Project Ouroboros (20 page)

— So what are you going to do now? — El’Athar asked a few minutes later, sitting on the cold floor in the middle of wires and tubes.

— Wait. — Answered Aleph. He sat on the same chair and was thinking about something. — I think I'm starting to remember where the wires should go.

— They did this?

— Yes, many times. These cuts, which you have seen, were made for the connections.

— What is it for?

— It connects me with other Lamashtu. So what we got here just in time, didn't we?

— Our world is too complicated to understand, but one thing I know for sure — nothing happens by accident. And I met you for a reason as well.

— I think that happened in order to properly tie my hands to the chair and connect to the rest of Lamashtu.

— Why can’t it be done without this terrible chair?

— I guess it's more convenient. Can you feel it?

Can you feel it?...

... Can you feel...?

It seemed that an invisible magnetic wave went around the room and hid under the ceiling in the corner — above Aleph. It stirred everything inside and a sense of impending horror, this slippery alarm settled in the chest again, dropping the roots so deeply that it became clear — this time it will not pass. This alarm will remain until the end and eventually will only get worse.

They were silent. Nothing happened around them. It would not ever occur to anyone to come here. El'Athar wanted to ask Aleph about his ability to communicate with other Lamashtu, wherever they were, but remained silent. Perhaps this young man had done all he could.

...Can you feel?...

... Hi, Jack...

An unbearably familiar voice, and the outlines of Mr Daath haunted him. His cat-like bright eyes... were they slanted?... And sonorous voice, which sounded as if everywhere, like an echo. Maybe this dark figure never talked, maybe Mr Daath was not material, maybe... he was everywhere, everywhere, like air? It may have been that he was there and then, at that very moment, anywhere on that planet, and nowhere at the same time? Could he?...

— I've found a full Sumerian Dictionary in the city library — said El'Athar. — I just had a couple of ideas and decided to check.

— Have you found something?

— I think you were looking in the wrong place. I thought about the fact that the others have numbers next to the inscription: "Lamashtu" in Sumerian, right? The Sumerian numeration. We know that Tharsis is Lamashtu number seventeen, Gabriel — number fifteen and so on.

— Have you found?

— Yes. I have spent a lot of time on your strange number, but I found what was the matter with it. The Sumerians did not have the numbers, which meant "zero", so the word "Infinity" was used instead, which translates as "wheel" or "circle".

— Zero?

— Yes. You have "Lamashtu 0" written on your hand. That's all.

— Zero?..

— Are you a prototype. You haven't told me something. You, too, have been created here in the "corner of Dr Moreau?"

... the footsteps were heard.

…who was there?

Silence.

— Don't you want to talk to me? — El'Athar was relentless.

— Now it does not matter. They all are coming here. All Lamashtu. This is the end. I can avoid doing that, and we will be able to live for some time. Everyone who wanted to restart the universe, died. Thanks to you. There are only those who were not in your reach. You do hate Aine Soph and Daath no less than the others, right? Don't you feel anger, hat you didn't kill them?

— Even if you begin to Ultimate Correction now, this does not mean that everything will be finished. Each new universe is created, absorbing the experience of the previous one. Now it depends on us, how it will look, and whether we are there in the new world. What do you want?

— That everything is ended.

Steps again. This time they were closer. Many, many steps.

Creak ... The door opened.

Lamashtu crowded at the entrance. Most of them El'Athar had never seen before, but by their lifeless blue eyes he knew that he would never have confused them with someone else.

— You have to go — Aleph did not even look at El'Athar.

— Are you saying goodbye to me? — He chuckled.

— Maybe. Where will you go?

The agent did not answer. Before he got out, he looked at the blonde for the last time, who turned to the wall.

— It's easier for you, you know what to do. But not me. I hope we'll meet again.

El'Athar left.

...what do you feel, Jack?

El'Athar remembered the episode from his life in Jericho. His parents died and he was waiting for the first night in a shelter. He sat on his bunk in a room where dozens of the same disadvantaged children and adolescents lived, often very sick and starving.

It was dirty and linens smelled of damp and old rags. At home it was not much better, but he was with his sister and even had a separate room and always clean clothes. It seemed to Jack that he, too, would soon fall ill and die. Every morning he woke up with fear, that the cough would come to take him too. How hungry he was then...

— You know, that actually your name is not Jack Getterbørgen? — an inspector entered the room. He carried a folder with documents in his hands.

— What is my name then? — It was all the same to him then. Even if he did not have a name, what was the difference.

— And I was thinking, where the Getterbørgen family had got such a bastard — Inspector grinned nastily. — They had nothing to do, but to take care about someone else's child. There would have been wiser not to drop dead of starvation.

