Limbo (The Last Humans Book 2) (2 page)

T
he scene stops
. The Envoy was about to say something, but his mouth is frozen mid-sentence.

Phoe appears in front of me. Her fingers look like they just completed a flicking gesture.

“What you heard isn’t the worst of it.” Her forehead is wrinkled in a frown. “I just wanted to pause the proceedings because your neural patterns were worrying me.”

“Oh? It’s my brain chemistry that worries you?” My voice echoes through the virtual cathedral. Taking a couple of steps toward the marble stage, I point at the winged creature. “Shouldn’t
this
worry you?”

“Obviously everything worries me,” Phoe says, her frown deepening. “It’s just that their conversation already happened and nothing can be done about
that,
while I can modulate your wellbeing by giving you this shocking information slowly.”

“Enough worrying about
me
,” I say, jumping onto the platform. Walking over to the winged creature, I ask, “What or who is this?” Up close, the details of his impressive musculature become more apparent; he could easily make a Greek sculpture feel inadequate.

“I don’t know who or what he is.” Her response is barely audible.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” I back away from the frozen figure as though Phoe’s lack of knowledge will make him come to life. “Don’t you usually know everything?”

“Yet I have no clue.” She looks down at the floor. “Not for lack of trying, I assure you.”

“Okay,” I say slowly. “If
I
had to guess, I’d say he’s an AI… like you.” I remember how she looked all godlike when she gained the IRES game’s resources.

“I don’t know about that.” She crosses her arms and rubs her shoulders slowly.

“Well, look at it logically,” I say, ignoring her discomfort. “As far as you know, do any Youths, Adults, or Elderly have your capabilities?”

As expected, she shakes her head.

I try to catch her gaze. “Doesn’t that leave AI as the only possibility?”

“I don’t know.” Phoe evades my stare. “My memory isn’t perfect. It won’t be even close to perfect until I can completely recover all my computing resources, but as far as I know, no AI should be on this voyage besides me.”

“Well, can this somehow be you?” I suggest. “Another aspect of you that gained resources and consciousness at some point, the way you did, and then proceeded to develop independently?”

A medley of emotions flits across her face as she turns to look at Jeremiah. “I don’t think that’s possible,” she says, staring at the old man’s figure. “Plus, there’s evidence against that idea.”

“You don’t sound too certain,” I think, partly to myself but mostly for her benefit.

She doesn’t respond, so I say out loud, “Can’t you use your hacking skills to figure this out?”

Phoe turns back to me. “This cathedral is located in a DMZ of sorts. It took a lot of effort for me to tap into it. I was lucky I got into it at all. But when I tried to trace his origin”—she points at the Envoy—“no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t. I reached an impenetrable Firewall that blocked me from accessing a large chunk of the overall computing resources. And I don’t mean I just can’t use them. I can’t even fathom what’s there. And he clearly exists in that unreachable region.”

“What’s a DMZ?” I ask. “And for that matter, what’s a Firewall?”

“Demilitarized Zone—DMZ for short—was an ancient computing term,” Phoe says. “Think of it as a layer of security against hacking that lies between systems that aren’t secured and systems that are heavily secured. A Firewall is another measure of security, one between the DMZ and whatever it is you’re trying to hack. It’s the Firewall that has me baffled, but none of this should be the focus of our conversation. I think we should be discussing the mess we’ve gotten ourselves into.”

I nod, letting go of the mystery of the Envoy’s identity for now to focus on the meaning of his conversation with Jeremiah.

Yesterday, Fiona, one of the Elderly, called a Council meeting to object to Jeremiah’s method of questioning me (via torture). The meeting took place but didn’t really change anything. The Council decided to allow Jeremiah to do what he wanted.

After I beat the IRES game and Phoe got the resources she needed, she was able to make everyone Forget I was ever in trouble, which means that Jeremiah can no longer recall the ‘should we torture Theo?’ Council meeting. Unfortunately for us, it seems this Envoy was notified that the cursed meeting was scheduled. Thanks to that, the Envoy knows that a Forgetting happened.

