trailed off.
“What, kid?”
“I don’t think Heaven is the place where people are made to do the things they don’t want to do,” he said. “Heaven’s a place of possibility, of freedom.” He stopped, the words having come out in a rush. It was something Laia would have said.
“Freedom, huh?”
“Yes,” said Zacharies. “It shouldn’t be illegal to make your own choices.”
“Even if it’s better this way? Look at us. We’re talking because of the link.”
“Even,” said Zacharies, “if it meant bacon everyday.”
Mike paused, then laughed out loud. It was a clean sound, happy. His eyes sparkled as he leaned forward, looking Zacharies square on. “Zach? I’m pretty sure we need you around here. Will you stay?”
“Stay?” Zacharies frowned. “I need to find Laia.”
“Yes,” said Mike. “I promise. We’ll find your sister.”
“Because you want me to stay?”
“No,” said Mike. “Well, yes, that too. But mostly because that’s what friends are for.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Her breath came hard as she steadied the rifle against her shoulder. There was a crack, the weapon bucked, and one of the —
Misshapen, hunched, hungry.
— things out in the rain spun away. The weapon cycled, a soft whine rising quick outside of her hearing.
Sadie rubbed at her mouth, then spat something gritty and sour onto the ground. Haraway was to her left, holding one of the subs up with a hand that shook from fatigue. Laia huddled behind them, eyes wide with fear.
Fucking company man. Left us here to die.
Haraway threw her a glance, hefting her sub. “This one’s almost empty too.” They both looked at the second sub on the ground, the weapon having run dry what seemed an age ago. “How’s the rifle?”
“Hell if I know,” said Sadie. “It’s not like we’ve been dating long. I guess he’s fine? You know. First time out. Exciting evening. Didn’t go how either of us expected.”
Haraway blinked, then gave a tight little laugh. “You know, Freeman—”
Sadie pulled the trigger on the rifle again, the crack flinging something tumbling in a whirl of arms and legs — too many, too many damn limbs — out in the rain. The whine cycled again for the tenth time. Or was it the twentieth? Fiftieth?
Her head had started to pound again. She wanted a drink, something warm and amber, a rock of ice the size of an asteroid dropped in the bottom of the glass. But no, it couldn’t be a simple night with a decent drink and good music — it had to be monsters. She pulled the trigger again. The shot missed, something cackling and screeching in the rain.
“You’re a good shot,” said Haraway.
“I missed,” said Sadie.
“That time,” said Haraway. “I don’t know. I thought you said you were a singer.”
“I sing,” said Sadie, and pulled the trigger again. A crack, the whine. “I do other shit too.” She thought of her father, her lips settling into a flat line, and she shot something else in the rain.
>
Something crashed into the wall beside Haraway, and the woman jumped, turning around, the sub firing into the wall. Ancient brick and plaster shattered, and an answering scream came from the other side. Laia whimpered at the noise.
“Be the end, soon,” said Haraway. “I didn’t figure it’d be like this.”
“What?” said Sadie. “Torn limb from limb in a town that’s not on a map, tossed under the bus by the company you work for?”
“Yeah,” said Haraway, a smile tugging at her mouth. “That, and I also figured it’d all work out.”
“What would work out?” Sadie frowned.
“Marlene,” said Haraway, looking like she wanted to say something else.
“Who’s Marlene?”
“Doesn’t matter now,” said Haraway. “Think they’ll rush us again?”
“I would,” said Sadie. “They gotta be running out of dudes, though. One thing that’s bothering me.”
“Just the one?” said Haraway
“For now,” said Sadie. “This place was deserted when we walked in. Where’d they all come from?”
“The rain,” said Laia, behind them.
“Sure,” said Sadie. “They fell from the sky.”
“No,” said Laia. “The demon brought them.”
“Sure,” said Sadie again. “But I say no. I say that someone’s pissed ‘em off.”
“Who, then?” said Laia. “So many of them.”
“Well,” said Sadie. “There’s someone that springs to mind.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Mason looked up the shaft, the darkness stretching above the light from the suit. He steadied himself against the wall, something in his leg not working right. The overlay ticked and chatted in his vision, the diagnosis routines indicating FRACTURE: FEMUR. The lattice shifted under his skin.
It could wait.
The bodies around him were… lumpy, no other word for it. He could see that from the lights. The stark bright from the chest lamps made a haunted house scene in the shaft, the shadows stretching tall and sharp against the walls. He looked to the side, the tunnel going back into the darkness.
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