by RMGilmour
I shook my head, just a little and thought, I can do this. Strong like Lena. It had become my mantra.
Raising my fists, I readied myself for the next attack. And I managed to last a whole split second longer. Or that could have been my own wishful thinking.
“For goodness sake,” she grumbled, as she picked me up off the floor. “Who taught you how to fight?”
“Um, you,” I responded, around the pain in my mouth.
She released her hold on me, as her jaw fell open. If I hadn’t already had one foot firmly planted, I would have crumpled back to the floor.
“What? Why weren’t you taught on Earth?”
“Because it was voluntary knowledge, and I was never a fan of physical pain.”
She stared at me for several moments, not even blinking, before mumbling through a sigh. “Ok. I don’t know how much more basic I can make this thing…” she began.
I hated the disappointed look that now pursed her mouth, and I decided I preferred the trouble-bearing grin.
“You need to learn how to hit something,” she grumbled, as though wondering what to do with me.
I breathed through my mantra, Strong like Lena, and turned back to the simulation. “I’ll learn as I go,” I told her. It’s what she would do.
And the grin was back.
“Hands up.”
I fought and lost so many times I lost count. Each defeat was swift. The pain however, had a cumulative effect, and by mid-afternoon I was sure my face was going to fall off.
I held my hands up, palm out, in surrender. I needed to stop. Catch my breath. Not lose my face. And I swallowed hard, several times, trying to keep it all from surfacing. Don’t you dare cry, I scolded myself, and forced back another deep breath, struggling to suppress the emotion.
“Well, you lasted longer than I expected,” Lena chuckled. “Come on, I’ll get you to Connor. He’s waiting for you below.”
“I got it,” came Jordan’s voice beside me. His arms wound around me, picking me up with ease. I hadn’t even sensed him near.
“Why can’t I feel you?” I mumbled.
“Because when you feel pain, you don’t let yourself feel anything else,” Jordan whispered.
“Another habit you need to break,” Lena said to me, as we passed her.
Thankfully, Connor was expecting me, and as the pain receded I began to sense Jordan once more. His warmth was wrapped around me. All I could wonder however, was why Connor was there, healing me. But I let the question go without asking it. He had to know what he was doing, or he wouldn’t be there.
4
A Made-up World
After a week of simulation training, and of course, bad dreams, the fighter Lena generated for me, began to look eerily enough, like the very ward I was trying to escape. And I relished every bone-twisting encounter. To me, fighting the simulated ward was more like therapy than training. However, after several weeks of taking out my frustrations on the ward-simulation, I still couldn’t beat it, I wasn’t even close. But at least, I had no trouble learning to wrap my arm around its neck, or dislocate a pinkie finger - generally my own.
The fun ended though, when Lena once more attempted to spar with me, and I reluctantly followed her to the underground stadium.
“You need a real person to fight with. The simulation will only fight at your level, allowing you to learn the moves. But that’s all he does. You now need to implement what you’ve learned and fight me.”
“I had no trouble with him because it looked like the ward.”
“I know,” she smirked. “So, are you ready to really fight, or do I have to spur you on?”
I wanted to learn. I wanted to be strong, as strong as she thought I should be, and I didn’t want to let her down again.
However, when the moment came, I shook once more. It was like every cell within my body screamed at me to stop. I just didn’t feel that warrior violence roar within me, ready to spring forth whenever it was needed.
And as much as I needed to prove to her that I could do it, I groaned, conceding to failure. But as I began to release her, she growled her frustration at me once more. Too easily, she released herself from my hold, and swung me around. She then twisted my arm in hers, and snapped my bones up to my shoulder.
The pain burned lightning fast to my brain. Stopping my breath. Stilling my voice. And I crumpled backward in a heap.
Upon reaching the medic room, Jordan confronted Lena once more.
“What is she going to do if she really is attacked again? How is she going to defend herself?” Lena argued.
And when he responded, I could hear the defeat in his tone. He knew she was right.
She then lowered her voice, and I couldn’t hear the rest of their conversation until Jordan roared an emphatic ‘No!’ before walking away from her.
He placed his hands on either side of my face and held my gaze.
“You don’t have to keep doing this.”
“I know,” I sighed, but memories of the ward flooded me once more. Each time he’d attacked me, I was helpless to stop him.
“I have to, though,” I told him. “I need to learn.”
He wrapped his arms around my healed body and held me tight against his chest.
“I don’t like to see you get hurt.”
“Hurts me just as much to see you in pain,” I mumbled against him.
And after reluctantly agreeing to return the following day, he led me home. We’d taken up residence upon a hilltop, west of Tira-Mi. It was isolated, overlooking the ocean on two sides. We had the serenity of the ocean waves in the south, and to the west we had a perfect view of the sunset.
The house was a gift; Heart’s thanks to me for my part in the removal of the Guardian and the wards. A cozy, white, flat-top structure, with several rooms, and a firefly-filled flower garden all around. And it was in the south-western corner of our garden, where we enjoyed our afternoons. I lay across Jordan’s chest, wrapped in his arms as we watched the sun sink below the water.
