A Magic King

by Jade Lee

She felt Daken's hand, warm and comforting on her back, but his voice was no less hard despite the sweetness of his touch. "I came into this as an adult knowing the risks. There is no shame in that or in your failure." Daken paused, glancing sadly at Steve. "What you've done to the boy is between you and him."

  Jane nodded. "Once this is over, I promise I'll make it up to him."

  Daken squeezed her waist in a small proprietary gesture she hoped hadn't been noticed by their audience. "And you will not fail, Jane. It is your destiny."

  She glanced back at him, surprised by his somber, almost reverent tone. "My destiny is to die a small-time computer hack and an old maid. With luck, maybe five people will attend my funeral, and that's counting my family. This," she gestured morosely at the small unit in front of her, "will be just another example of my ineptitude. When the men are separated from the boys, I'm usually left to tend the outhouse."

  He turned to her, his head cocked to one side. "But you are a woman. Not a man or a boy." His gaze slid down her figure as though he were trying to reassure himself what he said was indeed true.

  His shocked expression was so comical that she surprised herself with a loud bark of laughter. "It's just an expression, Daken. And I'm being overly dramatic." She turned back to the computer, took a deep breath, and steeled herself for whatever was about to happen. "Come on. It's time to rock and roll."

  "To what?"

  She didn't even look at him, knowing she'd start laughing again. "Another expression. It means it's time to get started."

  "Oh. I understand. It refers to hunting, maybe with a rock. And rolling as in evasion."

  "Yeah, that's right, Daken. It's a real manly, hunter's expression."

  She hid her smile as she turned on the unit.

  She had power. Good.

  Then with her nerves stretched taut, she slipped the boot disk into the drive. Working perfectly, the process was silent. The drive used a tiny beam of light to read the thin silver disk. But if anything went wrong, she'd hear either the catch and grind of the machinery, or worse yet, smell the disk burning as the light turned into a laser beam that could fry cement.

  She waited, all her senses trained on the drive unit.

  Nothing.

  Even the audience held its breath.

  Bang bang bangbang!!

  Steve slammed his hand against the cabinet, the metallic twang slicing her nerves like a cheese grater.

  She reacted immediately, popping out the disk with a quick flick of her wrist, but the smell, that horrible smell, told her it was too late.

  The hot silver disk she held in her hands was no longer silver. It was brown and ugly around a burnt metal gash down one side of the disk.

  It was ruined.

  Her only boot disk was completely destroyed. As were all her hopes for Daken and the answers about her own home.

  Completely destroyed.

  She lifted her head, looking around for a cause, knowing that given the condition of the equipment, almost anything could have done it. She glanced at Steve who pointed to the strip, now showing a steady nine LEDs. He ran his finger along the strip, showing her that the power level dropped to almost zero then spiked up to nearly fifteen before settling down again.

  Jane blinked. The power flow had fluctuated not from the computer equipment, but from the light source. As if the light outdoors had dimmed then spiked. She looked to the window. The fireball still burned as brightly and evenly as before. But there was a man by the window, a tall black-haired man in a dark robe. His head was lifted, his chin tight, and his dark brown eyes held the unmistakable glint of challenge.

  "What did you do?" Jane stepped forward, the burnt disk still clutched in her hand. "What did you do?"

  Daken tried to block her. "He cannot understand you—"

  "I understand her perfectly."

  "Fine," spat Jane. "Then answer the question. What did you do?"

  Everyone in the room tensed. Steve held out a restraining hand, but Jane shook it off, her body trembling with fury.

  The man didn't move except to lift his chin a little higher so he could look down his strong Roman nose at her. "Do you know who I am?"

  "I don't care if you're King of United Europe, I want to know what you did!"

  "I am Kyree, Council Ruler of Wizards—"

  "I don't give a damn." She crossed to the window, pointing to the fingerprints clearly revealed on the black panel. "Did you touch it? Maybe lifted it closer to the light?"