“Yes, your assessment agrees with mine,” Phoe says as a voice in my head. “And before you ask your next question, let me show you this.”

Phoe flicks her fingers, and the conversation between Jeremiah and the Envoy speeds up. Their lips move like leaves in a tornado, and their voices sound high-pitched. The effect would be comical if it weren’t for the bits and pieces of conversation I catch—information that confirms what I’ve already deduced. They know that Jeremiah’s brain was somehow tampered with, which should be impossible given his role as the Keeper of Information.

Phoe returns the recording to normal speed as Jeremiah asks, “Can you undo the Forgetting? Return to me what I have lost?”

“No,” the Envoy responds, the melody of his voice brooding. “I can’t recover your memories, but we can monitor you and the Council going forward. If you’re made to Forget again, I should be able to learn who was behind this atrocity.”

Phoe snaps her fingers again, and the scene pauses.

I exhale the breath I was holding in. The point the Envoy made about whether he can undo Forgetting is a question that goes to the core of my anxiety.

“That is one bit of evidence that proves this Envoy isn’t
me,
assuming
you still needed reassurance on that front,” Phoe says. “I
can
undo a Forgetting, if I choose to do so.”

“Well, he could be lying,” I begin to say but stop. “No, he wouldn’t have a good reason to lie about that.” I inhale. “I’m glad he isn’t you. If he were you and could undo Forgetting, that would be a disaster. I mean, if Jeremiah recalled what happened, the Guards would be on their way to get me as we speak.”

“No.” Phoe rubs the heel of her palm against her chest. “
The Guards
aren’t on their way to get you…”

I look at her questioningly, and she flicks her fingers again.

The scene speeds up once more, then slows as the Envoy says, “Logic would dictate that you start your investigation with the last Forgetting.” He wrinkles his nose. “The unfortunate case of that insane Youth, Mason.”

Without my being conscious of what I’m doing, my hand strikes the Envoy in the face, but the punch doesn’t connect. Instead, my fist goes through the Envoy’s face. I should’ve guessed it would, since I’m inside of a recording.

Phoe pauses the conversation. “I don’t blame you for trying to smack him,” she says. “If I could punch this winged prick, I would.”

I take a couple of calming breaths and say, “Investigating Mason would lead them to me.”

“Yes.” Phoe’s blue eyes are pools of worry. “And there’s this.”

She fast-forwards the conversation until Jeremiah says, “I’d like to be granted the Lens of Truth for this investigation.”

Phoe pauses the recording again and interjects, “In case you missed it, the Lens of Truth is what the Envoy used to make Jeremiah answer his questions earlier. I believe it’s a neural lie detection algorithm of some kind.”

She continues the recording.

The Envoy looks thoughtful for a moment, then decisively says, “All right. You and Fiona will be granted the Lens of Truth for the duration of this investigation.”

“Fiona?” There’s a note of agitation in Jeremiah’s voice.

“Yes,” the Envoy replies, watching Jeremiah intently.

“But she’s the reason I requested the Lens of Truth to begin with.” Jeremiah’s jaw tightens. “She’s the very person I want to question first.”

“That would be completely out of the question,” the Envoy says, his voice so forceful it reverberates in my belly. “I will not allow you to turn this quagmire into a platform for petty political squabbles.” He shakes his index finger at Jeremiah. “Fiona is a capable Councilwoman, and if something were to happen to you”—there’s a threatening undertone to the Envoy’s words—“she’d succeed you as the Keeper.”

For a moment, Jeremiah looks like he was struck. He seems to be considering whether to talk back. Either his fear or respect wins out, because he says, “I understand, Envoy. The honorable Fiona and I will take your gift and investigate.”

For the first time since the Forgetting issue came up, the Envoy looks pleased. I guess pairing Jeremiah with Fiona was some kind of test, and Jeremiah passed.

“You’ll start with Mason’s cohorts and work your way up to the Instructors.” The Envoy’s voice is a calmer melody. “If the Lens needs to be used on any of the Elderly, I want to be notified about it first.”

