The Block

by Ben Oliver

I feel Kina’s hand in mine and raise my eyes to meet hers.

  “Luka,” she says, in a casual greeting.

  “Kina,” I reply, and we both smile, despite the situation.

  The red sign warning us about the approaching Mosquitoes begins to flash.

  “Malachai!” Pander’s voice calls as she drags the unconscious, exhausted, battered and bruised boy from behind one of the cryochambers. “Is he alive?”

  Malachai stirs. “I’m alive … I think,” he mutters.

  “What happened to your eyes?” Pander asks.

  “Luka pulled them out … it’s a long story.”

  “I’ve got it!” Igby calls from somewhere deep inside the main console. “I’ve got it!”

  He appears from the darkness with a length of tubing in his hand.

  “You’ve fixed the chambers?” I ask.

  Doubt passes over his face. “Well … I’ve either removed the tube that feeds the drugs into the cryochambers, or I’ve removed the tube that sends our blood into storage—”

  Igby is interrupted by an alarm sounding.

  “Thirty seconds left!” Molly says.

  “Well,” I say, “we’re dead if we don’t try.”

  I lead the newcomers to the end of the row of chambers, where the empty ones are, and instruct them to step inside.

  We all go together, sharing a look of concern and almost humor as we press the green buttons and wait for whatever comes next.

  “Sir, would you like a drink, sir?”

  I look around. I’m back in the Purgatory Hotel.

  “Nailed it!” A voice comes from across the ballroom. “Nailed it! Nailed it! Fucking nailed it as usual!”

  I look over to see Igby, dressed in a yellow suit, complete with a color-coordinated fedora with a long feather sticking out.

  “Igby,” I call, “over here.”

  “Holy shit,” he says as he walks over to me. “This place is weird as hell!”

  “I know,” I say, and turn to face Molly, who is materializing at her usual spot at the bar.

  “How are you feeling?” I ask, waiting for any sign that the drug is once again infiltrating my mind.

  “All right,” she replies. “I think … but the drugs are still wearing off from last time, so it’s hard to tell.”

  Malachai comes in from his spawn point in the reception area with Kina, Dr. Ortega, and Pander.

  Kina puts her arms around me and then backs away.

  “This is strange,” she says. “I can’t feel anything.”

  “You get used to it,” I tell her.

  “What do we do now?” Dr. Ortega asks.

  “Molly,” I say, turning to my sister. “Is there any way of talking to everyone in the hotel at one time?”

  “You could make an announcement on the PA system,” she says, getting up and leading me to the reception desk.

  The receptionist starts his usual spiel, welcoming us to the Purgatory Hotel, but Molly ignores him as she reaches over the desk and grabs an old-fashioned desktop microphone with a big red button on its mounted base.

  “Press the button and speak to every room in the hotel,” she says.

  I take the microphone from her, but before I press the button, I hesitate, unsure of what I’m going to say. Finally, I press it.

  “Can I have everyone’s attention?” I start, hearing my voice echoing throughout the virtual hotel. The few avatars standing nearby turn to face me, others drifting in from the bar. “By now you have all realized that you’re starting to feel different, starting to feel more in control of your thoughts and emotions. Dr. Price has been drugging all of you for a long time; he has convinced all of you that hiding here, in this virtual world, is the only way to defeat Happy; he has stopped you from fighting, stopped you from making your own choices. But soon, you will be able to decide for yourself if you want to stay here in hiding, or if you want to stand and fight. There’s a lot you don’t know about our enemies. So much we have to tell you.” I hesitate, looking out over the sea of pixelated faces gathered in the reception area. “But for now, all you need to know is that the drugs are wearing off. And soon, you’re going to have to choose.”

  I put the microphone down, and then look toward the elevator, knowing what I have to do next.

  “I’ll be back soon,” I say to Molly.

  I walk to the old elevator and ride it up to Day’s floor.

  As I walk along the corridor to her room, I think about the agony I felt when my mom died, when Blue died, when my dad died, and it hurts me to know that I now have to be the one who opens the door to that kind of pain for her.

