text:
Confessions of a Buried Survivor
My Incessant Bitching
Catholic Edition
Superhurt
Your Childhood Was Lies
All Our Racist Stories
TheModestBloggist
~ The opposite of a regret, is a story.
Tag Archives: Free Novel
Posted by shieldingc in Uncategorized
Fantasy, Free Fiction, Free literature, Free Novel, Science Fiction, Time-Travel, urban fantasy
Faisal worked more diligently than ever after Hedoniet left. "We don't need time-travel to give the world peace," he insisted. "All we need is brain-power."
Enioreh went with him a lot of the time; Faisal had an idea that era-foreign psytrons would behave differently, and he wanted to study hers. Sometimes he'd stick wires to her head with suction cups to try and see what was inside, but most of the time she was left with nothing to do but follow Faisal around, trying to look official in a white smock. She didn't mind; she had an odd feeling someone was going to attack him if her back was turned, or that he would just disappear, like a ghost in the light.
Faisal was intensely quiet. When he had to speak, he was intensely heard, by all the underlings who used to be his peers. It was a race, Enioreh knew – Hedoniet's team against Faisal's. Liolaoc had the money, but Faisal had started working on psytrons first. Liolaoc had the formula for Chronojuice. But Faisal said that would only tell them how to keep psytrons in a person's blood once they'd been harvested. And according to the Prince, Faisal was the one who'd figured out how to do that.
The days trickled by, pooling into one week, then another. Faisal wouldn't let them get too far, too fast; he fought to wring each second for all that it was worth. The weight of monumental discovery was always in the air, making people jump. Enioreh found herself hanging on the minutes with baited breath.
Late one night, when there was no one in the lab but Enioreh and Faisal, she heard a scratching on the outside of the window.
"I think I'll go check that out," said Enioreh, after pacing and thinking about it for a minute.
Faisal nodded vaguely as she went.
The air was frosty and good when Enioreh stepped outside, and the moon hung low. Enioreh crept to the side of the building where Faisal's lab windows were, searching the shadows for signs of something wrong.
"Enioreh."
"What!!!" Enioreh spun reflexively, throwing useless punches and kicks in all directions.
"How have you been, friend?" It was Prince Hedoniet, leaning on a tree, shortened locks of burgundy swaying in the moonlight.
"Fan-fucking-tastic, asshole." Enioreh folded her arms across her chest. "What's with you sneaking up on me?"
"Permit me to be direct," Hedoniet commanded. "I need help."
"You're damn right you do."
"Tonight is the night, isn't it, Enioreh?" His eyes glittered. "Tonight is the night that psytrons are discovered, isn't it?"
Hedoniet studied her face. "You don't know," he agreed. "But you suspect. You know Faisal's getting close. As do I. I've had it in my head for some time now, that Faisal would make his key discovery tonight. I don't know whether this is a memory or an idea, but it sticks; I feel that this is it."
"So, what? You've hit a wall at Liolaoc, or something? Realizing the value of Faisal's mind, after all, and so you come crawling back for help?"
"I'm afraid so." Hedoniet smiled. He did not look afraid. "It seems vision is just one of those things one cannot transfer unwillingly. We can't see what Faisal sees without him wanting us to see it. Even with a good knowledge of psytron technology as it was always used in our time. And, Enioreh – I can't see what you see without your help."
"What?" Enioreh raised an eyebrow.
"You took us here, with your special brain. Maybe my mind had an influence on where we landed, but the picking up and going, was all you. And I need it, desperately, in order to get home to any kind of future."
"Yeah," said Enioreh. "Too bad you didn't figure that out before you ditched us for Ortiz. I slept on a park bench. Do you have any idea what animals are like after dark? Fucking mean – bastards kept throwing trash at my legs."
"You seemed not to care that I was leaving, until you had nowhere else to go. In any case, you are a resourceful woman with humanitarian friends – I had no fear for you."
"Yeah," said Enioreh. "Jesse and Faisal are humanitarians – good guys, and smart guys, too. Too bad you went and betrayed us – looks like you need all three of us now."
"Betrayal?" Hedoniet shook his head. "My first allegiance is to the future, not the past. As is yours."
"What is a personal slight compared with the development of global death-squads? I realize that Jesse and Faisal have both been kind to us – personally, I care for both of them a great deal. But what are my feelings in the scheme of things? We need to make history, Enioreh, whilst yet we know how. I asked Faisal to consider a partnership with Liolaoc, yet he remains unwilling. I fear this may be my fault – had I not shown him the Chronojuice formula, he may not have spurned such a materially beneficial arrangement. This is not what happened originally. Faisal Adlai partnered with Liolaoc, and once in possession of the particle, Liolaoc developed it – first as a source of alternative energy and then of weaponry, prior to becoming a state."
"Wait," said Enioreh. "You're telling me, Lioloac became the Empire? Because of its weapons – because of psytrons?"
"Oh, what the hell! We've been pushing Faisal to invent the thing that caused the war – and you're ok with this, you fricken douche? You said you were in favor of world peace! I'm definitely not helping you now."
"Enioreh." Hedoniet sighed. "Understand that there has always been war – there have always been nations fighting. Liolaoc merely conglomerated those scattered conflicts into one. And if they had time-travel from the outset, they would have been able to solve that one, centralized conflict much sooner, and thus create a centralized and everlasting peace. It's essentially the same as winning the battle of Theminus – giving the empire the power to triumph over all while they've still the will to win. By the time we return to our own time, we may find the world has even had time to grow used to peace. Think of all the people you have lost over the years of constant war, of all the people you thought never to see again. We can give all of them a second chance!"
"We?" Said Enioreh. "What exactly are we supposed to do, now?"
"When Faisal discovers the way to capture psytrons, the information needs to find its way to Liolaoc. It needs to, or we'll never get anywhere."
"So?" Said Enioreh. "I like it here."
"The whole word isn't like this," The Prince laughed hollowly. "Any more than the entire world back home is like the Emperor's summer palace. There is war, here, too. And there will be war, until someone has the courage to win."
"You don't know that," said Enioreh.
"You don't not know it."
"You know I don't know about knowing nothing like that!" Enioreh yelled. "Dude, look – I don't have time for this. Talk to me when you're feeling like less of a douche." She went inside, shaking her head. Her brain had taken her here – from a world of suffering to the one place she had the power to choose. There had to be some way of not fucking up.
"Everything outside was fine, Faisal. It was an owl, or something." Enioreh coughed uncomfortably. What was the proper way to break it to someone that his work would lead to a war-torn dystopia, after all?
Faisal smiled faintly – looking at her, but not really. His eyes didn't stick to anything. "Enioreh – come here." He held out the wires bound to suction-cups, and Enioreh took halting steps forward, sinking into a chair in front of him. Music was pouring from one of his machines – soothing and scary at the same time.
"That's cold," she said, as he started attaching the suction-cups to her head.
"Yes," said Faisal. "It's an adhesive I've been toying with; a substance designed to channel stray particles. …Enioreh!" Faisal's eyes were wild and whispering. He was watching squiggles dancing on a monitor behind her. "We're close! We're so much closer than we knew. …I can see them!"
"Oh, shit," said Enioreh. "I guess that's the end of your project, then? You can prove psytrons are real."
"Yes," Said Faisal, sounding hushed and far. "But they flee. And I – I know how to catch them!"
"Wait," Enioreh gasped. "You're talking about taking particles from my brain?"
"It won't hurt," Faisal murmured. "Psytrons aren't contained by bone or tissue. They wander, they dissipate, like breath, and re-configure – you won't even feel their harvest."
Enioreh wiggled, looking at Faisal's machines. The goop on her head had stopped feeling cold, but kept feeling heavy, with a growing stiffness. She followed the angled lines of wires with her eyes, from her body to where they hooked into an open box lined with delicate rods of glass and metal. It reminded her of a piano's insides. Faisal's face above it gave back the light of monitors, young and knowing. There was nothing but a tremble between him and discovery.
Enioreh steeled herself. She wouldn't let the world get fucked up another time, right in front of her. "Faisal?"
He didn't answer. The morning's beginning was shining in over mountains through the window, making all things blue. "Here. Right here. Enioreh – we've done it!" Faisal spun wildly, his eyes meeting hers in soft wonder. He pried a gold-tinted metal tube from a slot in the machine. "We did it, Enioreh!"
"What?" Enioreh gasped. "What did we do? What is it?"
"Energy," Faisal breathed. "Pure brainpower!"
Enioreh gasped again, touching her head all over. "But…that's my brainpower?"
"I told you it wouldn't hurt." Faisal grinned affectionately, handing her the psytron-tube. "What kind of mad scientist did you take me for? We've always been the good guys."
"Yeah, right? I know…" Enioreh muttered as Faisal pulled out his silly phone with shaking hands.
"Pizza is in order, wouldn't you say? I just have to call Jesse first." Faisal clasped his phone to his ear and turned away, maybe for just a second.
Enioreh stood as quietly as she could, then made a dash for the door – forgetting about the wires cemented to her head. There was a sharp feeling, like hair being pulled, a quick, chirping screech, then a pop, and the sound of clattering machine bits behind her.
Enioreh paused, hand on the door, and her eyes met Faisal's where he stood across the room. The naked gizmos of the machine had spilled onto the floor, following the broken scraps clinging to her wires.
Faisal's words dragged out, too still and quiet not to make her hairs stand up. Then there was a burst of something behind Faisal's eyes, and he was flying across the room at her. Enioreh scrambled around the door out into the hallway as fast as she knew how, her hands going into her hoody pocket as she ran. The Prince's Invisiband was there – she'd made sure to always have it handy after the nights she'd slept in the park. Now she jammed it on her head, willing the wires and pieces of Faisal's machine to also go invisible as the space and light in the hallway expanded and her hidden skull opened her vision too much.
"I can still hear you!" Faisal yelled, getting closer as Enioreh bashed her way through the emergency exit at the end of the hall.
She didn't know if she could keep psytrons from being invented, but she could sure as hell try. Faisal's feelings would be hurt, but he was a genius – he would come up with some other amazing project before long, and he'd get noticed for it right away this time. His supervisors knew how special he was, and he knew now that his own ideas were worth believing in.
Enioreh coughed on the crystals of cold morning air, dashing through the parking-lot. There were trees crowding its edges – she could just make out their silhouettes through pooling fog – and beyond them she knew where to find a brook. Enioreh had learned that most important things in the 21st century were programmed to self-destruct under water. She hoped Faisal's psytron-cartridge was no different.
Headlights raked the edges of Enioreh's vision; she turned her head in time to see the door of a black car fly open into the side of her face.
Glow – Book Two, Chapter 9
Posted by shieldingc in This Week's Installment
Enioreh, Faisal Adlai, Free Novel, Glow - Book Two, Hedoniet, Jesse Newman, sudden but inevitable betrayal
Enioreh spent the next day wandering the university park. There were pretty things there – birds, and trees with open flowers putting honey in the air. If Hedoniet got a Chrono-juice, she'd have to leave.
It wouldn't be long now, by the look of it. From Faisal's excitement, she knew they must be close to something big. "Maybe it would be better," she argued, to the orange-gray cat who paused at a park bench to stare at her. "Hedo says we can end the war. If it works, maybe the whole world will wind up nice and peaceful, just like this. It's worth trying to make the jump, isn't it, if we can change the world?"
The cat didn't move, but it seemed to be looking at her less sternly, which must be cat-code for agreement. Enioreh tried to pet him, but he wrinkled his nose and then jumped away after a sprinkle of dandelion dust. Sighing, Enioreh took a sloping path out of the woods, and toward the book museum.
She was nearly halfway there when Jesse's white car screeched to a halt beside her.
"Get in."
"Hey," said Enioreh, trying to figure out whether Jesse looked angry or not. "How's it goin?"
Jesse didn't blink. "Enioreh," he said, arms folded. "Is there something you want to tell me?"
"Um," said Enioreh, and her heart began to sink. "Like what, do you mean? What would I have to say?"
"Who you are. Where you're really from. What you're doing here."
"Oh," said Enioreh, relieved he'd finished with an easy one. "I was just wandering around, talking to cats and crap. How about you, how did your day go?"
"Just fucking peachy, doll!" Jesse laughed bitterly. "I took your advice and brought your ornery little partner to Liolaoc corporate headquarters. Asked to speak with Mr. Ortiz. He was too busy to discuss paternity until I pulled the ten-million-dollar-ring card – then they showed us right into his office. Ortiz looked at my ring, said it was lovely but that he'd never seen it before. I might have believed him, if he hadn't looked so fucking much like me – and I know he noticed the resemblance. He kept doing double-takes the whole time we were standing there. Of course, if he really did give that ring away secretly, he might not want to admit it in a room full of strangers and security and office managers. Maybe he was planning to contact me later, on his own terms. But your little friend ruined it – fucking prick. He pulled out that crazy future-holographic-manual and started going on about how he was Ortiz's descendent from the future and could take a DNA test to prove it. And then he started talking about Faisal's work." Jesse fixed Enioreh a piercing sideways stare.
She coughed. "That's…bad." It should have come as a great shock, that Hedoniet would do something like that. But, somehow, it didn't.
"I tried to make him shut up. I tried reminding him of everything we've done for you two – letting you stay with us, cooking for you, cutting his fucking hair. Hedoniet just smiled and said Liolaoc can develop a time-serum faster. That's when Ortiz's eyes lit up – he was very interested in what Hedo had to say, and when I kept trying to cut him off and drag him away, Ortiz asked me to leave. I doubt he's going to believe me now, about my estranged-son theory, or care." Jesse sighed. "The suggestion might even seem like blackmail after the way Hedoniet went on about wanting Liolaoc's support. Faisal's going to be devastated when he finds out."
Jesse's eyes were lightning on Enioreh's skin.
"Jesse," she said. "I hope you don't think I had anything to do with that. I mean, I like it here – I don't care how long it takes Faisal to make chrono-juice."