“As you wish,” Jeremiah says, and his mouth freezes.

I look at Phoe, who’s flicked her fingers again.

Though I expected the Envoy to say something along those lines, now it’s official. I’m definitely one of Mason’s cohorts.

Phoe and I stand there in silence. Then she looks me in the eye and says, “We’re done here. Let’s go back to the real world.”

I open my mouth to launch into a torrent of objections, but Phoe is no longer in the room.

I take one last look at the mystery AI, or whatever the Envoy is, and signal to leave the VR, showing one middle finger to Jeremiah and the other to the winged creature.

The white tunnel swirls me back to my man cave, and I repeat the gesture. Another white whirlwind later, I find myself back on my bed in the real world.

Phoe is still standing above me. When she sees me open my eyes, she sighs deeply, and a distant expression appears on her face.

“So,” I say, breaking the silence, “they’ll investigate me using that Lens of Truth.”

“Most likely, yes,” Phoe says, but she sounds distracted. “Jeremiah just called upon the Council to discuss it, so I suggest we wait until that meeting is over before we decide what to do next.”

“But—”

“I mean it. We need to know all the variables.”

“And you can eavesdrop on their meeting?” I frown. “Isn’t it risky, given the Envoy situation?”

“So long as I stay out of their minds, I shouldn’t be detected. Hopefully.”

“I guess it’s worth the risk.” I get up from the bed. “We have to know how deep this goes.”

“Exactly.” She looks distant again. “It’s going to happen in about twenty minutes. We can wait that long.”

“Okay,” I subvocalize. “In the meantime, I think I need some fresh air.”

“Good idea,” Phoe says and heads for the door.

We’re both pretty quiet as we make our way out of the Dorm building.

When we get outside, we’re greeted by the rising sun.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Phoe says.

I’m not sure if she’s talking about the sunrise or how it’s reflecting off the dew on the grass, but she’s right. It’s been ages since I’ve woken up this early, and I guess I was missing out. Even knowing that the sun isn’t real, that we’re in space surrounded by stars, doesn’t detract from its beauty.

I walk down the green walkway and notice Youths who are already awake. To my right, a couple of boys are meditating. To my left, two girls are practicing yoga.

When I turn the corner, heading toward the soccer field, a Youth inserts himself in my path. I’m so lost in thought that it takes me a moment to realize it’s Owen. What the hell is
he
doing awake at this unreasonably early hour? Somehow, I doubt he got up to meditate.

When he sees I’ve spotted him, he walks toward me.

Not in the mood for his shenanigans, I attempt to get past him by stepping right.

He steps to his left, once again blocking my path.

I automatically step to the left.

He moves to the right this time. Clearly, he’s trying to get in my way.

I stop and say, “What do you want?”

“Oh, I didn’t even notice you there, Why-Odor,” Owen says in his hyena-like tone. “If you want to dance, why don’t you just ask me?”

“I’m not in the mood for your shit,” I say. The intensity in my voice, as well as my blatant breaking of the vulgarity rules, makes Owen take a slight step back.

Unfortunately, he recovers quickly and says, “Well, I am in the mood for a chat.” He looks around to make sure no one can overhear him, sees that we’re alone, and quietly adds, “So who gives a shit what you want?”

“I’ll give you two seconds to get out of my way,” I say as evenly as I can, given the tension of the morning thus far. “One.”

“Theo, don’t,” Phoe whispers.

“Fuck you,” Owen replies and puffs out his chest, looking like a weird hyena-peacock hybrid.

“Wrong answer,” I think, and without saying a word, I do something I’ve only done once in the IRES simulation.

I ball my hand into a fist and punch Owen in the jaw.

I
expect
Owen to raise his fists and fight back, like in the IRES game. To be honest, I’m hoping he’ll give me a reason to hit him again.

He doesn’t raise his fists. He just stands there, looking as stunned as a cartoon character that ran off a cliff.

Then, to my surprise, Owen gracelessly collapses.

“Dude?” I say, looking down at him. “Owen?”

He doesn’t reply.