  "It is my right to inspect all instruments of magic."

  "Magic? It's a solar panel! Damn! Do you see what you did?" She waved the ruined disk in front of him. "Do you see? There's no other way into the computer. All of this," she made a sweeping gesture with her hand to indicate the building, the equipment, the elaborate prophesies handed down for generations. "Everything this building is and represents, all your people's hopes; everything is ruined! You've destroyed it all because you couldn't keep your stupid fingers where they belonged." She threw the disk at his face, watching it flash before his eyes before sliding to the dust on the floor.

  "Perhaps," he said, his voice even, his tone condescending. "Perhaps you failed because you are not the true Keeper. And he," he glanced dismissively at Daken, "is the product of a mother's delirious ramblings."

  "Look," she said, struggling to keep her voice from screeching out her hatred of the patronizing bureaucrat, "I can rebuild and rewire this entire computer with just a paperclip and a hairpin, but I can't make it go without that disk!"

  "Then perhaps we should wait for someone who can."

  "Why you obnoxious—"

  You don't need the disk.

  "—overstuffed—"

  Jane. You don't need the disk.

  "—preening vulture—"

  Jane.

  Finally the soft voice penetrated her anger, and she whirled around, anxious for another target. "And what would you know about it?" She squinted, barely making out a shadowy figure, barely discernable in the once bright room. It looked vaguely like a tall, pencil-thin man in a business suit standing beside the terminal. And oddest of all, the edges of his body seemed to shimmer with a faint electrical light.

  "Who are you?"

  You have power, equipment, and a working screen. You don't need the disk.

  "Jane, who are you talking to?"

  "Mr. Tall, Dark, and Shimmery. Right there."

  She noticed Daken and the wizard Kyree scan the room, their gazes sliding right past the strange man, but the figure spoke again, drawing her attention.

  The touch screen works. Bring up the monitor and use it to bypass the drives.

  "Nice idea, but I don't know the security codes, and machine-level coding from a monitor was never my forte." Still, the thought lingered, and as her temper cooled, she began to think again. It didn't hurt that she'd finally found someone she could talk intelligently with about things she understood. True, the dark figure gave her the creeps, but at least he knew computers.

  I can give you the codes. He stepped toward her. Or rather, he seemed to glide toward her, bringing with him a chill that raised her hair on end.

  She stepped back, nearly bumping into Kyree who swiftly scooted out of the way.

  "Jane, there's no one there," said Daken from just off to her right. "Who are you talking to?"

  "He's right there. Can't you see him?"

  "No!"

  The dark figure advanced further, its faint electrical charge crackling along her skin. Jane slipped back, coming flush with the wall. When she tried to slide away, the figure simply followed, slowly cornering her while her audience scrambled to get out of the way.

  "Look," Jane said, her voice rising with fear. "Whoever you are—if you know the codes and can key in at machine level, be my guest. I was only here to help out anyway."

  I can't do it. Only you can. And I've been waiting two centuries to help you.

  He was right dead in front of her, the chill from his bizarre body seeping int
o her bones like dry ice freezing her body cell by cell. She was cramped into the corner, shrinking away from him in terror, but no matter how she moved he was there, stepping closer and closer.

  "I don't care who or what you are. Just don't come any closer. Don't."

  He reached out and pressed a palm into her shoulder. The gesture might have been reassuring except his touch was the icy cold of death. It ate into her like a chill wind, sliding between her muscles and creeping into her bones. Even the faint sizzle of energy she felt pop against her flesh didn't warm her.

  She screamed. She vaguely saw Daken in front of her, bastard sword in hand as he sliced through the air, neatly cleaving the dark figure in two, in four.

  But still the man came on, his body more and more indistinct, the crackle of energy louder in her ears as he insinuated himself into her very cells.

  Her scream died in her throat, cut off as her larynx froze and the air in her lungs thickened to solid chunks.

  * * *

  Jane stood on an indistinct gray plane. Before her rose the dark figure, much clearer now, his sad face lined with the weight of ages.

