Authors: Sahara Kelly
The Facilitator (12 page)
Dutifully, she followed John’s silver-blue light.
He stopped and indicated she should look down.
Beneath them was a room, a massive room that looked more like a cavern from where Martine was positioned. The floor glowed faintly green, and in this massive structure was row after row after row of what seemed to be boxes.
Big boxes, oddly shaped, very similar to…
Martine knew that had she been human at that moment she would have gasped. She was staring at uncounted hundreds of sarcophagi, opaque green sarcophagi, linked to various pieces of equipment.
“What the…? Are these…are these what I think they are? People?”
“Yes they are.”
John’s words crept through her molecules, a chilling sensation as she absorbed the implications.
“They are a few of what’s left of us. Humans. Clinging to life within these cocoons.”
“I don’t get it.”
John urged her down a row and paused at a particular place, dropping lower until they were right on top of the sarcophagus and staring at its viewscreen.
A line of symbols shone above the blinking data charts. A name.
Martine. Number Twenty-Seven.
Before she could even take that one in, John pulled her away to another sarcophagus. Her attention immediately flashed to the name.
John. Number Eleven.
“I still don’t understand…”
“This is who we are, Martine. This is our true reality. We are not human in the way most would imagine it. Our bodies were useless, deformed, mutated by a planet on the verge of unimaginable disasters. Those who survived found a way to free their neural networks, to interconnect, interface and create a new reality for those networks.”
“You mean my reality, Eternal Tranquility…all that…”
“A creation of the Pure Cortex Digital Stream. PCDS. That’s where we all live. Where we love, where we work, cry, do all the things that living entails. We can’t do it in our own physical reality. Now you can see why.”
Martine’s energies trembled.
“John, take me out. I need to get out of here.”
They moved then, drifting back out of the cavern, heading toward the higher levels where light began to filter in, and Martine found she could clear away the darkness that seemed to have covered her.
At last they were back in Theta.
“Help me understand, John.”
“We were born into a dangerous world, Martine. Our bodies didn’t fare well or react well to the environment. The entire planet was on the verge of self-destruction.” He walked to the window and looked out on the green hills in the distance. “But our minds. Our brains, love. We were the special ones. We had this DNA thing and that chromosome thing, neither of which I can begin to understand, but we had them. So did the others you saw in those caskets.”
“Okay. So we were special. But physically useless?”
“Yes. A trade-off, it would seem. Our bodies were put into those units and our minds linked into a digital stream. It was powerful, that stream, more powerful than anyone realized. Pretty soon the digital stream was self-sustaining, pulling all kinds of things from the minds of those who fed it.”
“It picked our brains.”
“Yeah, you could put it like that. A few thousand scientists would probably vote to shoot you for the oversimplification, but that’s it in essence.”
“And then what?”
“And then humans began to live in the data stream. The Pure Cortex Digital Stream. It offered a chance for life to those who had none, and a place to start over for those who needed it.”
“Uh.” She frowned. “So…God, this is hard to accept. I created my own reality?”
“Long ago, probably yes. But there’s a massive amount of commonality between us as a species. Similar habits, desires, vulnerabilities and so on. Eventually, the PCDS created a reality that met most of humanity’s specifications. We all hopped on board.”
“And that’s the reality I was living as a facilitator?”
“Yes. It’s also the reality you were able to leave. By virtue of your amazing Theta-compatible brain.”
“Oh.” She sat down. “Give me a couple of millennia and I might be able to sort all this out.”
“Yeah, it kind of feels that way, doesn’t it?” He hugged her. “Look, the abstract concepts are almost impossible to grasp. The technical stuff isn’t any easier. So let’s begin with the simple stuff.”
“There’s simple stuff?”
“Good to see you’re keeping your sense of humor about all this.” He grinned.
“It’s either that or begin screaming loudly and long until somebody strangles me. In whichever of the realities can hear me.” She looked at him. “And I think my ears are bleeding.”
