by Zac Strong
I stand and swing, aiming for his skull.
My sword stops seconds before it slices him in two.
The man with the metal arm caught my swing.
He stares into my eyes and cracks a haunting smile from above.
With one rapid motion, he rips the sword from my hands and slings it at the wall behind him.
My eyes search the room for anything I can use to my advantage. There’s nothing. I’m outmanned… unarmed.
This isn’t over, I lie to myself backing into a corner.
The two of them swarm me at once, unleashing a barrage of punches and kicks that leaves me on the floor clinging to a shred of life. I manage to block a few strikes, but my resistance is useless. The bones in my chest and face collapse as they show me no mercy, stomping me into submission.
One of them picks me up, broken and bloody. He raises me above his head and smashes me through the clear wall protecting the exposed machinery of the servers, shattering the glass into a million tiny pieces.
Every inch of my body screams.
I can’t move.
It’s no use, pain has paralyzed me.
Xander’s lifeless body lays across the floor from me. His blood, embedded with fragments of metal and wire, stretches in my direction.
On my back, I reach out for a shard of bloody glass, but the man with the metal arm digs his shoe into my hand crushing the bones within it. With his other foot, he drives into my neck.
Choking me…
I try to pry free, but he’s too strong.
Panic takes control of my mind.
The ticking of clocks floods my ears, hundreds of them. The lights from the servers flicker rapidly as the world around me slowly begins to disappear.
I lay here helpless, inches from her prison, defeated.
I failed you. I failed us all.
Please… just forgive me.
“Remember my name,” says the man with the metal arm. “When Archer plugs in, I want him to know Oriyen sent you.”
My hand gives, falling from the polished black shoe around my neck to my side, before landing on something hard tucked under my shirt. The grenade!
Consciousness fading in and out.
I don’t have much longer.
My hand just barely wraps around the edge of the grenade, struggling to get my fingers positioned on the pin.
He pushes down on my neck with everything he has. All his weight collapsing the airway and bones in my neck, but it’s not enough.
Seconds before the world turns to black, I get my fingers through the pin. It slips away from the grenade.
With my last dying words, I scream her name and release the lever. It falls from my hand, rolling on the ground next to me.
I’m absorbed by a moment of tranquility.
It’s the purest thing I’ve ever felt.
I hear her sweet voice calling for me to come home as the world around me fades into darkness.
It is finished.
Chapter 12
I jerk the cord unplugging myself from the computer and desperately try to calm my lungs as they gasp for air. My stifled eyes blink rapidly as my true reality floods back into me.
Palin was right… Lethe must be stopped.
The warmth of my coffee lingers above my mug. I’m sitting in front of my computer like I never left. I’m Eros agai- I’m me again. As the remnants of Palin’s consciousness evaporate from my mind, the daunting vagueness of this reality slowly retreats. Both of my eyes water to a blur, my blood still coursing rapidly through my veins. The home screen, loaded on my display, splashes across my face, THE DELTA PROJECT: Life From A Different Perspective.
“What the fuck was that?” I whisper to myself as I feel the wetness below my eyes drip down my cheek. The splitting headache lodged in the deepest parts of my head shows me no mercy. I know it’s impossible, but I still feel the soreness in my neck from Palin. I’ve never seen anything in the Delta like that before. How did he get into my computer? Who is he?
Walking over to a love seat I haven’t seen in years, my body collapses into it like a magnet. I’m exhausted. Twenty-five years as Palin, I forgot comfort like this existed. The polyfoam deciphers my exact bone structure in seconds and automatically adjusts itself depending on my weight distribution. They can really use some of these in Elysium. I wonder if that place still exists. If Jacee.. Don’t be stupid, Eros.
The receiver in my arm vibrates and flashes green, scaring the ever-living shit out of me. It’s been decades since I’ve existed in this reality, well at least to me.
“Yo!”
“Is it good to hear from you or what?” I answer into the pulsating light awkwardly. The sound of my voice is still off-putting.
“What the fuck are you talking about? I saw you last night. You gotta lay off that shit man,” says Poth. He looks stoned.
“Nah, I just… Why are you calling me?”
“I need a place to crash until the droids fix my shit. You care if I couch surf at your place until they finish?”
“Nah I don’t mind, man.”
“Sorry for storming out on you last night, but I couldn’t stay in that shithole another minute, ungrateful bastards.”
“Well, it’s the only place open,” I reason. “Hey, by the way, you haven’t downloaded anything on my computer, have you? Any unsanctioned Delta Projects or mods?”
“Uh. No. How can you still fuck with that depressing old shit when there is an infinite amount of nasty, nasty sluts in a thousand different virtual whorehouses? The kind that’ll let you do whatever you want, can be whoever you want.”
“Everyone knows those places are for dogs like you that can’t pull any real, organic ass.”
“Yeah, yeah.. I’ll see ya this afternoon. Appreciate you looking out.”
“No problem,” I mumble as the pixels making up his face fade, returning to the receiver.
“Oracle, table display, please,” I demand.
If what Kronos is showing me is real, there has to be evidence of it. There’s got to be something.