El'Athar remembered the fury that filled him completely. At the time, only fatigue and hunger did not allow him to pounce on the inspector and strangle him with an old smelly pillow.

— You do not like that, huh? About your parents and your name we do not know anything if you're interested. You were five years old then. What did you do before and where you grew up — nobody knows. But now I understand why you're so far behind in development and why you grew up to be such a bastard.

It was no longer just rage, Jack thought that it would break into pieces if he did not do anything. But to go back to prison for juveniles he did not want — there it was even worse. It only remained to endure and not to yield to provocations. To endure...

So, your name is not El'Athar, or Jack ... how many names do you have, m? — It does not matter. Where was I for the first five years? How did I survive, alone in a poor and sick colony? Who am I?..

Hello, Jack. Do not you think that all this is happening only in your head?..

...What are you thinking about?..

A shot.

This juvenile idiot Dingir was easy enough to find.

No longer there remained any doubt what should happen next.

— Mr Aine Soph?

— El'Athar? Aren't you at home? Today there is the meeting.

— Sir, before I shoot you, I'd like to know some details.

— A bad idea. You could take my place.

— And you — the place of Mr Daath?

— Quite possibly.

— Why don't I kill you both, and take the place of Mr Daath myself? And Aleph, for example, would be able to take your place. What do you think of such idea, Mr Aine Soph?

— It's impossible.

— Why? I think it's great.

— It's funny, El'Athar you think that you have found out the truth, and now you are the most important. I understand why Mr Daath has been looking for you for so many years and paid a fortune to buy you from the prison, and I also understand why he wanted to kill you, when your actions went out of control. "Elohim" are dissatisfied.

— I'm lost in your organizations, and everyone dissatisfied.

— You cannot kill me.

— Why?

— Because I do not exist.

A shot.

Laughter sounded everywhere, but Mr Aine Soph slumped in his chair, and on his forehead there was a little black spot, a track of the bullet.

"Usual lead bullets" — thought El'Athar — "And the sound is cool. Good old times".

— Well, you got him to shut up, Jack. But you know, he is not human, and you just shot an outdated model of his body shell. He's still there, he just needs time to find a new one.

— Thank you for the clarification, Daath. What about the murder of your physical shell? Maybe you, too, would shut up?

— It does not exist. The fact that you see me, does not mean anything. Did you recognise me?

— I'm not sure.

— What do you question?

— I killed you.

— It does not matter.

— So, can I see you?

— If you remember what I look like.

— Why did you kill my wife, why did you...

— Don `t moan. If it weren't for you, right now nothing would be happening, and this world would exist for a few million years more. It's all your fault.

El'Athar looked at the former Director-General of "Enki" for the last time. In a few minutes his body dried up and it looked like a mummy, and grey hair slid down, almost completely covering his face and pale eyes wide open. El'Athar could have sworn that under the skin on his wrists gears and dentures were visible, but instead of taking a closer look, he just left.

At least one was temporarily finished.

Aaron...

El'Athar didn't remember very well, how his former best friend looked like. Aaron was of an unusual appearance, which did not fit his name, too elegant and eastern. The huge slanting catlike eyes, eyebrows going up, as in the ancient Chinese engravings, and a constant grin — other memories were more like coloured spots.

— So you do remember me.

— Rather, I'm sorry for you.

— Would you be happy if we never met?

— I would be happy if I did not believe you were my friend.

— It is strange that you had friends at all. And women. I never could understand what they saw in you, even now, when you've become more like a mummy from nightmares.

— Damn, and I thought that a year in jail and several Mongolian operations would make me more attractive.

— You feel sorry for yourself again.

— I did not have a chance of a normal life.

— You did. Millions of them. And each time, rather than to change something, you killed someone.

— How was I born? What did I do in the first five years of my life?

— You were not born. And was not a child, ever. You've never lived in Jericho colony, you became Jack Getterbørgen after you left everything that you had been working at for centuries.

— But what about... I remember... it all. And hatred.

— Maybe you were once a child. But this was many billions of years ago. Too long ago to remember.

— Why is it so hard for me now?

— You have been here as long as all the universe.

— How do you know?

— I was with you then. We were best friends, weren't we? And when you created Aleph and was the founder of the research centre "Enki" and then the rest of Lamashtu. Only you could do it — these biorobots are not just a technology, they are — the time, the fourth dimension that you distorted. You felt that the Correction would soon begin, and only you had the strength to change it. You wanted to give yourself a little more time and start a full reboot of the universe, a new Big Bang.

— But the hurricane Tiamat was not my fault.

— Maybe yours. Who but you knew where Aleph was? Who but you could want the Ultimate Correction?

— But the creator of Lamashtu was called Adam Kadmon.

— Well, now you even know your name. In this universe.

...what's happening?...