  She looked around. There was nothing, she realized. Not even a featureless plane. From somewhere within her she realized the place was a fabrication of her mind. This whole landscape was a creation to give her standard reference points as she communicated with the dark figure. Her body hadn't moved from its corner in the Op's room. Daken, Steve, and the members of the audience were probably milling about her at this very moment.

  But she didn't see any of them. She only saw this featureless place and the dark figure.

  "You're in my head, aren't you? This isn't real. It's just so we can talk. Without distractions." Her voice quivered with fear, but she got the words out, and that was all that mattered to her right now.

  "You were always bright, Jane."

  "Is this real or not?"

  "And impatient." A ghost of a smile flitted across his face.

  "Who are you?"

  "Don't you remember me? I didn't remember you at first." His voice grew abstracted, as though they were chatting by a fire, and he about to launch into some tall tale or spooky ghost story. "I don't remember much from before, but here with you now... It's all coming back to me. I remember you with startling clarity."

  Anger slowly replaced Jane's fear. Bit by bit, the icy terror left her limbs as her frustration grew. Ever since that night in the library, her world had spun out of control. And here, in front of her, was just another example of the weirdness that filled her life.

  And she hated him for it.

  "Damn it! I asked you a question!"

  The figure looked hurt. She didn't know how she saw the expression. He seemed the same dark figure as before, but somehow the lighting shifted so his face became more distinct.

  "You're getting closer to my mind, aren't you? You're moving deeper into me. That's why I can see you better."

  "I'm not here to hurt you, Jane."

  "Get out of my head!"

  "You don't want me to do that."

  "Of course, I do!" She clenched her hands into fists, wanting to punch him right in the nose. Around her, the gray landscape became red and hot as her blood boiled within her.

  "You wanted answers. Answers to what has been happening to you. I'm here to give them to you."

  "You're here to drive me insane."

  He smiled and shook his head. "You're not crazy. Just confused. I can answer your questions, but only if you'll let me."

  "Do I have a choice?"

  "Of course, you do. You always do."

  "Then I choose to go back home to my water bed and my rehydrator and have this whole strange nightmare over."

  His smile became a little crooked. "I said you always have choices. I didn't say they would include the one you want."

  Jane turned away, facing the uneven void of colors swirling around her. No longer red or gray, it seemed to shimmer with the conflicting emotions that churned within her.

  "Just get it over with."

  "Stop fighting me, Jane. Relax and let me talk to you."

  "I'm afraid. I'm not sure I'll like the answers." Never in her life had she spoken truer words. She felt terrified, but not for her physical body. Whatever was happening to her body was secondary to what was going on in her mind. From the very beginning of this strange adventure, she'd had odd thoughts, stray inklings as something would seem familiar, but then again not. It was bewildering and alarming.

  She thought briefly of Daken. There were moments when she wasn't even sure he was real. But person or fantasy, right now she longed for his solid presence, his steady comfort.

  "Daken is with you. You can't see him, but he is here, worried and frightened for you. If you look within your heart, you'll feel him."

  Jane closed her eyes, trying to do as the figure said. It took a long time. She was keyed up, frightened that if she looked, really looked, she'd find herself in a mental ward surrounded by rubber walls. Or maybe worse, that she wasn't. That she was here, in this strange void, talking with a ghost and there was no going back.

  Ghost?

  She opened her eyes, and in that moment she found both Daken and Dr. Beavesly. The first in her heart. The other in her mind.

  "Dr. Beavesly?" Pencil-pusher Beavesly? Her former boss in Boston was now a ghost? Her brain shut down and with it went her defenses. But even in that mind-numbing confusion, she felt a sense of peace and security. She felt Daken's hand clutching hers. She felt his steady concern and silent devotion.

  He was here with her. As was her former boss now turned ghost.

  "Wow, this is some hallucination."