The clear glass surface of the coffee table springs to life illuminating my home display – a picture of me and Poth surrounded by a group of beautiful, half-naked women that I can no longer remember the names of.
“How may I assist you?” asks the flat’s A.I. system, a feminine voice, synthesized.
Moving yesterday’s bowl from the table, I begin my investigation. “Access Olympia’s public records domain.”
“Accessing,” she replies pleasantly.
A thousand holofiles spiral towards the ceiling in 3-D, illuminated in a cool gradient of blues and greens.
“Show me everything you have on a Palin from labor city 34.”
“My pleasure,” voices the Oracle as the holofiles collapse to one.
I knew it… All of Palin's information is here, just as I remember it. Records of his employment at the droid plant, his medical files, even the failed attack on 34 nearly a hundred years ago. Everything is here except…
There’s no death record or Delta experience on file. It just reads
Weird. It’s definitely not sealed; it’s loaded on my desktop right now.
“Oracle, search for any criminal records for a ‘Xander’ out of Olympia.”
The display rearranges the floating pixels revealing the same man that sacrificed himself for Palin. Xander Phales, Former Olympian-Turned Terrorist, Banished! reads a copy of an old headline. All his offenses appear under his mugshot. Conspiracy to terrorism. Treason. Assault. Kidnapping. Cause of Death: Gunshot wound.
It was all real.
Lethe used the Delta Project to harvest the memories of innocent people, slaves that were no longer needed, all for the perverted entertainment of the elite, for Archer.
My brain now at war with my heart, all of these conflicting principles are clouding my thoughts. I love this city. I truly do, and I am honestly thankful for what Lethe has given us, but what they have done is wrong. What they still might be
doing is wrong. What type of person am I if I turn a blind eye to injustice? What type of world would I help create if I did nothing to stop this shit? Palin gave Lethe his whole life for them, multiple lives, and look how they repaid him. I’m not letting them do that to me. I’ve got to get the fuck out of here.
The light embedded in my arm blinks twice. A voice recording from Selene plays with the swipe of my finger over my network port. “Hey E, good news! I pulled a few strings and spoke with the DC director. He basically said if you can prove someone cheated, he would consider an investigation. I know it’s not much, but it’s a start. So, when you have the drone, call me. Be careful.”
Who gives a fuck about some stupid race when Lethe is out there murdering innocent people? I’ll never fly for them again.
How could I be so naïve? All of these wasted years… so self-absorbed to even notice what was happening right beside me, as if it matters. What the fuck am I going to do? I’m just one man. All I know is I can’t stay in this cesspit another minute.
It’s getting harder to breathe in here so I take off running, the only thing I can think of to stop myself from crying. Turning the corner of my launchpad, I head straight for my shuttle.
The engines roar the second my wrist hits the ignition. Pulling back the throttle I take off, soaring between monoliths of glass and over the city walls to freedom.
My brief moment of relief dissolves when I see three Lethe enforcers fly in formation over the black sand behind me.
I’m not sure if I forgot about the lockdown or just didn’t care, either way, I’m outside the city and caught. Technically, not caught if they never stop me, and no one can catch me in a fair race. I don’t assume this to be fair though.
A few silent seconds pass. I continue flying away from Olympia, full throttle. The enforcers remain behind me in formation, trailing at every turn.
My throat begins to dry.
A rocky canyon is visible from the dash, dozens of winding arms weaved in and around the Outlands desert, the perfect place to make my move.
Gripping the steering a little tighter with my sweaty hands, I take a deep breath and try to block everything out. Focus. A red indicator on my dash makes that impossible as it notifies me that I’ve been fired upon.
Time stops for a moment. And just as quickly as it paused, it resumes again fourfold the second I yank my flyer straight up just barely evading their missile. Somersaulting around a rock pillar, my shuttle descends, disappearing into the sandy haze of the canyon.
Three more missiles are shot from behind.
I jerk left and cut through a narrow crack in the desert, just big enough to fit through.
Another close miss as the rocket collides with the side of a boulder, shrapnel peppering my tail.
Flying dangerously low to the ground, I duck and dodge eroded rock formations until my upgraded eye locates a tiny fissure hidden between two rocks large enough to squeeze through, I think.
I spin and zoom towards the opening.
Two Lethe enforcers follow, too far to fall back now.
The sides of my shuttle throw sparks as it barely scratches through. Out the opening I soar, behind me, a powerful explosion collapses the tunnel and slings smoldering debris in all directions.
I think I lost them.
Suddenly, three blasts explode in the black sand below me as I give her everything I have.
From the best I can tell, the last Lethe enforcer is still on my ass from above. I can’t shake him in the open, he’s too fast.
Three more shots just barely miss, blasting sand into the exhaust, causing one of the engines to stutter.
I jerk the control to the right nearly wrecking, as the shuttle’s wing grazes the top grains of the quiet Outlands.
Lethe’s enforcer turns with me, a blur of black and red. The blur fires three more missiles - one striking the hull of the shuttle this time.
I swing it hard left while drawing back on the control at the same time, shooting me spiraling up towards the stratosphere.