  I knock, and wait.

  The door opens and Day looks at me with real recognition in her virtual eyes for the first time.

  “Luka?” she says. “Is it true? What you said?”

  “Yes,” I say, “it’s true, all of it. But there’s something else I have to tell you, something worse.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When we figured out that Dr. Price had been drugging everyone to keep them docile and compliant, he went crazy—he destroyed several of the Safe-Death chambers, killing those who were inside … One of them was your mother.”

  “I don’t understand what you mean,” she replies. “Mom was here just ten minutes ago, she was … she disappeared, sort of faded away … Luka, what are you telling me?”

  “Dr. Price killed her, Day. I’m so sorry.”

  “That’s not true,” Day says. “You’re lying.”

  “I wish I was,” I tell her. “I wish it wasn’t true, but it is.”

  “It’s not true,” she says again. “She’ll be back any minute; she’ll be home any second now. Why are you lying to me?”

  “Day, I—”

  But before I can say any more, Day has slammed the door to her room in my face, leaving me alone in the eerie corridor.

  The elevator cable snaps on the way down, and I respawn in the bar.

  I feel, once again, broken and in turmoil, but I have to compartmentalize these feelings, as I see that the bar is now filled with hundreds of the Missing, all coming to their senses, some angry, some upset, some demanding the answers I promised.

  “Luka,” Kina calls out, and I make my way through the crowd to my friends, who are gathered at the bar.

  “Everyone’s pissed off about Price drugging them,” Malachai says.

  “Good,” I reply. “That means they’ll join us.”

  “That’s great and everything,” Igby adds, “but we have another problem.”

  “What’s that?” I ask over the growing volume of the crowd.

  “Akimi and Pod stayed with Sam at the library; she was having … what do you call them?”

  “Braxton-Hicks,” Dr. Ortega replies. “False contractions.”

  “Right, that,” Igby continues. “They stayed to look after her and make sure Wren was okay. The next problem we have to solve is: Happy is sending a storm cloud over the city, presumably to block out the sun and stop all solar-powered machinery from working. But they’ll be safe for a while—our scrambler is hooked up to the Loop’s old battery and we have at least a year—”

  “It’s not a storm cloud,” I say, remembering what I witnessed at the top of the Arc.

  “What do you mean?” Igby asks.

  “The cloud is thousands of Mosquitoes and attack drones,” I tell him. “I saw the production line at the top of the Arc. I don’t know why, but they’re making loads of them every day.”

  Igby’s digital face fills with horrified realization. “Jesus,” he says, “they’re going to overwhelm the scrambler.”

  “They’re going to what?” Kina asks.

  My stomach sinks.

  “Our scrambler can hide us from hundreds of Mosquitoes at any time, maybe even thousands, but there’s a limit. Happy must’ve figured that out weeks ago and has been producing more and more Mosquitoes to scan the city.”

  “So, we need to go back into the city and bring Sam, Pod,
Akimi, and Wren here before Happy finds them?” I ask.

  “Exactly,”

  “All right,” I say, “then we have to go.”

  I think about Apple-Moth and its low battery. I hope it managed to get enough charge before the drone cloud covered the sun. “Malachai, you should stay here—there’s no point in suffering with the pain in your eyes.”

  “I’m not staying here,” he tells me. “Not when Wren is out there.”

  I nod, understanding how he feels.

  “Okay. Someone needs to tell the Missing what’s going on.”

  “I got it,” Pander says, climbing up onto the bar and raising her hands. “Everyone! Listen. You are in the safest place you can be. We have to leave for a while to bring our friends here, but we’ll be back. We are all on the same team now. You saved us in the Battle of Midway Park, and we saved you in Purgatory. Now we’re together, and ready to fight against Happy no matter what! Together we will figure out how to beat those AI bastards, and together we will rebuild this world! We’ll do it by working together, and when it’s all over, we’ll have the biggest party this planet has ever seen!”