"Well," Jesse sighed, looking at her, then putting the car into drive. "You can help me break the news to Faisal, then."
They could hear the Prince's voice down the hall long before they reached the lab.
"Just think of what you could accomplish with the greatest minds of the era at your disposal!"
Jesse pushed through the door and Faisal looked up; he stood facing off Hedoniet and two men in dark suits.
"Don't listen to it, Faisal!" Jesse yelled, shouldering past one of the suits to get between the Prince and the scientist. "He told Ortiz what we're doing – the snake!"
"It's all right Jess," said Faisal. "I don't need Liolaoc. It's my vision they wish they had. All Hedoniet did in showing us that hologram was give me proof that my own ideas are real."
"It was not my intention to cause a row," the Prince sighed. "I came only to thank you for your hospitality. My dear ancestor has kindly invited me to stay with him, and I have accepted."
"Oh, yes," said Jesse sarcastically. "I forgot how important family is to you. You're not into using people, or anything."
"Jesse – terribly sorry, again, that things did not work out as you'd hoped. I certainly wish you the very best of luck."
"It didn't work out because you fucking butted in and made the meeting all about your goddamn holograms!"
"That's it." Faisal jerked his thumb angrily at the Prince. "Get out."
The Prince cast dark eyes on Jesse as he glided out, followed by the suits.
"You too, Princess." Faisal was looking at Enioreh. She left, with a sorry goodbye-glance at Jess.
Enioreh didn't want to go with Hedoniet after the way he'd ruined things, but still she thought it was rude that he didn't invite her. He and his suits hurried down the hallway in front of her, pretending not to hear when she loudly called his name.
She went to the book museum until it closed, and then to the park, not knowing where else to go. The night passed, and the next day, and she stayed there in the woods, getting thirsty. She found a half-full water bottle behind a tree at one point, but it turned out to be straight vodka. She drank it and laughed her way over hiking trails, then stopped and started crying. She didn't know where to go. She didn't have money and she'd learned from TV that sooner or later you'd get chased by police and have to drive a car really fancy to get away, only she didn't know how to drive. She was screwed.
The sun went down again and she stopped laughing or crying. She fell asleep, and woke up when college kids were tramping through the woods with loud guffaws. After some painful thrashing through the bushes, she found the way back to flat grass and climbed shivering onto an empty bench.
It was daylight when she woke again. This time it was because of Jesse's hand on her shoulder.
"Enioreh?"
"'Sup," she croaked.
"What are you doing out here?"
Enioreh shivered, and shrugged.
"Please don't tell me this is where you've been sleeping!"
"Well, not if you keep interrupting me."
"Enioreh…" Jesse shifted his weight to one leg, then the other. "Don't you know how dangerous it can be for you, to sleep outside?"
Enioreh shrugged again.
"Where's Hedoniet?"
"How should I know?" Enioreh rolled over on her stomach to avoid Jesse's eyes. He moved to the other side of the bench and looked at her intensely through the wooden slats.
"Do you promise me that you had nothing to do with Hedoniet selling us out?"
"How could I?" Enioreh scoffed. "He's the Prince. He does what he wants and doesn't ask for opinions."
"Ok, then." Jesse took a deep breath. "You come home with me. That's final."
Jesse called Faisal to tell him what he'd seen while jogging, and then they had a loud conversation about it through the phone. When they got to Faisal and Jesse's house he looked angry, for a second. But his face changed when Enioreh stumbled through the door with her hair full of twigs.
"Ok," he muttered. "Enioreh, you can stay. Just because you introduced a sociopath to our fragile socio-political scene at a keystone moment of technological innovation doesn't make you a bad person."
"Yeah," said Enioreh, sucking air apologetically through her teeth. "Sorry, you guys."
adoption, Billionaire, Black Diamond, Dystopia, Free Novel, Illegitimate Heir, Intrigue, Love-Child, Prince, Time-Travel
Jesse left for a few days after that. Faisal said he was on some sort of shopping expedition out of town – he wasn't too clear on the details, and Enioreh thought probably it was because Faisal had been having a hard time paying attention to anyone since he'd gotten so wrapped up in his world of science and technology. She hoped he'd find his balance soon, because he was starting to look a little worn around the edges. All he ever wanted to talk about was work. Luckily, Hedoniet was just as obsessed with it and he usually made a very good audience.
Enioreh knew she ought to want to learn about the science, too, but she honestly just didn't care. After Faisal showed her the university's book museum, she spent her days browsing through all the impossible lot of other things there was to learn, and wondering whether she could live here.
She was glad the day Jesse came back from his trip; he was the closest thing to a friend she had. Faisal wanted to have a romantic night out, but Enioreh talked him into having a nice welcome-back dinner with the four of them instead. Actually, she didn't talk him into it so much as say, "I can make spaghetti!" over and over until he agreed with her. This was after she'd read about making spaghetti.
Jesse had a look when he showed up – half excitement, half anxiety – that made Enioreh think he'd had a pretty intense shopping expedition. He waited for halfway through the spaghetti to say anything about it, though, nodding patiently through all of Faisal's exuberant work updates. When Faisal stopped talking long enough to take a few bites, Jesse took the opportunity to explain where he'd really been.
"I'm looking for my parents," he said.
Faisal almost choked. "Oh…wow! That's…random!" He said. Then he caught himself and said, more supportively, "How are you feeling about it? When did you start?"
"Three days ago," said Jesse.
Faisal opened his mouth. "So you weren't shopping?" He asked. "You've been looking for your parents these past few days? Wow. Why did you lie?"
"I didn't lie," Jesse laughed. "I never told you I was going shopping. I said I was going to look into the background of my heirloom ring. I went to see a few different jewelers."
Faisal looked like he felt sorry. "I guess I really have had tunnel vision lately…."
"It's ok," said Jesse. "I've been on my own mission for the past few days."
"You inquired into the legacy of your ring?" The Prince was looking interested.
"It's all I have left of my past, and for most of my life that's all it was to me – a reminder of things that had gone. But you got me to thinking about the stone, and how really rare it might be. I thought maybe if I could figure out who sold it, I might learn the name of the person who had given it to me."
"I don't know why I never thought of that before," said Faisal, shaking his head. "I really wish I'd thought of it."
"Me too," said Jesse. "I'm thinking…for someone to give me something like this – they had to have cared about me, right?"
"Duh!" Said Enioreh. "So what happened? Is it a real jewel?"
"Oh, it's real," said Jesse. "A fucking black diamond. It's worth more money than I could have ever dreamed. Black diamonds are among the rarest stones in the world. So rare, the jeweler told me, there are only a handful of this size known to exist. And the cut and weight of this stone matches one remembered in fancy circles with the name Sun's Eclipse – last known to belong to Cynthia Ortiz, wife of Carlos Edwin Ortiz – "
"The Lioloac exec!?" Faisal interrupted. "You've got to be shittin' me!"
"That's what I said," Jesse breathed. "The jeweler said the stone Ortiz bought was in a different setting, and that he hadn't heard the gem had changed hands since Ortiz bought it for his wife close to fifteen years ago. He looked so shell-shocked, I half-thought he was going to call the cops. I left right away, didn't give him my name. I figure…I don't remember much of my childhood, my parents, anything. I don't know if they were good people or not. They could have stolen it. But if they had, I would have expected it to have been reported stolen. The other option is that it was given to one of them – or to me, directly, as a gift."
"And that may not have been publicized if the relationship was something of embarrassment to either Ortiz," supplied Faisal. "Jess – what if you're Carlos Ortiz's son? What if your mother was his lover – or visa versa, if Mrs. Ortiz had a love-baby and gave it up for adoption?"
"She'd have had to fuck up pretty badly if she intended to have me live with another family. I wound up on the street. If I'm an Ortiz, my mother, whoever she is, must not be very functional. Whatever the case – I have a lead, now. I might actually find out the truth."
Everyone at the table sat in a stunned silence until Jesse started laughing. "Faisal honey, would you still love me if my dad turns out to be an evil fossil-fuels baron?"
Faisal laughed too. "Oh, you know I'll love you. But that sure would be ironic, wouldn't it? For your husband to put your father out of business. "
They kept laughing until Hedoniet cut them off. "You do realize, don't you, that Liolaoc and you are on the same team? I have a different perspective, don't forget. Hindsight is 20/20."
"Not this again," Enioreh rolled her eyes.
Hedoniet made a small sound of contempt. "I realize it is not seemly for a Prince to point out his advantages over his non-royal counterparts," said the Prince. "However, dire circumstances sometimes require strong words. You may have forgotten, the courtly circles make a thing of educating their children properly. And you all should know that, historically speaking, Faisal Adlai laid the groundwork for psytron technology. And you sold the ownership of that research to Liolaoc."
Jesse opened his mouth and laughed impolitely. "Faisal? Sell out? You're crazy!"
Faisal smiled at Jesse. "I find it difficult to imagine any such situation occurring," he agreed.
"I am no fonder of hypotheticals than you, good sirs," said the Prince stiffly. "The historical truth of the matter is that Faisal Adlai discovered psytrons and sold this knowledge to Liolaoc. Jesse Newman then fought Liolaoc's claims to the work after Faisal collapsed on the side of a country road and passed away. Jesse insisted, then as now, that Faisal would never have sold out, and that he had been planning to present his findings at the U.N. as a solution to the energy crisis. He had no legal defense, of course, and Liolaoc won. Contrary to Jesse's fears, however, Liolaoc continued developing the technology as an alternative source of energy, just as Faisal wished, and the scientist was given all due tribute when governments around the world commended Liolaoc for its initiative."
Jesse said nothing. He was looking at the Prince with obvious dislike.
Faisal gave a low chuckle. "Well, that's an interesting take, but I have no intention of dying mysteriously on the side of a country road, let alone handing off my project to some big evil corporation – no worries there. I'm of the philosophy that we make our own destinies."
"I'm sorry," said Hedoniet, looking down at his plate after a pause. "I did not realize it would be so repugnant to everyone, to consider a partnership with Lioloac. You see – Ortiz happens to be a family name. According to history as I know it, the company does become very powerful. But I like to think of my ancestors as doing good in the world. I believe in free will, also. And when Jesse said he may be kin to Mr. Ortiz, I thought…" He let his voice trail off.
Faisal was looking more surprised than before, and Jesse was managing to look a little sorry and a little suspicious at the same time.
"Of course," said Faisal quickly. "I shouldn't have just dismissed Liolaoc as evil, when I'm sure the people it's made of are wonderful, caring human beings like anyone. I just don't think it's sustainable, to base a company around the consumption of non-renewable resources that pollute the earth. But I don't have anything against your ancestors."
"I don't, either," said Jesse hesitantly. "Especially…since they might be my ancestors, too!" Suddenly Jesse smiled, his eyes a-glow. "What do you think? Is it possible I'm an Ortiz? Do you have any future-knowledge to help me out here?"
The Prince paused thoughtfully. "By my recollection, Mr. Ortiz had two sons. I don't remember what their names were, sadly – all the royalty trace our ancestry to his daughter, who is to succeed him."
"I think the Ortiz's have one son and one daughter right now – the son's in middle school; I remember reading about his son winning a regional science fair a year or two ago. Maybe he will have another son in the future," said Faisal. Then grinned at Jesse. "…Or maybe not."
"Wow, this is so cool!" Enioreh piped up. "Didn't I tell you before, Jess? First I said your ring looks like something royalty would wear. Then I said maybe you and Hedo are related. You could be, like, his great-great-grandfather, or something! Or uncle, whatever. Wouldn't that be great?"
"I suppose it would," said Jesse cautiously.
"Now you've got to go find out!" Said Enioreh excitedly. "You both go march up to this Mr. Ortiz and be like, 'I'm your son from the future!' and 'I'm your son from the past!' at the exact same time, and then once everyone starts crying and hugging and being full of happy rainbows Princey here can get a job and stop being so anal about wanting to leave."
"You people watch too much TV." Faisal snorted. "Ortiz is a billionaire. The only ones who can just walk up to him and start talking are other rich guys."
Jesse jiggled his ring finger so the black diamond shone in the light, and Faisal stopped making his point. Jesse and the Prince shared a grin across the table, with both faces so charming and smug everyone had to wonder why they'd never seen a resemblance before.
Fantasy, Free Novel, Glow, Science Fiction, Time-Travel
Hours later, Faisal, Jesse, the Prince and Enioreh were sitting around a wooden table, eating (or pretending to, at least.) The Prince and Enioreh kept exchanging wary glances as they pushed the potent-smelling portions around their plates. There was something that looked like meat, but the smell was so overpowering Enioreh had to cover her mouth and nose with her sleeve a few times to keep her head from spinning.
"What's wrong?" Asked Jesse, noticing. "You don't like chicken?"
Enioreh dropped a fork noisily. "Chicken?" She said, and glanced quickly at Hedoniet, who had almost succeeded in looking at-ease. Of course, he was royalty – he would have had chicken before, and maybe even pork or beef – Enioreh had always heard rumors that there were carcasses in storage.
"It's free-range," Faisal was saying. "Organic and hormone-free, from a family farm fifteen miles out of town. Eco-friendly, you know."
Enioreh gaped. "You mean to tell me this…stuff…it really is chicken? Like, real, live poultry?"
"Well, it's not really live, once you cook it."
"Do they not have poultry…where you're from?" Faisal asked, looking surprised. He had been asking questions like that – as though they were guests from some ordinary other country.
"Of course," said Hedo loudly, "The leadership in our Empire have had ample opportunities to enjoy the delicacies of past ages. Unfortunately, what with the war and all, many commoners have never experienced animal meat."
Jesse raised an eyebrow. "Why? Is it a cost thing?"
Hedo laughed politely at what may have been a joke, but Faisal and Jesse just looked at each other.
"Well," said Enioreh, deciding to state the obvious just in case. "The main reason has to do with all the bombs that got dropped. The guys in cages wouldn't have lasted too long, I guess. The royals kept roosters, but that was just for fighting – it was supposed to be all motivating, or whatever."
