A great sadness swept through Rebecca when she learned that the United States ceased to exist as a sovereign entity in 2028. To compete with the European Union, Pacific Rim Amalgam, the New Afrikaan TransVaal and China, the United States formed permanent partnerships with Canada, Mexico, the Antilles, Cuba and the West Indies to form the North American Free Trade Congress.
But what saddened her most was what happened to sports. She'd never been athletic, but sports had always been a part of her life while growing up. Superbowls, March Madness, the World Series and the World Cup were as common to her as February, March and October, marking the seasons and the days, benchmarks for her life since she'd been old enough to remember. Those words and phrases had become part of the world's lexicon. Now they were words rendered as incomprehensible as Victorian England.
Football breathed its last breath on November 14, 2023, not even making it until the end of the season. PODs had reduced the crowds to essentially nothing. Those who'd remained were subjected to bomb threats and snipers' bullets. The last five years saw games played in secure domes with fans going virtual, viewing games through PODs instead of live. But without the fan dynamic, team loyalty disappeared, and with it the pure love of the game. Professional football was replaced by a virtual counterpart where teams played every day, three-hundred-sixty-five days a year, injuries decided by algorithm, winners by fan participation.
American Baseball moved to South America. Hockey was cancelled in America and Canada, moving to the Russian Free Tundra. Basketball remained as the sole spectator sport played in the North American Free Trade Congress. The rules of the game hadn't changed much, but with the advent of genetic-splicing the rims were raised to fifteen feet.
Soccer was outlawed in England after German Hooligans, in retaliation for the murder of four German soccer players during the World Cup at Wembley Stadium, burned London to the ground.
Rebecca had once read that sports were a reflection of civilization—winning, losing, cooperation, and competition inextricable aspects of any society. As the world had evolved, bringing with it those things necessary to assist in the propulsion of the human race into history, sports had been left behind. Now sports represented a mere historical footnote, like the games once played by Aztec warriors, another civilization forced to merge and die.
When Abraham finally finished his telling, he stared at Rebecca, waiting patiently as she took it all in. His bright eyes danced to her every twitch and movement, one time following her hand as it swept at her hair, another as she adjusted the fall of the fabric around her breasts. She allowed him this as she sat and lamented the death of more than her world—of her home. Los Angeles still existed. The land that had once been the United States still existed. Things she recognized coexisted with the surreal and strange. But this would never again be her home.
And with that realization she cried, tears seeping from her closed eyes and flowing silently down her cheeks. She sobbed silently, grieving for a nation, for a time that would never come again. She also grieved for herself, selfish in her wish for things to return to the way they were. Her sentence had been too harsh. Not only had she lost twenty years, but she'd lost her land.
After awhile Rebecca tired of her tears. She could cry forever and nothing would change. So she wiped her eyes and thanked Abraham for his telling. The last thing she asked was about his own history, not blinking as she asked how he'd lost his limbs. To her surprise, he came right out and told her.
"I had a friend hammer nails through each shoulder and above each knee. For a leper, even the simplest bruise can reap horrendous results. What I did was like a nuclear detonation to my system. It was only a matter of time before the disease saw the opportunity."
"So you did it on purpose?"
"Of course I did."
She thought about asking why, but didn't want to insult him. He knew that she understood. She knew exactly why he did it, and the knowing was enough.
Chapter 16
Rebecca had barely noticed when Andy scrambled onto the roof two hours later. She hadn't minded being alone. In fact, she'd rather preferred it. So much information to parse—too much, really. Her mind felt broken, fried. She was unable to concentrate, so she'd spent the time staring at the underground city, the children playing as if theirs was a perfect world beneath a perfect heaven, oblivious to the realities and horrors of the world above them.
"Been looking for you."
His words sent a tendril of desire through her shambled thoughts. Andy had been her only stabilizing force and now he was her lover. Had she made the right choice? She hoped so, because now she had to live with it.
She turned and held out her hand. "Come on over. I want to show you something."
He took it and interlaced his fingers with hers. She pulled him to her and pointed with her free hand towards the children playing soccer in a grotto of CONEXs just below them.
"See the children?"
He watched for a minute before he spoke. "The tall one with blonde hair has skill, but the short girl has the tenacity to win."
Rebecca agreed, watching as the girl lowered her shoulder and pushed past the taller boy trying to remove the ball from her control. But she wouldn't have it. At the last moment she spun, then fired, the ball thundering into the empty CONEX that they used as a goal.
"I've been watching these kids for hours now, and do you know what I've discovered? Even with all that's going on around them, with the threat of death, disease and dismemberment, they're just like any other kids."
"There's a type of plant that grows in the south that's like that even," Andy said. "No matter what's done to it, it somehow manages to survive."
She shook her head. "I'm not talking about mere survival. I'm talking about faith."
"I don't follow."
"Forget the children for a moment and look at the parents." When she saw him searching near where the children played, she hastily amended, "Not just their parents, but look at all the adults and tell me what you see."
"I'm no good at this," he said, pulling away from her.
"It's a simple question."