“Okay.” He moved to stand in front of her and squatted, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Here’s the deal. We, being the amazing entities that we are, can pick our reality. We can go back to the old one, but obviously we’d have to find new forms since we died there.”
“You mean we don’t have to stay here in Theta?”
“That’s correct. We can return here any time. Most do. It’s a place where we can take turns monitoring other realities. Keeping a check on things, and watching the Shanxi Corporation, for example. They’re everywhere. They’re part of human nature as well.”
“Okay, so we can be part-time digital spies.” She nodded her understanding. “What else?”
“We can pick a reality to actually live in. To build a home together. To marry, if marriage is a part of that stream. We can have kids. We can be human again.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Really. We’re not gods, Martine, but we’ve been blessed by something strongly resembling a god. We try not to abuse that blessing, and that’s what Theta is all about. Protecting, giving back, steering realities back on track if we can. But when we’re not doing that? We need to live. To remember our humanity and keep touching all the good things about being human. We’re keeping everything going, making sure we’re ready as a species when the planet can support us once again.”
“Wow.” There was little else to say. She simply let the ideas flow over her, knowing she’d have more questions than ever, but also knowing there was time to ask them. Time for both she and John to discuss this and everything else they’d experienced.
“So our decision now is where do we want to go and what do we want to do?”
She looked at him squatting in front of her, his eyes bright and his gaze fixed on her face. She knew him intimately on more levels than she’d ever imagined possible. She’d seen his humanity and his digital-energy signature.
She’d fallen in love with both.
She’d lived with him briefly in one reality and died with him in it, only to traverse invisible boundaries and find new realities at his side.
Reaching for him, she cupped his face with her palms. “John, there’s really only one answer to your question.”
He tipped his head to one side. “Just one?”
“Just one.” She smiled. “I don’t mind where we go or what we do. I only want one thing. I want to be with you. You are my reality.”
About the Author
Born and raised in England, Sahara Kelly now calls herself an American, but manages to keep in touch with her heritage by making sausage rolls and watching the occasional rerun of
Blackadder
. Her family understands—being partial to a bit of British food now and again—and also appreciates the fact that she disappears into her own world for extended periods of time. Writers tend to do that, she tells them. And Sahara knows she’s blessed to be able to do what she loves—write! Genres are fields through which she dances merrily, pausing for a contemporary, then moving on to a fantasy or two with a wave to historicals if the wind is in the right direction.
There’s always something cooking on her hard drive (besides those sausage rolls), and she’s thrilled to have found a new field to play in—Steampunk! With a grown family, Sahara now has plenty of time to explore the written word and indulge herself in plot, characters, passion and desire. The many books in her backlist have taught her some of the steps to this literary dance, but she’s continually challenged by a new pattern or rhythm. For her, it’s a symphony she hopes will continue unabated. And she loves to share the experience with her readers.
You can write to her at
[email protected]
or find out more at:
facebook.com/#!/profile.php?id=635106277
Look for these titles by Sahara Kelly
Now Available:
Flavia’s Flying Corset
Miss Minnie and the Brass Pluggit
He isn’t made of brass…but that won’t stop him from steaming up her nights.
Miss Minnie and the Brass Pluggit
© 2011 Sahara Kelly
Flouting convention and raising eyebrows from aristocratic drawing rooms to Whitehall, Lady Minnie Dalrymple takes men to her bed as she pleases. She doesn’t do favors outside the boudoir, particularly for politically powerful men whose motives are rarely pure. Yet when her lover asks her to visit the mysterious Dr. Pierce Lowell, she’s intrigued. Why should she be asked to essentially spy on the reclusive scientist?
Pierce has several projects under development, none of which he cares to share with the public. The arrival of any unexpected guest rouses suspicion, but the wealthier-than-God, eccentric young widow certainly isn’t threatening…not to his experiments, anyway. To his heart? That’s another matter entirely.