Faisal opened his mouth. "How awful!" He said.
"Meh," said Enioreh, prodding the different-smelling chicken with a spoon. "We eat a lot of mushrooms. It's cool."
Hedoniet took a conspicuous bite of his, and Enioreh snickered. Most dudes back home liked to work it into their introductions to ladies that they had been hunting at least once and caught something with fur.
"No, that is seriously awful," Faisal was arguing. "If we don't respect what sustains us, we all lose out! That's what started me thinking about psytrons in the first place – the need for sustainability. Everybody seems to be thinking of energy in only one way. They all think energy has to come from somewhere else – from a mine, from a fire, from a factory…nobody stops to think about the dormant power in ourselves – in our own brains. Even in the scientific community – we're supposed to be at the forefront of innovation, and all people can think of sustaining is the funding. I swear to God, we've got Liolaoc reps monitoring us at the university – that's a company," he interrupted himself to explain, "Petroleum-based, extremely lucrative…pretty much runs everything in this country – well, in the world, actually. And it seems like anyone who gains recognition in a field related to energy, Liolaoc tries to buy them out. I've even heard rumors some people were threatened for not selling out. It's incredible."
"Perhaps they are trying to spur energy innovation, by means of economic incentives," Hedoniet suggested.
"No," said Faisal. "They want to nip alternative products in the bud. They don't care how badly the world is hurting because of it – all they want is to maintain their death-grip on the global market."
Hedoniet sighed delicately. "So often, hindsight is necessary to render the true dimensions of a situation apparent…" He allowed his voice to trail off, smiling mysterious-complacent smiles that pissed off Enioreh.
Faisal paused, and Jesse looked up, studying the Prince.
"Are you suggesting that Liolaoc has some role to play in history beside evil-corporate-world-ruiner?" The scientist scoffed.
Hedo just smiled on – like he expected everyone to believe he had some secret future-knowledge that made his opinion automatically right.
Enioreh rolled her eyes. "Don't listen to him – he just likes to hear himself talk. There's no such company as Liolaoc in our future, and Hedoniet doesn't know everything about history – contrary to his personal opinion, I'm sure."
The Prince turned his head slowly in her direction with an expression of such stunned outrage she couldn't help bursting into laughter. "Smakabich…" He growled imperiously, making her laugh again. She'd forgotten all about the ranking.
"Come on," Enioreh chuckled. "I'm from your time, remember? You can't just act like you're some master-planner in front of me and expect me not to call you out. This guy," Enioreh jerked her thumb at the Prince as she turned to Faisal and Jesse, "He has pulled some stupid stunts in his day, let me tell you!"
"Oh, please do," smiled Jesse.
"Well," she chuckled again. "He used to do all kinds of crazy things, trying to get his uncle's approval. Mr. Biggs named a few people General from lower classes, and Hedo here just about went crazy trying to prove himself. People said he only got made a General, finally, so that he'd stop trying so hard and messing everything up.
"It is neither prudent nor beneficial to critique a battle strategy hundreds of years before it is put into action." The Prince cried indignantly.
"Oh," said Enioreh. "Speaking of things the Prince wanted to do that failed miserably, remember that chick you fell in love with?"
"Don't," said the Prince, and it was mainly his imperious tone that made Enioreh snort and turn back to Jesse.
"There's this girl, Brittany, daughter of one of the biggest hotshot generals. Princey here, he was trying all hard to like, woo her, and crap, and it just wasn't happening, for the longest time – like, not at all. It was wicked publicized – he kept buying stuff for her and sending it to her house, but she just kept ignoring it and stayed home when he invited her parents places. One time, he got drunk and challenged this guy at a party to a duel for supposedly offending her honor – yeah, turns out the dude was her little brother, she was totally not impressed."
"Oh, no!" Cried Jesse in a sympathetic tone – but he was laughing, too.
"Anyone could have made that mistake…" The Prince mumbled.
"Maybe, but most people wouldn't have gone through with the duel."
"He didn't!" Jesse gasped.
"It was supposed to be a real fight-to-the-death, too, but Biggs ordered it changed to a joust, instead."
"You're co-mingling events!" The Prince snapped. "The fight was scheduled after he'd accused me of treason."
"Anyway, they both show up and Brittany's brother is riding inside a giant robot he built from scratch. And the Prince is riding on a mutated fucking giant rooster he'd had his scientists grow in the castle's basement. And when they started fighting, the giant robot laser'd the bird's head off and it started running all over the fucking city, shitting on people's houses and bleeding and knocking things over, and all you can hear is the Prince screaming, 'Get me off, my monster cock's gone bonkers!' The Emperor was so pissed at the Prince for wasting all that money on his giant cock he stopped inviting him to parties."
"That tournament was instrumental in stimulating aggression at the front – you have no idea how intricate and brilliant is the wheel of war in our time."
"Whatever," said Enioreh.
"Not whatever," said the Prince. "You're behaving irresponsibly! The actions you make now will have an impact on the future, whether you realize it or not – and telling stories that are not true may well lead to future revolutions you cannot predict."
"Well, if Mr. Science there can make your time-juice like you say he can, it won't matter because we'll change history before any of that shit comes to pass. And if he can't, then at least you'll never see any of those people again. We'll be stuck here."
"Don't be stuck," Jesse laughed. "We've quite enough monster cocks in this century."
Whoever supervised Faisal's academic work was impressed enough by his findings that he soon had access to the ancient university equipment, which seemed to thrill him, although Enioreh couldn't imagine how he could possibly create Chrono-juice with it. Sometimes she and the Prince would go with him to the lab, but more often than not, as he discovered they didn't really understand the science as well as he'd thought, they spent the time hanging around his house, watching the flat televisions. They got used to seeing things in two dimensions, and Enioreh did her best to absorb the local customs, mindful that they might need to eventually settle in to society here.
Hedoniet seemed much less interested in acclimating, though he tried to hide his impatience as the days passed and Faisal didn't seem remotely on the verge of capturing psytrons. Jesse came bit by bit to an acceptance of his guests as real people, and he spent more time at home than he said he used to just to make sure they weren't starving or destroying themselves. He was especially worried about this after one time showing up to find Hedoniet locked in mortal combat with a glob of blueberry chewing gum that had lodged itself in his burgundy curls.
"Nefarious, ungodly substance," Hedo sniffled bitterly, as Jesse cut the last of it away and stood poised with a hand on his chin, debating various elegant ways to disguise the butchered locks.
"This is why people from our time don't randomly pick up and start chewing materials they find in other people's seat-cushions," Jesse explained.
"It was wrapped in paper!" The Prince howled. "The small man in the picture was using it to make buoyant globules in his mouth!"
Jesse was looking through his hands artistically. "On a scale from one to ten, how important is symmetry to you?"
"It's…unnecessary," Hedoniet bravely declared, eyes closed tight against the painful inevitability. He winced at the sound of the scissors snipping, and peeked through one eye at the hands that were divesting him of his curls. Then he opened both eyes wide. "Your ring…?" He was staring hard at the black stone set in cherry glass.
Jesse paused, scissors agape, and looked at his ring as though just remembering he had it on. "Yes, it's mine," he said quietly. He hadn't ever talked to the Prince like he did to Enioreh about his past.
"Where did you get it?"
Jesse moved his hand quickly behind Hedoniet's head. "Hold still," he said loudly. "I'm trying for something classy."
The Prince was standing up, throwing aside the tablecloth he'd been using to catch stray hairs. "Where did you get it?" Hedoniet repeated, this time with more force.
"Do you want the haircut or not?" Enioreh snapped. "It's none of your business where he got his ring."
"Oh, no?" Hedoniet's eyes were glittering with some untold emotion. "None of my business, if he carries on his hand the trademark of royalty? None?"
"Royalty?" Jesse stared.
"Oh, what wasn't a trademark of our royalty?" Enioreh scoffed. "They just had to own something in every category. They'd probably have a copyrighted color if they all weren't taken already."
"It's Royal Blue!" The Prince yelled. "You've got a Smakabich – you're wearing the pin right now, how do you not know this?"
"Hmm, yeah," Enioreh chortled, stroking the blue hand pin on her collar. She'd taken to wearing it when she realized it made the Prince's hierachy-minding-ego expand and lead him to say more ridiculous things.
"Are there many rings like this – in your future?" Jesse asked, still quietly.
"Not many that are exactly like it." The Prince kept staring at the ring. "Black diamond is the official stone of imperial nobility. And that particular ring I have seen before."
"Whoa!" Said Enioreh. "You guys could be related, or something! That would be freaky, huh?"
Jesse didn't say anything.
Neither did Hedoniet. He sat back down with the tablecloth over his lap, letting Jesse finish with his hair.
A Modest Bloggist, Chapter 6, Dystopia, Fantasy, Free Novel, Glow Part Two, Science Fiction, Shielding Cournoyer, Time-Travel
Faisal hurried up the forest paths and out of the park beside the Prince, Jesse and Enioreh tagging along. Hedoniet responded loudly and vaguely to the Prince's sciencey-questions – Faisal seemed to think he had a much better grasp of how things worked than he actually did. The Prince tried to make it sound like he'd had a part in developing the Chronojuice, but Enioreh was pretty sure he didn't know much more than she did. She was able to pick up on bits and pieces of what the scientist was talking about, but she just smiled blankly whenever he looked at her with a question. Like anyone else, she knew only the most basic sketch of life on earth before the war. There were still enough antebellum books left that anyone could probably find one if they really wanted to – her mother, during her long sickness, had started a collection of ancient literature, and even used to read passages out loud from time to time. But who in their right mind had the time or patience to sit there and try to learn about the dark ages? She knew the beginning of the war had something to do with psytrons; they were what made modern weapons so deadly and transportation so easy. The empire had officially announced its boundaries some dozens of years after psytrons were discovered. From the way Faisal was talking, Enioreh had an uneasy feeling that this age was a very technologically primitive one indeed. It sounded like people here didn't even believe in psytrons.
They had come to a place where the green grass ended, and a black pavement road stretched out in each direction around tall, rectangular dwellings. Enioreh took a deep breath, surprised at the 21st century scenery; the Prince, totally unfazed, tried to walk across the street and was yanked sharply backward by Faisal as a number of metal containers-on-wheels shot down the pavement with loud honking sounds.
"Haven't you ever seen a street before?" Faisal chastised.
"And to think," said the Prince in amazement, "Those contraptions were likely traveling at a rate under one-hundred miles per hour. But they seem so much more dangerous when they're beside you."
Enioreh looked up as they walked, to where the tops of buildings touched the blue sky. She was starting to feel the usual nervousness of a place that was too quiet, even though the antique machines rumbling on the road were loud; there was a regularity and normalcy to the sounds that was nothing like what she was used to.
They finally stopped in front of a huge brick building, by a staircase leading down.
"There are labs down here with some good equipment," Faisal explained, eagerly. "Hopefully one of them will be open. If I can test some of these predictions…"
"If you're going to the lab, why don't I take the picnic things home?" Said Jesse uncomfortably. "I won't be of much help, I'm sure."
"Good idea," said Faisal, turning around to hand off the basket.
"Can I go with you?" Enioreh blurted, before she knew what she was saying.
Jesse looked surprised, and Faisal looked up quickly.
"I thought you were visitors from a war-torn future who needed my help to build your time-machine?" He said in a suspicious tone. "Don't you want to join me in the laboratory?"
"Umm…" Said Enioreh. She had a strange kind of feeling, and she didn't know how to say it in a way that would make rational sense. Somehow the four of them were equal parts in one destiny; the idea of any one of them rolling around alone made her nervous.
"Oh, she's of no use to us at this stage," Said the Prince assuredly. "She's only here because her brain is well suited to chronotrek – she's our test-traveler. She's not at all versed in the mechanics of it."
Enioreh rolled her eyes at the Prince's insinuations that he was.
"It's ok," said Jesse quietly. "I don't mind the company."
Faisal gave Jesse a quick, fierce look. "Maybe you'd have more fun at Starbucks? The one with the lots of people."
"Sure," said Jesse slowly. "Text me when you're done."
"The one with the lots of people, don't forget!" Faisal called after them once more.
"Does he think we're trying to kill you guys, or something?" Enioreh asked when they were out of earshot.
"Huh?" said Jesse, looking alertly up. "Why would you think that?"
"Now you think we're trying to kill you." Said Enioreh. "You guys aren't really subtle about it. Back home new people always look at each other that way, but, like, less exaggerated. Eyes dart down to your hands, looking for weapons, back up to your face, trying to read you, back and forth all the time you're talking. Back home it's cause new people are always trying to kill you. But it doesn't seem like that here. Here it seems, so…nice. It's weird."
"I mean, it's cool, and everything," Enioreh added. "If it's real. I just can't help feeling weird about it, you know? It's different from what I know."
Jesse gave her a weak smile, not meeting her eyes.
"You think I'd fit in here if the Chronojuice doesn't pan out? I didn't want to say anything in front of the Prince, but you should know he's not a scientist. He's just a speech-giver, and I'm a journalist; we really don't know the first thing about getting from one time to another. Faisal would have to be a genius to figure it out from the blueprints. We could be stuck here forever – what would you think about that?"
Jesse shrugged. "I'm sorry," he said. "I really don't know what to make of any of this…"
"You don't believe we time-traveled? The blueprints seemed to convince Faisal."
They arrived at a building with wide glass windows and people trickling in and out at lazy intervals.
"Why don't you find a table and wait for me," said Jesse, as they entered.
Enioreh found a seat below a boxy device with a shallow moving picture. She blinked hard looking at it, trying to make sense of the clashing shapes, until Jesse returned from a counter with two steaming cylinders.
"I got you some coffee," he said.
Enioreh sniffed the drink curiously and drank some. It had a hard, dark flavor – she liked it.