Each time I saw it, a feeling nagged in my chest that something was wrong with the scene. However, I hadn’t yet been able to put my finger on it. I hadn’t seen too many sunsets over the water on Earth, but from what I had seen, there was definitely something missing from the one before me.
“We don’t have to go back tomorrow,” he said, stroking my hair away from my face. I peered up at him, only to see him gazing back at me.
“I know. But you know she’s right.”
“You need a break from all of that pain.”
I could use a permanent break from all of the pain. But on this world, that concept seemed to have vanished some time ago.
I cast my gaze back out to the ocean and tried to make sense of the image before me. Jordan’s breath rolled down my neck and across my chest in warm waves, caressing me. My skin welcomed the gentle touch, and I closed my eyes. The sound of the ocean waves lulled me into a memory, and I drifted back to my childhood - a day at the beach with my brother and grandparents, the sunset twinkling upon the water. I smiled at the recollection, and welcomed Jordan’s next exhale as it warmed me like the sun across the exposed surface of the water in my mind. And in my memory, the water reciprocated the sun’s touch with its glinting reflections, sparkling, and waving back at the sky.
My eyes slipped open, and a small smile turned the corners of my mouth at the thought of that day. And while wishing to feel more of that memory, I stared out at the ocean expecting to see those same sunlit reflections upon the water’s surface, waving to me, welcoming me, as it stretched its watery arms toward us.
What I saw however, was the sun shining low upon the western horizon. Yellow, red, and gold splashing the sky above, and around the edge of the watery landscape, but never touching the ocean’s surface.
Not a flicker.
Not a flash.
Not a single gleam of light glanced across the water’s peaks.
; I eased upright, staring dumbstruck at the horizon. Why hadn’t I seen it before?
“What is it?” Jordan asked.
“The light,” I began, attempting to acknowledge the insanity of the view before me. “It’s supposed to touch the water. But… it has no reflection.”
He didn’t respond. Instead, he only stared out at the water as though trying to see what I was seeing.
“Is it the sun? Because it’s not real?” I asked, and I could hear my voice rise in pitch, in much the same way Rebecca’s did when she had trouble comprehending something.
“The sun and the sky may be painted over, generated colors, but they’re still real.”
“Why doesn’t it reflect off the water?”
“Because I didn’t paint it that way.”
“The sun?” I asked, confused. The reflection upon the water would not be part of the sky he’d created. I hadn’t shown him the sunset over the water.
“No, the ocean. They were two separate projects, planned and completed at separate times.”
“Wait,” I swallowed hard, and paused for my brain to catch up. “You painted the ocean as well? You mean it’s generated?”
“Of course.”
Not possible. I’d swam in that ocean. Its water was warm, soft, and every bit as wet and sandy as the ocean on Earth.
“This ocean, I saw from images in the Central Unit. Images someone else had brought back from Rathe. The air over their ocean was thick, their sun was dimmed and it cast no reflection.”
“But you painted this. All of it?”
He smiled, no doubt enjoying my moment of incredulity at his artwork.
“Not possible,” I said, this time out loud.
“You saw my round room. You saw the clouds, felt the rain, smelt the flowers, enjoyed each soft blade of grass against your skin,” he said, with a smirk. “It was all painted.”
“But h-how? The ocean goes on for miles,” I said, and tried to control my trembling words, as I realized all he was saying. He’d painted the sky, the sunsets, the dawn, the stars, the clouds, the rain… and the ocean. It didn’t make sense. Did he paint everything? The mountain? The forest? The cliff we climbed down? The fields the Rathe grew our crops in? The very crops we ate?
I rose from our seat, my eyes never leaving his face. Was he real? Was anything?
“Lydia,” he whispered, standing with me. “What’s wrong?”
“What else did you paint?” I could barely say it. “What else is generated? Is anything real?”
“It’s all real,” he tried to reassure me, as he clasped my fingers and pulled me toward him. “Everything is real. Just different than what was here before.”
“What was here before?”
“I couldn’t say. I created much of this landscape long before I’d ever ventured out of the city.”
“But the fields, the food we grow, Castor’s orchard…”
“All real. All planted from seed, all growing the way you see it grow. But if we choose to make a change, the Central Unit can change the landscape to meet our needs. I just designed the landscape, gave it color and substance. The Central Unit did the rest.”
I’m not sure why I was so shocked to hear it said, so amazed and astounded by the workings of this world. I shouldn’t have been. I’d seen things change before, right in front of me. During my first visit inside their city, whole houses, streets, and neighborhoods, had transformed before my eyes, from a collection of plain, orderly structures into various colorful memories of my home on Earth. And all pulled right out of my mind.
But that had been within the city, enclosed and controlled by the Central Unit and its Guardian. Outside of the city, I had assumed, and incorrectly it seemed, that the environment, the land, the ocean, the food… was natural.