"I can't answer it. I can master the algorithms of any program, but I can't do riddles."
She rolled her eyes. "Only because you won't try. Sometimes I wish you'd take a chance."
"I take chances."
"Only when you have absolute control. Only when you have plans set aside for you." She smiled through a grimace as she shook her head. "I'm not condemning you, Andy, just making an observation."
"Where'd this come from? Are you mad at me?"
This wasn't going the way she'd planned. She'd had an epiphany and wanted to share. She didn't want to start a knockdown, drag out. She leveled her gaze at him and kept her voice even. "I'm not at all mad at you. I want to show you something, but you have to try a little."
"I still don't—" He snapped his mouth shut. "Fine. Ask me the question again."
"What do all the parents have in common?" she asked, simplifying.
Andy stepped to the edge of the CONEX tower and stared out at the city. Hundreds of people moved to and fro. Some sat and talked in the ubiquitous city sprawl. Others sold wares in small dedicated bazaars. Still others knelt in prayer.
"What do you see?"
"Give me a moment."
She examined him as he in turn examined the city. The jut of his spine told her he hated being put on the spot. She really shouldn't have done it, but he was her lover now and she wanted him to be better...not that she'd ever tell him that.
"Interesting," he murmured. Glancing in her direction, Andy flashed her a smile. "I don't know if this is what you saw but did you notice that they all go around covered in fabric, dressed like Bedouins?"
"Yes," she grinned broadly. "I noticed exactly that."
"That's it then. But I don't get why it's important."
"Then ask yourself this question. Why does a group of people need to hide their appearance from each other when everyone has t
he same disease?"
"Interesting."
"More importantly, why do the children go about normally, covered only in enough clothes to allow them decency?"
"The children aren't ready for what the disease can do to a body."
"Exactly, Lover." This evoked a broad smile. "The children are being raised in faith that the Day Eaters, their parents, are doing the right thing, but the results of the choice can be so horrific that it could shatter even the strongest faith?"
"Ah. So you think that the parents are afraid that the children wouldn't follow in their footsteps if they really knew."
"I think so. It's interesting that the adults take the disease to be a visual protest, but hide it at home. You know, I doubt if more than ten percent of them ever see the light of day."
Andy nodded, his right hand scratching his chin as he observed the city beneath him.
"I met Maria's son this morning. He intentionally maimed himself far more drastically than any of the grown-ups, and because of this, he's a demi-god to them."
Andy turned to her and shook his head. "I'm smart, but I'm not getting what you're saying, Bec. Please let me off the hook and tell me what you see."
With a quick nod she relented. "Do you remember the Muslims in Israel, Palestine and Iraq? You must have learned it in world history like me. They called themselves Freedom Fighters. Soldiers of God. Some even called themselves The Chosen."
"That's just a common name."
"Sure. What was also common was that they strapped bombs to themselves and detonated them in places where hundreds of peace-loving civilians were. That was their sign of protest."
"What does that have to do with the Day Eaters?"
"Everything. Look at them." Her arm swept the breadth of the city. "The reason that they don't show themselves to each other is because they are so eaten up with the disease that once you got a good look at them, no one in their right mind would want to emulate them. I hate to use the word terrorist because it is such a point of view word, but the Day Eaters are just like those groups who sent people to blow themselves up. They saw the bright side of their religion. They were told they'd go to heaven. They were told they'd get special dispensation. But they were never shown pictures of those who had gone before them. They were never shown the maimed figures of those who survived. I remember right before I was sent to prison that young men in the Middle East were killing themselves in droves for ideals espoused by the old."
"Do you really think that of them?" Andy asked, jerking his head toward the people below.
"How can you not? Their refusal to allow the children to see them proves my idea. They don't want the children to know." Rebecca shook her head savagely. "By hiding the results of a behavior, that behavior continues, then escalates. You should have seen Abraham. He was proud of who he was. He acted like a Day Eater Christ."
"I guess it's a sort of control." Andy shrugged. "If they didn't do it, I don't know how many of these children would follow in their parents' footsteps."
She nodded fiercely. "Like the terrorists of old, if kids got a look at a blown up body part future, do you think they'd ever make the same choice their parents did? Don't get me wrong, Andy. I like these people. I like them a lot. I just don't know if what they're doing is right."
"Maybe it's a sign of their desperation."
"That makes it right?"
"I don't think that it's just a matter of right and wrong, Bec. That's too simple. Right and wrong is a point of view. History determines the rights and wrongs of a society and I'm not willing to be that judge. Not now. It's too soon. After all, we're talking small groups trying to bring down a global government. In the case of the former Middle East, we were talking about regional tribes attempting to influence world superpowers. In the case of the Day Eaters," he spread his arm out to encompass the city, "you have all of these people waging a war of ideals against the Global Allocation System. They need an edge and maybe their edge lies in the shadows of secrecy."
"And you said you didn't understand." She shook her head. "I think you understand all too well."
He shrugged. "Velvet Dogma is concerned with the same things. We want to change the world, but only have a few of us willing to go through with it. In truth, we're fools to even try."