"I don't know how you knew my name," said Jesse quietly. "Coming from the future wouldn't explain that. Faisal thinks the technology is legit, and I've never seen anything like that holograph stuff in my whole life, so obviously you're working for someone powerful, but I can't imagine why anyone with that level of technology would bother showing it off to a couple of grad students. Maybe you guys are scouts of some kind – do scientists use talent scouts, even? Maybe Faisal caught your attention with one of his papers or at some conference, and this is your impressive recruitment technique? It just seems like a huge risk to get one scientist on your side, showing him so much of your technology. I just frankly don't know what to think, but I'm not ruling out the possibility that you're a couple of crazies or evil geniuses waiting for an opportunity to kill your competition. So, yeah. I've got my hand on my cell phone, and if Faisal doesn't call me, alive, by the time this place closes, I'm calling the cops."
Enioreh cocked her head to the side, studying Jesse. He was so strangely familiar. And there was something in his face that wasn't pure confusion or anxiety. "You're hiding something."
Jesse bit his lip, tapping his middle finger on the table. "If you're from the future, can't you prove it?" Asked Jesse. "Tell me something important that happens tomorrow. Tell me what's going to be on the news tonight."
"Come on, that's not fair," said Enioreh. "What year is it, even?"
"2008," said Jesse.
"See! What the hell! We're in the dark ages and you expect me to know something that happened today? It's not even a significant year."
"Didn't you bring a super-futuristic laptop, or something?" Asked Jesse coldly. "If your technology's so advanced, it should be easy for you to find out."
Enioreh gave a hollow laugh. "Oh, yeah, it's so easy to research ancient trivia when you're dodging bombs, I totally forgot. Not like survival is more important, or anything. In the first place, we weren't even supposed to be here, we were supposed to be going to the Battle of Theminus – and in the second place we left in a massive rush, we even had to leave in secret so they wouldn't kill us – or me, anyways. I didn't bring anything important with me and I'll probably never see my friends and family again, and you're giving me a hard time for not knowing everything that happened in history. Whatever, I guess, it's better than being dead."
Jesse snorted – maybe at himself.
Enioreh folded her arms. "You changed the subject," she pointed out. "I said you were hiding something, and you started talking like I should be convincing you I'm telling the truth. But you don't really need proof, do you?"
Jesse kept his blank gaze on the table.
"I have a sense for these things," Enioreh pressed. "You know something, don't you? Or…maybe you don't exactly know anything, but you have a feeling, right? Like a dream, something familiar, something you've seen before? It's fine to admit it. I have that kind of feeling about you, but I'm not letting it make me rude, am I?"
Jesse barked a chuckle, abruptly. He looked surprised at himself for the outburst, then closed his eyes and gave a fuller laugh. "No," he admitted finally. "You're not being rude, by any standard. I'm being rude. Even if you are part of some evil conspiracy…there's no call for giving you the silent treatment."
"Cool," said Enioreh. "And don't worry, we're not an evil conspiracy. We just want world peace. Just like you, right?"
"Of course," said Jesse. "Faisal and I are constantly cooking up ways to establish peace on earth. It's a shame more people aren't into that."
Enioreh leaned forward. "I'm curious about something," she said. "This might be too personal, I don't know what the rules are here. It would probably be too personal back home, to ask about. The way you talk about Faisal – the way you guys are together, I mean – the way you look at each other and all the rest…" Enioreh's voice trailed off as she reconsidered exactly what question she really wanted to ask. There were so many little things she wanted to know about.
"Yes?" Jesse paused.
"Well…" Enioreh thought about it again. "I mean," she said finally, "You guys are in love, aren't you?"
Jesse arched an eyebrow, still smiling.
"Like," Enioreh went on, "I mean, you're really, honestly in love…and I was just kind of wondering…what's it like?"
Jesse gave another surprised laugh. He might have been blushing. "That is a little personal," he agreed.
"You guys were like, reading each other's minds."
"We get each other. It is a nice feeling."
"Have you always had it, from the first time you met? Or did it happen a little at a time, that you just started feeling that way?"
"I guess always. We met about two years ago – just bumped into each other in the parking lot. He was coming back from class and I was going into work. I knew right away there was something special between us – we both felt it. It was just like we had always been together. Last year we went and got married. So – yeah. We're really, honestly in love."
Enioreh smiled, too. It sounded so nice. She could almost imagine that she had been there, when they met, that she had been a part of them being together.
Jesse met her eyes, and his expression softened. "Ok," he said quietly. "I can admit that I get feelings, too, sometimes. And I do have a sense about you, as you said. Déjà vu." He let out his breath in a long, thin sigh. "I've never been so open before with someone I suspected might be part of a criminal conspiracy…"
Enioreh smiled encouragingly. "Couldn't hurt, right?" she said.
"I don't know!" Jesse laughed helplessly. "I literally have no idea what will happen if I tell you what's going on in my head right now. My brain's saying one thing, but my instincts say another."
"Go with your gut," Enioreh advised. "It'll never lead you wrong."
Jesse hesitated. "What is it like," He asked, "In your future? Your vocal little partner referred to himself as a Prince – is power legitimately conglomerated in a monarchy, or is it more of a ceremonial thing?"
"Well…" said Enioreh, unsure what the political terms meant. "There's an Empire," she offered. "It's made up of half the world's people, about. There's our Emperor, Mr. Biggs – Hedoniet's like one of a few dozen princes, Mr. Biggs is his uncle. Probably he's the most popular one, but he's not super-important – he just likes to sound like a bigshot. And, I guess, he's started to feel guilty about being part of the Inner Circle – he was going on and on before we left about how bad war is. We left cause of that – he figured he could make the word have peace if he went back in time to win this battle. And for some reason I have a brain that's well-suited for time-travel, so that's why I'm here."
Jesse was squinting at her, up and down. "You look real," he said, wistfully. "It would be wonderful if I really could believe in you – if I could believe your story. If time –travel really exists…" Jesse began, but interrupted himself to swallow most of his remaining drink in one, painful-looking gulp. His eyes were intense, but still kind. "The topic of time travel," said Jesse, starting again. "Time travel, has…implications, for me." He paused. "I'm not the most stable person," He finally said. He blushed at himself, but kept talking. "I don't have any memories of my childhood that make sense…I was about ten when authorities found me, wandering around the street, babbling about my life as this king or something, from another world. I kept saying we had to do it right this time, that we would lead the world to peace. I haven't thought about any of this in years," said Jesse quietly. From the way he was licking his lips and glancing at Enioreh's drink, she guessed his mouth was already dried out again. "The thought occurred to me, when you mentioned time-travel, that you could well be a figment of my imagination." Jesse bit his lip, a glimmer of real fear coming into his eyes.
Enioreh opened her mouth. "So you thought you were from another world?" She asked. "And you don't have any family or friends who can account for your whereabouts before you were ten?"
"Now you're sounding like you think I'm crazy," said Jesse, his voice somewhere between indignant and disappointed. "Which, if you're a figment of my imagination, is extremely rude and also counter to your objectives of continuing to exist."
"I wasn't going to say you were crazy," said Enioreh. "I was going to say; maybe you did come from the future. I mean, that's what happened to me and Hedo – we just kind of popped in here, without any way to get back."
"Well, if you were going to restructure events in a profound way, you had to know you would never be able to go home. Even if you re-appeared in the same day you had originally left, everything would probably be changed beyond recognition."
"Oh, yeah, huh?" said Enioreh. "I didn't really get much time to think about it. The Prince just kind of tied me up and stabbed me in the neck with a syringe full of Chronojuice."
"He sounds like a peach," said Jesse.
"Well…I mean, he was nice about it, and everything. Anyway, Hedo said something before about there being other people who tried to use the time machine. He said all the test subjects before me died and went insane. But maybe he was wrong, or lying. And he did say that the Chronojuice was only the second try at chronotrek…the first time-machine was destroyed. So who knows how many people might have used it to go into the past?"
"You mean I may have been sent here from your future?"
"It makes sense, right?" Said Enioreh. "I mean, if time-travel stays invented, you'd think there'd be more time-travelers than just me and Hedoniet."
Jesse leaned suddenly forward over the table. On his right hand was a ring of red glass; he turned it slowly around, and a black stone came into view. He'd been holding it hidden against his palm. "This is the only thing I have from my past. I never let anyone take it – not police, not friends, no one. I used to wear it on my toe, under the shoe."
"It looks valuable," Enioreh said. "It really does seem like something a king would wear."
Jesse's voice dropped a notch. "I always thought so."
Enioreh opened her mouth to say more, but before she could get out a word Jesse gave a little jump. The machine in his hands was making noises and lighting up.
"Hello?" He whispered into it. "Faisal? How's it going?"
Faisal's voice came through, excited and loud, but Enioreh couldn't make out many words.
"Well, that's wonderful," Jesse offered cautiously. "We'll…talk about it later, then?" Jesse snapped the machine shut. "Faisal says the preliminary experiments yielded the results your friend predicted. So, he's pretty happy about that. He wants you guys to stay at our place…while he's working on it. I guess he's on board with your Chronojuice-world-peace idea."
Free Novel
Enioreh noticed, a little at a time, that she was alive and deeply breathing. They were sitting on the ground – the Prince and she. He was slumped against her shoulder – breathing deeply, too. They were sitting on something like grass, only it was soft and green. The shadows of trees fell on them.
She didn't want to notice any of these things. Noticing meant being separate; she wanted to keep on being part of it, sitting and breathing and letting the peace be all there was. But there was something in her that couldn't be stilled – something that remembered, something not ok. Birdsong was the last of what she noticed; trilling and wistful and sweet behind other sounds, bidding her sad farewell as she groaned softly, and made herself be separate all the way.
They were sitting in some kind of courtyard, it looked like – only, a huge courtyard, bigger than any building Enioreh'd ever seen. They were sitting on a green hill; a little ways down it, there were the metal wires and chains and claw-like bars she'd last seen enclosing her in the torture-room. Further down, at the bottom of the hill, was a path of flat white rock, winding in between enormous trees. People were walking on it, brightly dressed. And people were – rolling on it, balancing on metal bars attached to wheels, helmets strapped to chins.
What was this place? The sky through the trees was not lighting up, not even at the edges. No laser-flash, no smoke. It was just, all…blue. Enioreh trembled. This wasn't war.
She glanced at the Prince, still slumped against her shoulder with a happy-doofy face. She shrugged and he fell over, still with the smile. "Hey." She prodded him with the point of her shoe. "Hey. Your Highness. Hey. Prince. Princey. Prince. Your Highness. Hey. Hey. Hey!" She kicked him really hard on the last one. "Wake up!"
The Prince coughed a little, smile fading, and blinked. "Wha…?"
"Yeah, I was wondering the same thing. I mean, I'm not complaining or anything, but I'm pretty sure this isn't death. But it doesn't look like Theminus, either. So…"
Recognition dawned in the Prince's eyes at the mention of the battle. "Theminus…" he murmured. "Yes…we should be…where is this?"
Enioreh rolled her eyes. "I just asked you that. It's your master-plan; you're the one who's supposed to be on top of this."
"Yes," he responded slowly. "But…it was your brain that brought us here." The Prince sat up, rubbing mud and grass off the side of his face. The fog in his eyes iced into fear as he looked around, and then he was on his feet, making unsteady circles down the hill. "The bars…the cage…but it all should be here…" The Prince whirled on her, wild-eyed. "The Chronojuice!" His voice broke. "It's all gone! There were four other cartridges in my hand, in the case. And now where are they?"
"But…this is fine, though, without the Chronojuice. I don't know what happened to it, but this place…this could work for me."
"Of course you would think that…" The Prince waved a dismissive arm in her direction. "This is where you wanted us to go. Which means…" The Prince fixed her with a scrutinizing glare. Then he smiled with his old purring certainty. "Sweet lady! This dear, enchanting land hails of your mind. There is, in you, something that called us here. Take a look, and tell me – what is it you know?"
Enioreh blinked, and looked again – at the trees, the white rocks, the people rolling and running through it all. It looked like nothing she had ever seen before. But somehow, it did feel familiar – like something she'd dreamed a long, long time ago. Before she knew it, Enioreh was tripping down the hill and threading through the clumps of giant trees.
"Where are we going?" The Prince whispered behind her.
Enioreh ignored him and kept going into deeper woods, cut through by clear dirt trails. She stopped once and stared above her at the trees, trying to believe that things so big could be alive. Her heart was filling with things like memories, then reaching, searching craggy trunks for something lost. She leaned into a tree, pressing her face up into its grooved notches, breathing in the safe-and-growing smell.
"Stop that." The Prince was tapping her shoulder.
Enioreh blinked. There were a few people on the path behind her, wearing clothes that exposed their legs and arms, and staring. They walked on quickly when she growled.
"Do you recognize this place, yet?"
"It seems like…" Enioreh shook her head vaguely. "I feel like I know it. There's something around here that's very important."
"Find it swiftly, then!"
Another couple of people passed them by, staring as they went.
The Prince stepped behind a tree and pulled Enioreh with him. "It's best we don't draw attention to ourselves before we know exactly where we are. Here," Hedoniet pulled a couple of U-shaped bits of metal out of a pocket hidden in the ruffled tail of his shirt. "Put this one on your head, and hold my hand."
Enioreh looked at the metal piece uncertainly. Its underside was covered in little tines.
"They are called Invisibands. You slide it on your head and in an instant, you become invisible."
Enioreh's eyes widened. "I haven't seen one yet. I didn't know they looked like that." She slid the Invisiband on, over her hair, and the Prince put on the other, taking her hand at the same time, which made her feel so weird she had to look away.
Except, suddenly, there was no looking away. All things beamed with brightness, exquisite in detail. They wouldn't be dulled, even if she blinked or turned her head – she could see everywhere and everything, almost. There were intricate puzzles of roots and stems, vines scaling trees, shaking in the wind. Bark and leaves, ferns and toadstools, flitting green-blue beetles twinkled with sunlight and colored so intensely you almost had to swear to get it out. "Hot shit…" Enioreh gasped. There was a pressure on her hand, and she remembered the Prince being there.