  The crowd is still not fully out of its drugged and dazed state, and their reaction is minimal.

  Pander steps down from the bar. “Tough crowd,” she says.

  “Tell me about it,” Malachai replies, and fist-bumps her.

  “Someone needs to stay,” I say, looking around at the confused crowd. “We can’t just leave them with no information. Someone has to be here when they come around.”

  “It makes sense if I stay,” Molly says. “I know all these people, I’ve spent time with them.”

  “Molly, I’ve only just got you back,” I say.

  “I know,” she replies, “and now that the drugs have worn off, it breaks my heart to leave you again, but this makes sense.”

  I nod in agreement. None of this is easy, none of it, but at least Molly will be safe here.

  I walk over to her and hug her, hating the lack of feeling, wishing I could hold her in the real world.

  “All right,” I say, breaking away from the embrace. “Let’s get going.”

  One by one we exit back into the real world.

  As I stand in the arcade, cold from the cryochamber, I can’t help but look at Shion’s body, gaunt and dead, and I promise myself that I’ll give her a proper burial as soon as I have a chance.

  I reactivate Apple-Moth, whose battery has charged to 9 percent, enough to get us into the city.

  “Hey, friend!” Apple-Moth says when it’s reactivated. “I hope you’re not mad at me! But I didn’t go into full sleep mode when you told me.”

  “I’m not mad, Apple-Moth,” I say. “That’s what saved us. If you hadn’t gone back to the library and told everyone else that we were in trouble, we’d probably be dead.”

  “So, I did good?”

  “You did great.” I look over at Igby. “I’m really glad you didn’t manage to erase Apple-Moth’s annoying personality,” I say.

  Igby shrugs. “The stupid thing grows on you.”

  Apple-Moth does several backflips and the drone’s lights cycle through a rainbow of colors.

  “Listen,” I say, and the drone hovers in front of my face, “I need you to preserve energy. We’re going back to the base—you have to lead the way and keep us hidden from Mosquitoes, understand?”

  “Yes, friend!” Apple-Moth proclaims. “Let’s go!”

  * * *

  The journey across the city takes hours.

  We have to hide several times from groups of soldiers, but there are no Mosquitoes—they must all have flown up to join the cloud.

  All the while I think about Shion, lying dead on a cold hard floor; I think about Molly, the distance between us growing with every step; I think about how close we are to this all being over. One way or another, the end is coming.

  When we get within a mile of the library, Pander leads us—once again—into the sewer system.

  And, finally, we make it to the ladder.

  We climb up, one at a time, tired but happy to be back.

  We move through to the main room of the library.

  I hear Wren’s quiet moans coming from the storeroom and my heart sinks a little. I had hoped that by now she might be coming around, that the treatment Dr. Ortega had given her and the medication would have helped her.

  “Is that … is that Wren?” Malachai asks.

  “Yeah,” Igby replies. “Listen, there’s something you should know.”

  “Take me to her,” Malachai says.

  “Listen, she’s not the same as—”

  “Take me to her,” Malachai repeats firmly.

  Igby nods, takes Malachai by the arm, and leads the way.

  And then Akimi runs up to us. “Come quick,” she says, grabbing Dr. Ortega by the hand.

  “What is it?” Kina asks.

  “The baby is coming. Those weren’t phantom contractions. Sam’s baby is coming!” Akimi replies, dragging Dr. Ortega away toward the periodicals room.

  “Surely not,” Dr. Ortega says, eyes widening. “It’s too soon.”

  We’re about to follow, to see if there’s anything we can do to help, when thunder rolls across the sky, so loud and booming that it shakes the foundations of the library.

  “Fuck,” Igby says, returning from the storage room, “what now?”

  I run over to the crow’s nest chair and hoist myself up until I’m inside the domed window. I look out over the city. It’s now in complete darkness as the drone cloud becomes one solid, dark curtain stretching out as far as I can see.

  And then the whole city is lit up as if it’s daylight for a fraction of a second as lightning forks down from the sky. And again, another fork of lightning, and another, and another, every few seconds. It starts to rain, drops pattering loud against the glass roof.