I think I knocked him out, like an ancient boxer.

“Is he okay?” I ask Phoe.

With a flick of her wrist, Phoe brings up a Screen.

I see vitals on the screen and assume they’re Owen’s. They look normal, but I wait for her to answer.

“Yes, he’s fine,” she says and shakes her head. “I didn’t expect you to do that.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, half to her and half to the unconscious Owen. “I’m not used to having so much pent-up emotion.” I rub my aching knuckles with my left hand. “I had no idea my punch would be
that
effective.”

“Well…” Phoe clears her throat. “It normally wouldn’t be, but I did something to a group of nanos in your body while you were sleeping, and this might be a tiny side effect of that.” She gives me a weak smile. “I’ve been meaning to tell you about it.”

“What?” The hair on the back of my neck rises.

“There’s nothing to be concerned about.” Phoe’s smile wanes. “Remember how much interest you showed in the rejuvenation nanos that are dormant in your body? Well, once you went to sleep, I scanned you with my newly enhanced senses, and I found many more nanos that are meant to be generally beneficial. They also seem to have been developed before Oasis was formed, and like the longevity-enhancing rejuvenation nanos, it looks like their effects were never turned on.” She scratches her cheek. “I examined the ones that were safe and simple in their operations, and when I felt confident, I turned one of them on. It seemed like such a terrible waste of potential…”

As she speaks, I feel blood drain from my face. “You said you wouldn’t mess with me without my permission.”

“No.” She steps backward. “I said I wouldn’t tamper with your mind. What I enabled has nothing to do with your brain. Well, not exactly, anyway. I guess it gives your brain steady oxygen.” She scratches her neck this time. “Basically, what I did will make your body work more efficiently. This nano does what a regular red blood cell does, only better.”

I look at her, unblinking, debating whether she’s kidding around with this nonchalant discussion of manipulating frightening ancient technology
inside my body
. I vaguely recall reading that red blood cells carry oxygen and take carbon dioxide out.

“Exactly.” Phoe seems to be examining my shoes. “These devices are called Respirocytes. They work better than red blood cells ever could. With them enabled, you should be able to survive for hours without breathing. They’ll allow you to run much easier and sprint longer distances without getting out of breath. That’s why I took the liberty of activating them, given all that running you did yesterday. I thought you’d be pleased.”

I remember all my huffing and puffing yesterday, and some of my anxiety gives way to curiosity. Not needing to breathe for hours? That’s impossible.

“There you go,” Phoe says, her smile reappearing as she looks up at me. “That’s the spirit. Respirocyte is the earliest nanocyte ever invented. Its design was put forth as early as the late twentieth century. The ones in your body were simple enough in construction and function that I could verify they were safe beyond a shadow of doubt, even with my limited resources. I never would’ve enabled them otherwise.”

“Fine,” I subvocalize. “Just ask me before you enable anything else next time.”

“Deal,” Phoe says. Then she adds quickly, “With the exception of special situations, such as when you’re in mortal danger and enabling something might save your life.”

“Agreed,” I subvocalize and look back at the unconscious Owen. “Now can you explain to me how the extra oxygen made me stronger?”

“Oxygen definitely makes your muscles perform better, though I didn’t think the effect would be
that
significant.” She looks at Owen’s vitals again. “It is conceivable that, in addition to your punch, he also lost consciousness due to shock. After all, he probably hasn’t been hit in over a decade, if ever—”

“Oh, he’s been hit. I remember when Liam punched him in kindergarten.” I smile at the memory. “He didn’t get knocked out, but he did cry—profusely.”

“There you go.” Mirth enters Phoe’s gaze. “This confirms my theory that bullies are secretly pussies.” She glances down at Owen. “And sometimes not so secretly.”

Though I’m still a little mad at her, I can’t help but chuckle.

I gesture to snap a photo of Owen in his unconscious condition and bring it up on my Screen. I debate sending it to Liam but decide against it. The Adults could easily intercept and correctly interpret what happened, which would lead to a Quietude of legendary proportions.

“They can even access it this way,” Phoe says.