"Then why do we do it?" she asked, including herself.
"Because it's our right. Because we have to. Because we can't just let global entities govern us blindly." Andy lowered his voice. "Because it's what makes us human."
And that was the truth of it. Need and desperation made psychotic bedfellows. Did she have the faith of her convictions? She had once. Could she regain them? Could she have as much faith in herself as these people did? One thing that she knew about these people was that their faith had been modeled after those of the Old Testament and if ever there was a book to be afraid of it was that one. "Where does that leave us?" she finally asked.
"A situation has arisen," he said hesitantly.
"What? Is there something wrong?"
He stared at her through heavy lids, as if he was deciding to tell her something. Then with a frown and a twitch of the head, he said, "They got Panchet."
Her eyes widened. That little man in the back of the porn store? The inventor of the gravBoards? The man who'd promised to take care of her?
Seeing her work it through her mind, Andy nodded. "By the description, it was the Hei Xin. They want you bad, Bec. They want you real bad."
"Is he still alive?"
"I don't know. He's off the grid, something that hasn't happened since the Virus Plagues of 2017."
"We can't let him die, Andy. Too many people have been hurt because of me." She shook her head. "I don't want to add him to the toll of my dead."
"If we return topside you're vulnerable, and frankly, I don't think I can protect you. Down here there's nothing that can hurt you. Even the government stays away, grateful that the Day Eaters remain underground most of the time."
"I don't care. My brother, then Olga and now Panchet. When is it going to stop, Andy?" A hardness began to creep into her voice. "If this is all about Velvet Dogma, then I think it's time we unleashed the damned thing. If it's as big and boogy as you say it is, it's going to leave one hell of a crater on the ID. Let's go topside and do it. Once it's done, then we'll see how badly they still want me."
"If anything's left standing."
"Well, there is that."
Chapter 17
"We need to see the Ack Ack Deacon," said Andy as they left.
It sounded straight out of the Wizard of Oz. We're off to see the Deacon. But the wonderful deacon of what? Andy was keeping his voice low and clearly didn't want to talk much about the deacon in front of the Day Eaters. All he'd said was that The Deacon was the opposite of the Day Eaters, and also the same. And he'd said he didn't like riddles. Who was he kidding?
When he'd mentioned his destination to his Day Eater guides, it was clear that they weren't happy to be taking them to the Ack Acks. But theirs was the way of underneath. They knew the secret passages, crevices left over from demolitions, cataracts created by quakes, and old subway tunnels forgotten when cars had taken to the air bridges. In deference to Maria's command to take them where they needed to go, the guides grudgingly complied.
Two hours of silent transit through the warren of paths beneath Los Angles finally brought Rebecca and Andy to an abandoned subway station. The lights of their guides illuminated the concrete platform and the rails leading into the distance. A poster advertising a long forgotten cigarette hung within a Plexiglas frame beside a sign that said West Hollywood. Trash and debris littered the concrete floor. The stairs to the surface had long ago been filled with broken concrete and rebar. The place had the stale smell of something old and forgotten.
Without even a by-your-leave, the Day Eaters slunk back into the shadows, leaving Rebecca and Andy stranded in a halo of light with only a rat to keep them company. They'd left Andy with a tin lantern fueled by a candle. Igno
ring the rat, he aimed the light at the walls and searched until he pointed to a sign scrawled on the wall in purple paint: a stylized zero next to a six. "That's their sign." Seeing her confusion, Andy reminded her, "That's binary, Bec."
Binary. Of course. One of the oldest computer languages. The 06 was binary speak for ack. Ack itself was an old Bell systems convention carried through the early 2000s. Standing for Acknowledge, ack was initially used by programmers as the communications code sent from a receiving station to a transmitting station to indicate that it was ready to accept data. It was also used to acknowledge the error-free receipt of transmitted data. Hackers used it as a proxy acknowledgment for friendly pings. Whichever way it was used, that the Ack Acks identified with it said much to their level of computer knowledge as well as their commitment to the traditions of the technology. Without even seeing them, Rebecca knew they were old school to the extreme. She only hoped she'd be able to get along with them.
Andy shown the lantern farther down the tunnel, then gestured for her to follow. They trudged through the darkness, sliding their feet forward to keep from tripping on something unseen on the floor. Eventually the tunnel began to lighten, until finally when they rounded a gentle bend, they found a section of track illuminated in a blinding light.
She and Andy looked at each other. She saw her self-same doubt mirrored in his eyes. Still, he was the first to step towards the light. She stepped close behind him, squeezing his hand tightly. The source of the light was somewhere near the ceiling, but it was so bright they couldn't make it out. Even the walls were a glaring bright white. Finally Andy set the lantern aside. Gripping her hand as tightly as she'd gripped his, he escorted her into the light, where he stopped, then stood straight and invisible. She couldn't see him, but she could feel the skin of his hand. She closed her eyes, but she could still see the light. She squeezed them shut even tighter. Still the light shown through, so painful she bowed her head.
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