  “Apple-Moth, what is this?” I yell down to the ground floor.

  The drone darts up beside me and scans around, analyzing the lightning. “They’ve found us,” the drone replies.

  Then, suddenly, the cloud is shrinking and moving, growing darker as it does.

  I look down to see Kina, Pod, Pander, and Igby standing together, silently looking up at me and Apple-Moth.

  I look out again at the clouds and the rain, which is growing heavier by the second. I watch the lightning flicker and fork. I see sparks fly up each time the bolts of electricity strike something. And then, finally, the boom of the lightning stops and becomes only a rumble as it occasionally lights up the black clouds.

  And now, among the illuminating clouds, I see thousands of Mosquitoes and thousands of attack drones.

  “It’s over,” I say.

  The rain is unnaturally heavy now, a battering stream falling from the sky. I watch in horror as the glass of the dome begins to crack under the weight of the enormous raindrops.

  “Luka,” Kina calls, “get down from there.”

  I begin to lower myself down, feeding the rope through my hands, but then the glass above me shatters under the weight of the rain and I’m falling, fast, toward the floor.

  The chair hits the ground hard.

  It hurts like hell—I think my collarbone is broken—but there’s no time to dwell on it. The rain falls so hard and so fast that I can’t breathe.

  Kina, Pander, and Igby run into the deluge and pull me out.

  “We have to go back into the tunnels,” Kina says, “back to Purgatory. It’s the only way.”

  We all head toward the tunnels, none of us choosing to point out that if the scramblers can’t hide us from the drone cloud, a low-battery Apple-Moth certainly won’t be able to.

  Pander is the first down, followed by Pod and Igby. I usher Kina toward the ladder, but she can see in my eyes that I don’t intend to follow.

  “Where are you going?” she asks.

  “Go,” I say to Kina. “I’m going to get the others.”

  “No way,” she replies. “I’m coming with you.�
��

  I nod, and we run back into the main room of the library.

  Malachai and Wren are walking arm in arm toward us, Wren leading Malachai. I tell them to follow Pander, Igby, and Pod into the tunnels, and Kina and I run through the ever-growing pool of water that is slowly flooding the library.

  We run to the periodicals room, where Sam is lying on her back, soaked in sweat, breathing rapidly as Akimi holds her hand and Dr. Ortega gives her instructions.

  “We have to go,” I say.

  “Oh yeah, great,” Dr. Ortega replies. “Let’s just go on a lovely jaunt. It’s not like there’s a human being coming out of another human being or anything!”

  “What’s going on?” Akimi asks, her eyes following the stream of water as it snakes into the room.

  “Happy has found us. If we don’t leave now, we’re all dead.”

  “Fuck!” Dr. Ortega yells, so loud and so suddenly that it startles me. “Why now?”

  She leans forward and asks Sam if she can stand.

  I know that we won’t make it all the way to the arcade with Sam in this condition, I know that Apple-Moth can’t hide us from the Mosquitoes, I know that it’s over. We can’t escape.

  Sam swears a lot as she is helped to her feet and led through to the main room of the library, where the water is now at ankle level.

  I glance up to the smashed glass roof, and see raindrops bouncing off the shells of dozens of attack drones that loom over and track our movements.

  Why aren’t they firing? I wonder. They have us, it’s over. Why aren’t they firing?

  I look toward the bathroom door to see Pander, Igby, and Pod walking toward us, dejected.

  “What are you waiting for?” I call out. “Let’s go!”

  “The tunnels are filled with Alt soldiers,” Igby says. “Hundreds of them. We’re dead.”

  And just like that we’re trapped, cornered like hunted animals.

  I look around: Apple-Moth frantically circles the torrent of rainfall; my friends stand together; Sam lowers herself down into the water and cries in pain as the baby comes, and above us, thousands of attack drones hover above the library.

  “Well,” Malachai says, “things are not going so well.”

  “You could say that,” I reply.