“Can you delete it then?” I subvocalize.

“You never actually took the picture.” She winks. “I intercepted the command and put that image on your Screen locally.”

“Devious,” I subvocalize and dismiss my Screen.

She stands there looking smug, and I turn my attention inward.

If what Phoe said is true and I really
can
survive for hours without breathing, I should be able to hold my breath beyond my previous record of fifty seconds.

I hold my breath to put her words to the test.

At first it feels like any other time I’ve held my breath—not bothersome at the beginning.

Emboldened, I count Theodores:
one Theodore, two Theodores, three
…

I know from prior experience that ten seconds is when a slight discomfort usually begins.

This time, however, it doesn’t. I feel exactly the way I did on the first second.

After thirty seconds, I still don’t feel any unease.

After sixty Theodores, my mood improves with every passing second.

“I’m glad you finally appreciate my gift.” A hint of mockery dances in Phoe’s voice. “But you didn’t knock him out strongly enough to hang out here much longer. At this point, I’m preventing him from getting up using methods I’d rather
not
use, given all the unwanted attention. I also don’t consider it very ethical to be doing this, even if it’s Owen we’re talking about.”

“Will you make him Forget?” I pointedly keep holding my breath.

“I already did,” Phoe says. “If you really want to test the Respirocytes, you should sprint to your favorite spot while holding your breath.”

“That’s a great idea,” I think.

“The only type of ideas I get.” She grins, turns her back to me, and runs.

Resisting the temptation to give Owen’s butt a kick, I follow her.

Phoe runs fast, but I keep up. In a few moments, I’m approaching my full-on sprinting speed.

I take long strides and focus on my breath. Minutes pass, and I don’t feel the need to breathe. A few more minutes later, there still isn’t a hint of me running out of breath. As I run, pure joy replaces my initial concerns and my grievances with Phoe. Every millisecond is identical to that very first rush I got when I started sprinting. And it’s not just not needing to breathe that’s different. Running is subtly easier. My muscles seem to recover faster from the exertion.

“If you inhale, they’ll recover even faster,” Phoe says over her shoulder. “Though I believe you should be able to keep this up for a while.”

I exhale and instantly inhale again, then hold my breath for another minute as I run.

“I should’ve run faster to test your limits,” Phoe says when we reach the bushes that signal the Edge of Oasis.

She walks through them and I follow, still holding that last breath.

“Why do we have these nanos if we don’t use them?” I think at Phoe.

“They’re embedded into the embryos that become citizens of Oasis,” she responds in my head. “Like I told you before, since the Forebears eliminated natural reproduction along with sex, all Oasis babies result from embryos that came from Earth, during a time when not using this technology in a baby was considered criminally negligent. The Elderly must somehow disable and control these nanos. When I get my hands on that process, we might allow a new generation to be born the way they should’ve been.”

I digest what she said as I look at the strange skies. Here, there are stars where the Goo used to be, stars that meet the morning sky where the sun is still coming up. Augmented Reality manages to blend and smooth the two impossible views together. The blue sky has a couple of stars near the horizon, then it darkens gradually, going fully black where the Goo would be. I breathe out audibly in awe. This view will take a long time to get used to.

My lungs nearly empty, I force myself to exhale some more, testing what will happen. Nothing really does, and I’m able to stay this way, though holding the ‘out’ breath while my lungs are empty feels unpleasant. I allow my body to inhale normally, then exhale, and repeat the cycle a few times. When my breathing becomes subconscious again, I subvocalize, “Okay, Phoe. I officially forgive you. That was really cool.”

She looks back at me with a strange mix of pity and worry. “You can be such a kid sometimes.” She pauses, then adds softly, “I regret I got you involved in all this.”

Her seriousness reminds me of the things I put out of my mind for the last few minutes. “I’m glad you got me involved,” I subvocalize and realize I actually mean it. “I’m glad I know you. I’d always rather know the truth.”

I look at the stars again, thinking of what lies out there.

“I so desperately want to figure out where we are,” Phoe says, moving to stand next to me. She looks at the stars with such longing that I feel an odd ache in my chest.