"My thoughts exactly." He sounded like he had a smile, but she couldn't see him to know for sure. "Your future-self spoke true of you; if we were stranded here I don't believe she – you – would have been able to come to me. You know this place – now lead us to what we're meant to find."
Wanting the Prince to shut up, Enioreh started walking again. Hedoniet didn't say anything for a long time after that, and Enioreh was so engrossed with the way that things looked she kept forgetting he was there. She remembered him whenever she miscalculated her farness to a solid thing and he stopped her from crashing, or else crashed along with her.
One time she got in front of a pair of men, and stopped to look at their faces. Hedoniet pushed her out of the way, and then she kept walking after them, not passing and not letting them get too far. They were part of the feelings she had about this place.
One was black with just a skinny strip of hair down the center of his head. The other was bronzed and hot and shirtless. The bronzed man started laughing, after a few turns and twists brought them deeper into the woods, and the weird familiar feeling grew. "Hey look!" He said, pointing to a big, block-shaped stone on one side of the trail. It was multicolored, decorated with shallow, overlapping handprints. A green-turning copper plaque read, "Welcoming the Future."
" 'Gift of 1999,' " The black man read. " 'This sustainably-minded sculpture was made in part from recycled tin cans and plastic bottles rescued from university trash barrels.'"
"How cool!" Said the muscly man, fitting his hand over an imprint near the top. "And I never even noticed this before. Here," he said suddenly, handing his friend the checkered basket he'd been carrying. "This is where we'll have lunch!" He hoisted himself up onto the flat surface. "Come on," he urged.
Faisal still stood uncertainly on the trail, but…Faisal? Enioreh stopped herself. How did such a strange name wind up in her head? And why did it seem just so…right?
"Give me the basket and I'll help you up," the bronze man insisted.
"Are you sure about this?" Faisal was asking. Enioreh couldn't even help calling him that in her mind. "This thing doesn't look made for sitting-on."
"Of course it is," His partner laughed. "You read the plaque – it's a gift from past students. We're the future they were talking about. I appreciate the welcome very much."
"They didn't leave it here to make us feel welcomed," Faisal grumbled, but he was climbing up, too. "They left it here to make a mark. Why, if the class of '99 knew we were sitting on their hand-prints, I'm sure they'd be turning over in their graves."
"They only graduated nine years ago," Jesse laughed. He was Jesse. Enioreh knew. "I hope none of them are in graves."
"Well, for sure they'll be squirming uncomfortably in their corporate cubicles, then."
"If they'd wanted to leave something just to mark their place, it wouldn't be sitting here in the middle of the woods," Jesse reasoned. "It would be on a hillside, with all the other little boxes."
"Like the song?"
Jesse returned Faisal's smile. "Maybe," he said. "If you're thinking of the same song I am."
"Little boxes," Faisal sang, in a beautiful voice. "On the hillside,"
"Little boxes, made of tick-tacky!" Jesse joined in, his voice nice-sounding, too – and then they were singing together, a twisted-together harmony that the trees drank in, and that across a valley the air gave back in echo. Throughout civilization, humankind has sought out energy in the farthest reaches of our planet. We have looked to the sky, to the wind, even grasping at the sun itself…But there is one place we have not looked –
Enioreh pulled off the band on her head without really thinking. She caught her breath sharply, shocked at her own appearance, and at the way it seemed like the world had receded out away from her. There was a hard puff, and the Prince was standing next to her, crowding her breath.
Jesse and Faisal hadn't noticed – they were busy unpacking what looked like plates from the checker-marked basket.
The Prince watched Enioreh, looking tense. Enioreh started walking again, closer to the cube-rock. The men looked up when she was standing right in front of them, not moving. Faisal's eyes lingered over the Prince's metallic-shiny uniform.
"Hi?" said Jesse.
Enioreh didn't say anything. She was having one of those moments, when she could look at something and see it apart from other things – kind of pull it from its background and see it for the first time again. She was looking at the two men, their eyes connecting, sharing silent feelings, and seeing their togetherness as something everlasting. Was this peace, really?
The Prince, seeing her hesitate, stepped forward with an air of authority and gave a stately bow.
"Good noon, gentle friends," he said purred. "General Prince Hedoniet, at your service. And may I inquire as to your honorable identities and occupations?"
There was a flurry of surprised eye-activity between the dreamy-seeming men. Faisal responded in a careful, measured voice, eyes darting around as though braced for attack. "Uh, hi," he said. "Is there something we can help you with?"
The Prince smiled regally. "There are several things you can help us with. First of all…where are we? What time is it? Are there any Cycs available around these parts, and if not how do I get to the nearest castle? Is it of such a distance that I shall require food and lodging? Make haste, kind sirs!"
Jesse smiled warmly. "Would you like something to eat?" He asked, dangling the basket over the big rock's edge. He shrugged off an incredulous stare from Faisal.
The Prince inspected the spread with interest. "Tree fruit?" he observed, picking up a round red thing with a stem at the top. He looked at Enioreh. "Is this antebellum fare?"
Enioreh studied the thing in his hand. "I think it is," she said slowly. "It feels like it must be before the war."
"Oh, are you guys visitors from a dystopian future or something?" Jesse asked excitedly. "I think that's awesome! I'll help you warn humanity against the evils of the present, no worries, future-friends!"
The black guy's shoulders relaxed a bit, but his forehead puckered, more tense than ever. "What is this, some RPG adventure gone awry? I mean," he shot a glance at Jesse, who nudged him with his foot. "That's good for you, however, if you're into that. Nice costumes, too – I'll give you that much."
"Costume?" The Prince repeated stiffly. "This is no costume – can you not discern the decorations of a warrior?"
"Forgive him," Jesse said with a snicker. "He's a scientist – fantasy is not his forte."
"Scientist?" Enioreh repeated, looking at the man named Faisal. A kind of light had gone off in her head, an overpowering sense of déjà vu. She knew him, somehow – she felt sure. This scientist. Something about him was very important. "Can you make us Chronojuice?"
"Chronojuice – how cute!" Said Jesse. "Faisal, that must be what they used to come here to the past. Play along – it's good for your imagination."
"Uhh….yeah." Faisal sighed. "Sorry – time-travel technology is probably like, ten years away, at least."
The Prince squinted suspiciously at Faisal. "How could you know that?"
"Umm," said Faisal, with a weak shrug. "Sorry. I'm trying to keep up with you guys but I'm new at this whole…role-playing, thing. It's not really my personality."
"You're over-thinking it," Jesse said to him. "Here – watch. Ohh, no!!" He said loudly, throwing his hands in the air above his head. "You mean you're stuck in the 21st century? That's terrible!! I guess you'll want us to explain the reason behind all our bizarre customs, then?" Jesse turned to Faisal, grinning under his breath. "Isn't this fun?"
"No thank you, gallant stranger," said the Prince, beginning to dig through the instrument pouches on his uniform. "We have no intention of acclimating to this…environment. Here!" He pulled out a green memory stick and key. "I made a portable copy of my engineer's notes. If you're a scientist you might have a try at developing the serum – or at least direct us to a person so inclined." As he spoke, Prince Hedoniet twisted the key into the memory stick, unlocking a neat holographic table-of-contents.
Faisal and Jesse's eyes bulged as the graphics swam through their space.
"Just what kind of fundraising have you been doing?" Jesse gaped. "I could help…"
Faisal stared at the hologram, then, tentatively, reached for a chapter heading. It lit up under his fingers, opening a series of complicated-looking particle diagrams. "What the…" Faisal leaned in so close to the hologram his nose opened three new pages. "This is psytron technology," he choked. "I've dreamed about this for…the patterns of movement match exactly! This is my fantasy…but there's even more to it…How did you….where did you….who are you?" Faisal stood, looming over Enioreh and Hedoniet from his perch on the rock.
"Enioreh Relevart, pleased to meet ya."
Faisal shook her hand awkwardly from his angle.
"Yes, yes," said the Prince, impatiently shouldering up in front of Enioreh. "Regarding the serum? Be swift, kindly – there are creatures about." The Prince was eyeballing a bushy-tailed rodent with some trepidation as it darted from a tree to a spot a few feet from his leg. He hissed and it ran away. "Sinister…"
"Are you really researchers?" Faisal asked slowly, sounding dazed. "I don't have facilities of my own. But maybe I can convince the university to let me use equipment, test some of these models…I'm in a doctorate program now, so I have connections."
Jesse was looking at Faisal.
"These are my ideas," Faisal half-whispered to him. "My pipe-dream. I never really talked about them to anyone. I thought maybe I'd start exploring more when I had the Ph.D. and everything, I didn't have enough of a concept yet to even test…But this is so advanced…I don't know who you are," Faisal said to the Prince, in a louder voice. "I know for damn sure you're not actors – or if you are, you were hired by somebody who knows what they're doing. I don't know how you found me here, or what you could possibly hope to gain by sharing this. I just…don't know."
The Prince took a backwards step, taking in every bit of Faisal with his eyes as though looking for something he'd lost. His smile burst out suddenly. "I believe that you and I might work well together," he said. "Very well, indeed. I know who you are. I see in you a man who dreams great – who believes in things that others call impossible. With your help, we will not only invent time-travel – we will use it to end war all the world over. Now I have chosen to believe in you – dare you to believe in me?"
"Hey," said Enioreh, loudly interrupting. "Yeah! I forgot the Prince was all about ending war – I didn't believe him about time-travel, either, at first but look at me now! It's like Jesse said – we actually are visitors from a dystopian future. All we want is peace, just you like you."
"How did you know my name?" Jesse gaped.
"World peace…" said Faisal, in a distant, dreamy voice. "I know that this is crazy. It's crazy. In a second I'll wake up in bed and not remember anything. But for right now, Jess…" He took his hands, tenderly. "If it is just a dream…world peace, at least, is a dream worth believing."
Glow, Part Two – Chapter 4
Dystopia, Enioreh, Free literature, Free Novel, Science Fiction, Time-Travel
Enioreh considered making a run for it, but without an escort she'd never find her way to the terrace. And even if she did, somehow, chances were slim she'd find an unprogrammed Cycloball – there would be security fields to keep non-royal Cycs away. A wild image came briefly to her mind, of darting on foot though the unprotected land beyond the security shield. Poor people lived in those places – there must be ways of crossing. But the thought was crazy, and she knew it, and let it flash away with the millions of other crazy thoughts she suddenly was having.
She'd never make it if she left alone. But if she waited for the end of the conference to leave and wound up dead, people would assume another journalist had killed her; it was a competitive field, after all. Which maybe explained why the Prince was sitting – he'd given her an auditory advantage to give the Empire a cover-story. What the fuck was she thinking, making herself stand out like this? Although…Probably no one else would leave the room as long as the conference was going on, and risk missing something valuable – which would make it harder for security to act against her without raising suspicions. Maybe she'd pull off this survival-thing a little longer yet.
Shakily, Enioreh got to her feet, and moved as boldly as she could to door. It made enough sound that heads turned in her direction; all the correspondents from the major publications noticed her leaving. Good thing.
The quiet outside the Meeting Hall was nauseating. The small room was lined with officer escorts, waiting at attention for their journalists. "Can I be of assistance, Madam?" Major Seussi asked gallantly, appearing at Enioreh's side to offer her his arm.
"Thanks," she said. "I'm needed back at my station."
Seussi's face assumed a sympathetically-pained expression. "Ahh, how unfortunate," he sighed. "Our Cycs are all in use at the moment. We did not anticipate that anyone would leave early." His eyes lingered momentarily on Enioreh's quasi, as though challenging it to protest. "Surely," he said, "Your colleagues will understand. Perhaps you would be more comfortable waiting in the Meeting Hall? I will be sure to take you directly to the fastest CycloBall as soon as it arrives."
"No," Enioreh insisted, "I've got to go. I'll just ask The Herald to send me a Cyc – you can upload our security sets to your database, can't you, for a member of the free press? On a temporary basis, or something?"
Seussi's left eye twitched. "But of course." He didn't move. "Ordinarily, security requirements prevent us from accepting outside Cycs. I will have to consult a supervisor with your request. I'm sure you understand."
"Uh-huh," said Enioreh, and her eyes were darting around the room again. The rest of the officers stood impassive against the walls. She wondered if it was the law that only buff, beautiful soldier-men were allowed in PR wings. All the soldiers she'd known before this had been greasy with bad posture from diddling computers sixteen hours a day. "So, uh – I guess you'll need to go call that supervisor, then?"
Seussi smiled, still not going off to consult with anybody.
The young woman whipped her quasi open and pulled up Rey's contact number as her officer motioned to two men who had just come into view in the doors on opposite ends of the room. Come on, Enioreh thought, willing the quasi to connect with Rey as the two tall men began their advance. Come on… A holographic image began to swirl in the air, but as the officers approached her, it flickered and would not take shape.
"Miss Enioreh requests permission to upload security codes from a personal CycloBall into our system," Seussi reported, as one of the officers looked at him. "She has need to return to her establishment's headquarters."
"The Herald's headquarters!" Enioreh corrected, her voice rising against her will. "You know, The Herald? The famous old-timey newspaper? It's totally a press emergency, here!"
"Terribly sorry about the reception, madam," Said one of the new officers. "Shall we escort you to a more convenient location?"
Enioreh jabbed desperately at the new quasi, even gave it a good shake, but the holographic image just fizzled away into nothing. The two officers hooked arms under hers and led her away through a door to the left, then into several more rooms before stopping in one that looked suspiciously like a torture chamber. There were hooks and laser-heads dangling from the stone ceiling, and there was no furniture in it except for a stool surrounded by serious-looking chains, straps and wires that stood on what looked to be some kind of electrical grid. A muffled commotion came from the Meeting Hall. Either the Prince had just said something extraordinary or the conference was over.