Aaron... the only one who he ever had, and who was a traitor. The only one who was ever dear to him, who mattered, whom he wanted to see not because he had to, but because he really wanted to.

— Aaron, do you remember how you and I went to the bar on Fridays and every time got rip-roaring drunk? Sometimes I did not understand how I got home...

— That was you who you got drunk, and I drove you home. I've always been Daath, and you've always been Adam Kadmon — the Creator. It was necessary that everything went according to the script, that's all. You look pathetic even when you do great things. Sometimes I think that I despise you. I've never been your friend, Jack.

British Isles, Londinium, 10 years before.

Quiet cool evening was coming to an end. The headquarters of the British military intelligence was empty, there was still light on in only a few offices. In one, a tall young man with dark, almost black, dishevelled hair was sitting at his desk and looking at the paper he held in his shaking hands. The tension made his cheekbones cramp and his eyes were like glass — the look burned through the documents.

The phone rang.

— Jack, are you still at work?

— Yes...

— You did not call me, did not say that today you cannot meet.

— Oh, shit, today's Friday, sorry! Have you been there long?

— I'm having my second beer.

— I'm coming, wait for me.

Jack folded the papers on the table and began to get ready — he could not simply refuse to meet Aaron. In recent weeks, he was desperately short on time, leaving only the traditional Friday meeting at the pub with the most delicious ale across Britain.

At the table in the corner all alone there was a young man with long black hair. Smooth locks covered the visitor's face, but Jack immediately recognized his friend.

— I'm sorry — the young man sat down in front of him, and decided that the topic of his delay could be closed then.

— I've thought you were not coming — Aaron's voice was unusually subdued. He looked depressed and tired.

— I have news — Jack decided to start from the most important. — Today I was brought the documents signed by the general. The war begins and I have to go to the front.

— With you working in intelligence, this was to be expected. — Aaron shrugged and finished his beer.

— You also work in the intelligence, if you have forgotten — Jack did not expect indifference in response to such important news. But a moment later he felt ashamed of his rudeness, and he stared at the table, if there a glass of dark ale was to appear on its own. The young man felt the burning look of his friend and decided that he should justify his words somehow. — I'm sorry, I'm tired today.

— I am also transferred to a military unit — Aaron's voice sounded as phlegmatic as before. He did not move and did not even seem to breathe.

— We are now going to work as a team?

— I think so, — Aaron softened. — Don't you want to grab us another beer? And order a cocktail, Sophie will come soon.

— Not her, why would you invite her — Jack pointedly grimaced, as if he has eaten a lemon.

— She's crazy about you — Aaron grinned — and you're all alone.

— This is not a reason to drag her here — Jack frowned. — Are you taking revenge on me for being late?

— Of course — Aaron's smile widened. — Go to get a beer.

....a shot was heard. Jack grabbed a chair, next to which he was standing, but could not keep his balance and fell to the floor. Near him a bloodstain started to spread, it became bigger and bigger — after injuring the lungs there was always a lot of blood.

Jack grunted and Aaron leaned over him.— Thank you for not shooting in the back... — these words were very difficult for Jack. The pain paralyzed the body, and he could not resist when his best friend raised his nearly lifeless body and dragged him out of the room.

The office was empty, it was too late, for someone to see how one young man pulled the other up the stairs, how the blood was dripping from the wounded's hands and the wheeze came from his lips.

Aaron put Jack on the couch in the first aid room. He found a sheet and put it on the wound to roll up tightly with a bandage. It could help for some time.

— Ambulance is on the way for you, — said Aaron. — Do not worry everything will be fine.

In response, he heard only a rattle.

— Someday you'll understand that I've actually saved your life. — Aaron finished with bandaging the wounded and left him alone — You must live. And you'll survive. However, before coming here, I went to your house, but there was just your wife. When you check out of hospital, I'll help you with Sophie's funeral. Do not worry, I killed her, but you've never loved her, right? You've married her to annoy me, I know for a fact that it was for bringing her to the bar then. It was my little revenge. But you will live, I will save you.

El'Athar opened his eyes. A bright light was blinding, the morning was extremely hot at that time of the year. He was in his apartment, in his own bed. No traces of bullets on the walls and the balcony was intact. The leg did not hurt anymore and there was not that terrible fixator. It seemed it was no longer broken.

Having dressed quickly, El'Athar rushed to "Enki", thankful that it was nearby.— Where is Aleph? — He asked Rada sitting in the lobby.

— Aleph? And the full name? Did we have such an employee?

He should run to the "corner of Dr Moreau".

Empty. There was nobody there, and tablets with unfamiliar names. Neither Tekhina Ami, nor anyone from the Lugal family and no door leading to the far corridor....

Hi, Jack, don't you think that all this is happening only in your head?..