“You couldn’t locate us even with your new resources?” I ask quietly.

“Right, I couldn’t. But I did have a plan as to how to acquire the necessary resources.” Phoe’s gaze is distant, and her voice sounds wistful.

“You did?”

“Yes, but it’s not important now.” She forces a smile to her lips.

“I’d like to hear about it anyway,” I think. Then I can’t help but add, “Along with anything else you might have done to the technology in my body.”

“I didn’t do anything else to you, I swear,” she says, turning to look at me. “Regarding my plan, do you remember the Test Jeremiah mentioned at the very beginning of his conversation with the Envoy?”

“Vaguely.” I sit down on the grass.

“Well, when I intercepted their conversation, it wasn’t the first time I’d heard of this Test.” She sits next to me, and thanks to the tactile Augmented Reality, her leg brushes against mine. “This Test was on my radar soon after you fell asleep last night.”

“He said something about the new generation of the Elderly and Birth Day,” I subvocalize, pulling my feet toward me. “It sounds like those rumors you hear about the exit exam that Youths take on our fortieth Birth Day. They say it’s so the Adults can see what our jobs will be once we join them.”

“Yes, and they’re not rumors.” She scoots sideways so she’s closer to me. “Youths take an aptitude-and-interests Test. It’s nothing sinister, just a way to figure out what you want to do with yourself as an Adult. The Elderly Test is a little more mysterious. I don’t know what its actual purpose is—probably also to test aptitude for something—but the interesting thing about it is that it uses technology similar to the IRES game, which is how it got on my to-deal-with list.”

“How similar?” My pulse accelerates. “You don’t want me to beat something like that
cursed game again, do you?” The memories of falling from the tower and fighting cyborg-Jeremiah flit through my mind.

“You know I do, or else I wouldn’t have brought it up, but I don’t think the Test will be as disturbing as the game was,” Phoe says. “The only thing they have in common is the ultra-realistic immersion you’ll experience and that it’s tailored to each user’s brain. Whatever the Test’s purpose is, given that it’s something the Adults take as a prelude to becoming a member of the Elderly, we can be sure it will
not
be
entertaining.”

I shake my head at her reminder that the game, with all its unpleasantness, was designed with entertainment in mind. But then, what else would you expect from the ancients? They were insane enough to jump out of airplanes, handing their lives over to contraptions made out of fabric. I have a very hard time seeing anyone in Oasis wanting to put Adults through a game like that to initiate them as the Elderly.

A new realization takes my anxiety in a different direction, and I subvocalize, “If it’s a Test only Adults are supposed to take, how can I take it? Wouldn’t they notice something like that?” I turn my whole body toward Phoe. “Also, if I’m supposed to bring this Test down the way I did with the IRES game, wouldn’t the Elderly notice that? Wouldn’t they get suspicious? First the Zoo shuts down, then this?”

“We’re still talking hypothetically?”

“Right.”

“Well then, let me answer the easy questions first.” Phoe also turns so we’re facing each other. “If you’re the last person to take the Test this Birth Day, my hope is that no one will notice its absence for a year, until the next Birth Day, which might as well be an eternity from now as far as I’m concerned. I can figure something out by the time they need to take the Test again. Also, I didn’t get a chance to tell you this, but I brought the Zoo back online to make sure no one noticed it was gone, although that further reduced my resources and increased the need for this Test.”

“Okay.” I digest that as I hold her gaze. “What about the not-so-easy questions?”

“I had a very clever scheme in mind, something that can only be done on Birth Day.” Phoe smiles mischievously. “When their systems update everyone’s ages, I was going to tweak yours so that instead of twenty-four, you’d turn the ripe age of ninety.” She puts her palm out, silencing my upcoming objections. “I was going to dedicate part of myself to monitoring anyone accessing your age statistics. If and when anyone tries to look at your age, that part of me would make sure they saw your real age, twenty-four. That wouldn’t require any Augmented Reality manipulation. I would simply trick the Screen of whoever—”