Their lighthearted, mutual exploration is interrupted by the discovery of a woman’s body found strangled just offshore. When Minnie learns this is the fourth such crime, it isn’t difficult to convince Pierce that working at his side to uncover the plot is the safest place to be. Until she is kidnapped. To save the woman he has come to love, Pierce must call on every ounce of ingenuity and brilliance—and reveal his most closely guarded secret.
Warning: Contains scientific references, unlaced Victorian desire and some really nasty villains at war with fascinating machines. Author is not responsible for any consequent urge to dismantle a vacuum cleaner and build a mechanical man.
Enjoy the following excerpt for
Miss Minnie and the Brass Pluggit:
Silence fell, a comfortable silence that spoke of mutual appreciation, relaxation and one of the most seductively soothing vistas—the sea.
Minnie’s thoughts roamed freely, darting from one place to another, before settling on those uppermost in her mind. “She was strangled. Were the others? Were there any signs of…well, any other injuries?”
He took a moment before answering. “Yes, she was strangled. And yes the others were, as well. The first had been in the water for quite some time.”
Minnie closed her eyes against the image.
“I’m sorry.” He spoke quietly.
“No. Don’t apologize. I need to know. It will help to have all the facts we have at our command right now. We cannot move forward without them.”
“Very well. The first was strangled but we simply could not tell if there were other injuries. The next two—both strangled. And yes. There were, as you put it,
other injuries
.”
“They were raped?”
“Repeatedly.”
Minnie swallowed. “Ah.” She absorbed the implications. “A man then. Or men. With the strength to restrain these women as well as strangle them.”
“Yes.”
“And disposing of the bodies in the sea would mean someone local?”
“Possibly. But I have another theory.”
Minnie glanced at his face, which was calm and expressionless. But she was learning more about him each minute they spent together. There was a fierce tension beneath the skin, an untapped savagery perhaps. Something that was seriously offended by these crimes.
“And that theory would be…”
“Ships. They’re being tossed away from ships.”
She frowned and once again worked her way through the various possibilities. “You mean they’re
recruited
, for lack of a better word? Paid to go on board as prostitutes for the voyage and then murdered?”
“Something like that.”
The sun set in a blaze of glory, there one moment and gone the next. The room darkened yet neither moved to light a lamp.
“That’s a likely scenario, I suppose.” She puzzled it through. “Where would they go to recruit women? If we could find that location, it would be a place to start looking for whoever is hiring them.”
“I did wonder about that myself.” He stretched out his arm to put his glass down and pour a little more liquid. “Would you care for brandy?”
“Thank you but no.” Her mind was still turning over what he’d suggested. “Why don’t they get rid of these bodies further out to sea?”
“I don’t know. I’m simply chewing over theories here.”
She sighed. “We really do need information, don’t we?”
He glanced at her. “
We
?”
She lifted her chin challengingly. “Yes.
We
.”
“Just checking,” he flashed back with a grin. “And you’re right. We do need more information. With luck, now that we’ve sent out some requests, it’ll start coming in.”
“Agreed.”
The moon was rising now, casting a soft glow through the room. It was almost never dark when one had the ocean as one’s backyard, realized Minnie.
Pierce stirred and stood. “It’s been a long day. And tomorrow may well be even longer.” He held out his hand. “I’ll take you to your room.”
Minnie rose. “There’s no need.” But she placed her hand in his, something inside her eager for the touch of his skin.
“I have a suggestion.” He pulled her nearer.
“I’m sure you do.” She smiled at the shadow of his face.
“Listen before you assume,” he scolded her gently. “You and I—we’ve acknowledged something going on between us. Some very distinct attraction.”
“Yes.” She nodded.
“So my suggestion is in the nature of a small experiment.”
“Oh?”
“A kiss. A simple kiss. To see if that chemistry is truly present or if we’re imagining it.”