The quasi made a beeping sound, and a refreshed hologram started to blossom. "Hey," Enioreh said, "You were right! The reception in here really is…"
The officer to her left snatched the device from her hands and, before she could finish her sentence, had smashed it against the floor.
"Are you serious!" Enioreh screamed, waving her arms. "That's rude, guys!"
The officer opened his mouth and shut it again, apparently surprised at being called out.
"It's standard procedure," his partner cut in quickly. "We apologize for any inconvenience. Please, have a seat."
Enioreh glanced at the weird half-stool, half-electrical-grid-looking thing. "I'll stand, thanks."
"Unthinkable," came a purring, regal voice behind her.
Enioreh spun on her heels and caught a sharp breath. The Prince Hedoniet was stepping in through a door on another wall that seemed to connect to a plush hallway. Shit, she thought. Shit, shit! What kind of information did they think she had, that the Prince himself had come to preside over her interrogation?
The young woman twitched as the Prince flowed in wearing an expression of pleased disinterest. Hedoniet shook his head, sensuously tousling burgundy curls, taking his time crossing the room. Three other officers filed in behind him, two of them bearing a high-backed, velvety imperial throne, which they set down across from the electrical-looking stool. Enioreh grinned nervously, eyeballs jumping from face to hardened face, wishing for a flicker of sympathy.
"I will not have it said of Emperor Mr. Biggs that he refused seating to an honored agent of our free press," The Prince was saying. "Nor can I endure to have it thought that any man in my motherland is so aesthetically calloused as to suffer fatigue in a creature of so ethereal and haunting a beauty. I am captivated." The Prince reached her and drew her hand to his lips.
"Oh, um…thanks," stammered Enioreh. "That's, uh… cool of you, to say."
The Prince's arm was somehow under Enioreh's, then, and he was leading her across the room toward the grotesque electric-stool. The officers had closed in around them, helping the Prince to escort her. One of them was resting his hand on the head of his laser-bender.
Enioreh swallowed hard as the Prince handed her into the deadly-looking seat. "What's – uhm…what are you doing?" The guards, responding to the prince's signals, were strapping Enioreh down, wrapping chains and wires around her legs and arms and torso and neck. A box! He said. A total cube! There's a reason you won't see boxes anywhere in nature. Her heart was throbbing in her throat. The soldiers acted as though she had not spoken.
"Yup," she stammered. "That sure is..ah..comfy, there. Thanks so much for that."
Hedoniet maintained a lazy smile, sinking into his portable throne. His eyes were the color of crystalline sulfur. Enioreh was starting to feel weird – not just from being scared. There was some strange electric energy between them, she could feel it. Not quite anger, or attraction, but like the way it feels to see a person you had a dream about that you can't remember anymore.
"But of course," stroked the Prince. "A guest must be honored – and you are quite the special guest. I requested you by name to represent your business, after that dreadful accident this morning. Please bring my condolences to all of your colleagues, as well the eternal thanks of the empire for so graciously bearing to part with you this evening."
"Hey, you know? No biggie!" Enioreh tried to grin over the feeling of her throat closing. She hoped she looked gracious and not terrified.
The Prince continued to look at her, wordlessly, allowing seconds to drag more seconds by.
"Look," she blurted, when she just couldn't stand the silence. "I know why I'm here, ok? I know I was in the Pettyland, and everything. But, I swear, I didn't learn anything important, nothing that could matter to you. I swear to God. They had me knocked out for the trip there and back, I couldn't tell you how to get there even if my life depended on it. They didn't even tell me their names, I can't even remember how many of them there were, they, like, kept coming and going in the dark, and there were all these bombs, ok, and things were exploding all over the place, like, whoa, and..all I know is, all I know is they want peace and they're, like, excited about the treaty, and…and…"
Enioreh felt her mouth go dry. The Prince, with a wave of his hand, was sending the officers away – each of them left through a different door. There was a metal-moving sound as they all locked from the outside. Shining metal claws were shooting down from the ceiling – creating a cage that enclosed her seat and the Prince's. "Ok, that's…wow," Enioreh gasped. "Even you probably think that's overkill!"
Hedoniet's expression had not changed, which was scarier than anything.
"What's wrong with you?" She screamed. "Those people, the rebels, they're nice, ok – they're really, really nice. There's nothing bad about them, and I know what you're trying to do, with your evil treaty and your evil loopholes – you want to wipe out the Pettyland once and for all, you want to turn the whole empire against them. You can't get away with this, with genocide – I already messaged my boss about it, she knows all about clause 2.e. and is writing the story as fast as she can. Maybe it's already done. Maybe she sent it out directly to every one of our subscribers with a note to all of them to send it out to all of their friends and family – everyone knows what you're up to, and they're really not happy about it."
She stopped, feeling prickles rising on the back of her neck. The prince was laughing. He was laughing harder and harder, bending over in his chair to even put his back into it. He was trying to intimidate her, had to be, trying to get her to call her own bluff. She threw back her head and laughed along with him.
"Hahahaha! Exactly, man, it's funny, right? Hahahaha. All that hard work for nothing. Good job, being a good sport about it, though! And you can't kill me, either. Nope, because my interview with the rebels went out, like, hours ago, to our special audiences, and they're prepared to send out the interview instantly if they don't see my face on the news by midnight tonight. So if you off me, everyone's gonna say you're oppressing the media, and everyone's going to riot, and the whole tide of war could turn around – you know what happened with Lobmys Adnikemos, don't you? Yeah."
The Prince's laughter rolled away into a series of little, far-spaced "ha's" and steadying breaths. He had a sad look in his eyes now. "It's lonely at the top," he sighed. "Up here, there is no mystery. Things are uglier, and less interesting."
Enioreh squirmed uncomfortably. "Wow, yeah, huh? Why don't you tell me all about that – I'm, like, so sensitive, and good at listening."
He smiled sadly back. "I want you to know. You should know. We are not of this world."
"Oh…right. I know – right! We're all, like, different, and stuff, from everyone else. It's, like, freaky how similar we are. Maybe even soul-mates – what do you think? Maybe, right? Man, though, that's so cool that we figured this all out before you tried to kill me! We'll have a good laugh about this after you let me go home and be alive."
The Prince shook his head and stood, beginning a brooding pace inside the cage. "The most important thing that ordinary people do not understand, is that the Emperor is not planning to win the war."
"Wait," said Enioreh. "What?"
The Prince kept talking over her – in a strange, flat voice she had never heard him use in all his thousands of speeches or interviews. "It was common knowledge throughout the Inner Circle that we had achieved a state of peak efficiency, in which the greatest conceivable amount of power had been concentrated in the fewest possible hands. We could not efficiently control more than half the world. The status quo is maintained with such precision that no one could even consider a different way of life; we measure public opinion like temperature, seeking to maintain equal parts lethargy and fear. The tragedies that seem senseless to commoners – the battles, the raids, the mistakes – all of them are very carefully coordinated. Losses are directed in predictable cycles, like an unwritten tax. Without being consciously aware of the fact, people know to expect a certain amount of carnage every so often. Too much fear or lethargy, any more or less tragedy, would create excess energy, destroying the balance of sameness. Like a misstep in a dance, the disharmony can force self-consciousness.
"From the moment I fell into the inner circle, I have known no global mystery, nor expected any. It was all I could do to play. We always prefer, of course, to be winning, but we can never allow ourselves to win. The greatest high is to have, beside your own sense of victory, the fire of players who have yet to realize their loss – whose passions flare to fuel your own."
"So…what, you're saying the rebels fight you to keep your spirits up?"
The Prince sighed again. "I hate politics." His mouth closed quickly, as though surprised at what his brain had made it say. He closed his eyes a second, and when he opened them again they were harder than before. "I do," he said. "I hate war. I hate ugliness. I hate this status-quo, that feeds on misery and never dares to rest with triumph. The world has screamed so long it's now afraid of what the quiet holds."
His voice was bouncing back and forth between the crisp new flatness and its usual rolling honey. It made Enioreh curious to hear more. "Right," she breathed. "Totally inconsiderate of the world, to do that."
The Prince stopped pacing, turning urgent eyes to Enioreh. "Quiet can only come from peace. And peace would come with triumph. But it seems great men have not the strength to will it so."
"Kay," said Enioreh. "That's cool to know, and all, but…are you gonna let me go, or what?"
"Enioreh," The Prince reached a hand out, almost touching the girl's chin. "You and I have a destiny greater than almost. Peace, true peace, is within our grasp."
"Whaaat are you talking about?" Enioreh laughed, nervously.
"One year ago, a breakthrough in technology was achieved – greater than any that has ever been known. A top scientist developed a machine that had the power to send creatures into the past and future."
"We discovered time-travel."
Enioreh breathed. "In the treaty…you said something, didn't you, about retroactive enforcement…?"
The prince allowed himself a chuckle. "You really are very shrewd."
"Well don't go sounding so fucking surprised." Enioreh closed her eyes, struggling to wrap her head around too many thoughts at once. This was not at all the conversation she had been expecting. "Then…the whole treaty – you're saying it's not about genocide?"
"The treaty has nothing to do with our present." The Prince's smile turned into a smirk. "Mr. Biggs was not pleased at the technological advancement. A device that can unravel the known order of the universe is no welcome thing to those for whom the world is already ordered as they like. My uncle had the machine destroyed last year. He thinks the inventor was killed, as he commanded. But I didn't let him die. I saw in him a chance to make something of the world.
"The scientist went into hiding here, among the Public Relations experts. I'm the only member of the inner circle who has any reason to come here on a regular basis – so I was in a perfect position to monitor his work."
"You had him build another time-mach-aghgh!" Enioreh cut herself off, feeling as though she'd snapped out of a hypnotic trance.
The Prince had pulled a gold case from his suit and began removing pieces of a ridiculously long needle, which he screwed together with meticulous care. "I had him convert his innovation to a more practical, portable form." He turned a goldish vial onto the needle and flicked it gently with his middle finger and thumb. "If isolated and introduced directly into one's blood, the particles most active in chronotrek can empower the mind to do impossible, unbelievable things."
"Keep the fuck away from me with that!" Enioreh tried to make her angry eyes scrape over his soul and wound him. Somehow she'd keep him there, in that fucking chair, away from her.
The Prince let the needle sit balanced in his palm. "My lady," he sang. "I do nothing except by your command."
Enioreh breathed. Sweat was breaking out all over her face, and she couldn't wipe it off because her arms were tied down. The Prince's hypnotism had almost worked. But this was a trick; she knew what it was. This was the Prince trying to settle her fears to make the dying easy. If she didn't have a genocide to talk about she might have been ok with going out that way. Think, think, think!
"Untie me, then, if you're such a nice guy. There's no reason for all this –" She jerked her head up at the cage around them and back down at the chains that locked her in.
"Be not hasty, maiden fair," The Prince purred. "You shall hear the full truth first, that you know what it is you are requesting. These shining ornaments are not to harm, but rather help you channel your dreams as you will. The particles I hold are inconceivably powerful, but these metal bits are filled with matter of an opposing nature. Should you desire to take flight on the wings of your own imagination, this metal stands to keep the rest of this world here, that none may follow uninvited."
"And why are you here, then?" Enioreh tried to sound in-control. "Hoping I'll invite you on the trip, or something? Cause I got to tell ya, my imagination is pretty fucked up for a Prince to want in. There's no music there, no beautiful flowers. It's all fucking creepy and shit. How 'bout you stab yourself with that shit, and go off on your own imagination's wing? That'd be cool, right? I bet you it's wicked enchanting."
"My dream is only this – to unlock an existence of peace and beauty. I plan for us to journey to the battle of Theminus, 50 years ago – the day the Empire almost won. That was the last battle honestly fought – the last sincere defeat before the notion of victory was cast aside. My resemblance to my grandfather is such that I could have taken up his post and led his men – knowing as I do exactly where the rebels were and what they were planning. I would go and I would win, a simple matter.
"Alas, every one of our test subjects died or lost sanity when exposed to Chronojuice. I'd nearly lost hope when, last month, something happened. A woman appeared in the middle of the floor, right there, and warned us one alone is fit for chronotrek. You, Enioreh! Your marvelous brain can take others along for the ride, only if you touch them. A beautiful woman she was who spoke those words, the very image of you – for she was your future. She disappeared as soon as the message was out."
The prince was looking somberly at the ground, and Enioreh was glad of that because she could feel her forehead crinkle and her eyes pop, plainly expressing her thoughts. Dude's nucking futs…
He looked up and she nodded right away, pursing her lips like it all made sense.
"My every act since seeing you," the Prince went on, "Has been in obedience of your command. I convinced the Inner Circle that it is in the greater interest of the status quo for you to die. It was easy to do, once word came that you were going to the Pettyland. I argued that killing a neutral journalist is the only way to restore balance, with the rebels on the verge of collapse. We had to stir up a public outcry against ourselves. And they agreed. They arranged for you to be brought here for the conference, and I wrote a treaty that could be used equally to make the people love or hate us. It all made sense to them. And here we are – ready, at last, to change the world!"
Enioreh shifted again. "Hey, I'm totally in favor of world peace," she said uncomfortably. "I don't mind being your telekinetic chauffer, like, at all, or anything. Tell you what. Unhook me here, let me put in a quick call to the station, and I'll totally do it. I mean, if we're re-making the world it doesn't much matter what happens in this one, and if you need my imagination to be all productive, and whatnot, you should let me clear my head first by talking to my boss. Cool?"
The Prince was reaching into his jacket's quasi pocket, and for a second Enioreh thought it had actually worked, that'd she'd convinced the most persuasive man in the world to let her call Rey on his own quasi. "Yeah, dude, thanks," She started weakly. "This is such a good idea, of yours!" She stopped.
The Prince wasn't holding a quasi. He was holding a military lapel pin – the Blue Hand.
"In gratitude of your service to the crown, Enioreh, I hereby and with every honor elevate you to the full rank of Smakabich. On the shores of Theminus it will be known to all that you have earned your place and will answer to none below me."