He follows.
We climb higher. Higher.
Ignoring the insistent lights and pleas from the dash, I push further. Higher.
More.
The windshield cracks. Webbing flashes across the glass. The sound of the pressure against the metal frame makes me jump.
My flyer stalls at its highest point.
The nose of my ship slowly floats down, pointing back towards the Earth. Olympia is hardly noticeable from up here. Everything is so small, so insignificant.
Descending, I pass the enforcer and begin picking up speed very quickly. I push my wrist up to the dash, but it refuses to crank.
Falling faster panic takes over.
My shuttle isn’t starting.
I start to spiral out of control in freefall.
Sucked to the back of my seat.
Stay focused.
Start.
Fucking start.
I fall faster.
Come on… Start.
Impact is imminent.
I feel myself losing consciousness.
Slamming my wrist against the dash violently, again and again, the engines refuse.
Just a few hundred meters above the black sand, and falling rapidly, I close my eyes and push my wrist to the console one last time. The dash lights flicker, then spring to life as the thunder from the engines shakes the tears from the brim of my eyes.
Exhale.
Hammering the throttle, I pull up and take off just above the empty sand. Behind me, the Lethe pilot crashes to the Earth in a fiery flash as I jet away from Olympia as fast as I can.
After a few seconds of quiet, I pull myself together. There’s no calming my lungs. That was fucking close.
Nestling in my chair, I catch my breath and get comfortable for the long ride as my still quivering hands set the autopilot navigation for a city only known as 34. I may not be able to stop Lethe, but at least I can help where I can, like Palin, and Xander. Starting with the child that lost me my title. He must be terrified out here. I don’t know how he’s survived for this long. Maybe this will make up for some of the fuck up shit I’ve done, clean the slate a little.
A yawn takes me by surprise.
After an hour or so my eyes grow heavy. Sleep begs me to follow. The lights from the stars render in and out of focus. Suddenly, I blink and
I’m back at the Delta facility.
The alarms wail.
A hint of gunpowder lingers in the air.
Footsteps are coming up the stairwell behind me.
Long narrow hallways, dimly lit, stand in both directions.
I enter the first door I see. Black paint.
“So, we meet again... I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.” The flickering red and green lights from the servers reflect off Oriyen’s metal arm.
My heart drops to my stomach.
I’m trapped.
I close my eyes and feel myself choking.
They open to his shiny, black shoe digging into my neck.
I can’t breathe.
I’m going to die like this.
This isn’t right!
I’m not Palin.
The lights from the machines flicker more rapidly as the world around me slowly begins to fade.
I don’t have much longer.
“I’m not Palin!” I scream, but it’s useless.
The man with a metal arm pushes down harder.
I’m not Palin…
Chapter 13
The onboard navigation wakes me, interrupting the perpetual roar of the engines to inform me of the arrival at my destination, 34. I still feel as if I’ve lived here my entire life. It’s a strange feeling. Conflicting, yet almost unifying.
The shuttle lands outside the same gate Lethe banished Palin from. I remember it like it was yesterday. Everything looks different now, surprisingly more depressing than before.
My eye finds two sentry droids collapsed at the entrance. A fresh stab wo
und in each of their cores is discovered upon closer inspection.
About a mile in, like an explorer stepping into uncharted territory, I cautiously wade through the city shadows, not entirely sure what waits for me, but my heart doesn’t care right now.
I’ve always known Lethe had a dark side, a side that I refused to entirely see because not seeing it benefited me, it allowed me to ignore it. After living the life of Palin, after literally walking in the shoes of a living, breathing victim of Lethe, how could I not do everything in my power to help? The way they did those people is wrong, it doesn’t matter how long ago it happened. That could’ve been me.
As I stumble atop the broken concrete with the crumbling Delta Project building, cloaked in a thick layer of soot, in view, I’m stopped in my tracks at the sight of them. Three Lethe droids armed with rifles block my path. Their eyes radiate red, glowing with hostility. They stand upright, silent, their barrels aiming directly at me. They all share the same cold-metal stare.
I never should’ve come here.
My eyes close in submission, quickly opening again after the sound of clanking metal and the sizzle of electricity plunges into my surprised ear.
Hunched over three wrecked piles of metal, stands the child I was searching for. He’s about half my height, still clutching the knife he used to dismember the droids in one hand and a dirty plastic sack in the other. It’s dark, but I can tell this is no ordinary child, as if children were ordinary. Aside from within Palin’s mind, I can’t remember the last time I saw one.
He stands motionless with eyes that pierce. His long hair, dark and wild. Each of us waiting for the other to make the first move.
“Who are you?” I speak.
“Are you one of them?” asks a child’s voice in return.
“Are you?”
“If I were.. you wouldn’t be standing there,” the boy replies, his tone seems more like a promise, his gaze an act of violence. There is no softness in his face. Only a look that conveys a bubbling hatred, disgust perhaps, yet this child is a stranger to me.
“I’m Athan,” he says extending his fist in my direction.
I hesitantly bump my closed hand to his causing him to lash out again, “No, you idiot. Take it!”