“And what if…” I huffed out my breath, unsure if I should even ask my next question. “What would happen if the Central Unit was no longer… there… working…”
He smiled before responding, and caressed my cheek, no doubt feeling my thoughts overwhelm my ability to grasp every insane, overdeveloped concept he’d grown up with. “Everything would remain as it is now. It would be unchangeable,” he said.
“And the sky? What about the sky?”
His smile failed him then. Sadness pulled at the corners of his mouth, and he looked up into the growing darkness.
“The shield around us would be gone, and the sky would be as it was before…” he paused, and I waited quietly for him to finish speaking. I didn’t want to interrupt whatever thought had overtaken him. “I have no memory of it,” he continued. “I only know our sky, our ocean, and our land from images I’d seen in the Central Unit.”
I rose one hand to caress his cheek with my palm; my turn to comfort him. I couldn’t imagine living for as long as he had and having no memory of how his home was supposed to look, without all of the technological interference.
But I needed to stop thinking about it. I was giving myself a headache and I hadn’t seen Grid in days; I was yet to ask him what was in the blue mixture he’d previously provided me, when my body needed something to right the aches and pains. It had always worked wonders on my self-inflicted headaches.
I leaned my head against Jordan’s chest, and pushed away any further thoughts that wanted to tumble through my mind. And I decided to not let it matter. It felt real, smelt real, tasted real, therefore it had to be. Words I needed to keep in the forefront my mind. Whether they would stay, and whether I actually believed them, I couldn’t yet say.
“It’s not quite as big as it looks. Haize advised me we only needed the ocean to go as far as we could see,” he began, in a gentle tone. “So, if I didn’t paint it just quite right, why don’t you tell me what I need to change?”
I turned my head toward the water, keeping my temple against his warmth, and tried to remember how it had looked back on Earth. I wished I’d spent more time at the beach, but it had been a rather long drive from where I’d lived, and driving had not exactly been my strong suit.
“Every day is different,” I said, unsure if I could describe what he was asking. “The clouds, the weather, the time of year, it all changes the light.”
“Tell me what you see when you close your eyes,” he whispered.
I took a deep breath, and attempted to form my few memories into sentences, to create a clear enough image for him to see.
“Throughout the day the light sparkles upon the water’s peaks ducking in and out, as the waves weave up and down.” Not quite the image in my head, but it was a start. “And as the sun descends it stretches red-gold arms upon the horizon, encircling the world, holding it close,” I paused, but only long enough to close my eyes. I’d latched onto my earlier memory, and did my best to describe the sight I saw in my mind.
“The sun’s breath, like a beacon, reaches out to us from across the water, creating a patchwork in shades of gold and blue. Until the sun slowly sinks below the horizon, its beacon dimming. The patchwork of light retreats, and the surface darkens. And as the last of the sun’s rays withdraw from the sky, its red-gold arms diminish, and the light surrenders to the coming night.”
When I finished my description, he didn’t say a word. I opened my eyes and tried to stare up into his face, to see what he was thinking, but the light around us was fading. He didn’t move. He only stared at the horizon, and breathed.
Not wanting to disturb him while he thought about the image that I’d presented to him, I remained still, waiting, silently watching. And while he was lost in his thoughts, my own questions about this world, invaded my mind once more. Why was the world a painted dream, or nightmare? What was here before? How long had it been this way? And more importantly, how did it come to this?
I needed to know. Needed at least some of my questions answered. And I decided the one person who would know the most about this planet, would be the one-person Jordan may not wish me to speak to.
Jordan still
hadn’t quite forgiven Mason for advising me to visit the Spire for insertion - my effort to stop the Guardian. But I hadn’t needed to go that far. The machine only needed my blood to contaminate it enough to force it to reduce power, while it isolated and cleaned out the virus that my imperfect DNA had been, in its pure system. I did die, for the second time since coming to this place, but Mason saved me, and without having to insert me. I was glad he didn’t need to go that far. Insertion is one thing I wish to never experience. I preferred not to have my body liquefied, purified and put back together.
And Mason, I’d been told, was over two thousand years old, and quite likely a lot older than that. I somehow doubted that even he would know his exact age. I was quite sure that if having lived that long, there would come a point when time would lose its meaning, and counting the years would become as tedious as remembering them.
If anyone could give me the information I needed, he could. Though I wouldn’t go without informing Jordan. He may object at first, but I needed to do this. He would understand.
Once the night was completely upon us, Jordan looked down at me, cupped his hands around my face and kissed me.
∞
“Thank you,” he whispered, the following morning. Though I should have been thanking him. A vague feeling crept around the edge of my memory that my dreams had been visited once more by unpleasantness.
“For which part?” I asked instead, teasing his calf with my toes. Sweet memories of the previous night overran all other thoughts. The feeling of him lingered upon me, still.
He chuckled, no doubt relishing the reminder. “For the imagery,” he said. “I know how to fix the ocean.”
“How?” He couldn’t seriously mean repaint it. I couldn’t even fathom the length of time and the amount of effort it would take to complete such a task.
“I’m going to repaint it.”
Of course, he was.