"Go fuck yourself!" Enioreh gasped. If she went to the grave with one of the most enviable ranks in the military no one would believe she'd ever been a free press agent. Her interview would look like an attempt by the crown to dialogue with the rebels, and her death would be spun as an act of Petty aggression in the face of peace talks. The legendary moral fiber that was the Offgridland's only defense was crushed in one moronic move of hers. She should have seen this coming, as the rebels had, and hid herself away.
"The rebels saw this coming," Enioreh whispered, hearing her thoughts again. The Prince had moved to pin the Blue Hand to her, but Enioreh caught his eyes and made him pause. "I have molars," she hissed, her lips now tight in smile. "Baby teeth. One for me, and one for my sister." She'd left them on Reyolpme's desk. "Go ahead and pin that to me – if you can prove I'm on your side, now, so can they! This war will not be over yet!"
It was a second tremblingly intense where they both stayed, looking each other through. Then the Prince kept moving, his fingers graceful as they fastened the Blue Hand to her shoulder, and in the next instant Enioreh screamed in pain; the Prince had taken advantage of having his hands so close to her neck, and with a trick of his hands had pushed the needle through a vein.
"Think not on war any longer, Enioreh. Think, and think of peace –world peace, that you are helping to create. Think, think, of Theminus, and of the beach where the CycloBalls first stood, hundreds and hundreds, ready to launch. There is the sand, sparkling white under your feet, and under shining chrome spheres. There are the waves, beyond, the sky above, your world that is too beautiful for war, too beautiful…"
The sound of the Prince's voice put her in a sleepy mood, and yet her mind was feeling quicker, more awake in a strange, strange way. There was something exciting and new going on – and scary, and uplifting. She was almost floating above her body already.
"If you kill the rebels, we will haunt you."
Shake shake from all things great and strange, fasten into waves well-known –so casting out thin dreams of what might be, yet draw again of tainted sea…sigh, and sigh, of ocean faint, let waters steal you, whispers blow…believe in only glow what hides and stays in olden dim, and knows to wake stiff glimmers where they lie…push back, and back again, against the grain well after longing left behind – slip, slip, into always one and nevermind what bright or shade might come in all the ever all was ever well…catch, catch, by calling spark, and pulse enough to love, and love enough for brutal choosing…go…
Book Two – Chapter Three
Dystopia, Free Novel, Time-Travel, war
The royal CycloBall was the most elegant ride Enioreh had ever touched. There was a blue couch taking up half the floor, wide enough to double as a bed. Its matching blankets were so soft they kept catching on the rough edges of her fingers. Silk tapestries hung in clusters along the wall, mostly obscuring the delicate summer glow of its Freshscreen. Light peeked through gaps in the fabric nonetheless, patterned after a gentle sky. Enioreh's face and arm lay in a sunny patch, soaking up complimentary vitamin D. She passed the time tracing lacey outlines on her yellow dress. She'd thought it looked awfully sophisticated when she'd first seen it in her locker. Now she felt under-dressed just in the damn Cyc.
She realized it was a strange thing to worry about, all things considered. Something about the luxury set her on edge; it was all just too nice. Cycs were built with rotating layers that kept the inside steady, like the eye of a tornado. But Enioreh had never rode one this smooth. No stray vibration broke through to jar her – it was completely, unbelievably still. And outside, she knew there would be flames, and blood, popping and sizzling laser beams and human suffering in the electric wastelands where Offgrid enclaves hid, and privilege-stripped criminals were kept. But none of that got through the soundproofing.
There was even music – the kind of thing that used fragile instruments, one or two at a time. She kept expecting to hear something bang, a screech of metal or smashing glass. Incomprehensible that sounds so fine could be sustained. And it smelled good, like fucking beautiful meadows in here. After awhile Enioreh looked up and saw the source above her – a spindly silver vase sticking out of the wall. In it there was a real, live clump of flowers. Little purple ones puffing out of a verdant spine like earthbound clouds, and it was like the music, impossible to trust. She could see herself ripping them to shreds so easily, crushing them in one hand so the purple juice ran down her arm like blood and stained her. It was so fucking stupid for flowers to be here, and it all felt like a horrible trick, like proof that something bad would happen soon. Her body could not stop shaking. Draped again in jewelry and flowing clothes, and she was endless and reflecting, each face a tale wild and ethereal…she was a slashing, fearsome warrior, then a mermaid, laughing in luxuriant secrecy; she was a breathtaking angel, feeling sorry for the evil, gritty world, and then again a goddess who could only toy with helpless mortal men.
Enioreh grabbed her head and held it with both hands. Every now and then this thing would happen, in her mind – like little bubbles of another person's life sucking her up and popping. Little scenes that didn't have cause or connection, and made her know she was just as crazy as anyone. Or, she thought sometimes, maybe it was a normal thing – thoughts and feelings that in a kinder time might be stories. But who had time to figure out what things meant? She didn't. She had all she could do trying to prepare for whatever her fate might be.
If the rebel interview aired tonight, no one could touch her. The Offgrids even knew it; Emperor Mr. Biggs wouldn't oppose the media. A few decades ago, when the veteran journalist Lobmys Adnikemos had turned up missing, people began to whisper that the crown had something to do with it. When no official explanation was forthcoming, the whispers turned to mass rage, and the Offgrids seemed to gain support. They'd managed to pull off a few serious hacks and blown up a castle before Biggs turned the tide of public opinion back in his favor with a flurry of decrees benefitting members of the media. It had cost him a castle's worth of data at the very least. Now the crown had an almost obsessive protectiveness over the fourth estate; no one whose face went on the news would ever be suspected of terrorism.
The Cyc parked in another hour, and the music stopped short. The ceiling peeled apart, letting in the comforting, rusty scent of smoke. When it was all the way opened, Enioreh could see that she was banked on a high terrace of the great Public Relations castle, surrounded by the points of many towers. Everything to do with public affairs was planned and executed here, under the supervision of a handful of minor princes.
A handsome officer stood ready to greet her, uniformed in ice-blue with shiny medal accents. He extended a white-gloved hand to help her out. Enioreh stood clumsily, shaking the dress away from where it stuck to sweat spots on her skin. A hot gust of skyair blew her hair around her head, and she clamped down on it with both hands, forgetting to take the officer's assistance when she hop-rolled out of the ball and onto the sooty terrace.
"Miss Enioreh, I presume?" Asked the pretty soldier, sounding chivalrously pleased to meet her.
"Uh-huh," she agreed. "And who are you?"
"Major Seussi, at your service, Miss!" He bowed as he spoke.
"Nice," Enioreh returned.
The Major escorted her along the terrace, which stretched almost the length of the castle between spiky turrets that completely blocked the landscape. The sky was swirling grey above, and roiling pink and green and red and white along the farthest edge. The PR castle was made of metal, more varieties than could be counted; it had fancy architecture, but distant war-sounds echoed along the tin-steel-spine as if through mountains – a crackle like fire, and the kind of booming blasts that get inside your chest and make you cough. Enioreh started to feel more normal.
They walked a few hundred yards, then took an elevator down to the middle of the castle, and there were no hallways; they walked in and out of windowless room after room until Enioreh was sure she'd never find her way back to the terrace. Each room they entered had three or four doors, sometimes one on every wall, sometimes two or three on the same one. Dimensions changed drastically from one room to the next; some were barely larger than a hole in the wall, fitting only one person at a time, and some were as big as two or three offices put together back at the The Herald. Some of them weren't even rectangular, but made up entirely of geometric surfaces that met haphazardly. Some rooms were as lavishly decorated as the Cyc had been – these ones usually had people sitting in them, eating or fiddling with their quasis. But most of the rooms were full of machines. People scurried anxiously around in these, playing with the instruments and shouting data sets at one another, lifting hurried hands in greeting to Major Seussi and Enioreh as they passed.
The Major guided her through door after door with a practiced step, never a moment of doubt. "It's a fairly convoluted route," he apologized. "It's a marvelous construction for security, of course. It is unfortunate we cannot offer a more pleasing visage to our guests."
Enioreh smiled weakly. He might be very well aware that he was leading her to her death. It might be his job to kill her.
Finally, they reached a thick metal door marked, "Meeting". The Major held it open for Enioreh, and the girl clenched her stomach to squish the nervous energy that was getting her all sweaty again.
The Meeting Hall was legendary. It was by far the biggest room Enioreh had ever seen, and among the most irregularly-angled. In some portions of it, the ceiling bubbled up cavernously; in others, it slanted away to barely higher than the rows of seats that closed around the Speaker's Bench. This construction did funny things to people's voices, stretching them thin and brittle or compacting them into hardened thunder, depending on where you stood; in one or two coveted spots, you could hear what was said at the Speaker's Bench with near-perfect clarity. In others, you could only hear what was said by people sitting on the left side of the room, or only sounds an octave or two higher in pitch than a whistle. Many places mingled the echoes of old sounds with ricocheting new ones, exaggerating volume unexpectedly, so you weren't exactly sure who was saying what to whom or how loudly or even really what order the words were in. There was one well-known crevice in the wall that did this in a beautiful way, making every sound into a somehow musical cadence that didn't make sense but was a wonder to listen to. Sometimes people stuck a quasi there just for fun.
There was supposed to be some reason for using this as the conference Hall – the angles were designed to deflect spyware or something. But really, it was all about the sport. Good reporters spent years studying the Meeting Hall's design, crafting strategies they hoped would get them ahead of the rest. Some were focused frankly on hearing the speeches, and many others, more crafty, looked for ways to spy on those with better positions or catchier interpretations.
Damn fucking Ret. This wasn't Enioreh's game. Veteran journalists packed the room, having arrived an hour or two early just to get a good spot. Some publications sent teams of reporters, who climbed on each other's backs to gain the best sound bites. Most didn't sit – the seats had generally terrible acoustics. Being among the last to enter, and entirely new to the castle-scene, Enioreh had little hope of getting a strategically good position; she headed for the chairs, pretending not to notice the looks she drew from other reporters – some contemptuous and others suspicious, wondering who she was and whether she had discovered some clever new strategy.
Blue poodles shone from many tattooed foreheads as they swiveled back and forth. Fucking posers, Enioreh thought. These guys were desperate to show off their political immunity, but they'd all get killed in time. Not even the Emperor's pets were laser-proof.
Enioreh shook her head, making herself comfortable where she sat. Body language didn't lie, and she had a better view of it from here. Someone back at headquarters could piece the speech together after the other reports came out; The Herald had a small and fiercely loyal audience, who waited for real news.
The Speaker's Bench stretched the length of the room, and was peopled at the moment by mostly men in uniforms, with dented faces and lots of medals. A few were laughing; from where Enioreh sat, the laughter was buried under muffled grumbles and a general senseless loudness that came from everywhere at once. She wondered what it sounded like at the Speaker's Bench. Many studies had concluded that it must be impossible for anyone seated there to hear anything clearly aside from their own voices, but some theorized that they could also hear the ocean.
Enioreh strapped the quasi to her shoulder and tapped it into "record" mode. She recognized the Prince Hedoniet where he sat at the center of the Bench. He looked scrawny in real life, not quite the chilling figure he always cut on screen. His skin was about the shade of boiling mushrooms, and his hair was a shade or two brighter than grape wine. His eyes had the color of the moon at harvest, all yellow-y. And they were looking straight at her.
Enioreh looked at the floor quickly, caught off-guard. Of course, though – she was the only one sitting down. Who else was he going to look at? The din petered out when one of the Speakers at the end of the Bench had gotten to his feet and begun to address the assembly. There was a muffled reaction from some of the journalists, gasps or maybe sighs, and a bleated muttering. Enioreh strained to hear the smaller sound of the Speaker's words. They came when the man had finished speaking and was halfway back to his seat, seeming to have traveled all around the room and become worn-out before they reached her.
"It is my pleasure to introduce to you this evening, the good General Hedoniet."
Enioreh's heart sank. General Hedoniet, he'd said. That was a very bad sign. Hedoniet was youngest of all the Emperor's nephews, a minor prince. Everyone should call him Prince, if this was a treaty discussion. General made this military. There would be no truce.
The Prince – General – surprisingly remained seated, with his fingers folded demurely into one another. The echoes of the press's reaction had mostly died away when his voice came through – clear, cold, and pointed as an icicle. "The Emperor is not unfeeling," he began, and Enioreh started to sweat when she realized that he was still looking at her. "We understand that many of the people comprising the Primatives' base are innocent children with no recourse to civilization."
There were murmurs, low and ominous, from the rest of the press, smothering the Prince's words. Had they all noticed the way he was staring at her? Were they thrown off by the fact that he was addressing the assembly from his seat, rather than the podium? He hadn't said anything spectacular yet. From the corner of her eyes, Enioreh saw journalists begin to jockey, quietly as possible, for new positions – many of them throwing inscrutable glances her way. They probably thought she'd had advance notice of the speaking arrangement; she had one of the best seats in the house now.
The Prince was wearing a wistful smile, like he found the words difficult to part with. Enioreh strained to hear them. After a time, she was able to make out,
"This can and must be our only negotiation. I firmly believe that peace shall reign, if the rebels would but accept our modest proposals for once and for all."
There was a collective inhalation, like a passing wind, that floated along the outer edge of the room; a massive text box had projected itself suddenly into the space above the Speaker's Bench, a dense outline crammed inside. There was new agitation as those members of the press with the worst acoustics jostled to take advantage of the visual field, but Enioreh doubted there was any vantage point that could have made the font legible; she was sitting closer to it than most, and she could only make out letters that were capitalized. It didn't matter – people were tossing jealous glances her way, as though she had somehow arranged to turn what should have been one of the worst seats into the best.