  Dr. Beavesly stepped forward, his form clear to her now. She saw his thin frame, his rusty brown hair as neat as an eraser, and his long, almost pointy fingers. All the features that gave him his pencil nickname. She also saw his soft smile and an inner glow; the type an artist would draw to show an unearthly energy center. A way to say this man is different.

  "Are you really a ghost? And you're talking to me in my mind?"

  "I survived that first bomb. Many did."

  Jane took a deep breath. "Bomb? Nuclear? I thought it was a horrendous explosion. But why?"

  "It wasn't on purpose. Someone put up a faulty defense satellite that ended up firing because of some crossed circuits."

  "You're kidding." It couldn't be possible. The entire disaster was because some technician somewhere put wire A into slot B?

  "Of course," Dr. Beavesly continued, "once one went off—"

  "They all go off. And we obliterate ourselves. What stupidity."

  "Agreed."

  Jane sighed. She could hardly believe it, but it made such perverse sense. The world blown up because someone couldn't control their own technology.

  "I realized immediately what had happened. I knew it like I knew my own name. Then I started running for my car. I had to get here, to the college, to save what I could. I must have had a heart attack. I remember my chest hurt, and I fell down, but then I got up again and kept running, not even realizing I'd died."

  Jane listened to him, trying to watch the play of emotion on his strange face, but she couldn't. She watched the scene play in the background exactly as he described. She saw a flash of light as the bomb hit, felt the shockwaves roll through the landscape that appeared around her. She saw Dr. Beavesly run from his house to his car, but he never made it. He clutched his chest and fell, his breath coming in tortured gasps until it stopped completely. He died.

  Then it was as if another Dr. Beavesly stepped out of his body. He was dressed as he would for work—a neat pin-striped suit, glasses, briefcase, and a serious expression, all as they should be for a professional, except he was running.

  And run he did. Faster than a man could run, he sped on foot toward the college. The panorama around her followed him, rolling out beneath his feet as he practically flew to the University. He passed the library. It had a jagged hole torn through the center, as
though space had ripped, dragging the brick and mortar apart like old, worn cotton.

  "I was in there!"

  She stepped forward, inspecting the debris of a building torn apart from inside. She couldn't touch the brick and mortar around her, but she knew these were the remains of the rip in space that had stolen her.

  She twisted around to Dr. Beavesly. "But where did I go? Where am I?"

  "Listen to the rest, Jane." He pointed to the image of himself, still running, heading for the building that housed the main computer. The building was still intact, though in the distance, she saw another bright flash of light. Another bomb detonating, this time further west.

  Dr. Beavesly ran to the door and went through, not even noticing the door hadn't moved. Like a camera mounted directly behind him, Jane watched the panorama shift, following him down into the basement, around the narrow hallway, into the Op's office, then through a low metal doorway into the back main computer room.

  It was dark. The emergency lighting flickered, casting his movements into a strange strobe effect. With the power so uncertain, there was nothing he could do. The mainframe had already crashed, and the Operator had already shut down everything.

  Dr. Beavesly sat down next to the terrified, shivering boy. Charlie, she thought. His name was Charlie.

  "Charlie died of radiation a week later. He went up top too soon looking for food. He never came back."

  "What about you?"

  "I was already dead, although I didn't realize it then. I just sat waiting for power, or news, or something. Mostly, I think I was waiting for you."

  "Me?"

  "You knew the system better than anyone, and I knew you'd find your way here eventually. You took your job seriously."

  "You mean I had nothing else in my life other than my job," Jane said dryly.

  "Yes."

  Time sped up. Across the panorama, she saw dust settle on the equipment, cockroaches scurry around. But no people. And through it all, Dr. Beavesly tended the equipment, somehow keeping the room neat, the equipment as safe as possible.

  "Where is everybody? Did they all die?"

  "No. Part of the building collapsed above me. Only sections of the basement survived intact, though the solar collectors continued for years. I stayed there, devoting myself to the wires and chips. Eventually, I think I became a part of them."