The Prince's reverberated words picked up speed until they were only barely comprehensible – the traditional style of delivering imperial decrees. After a few sentences Enioreh's ears picked up the words, and in another second her eyes were coordinating the minute print with the sounds so that she knew almost exactly what was being said:
The purpose of this Agreement is to establish the terms and conditions of a Treaty of Accession! In this agreement the words "I," "me" or "my" refer to the Supreme Emperor, Mr. Biggs, and all of the Empire by extension! The word, "Primitives," refers to those regions which, due to unfortunate circumstances, and prior to this same Agreement, have been unresponsive to decrees of good and righteous law! The words "you" and "your" refer to all of those individuals who have actively contributed to the unfortunate circumstances mentioned above!
With this Agreement, I hereby grant you an opportunity for Reconciliation, which assures for all parties a speedy return to the rule of law and to the benevolence of this mighty Empire! These terms and conditions will be established when you signify accession by physically signing this document, or by your use of imperial roads, currency, or language, or by your omitting to vocalize rejection of these same terms in the physical presence of one or more honorable Governors within thirty days of the issuance of this Agreement!
Accession of this Agreement will establish the following:
You and all of those who have lived as Primitives shall immediately receive full citizenship and be welcomed back to the imperial fold with all the benefits and privileges enjoyed by citizens!
You shall suffer no reprisal, punishment, nor reprimand for unfortunate actions you may have taken prior to becoming civilized!
You shall not be required to pay taxes, subscribe to news publications, attend Neighborhood Meetings, nor fulfill any of the other duties of a natural-born citizen for one full year from the date of your Accession!
You shall be provided with employment training (in any field of your choice!), a re-adjustment stipend, and optional therapeutic counsel from the time of your Accession until such a time as you determine these benefits unnecessary!
The terms and conditions established herein may at any point be determined null and void and shall at such point be rectified by Imperial Prudence without need of council or review from such other parties as may have previously established accession of these same terms and conditions, wherein any such alterations shall be instantly and retroactively enacted and enforced in any province deemed applicable.
Your culture shall be preserved…
Enioreh stopped listening. She glanced around the room, wondering how many other reporters had noticed that the treaty was total BS. Not too many, by the look of it – most of them seemed either excited, or just lost. Given the date, half of them were expecting a genuine truce. Wishful thinking.
Biggs would wait until half the empire was outraged at all the taxpayer-funded perks to rebels to start tinkering with the treaty. He might amend it with some mild sanctions, at first, pretending to do so as a concession to the critics. But he'd also add clauses that seemed to give the rebels more extravagant privileges – inflating the promised stipends, or lengthening the amount of time they wouldn't have to pay taxes. Everyone would get angry again, and Emperor Biggs would keep on adding harsher sanctions and bigger pseudo-perks until the whole world was screaming for rebel blood.
The Prince, as he spoke, kept the vaguely pleasant look of someone delivering candy to a stranger from someone else. Enioreh strained to uncover a nugget of sincerity in his eyes that might prove she was wrong, but they held still, betraying nothing. The Prince seemed to notice her attention; his smile broadened, and the corners of his eyes creased, almost mischievously. Then he half-closed one eye at her. A wink? Did he just wink at me?
No fucking way she was wrong – there was definitely some nasty strategy at work here, and the Prince knew exactly what it was. What was that he'd said earlier, about "retroactive enforcement" of policies? What if…
Enioreh's mouth went dry. What if the Empire's forces had already done something to the Offgrids – something bad enough that Mr. Biggs felt the need for legal protection? If the rumors of an unstoppable weapons code were true, and every hiding rebel had been found and electro-fried, or rounded up…
No, Enioreh told herself, trying to think. They couldn't have acted against the rebels yet. No one was exactly sure how many people comprised the Offgridland, but she knew there were enough walking around in camo-code that people would notice if they all dropped dead. Some estimates went as high as fifty percent of the world. None went lower than ten. So the Empire would have to wait for public opinion to catch up with policy before mass executing them. By the look of it, that wouldn't be a very long wait.
Enioreh looked around the room again, noting every door. If that was really the plan, she might be the only person who could see it coming soon enough to stop it. She couldn't let them take her life today.
Book Two, Chapter Two
Dystopia, Free literature, Free Novel, Time-Travel, war
The next thing Enioreh knew, she was slumped against the metal inner shell of a CycloBall. The silver light reflecting off the walls was painfully bright, and there was a buzzing in her head that reminded her of static. She did a quick inventory check. Still had all her clothes, including both shoes. No quasiputer. They'd be pissed at the station about that, but the memory was the really important thing, and she still had that – in the inner pocket of her thin shirt; she could feel the little protrusion against her breast. This was promising – if she could just keep it safe until they uploaded it into the station's memory, chances were good it would be airable. She had sort of expected not to find it – the CycloBall had probably passed through three or four military check-points while she was unconscious. Of course it was entirely possible that they had found the memory cartridge and sterilized it a little too long, which would corrupt the data.
Enioreh heard a bump as the outer shell of the Cyc came to rest. The sound of whistling and shuffling feet soon told her she was at port; then the pod door opened with a vorpal, sucking sound. Enioreh coughed on the new air and clawed her ungainly way out.
"You made it!" Ize was there, hiding a grin behind her elbow. She reached a fist cautiously forward to bump Enioreh's shoulder.
The girl huffed. "I'm sterile!"
"Yeah?" Ize kept her mouth against her elbow.
"Seriously. I've been through about a dozen check-points. If they'd found a pox on me I wouldn't have been allowed to pass. I've been requested at the castle by name."
"Yeah. I'm sorry, cat." Ize let her arm fall and pounded her fist twice in the center of the CycloBall's roof, but it remained at port.
"I think they used a Vanishing Entrance," said Enioreh. "They're really, really good at making things impossible to trace."
"So, what, we get to keep their Cyc? They can't have that much funding?"
"Payment," said Enioreh. "For my services." It couldn't be anything else. The Offgrids said they hated charity as much as theft.
Ize gave a startled laugh. "Payment? Like, you've defected?" She seemed about to start yelling, but she caught Enioreh's steady, mind-made-up gaze, and shook her head instead. "Girl, you've picked a bad time to start moonlighting." She cleared her throat. "You got the message, then? The whole message? About your sister…?"
Enioreh nodded briefly. "Rey told me."
Ize snickered. "The old bat was freaking out when that link cut off. She thought you got electrocuted."
"Rey was caring about me?" Enioreh laughed. "What a bitch, boy wait till I see her, she's never gonna live this down!"
"She won't admit it – you know she's always saying we're all expendable."
"Actually, Ize, that's just you she says that about. We always wait until your back is turned to apply all the expensive state-funded laser repellant."
"Oh, is that why you fuckers smell like ass?"
Enioreh would have come back with something, but Ize gripped her suddenly by the waist, cutting off what she had to say. Ize seemed just as surprised by the old gesture. She let her go quickly and pretended to be coughing.
"Well," Ize said finally, straightening up. "When your new shit gets on the air, all of us are gonna be filthy-fucking laser-proof. And I mean it this time."
Reyolpme was sitting at her desk, with exactly the same posture and expression she had on the quasi transmission, however many hours ago that was.
"Heya boss," Said Enioreh nervously, closing the door behind her and landing herself lightly on the lip of a chair. She had never seen Rey looking so stern this late in the evening. If she didn't know any better, she'd think she was in trouble. But she couldn't think of any major screw-ups she'd made, since…
Enioreh yanked the memory cartridge out of her pocket. "Yeah, sorry about that quasi," she blurted. How did Reyolpme always know? "I should have been more alert, I know, but -"
"You incredible little nitwit." The rage was suppressed, compacted into icy hardness that blocked out any thought of argument.
Enioreh hung her head.
Reyolpme was standing now, rigid, hairline just about even with the top of her desk. She began a slow pace around Enioreh's chair. "I should be surprised to learn that you had the intellectual prowess of a centipede."
Enioreh summoned the courage to raise her eyes so she was looking at Rey's hands, folded now behind her back, as the tiny woman circled nearer. "But the footage -" The girl squeaked, brandishing the memory blindly, as though hoping to ward off an attack.
Reyolpme's hand darted sharply up, slapping the cartridge out of Enioreh's hand. "Fuck the footage," Rey snarled, pushing up Enioreh's chin with a balled fist so their eyes met. "Fuck it. You little, pea-brained, hair-brained, idiotic little…why are you here?"
Enioreh was shocked to see tears welling up in Rey's dark eyes. "Wha….?" She gasped.
"I interrupted an interview with the damned Outliers! Didn't that make the situation clear? Are you really so completely nit-witted that you didn't understand – "
"Wait," said Enioreh stupidly. "This is about me coming back?"
Reyolpme's face looked ready to explode. "Of course it's about you coming back you nincompoop, what did you think it was about?!?!?!"
Enioreh stood up straight, confused to be feeling both touched and offended. "Why does everyone think I'm stupid? I know what it means, for the General-Prince to request me by name. For Ret to be dead. I know, ok? I get it."
"Then why did you come back? I sent you that message to warn…"
"And you really thought I'd stay?" Enioreh laughed. "C'mon, boss – you had to know I'd come." Enioreh squirmed against her chair until she wasn't sitting but leaning on the armrest – she only ever sat in Rey's office when she thought she was in trouble.
Rey stepped onto her desk from an overturned trashcan on the floor, so she was sitting at eye-level with Enioreh. She scratched away the wetness of her eyes. "I suppose I did know," she grumbled. "I should have known. You've been working here long enough."
"Four years!" Enioreh said proudly.
Rey chuckled. "Remember what a scrawny little, unpolished thing you were!"
"As opposed to how beefy and polite I now am?" Enioreh smirked, remembering. She was a teenager the first time she'd met Rey – orphaned, restless, bored. Reyolpme had come waltzing into market one day, four full bags in hand, and offered Enioreh a single credit to help her carry them home.
"'Go fuck yourself' – those were your first words to me, as I recall," Reyolpme smiled fondly. "I can't imagine why it should have impressed me so. You were a mere child – it isn't as if you were being courageous. You had no way of knowing who I was or of what I was capable. But it had been awhile, I suppose, since anyone on the streets had treated me like an ordinary person. And there was something about you I couldn't put my finger on. You looked…alive, while you were saying it. I thought to myself, 'This one's got the look of a real reporter!'"
"Oh, so that's it? After all these years, you finally admit that my love of cussing is what got you captivated?"
"That," said Reyolpme, "And something else. I felt as though I ought to know you. Truth be told, I'm still not convinced we hadn't met before. Maybe I knew your parents. And then, of course, your sister came along…"
Fucking Ret.
"Cocky, killable little bastards, but we have to love you," Rey sighed. "It's the law."
"Cheer up," said Enioreh. "Not all correspondents are good at dying."
"All of mine are," Rey snorted. "The rest of the guild can go get plagued with rotting feet disease."
"Bigsets," Enioreh shrugged. "They think just cause they're rich and free and friends with the emperor and not allowed to be murdered or charged with crimes that that makes them special. Seriously, I don't know why more papers aren't like The Herald – sending people out to the front and then verbally abusing them when they get back to the station. It's, like, the best."
"Which is why The Herald will survive longer than any other. We are the only ones left with roots before the war." Rey looked snooty about it. "My great-grandparents owned it before all this…" She made a small gesture around her office, taking in the photos scattered over walls and desk.
Enioreh's eyes landed on a blood-stained rag doll, smiling up from a picture on the floor. She didn't look away. "It's been a hundred years, already! We all know where it's going to end. The only reason the Offgrids've made it so long is because the Bigsets get too cocky. What with the fuss over Adnikemos and all the other stupid– They should have won ten times over, with the funding and people they've got! And now they have invisibility. When they made the announcement a month ago I thought for sure the Pettyland would see sense and call it quits, but they're still at it! And they think the Empire's going to offer them a truce? Yeah, right! You know what they're saying in the city, right? About the Emperor's secret weapon? And if that's what tonight's announcement is about, and the Petties don't give up…I swear I'll quit myself! There's no story there, there's no surprise – just long, drawn-out, massacre after massacre, until there's no one left to fight, and the world can go back to the way it was before. Don't know what the armies are gonna do when it's all over, but one way or another this has to end – " Enioreh spluttered in surprise as cold water slapped her in the face.
Reyolpme tossed her the empty drinking glass. "Cool off, you. We've got a job to do."
Enioreh shook her head and slid a palm over her forehead, pushing off water. She snorted to clear the droplets that had got in her nose. When she breathed again, all she smelled was rain. "Yes," she coughed. "I know."
Reyolpme had already hopped off her desk and was retrieving the memory cartridge from where it'd landed on the floor. "Well, let's see what you have for me today."
Reyolpme plugged the memory into the wall, and Enioreh gave a whoop as an image shot into the air. It looked like it had been over-sterilized, as she'd feared, but the saboteur hadn't been quite thorough enough; a supersonic image remained, vivid and surreal. Reyolpme knew a really good engineer, who beefed up their equipment with fail-safes like that. It would take a little time to restore the data to usable bites of sound and silhouette. But the memory was there.
Reyolpme smiled, a glimmer of grudging hope coming into her eyes as she buzzed for the decoders. If she could get it cleaned up and onair within the next three hours, there was a chance Enioreh's life could be saved.
"See?" Enioreh cheered. "You worry for nothing. It's good stuff on here, wait till you see it, you'll be proud. Maybe you'll even give me a raise." Enioreh laughed.
Reyolpme chuckled, as well. "Raises! How profoundly absurd!" Unexpectedly, the old woman drew Enioreh into a waist-grip, then let her go so abruptly she stumbled. Life's Purpose right here consider first the chicken or the egg at one point a chicken had to be another wrong Reyolpme sighed there's no such thing as chicken…
"Go get your face cleaned up," the old woman tried to growl, but the sound of threat didn't come.
Enioreh went, feeling like part of another world already. Two waist-grips made it final. There was not a chance in hell she'd be coming home.
Like to read the first half of this adventure? Book One of the Glow series is up on Amazon for 2.99 right now (unless it's one of the days when I randomly put it up for free)! Feel free to click this link to help your starving writer get paid and/or discovered! 🙂
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00Y889X5I?*Version*=1&*entries*=0
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