Transient Echoes (27 page)

“You do?”

“If I didn’t, I would not still be here.”

She relaxed. “Thank you.”

He waved his hand. “No need for that. Now tell me what’s really on your mind. Surely you didn’t stop your work to come and ask for my approval?”

“Doctor Tremaine called me a few hours ago. It wasn’t good.”

He raised his brow. “Abigail? What did she want with you?”

“She ordered me to close the gate,” said Mei. “She said to blow it up from the other side.”

“Oh, my.”

“She threatened to have me removed if I didn’t comply,” said Mei.

“What are you going to do?”

“I was hoping you knew someone on the board. Maybe you could put in a call.”

He seemed to consider this for a moment. “I could, but I wonder if it would be enough. Abigail is the head of the Science Division. Her authority supersedes the board.”

“What else can I do?” she asked.

“First, pull yourself out of the situation. You have been looking at this from a limited perspective. Yes, Abigail is the authority in this division, but she is not the only authority in the government.”

“You’re talking about the military and the Motherhood,” said Mei.

“Each has a leader equal in power to your opponent. Bring your case to them and rally support against her.”

“How am I supposed to get their support? This is a scientific mission.”

Tabata held up a finger. “Think about it. Who are the heads of those divisions?”

Mei paused as the realization hit her. “Mara Echols!”

“The very same,” said Tabata, grinning.

“And Colonel Ross is a friend of hers, isn’t she?” asked Mei.

“Oh, yes,” he said. “Very much so.”

Mei couldn’t believe it. She was so stupid for not seeing it sooner. She clasped Tabata’s hand in both of hers and shook it. “Thank you!”

“Think nothing of it,” he told her.

It would be easy enough to contact Echols. The Matron’s office was well known for its open-door policy. The problem was reaching Colonel Ross. Thankfully, she happened to know a guy with connections in the military.

He also happened to be her boyfriend.

******

Somewhere on Kant

February 1, 2351

Terry sat in the middle of a field, taking in the vibrant serenity of the forest. He listened to the flow of the river, watching the clouds move overhead along the afternoon sky. On the bark of a nearby tree, a large blue beetle scurried to the ground, shuffling through the blades of green grass.

Terry smiled, nodding at the bug as it went. He knew the insect wasn’t actually there. It was only a fabrication, devised inside the fantasy of his own mind. But he didn’t care. The beetle was real to him.

Since he first conceived of this place, Terry had expanded its borders and filled it with life. Insects, a few small animals, flocks of birds. Most were ancient species from Earth—creatures he’d read about in history class. He wanted people here, too, but Ludo was against the idea. “People should not be created in the mind,” he told Terry. “This is your sanctuary, but it would be their prison, and before too long you would want to free them.”

Terry got to his feet and walked through the valley, passing under the tree line and into the forest. He made his way to the river where dozens of salmon leapt upstream against the moving current. One of the fish jumped over a large rock only to be snatched by the mouth of a bear, which then consumed it. Terry saw this once in a nature documentary in school. He’d been appalled by it at the time, the way the animal slaughtered the fish. But now the bear, which he had since named Peter, brought him a strange sense of peace.

Peter and Terry were not the only ones to visit the river. A family of ostriches drank on the other side, while a tiger cub and a crimson fox played together several meters behind them. Terry had recreated each one from what he remembered in school. The pictures he’d seen. The movies he’d watched. They were probably inaccurate, but he didn’t care. They were his and he liked them.

He sat by the riverside and listened to the rapids. He had never actually seen the Earth when it was like this, but he did his best to recreate it. But he knew it was a fraction of the truth. He could never know the world as it had been, back before the Jolt transformed everything. This version of the Earth was more alien to him than Kant, but he could not help but long for it.

Terry pushed the negative thoughts from his mind. The point of this place was not to dwell, but to remember. If only he had more time to learn this process.

He waited by the bank for a long time, lost in the flow of the water, consumed by the sounds of the rapids. The noise filled him, drowning his thoughts and allowing him to relax. He remained this way for several minutes, losing himself to the artificial environment.

After a time, he got to his feet and made his way back towards the valley. Birds chirped overhead, and Peter roared behind him. He willed the wind to blow, sending waves through the grass and bending the branches of the trees. He wished he could feel the current of air on his skin or smell the pollen. Ludo said there were a select few who could do this, but they were master flyers and had spent decades training.

Still, he was proud of his little world, and he wished he could show it to someone and share the experience. If only he could create people, perhaps John and Mei so he could talk to them. What he wouldn’t do to have his friends back. His old life. His family.

He walked through the valley towards the mountain, staring at the grass beneath his feet and frowning. If only he could go home. If only—

A shadow fell over him, covering the area. He raised his head and saw a building, curiously present where nothing had been before. It was tall, two stories high, and vaguely familiar. A blue door stood at the base, lined with silver and brown. Terry stared at it, uncertain of what he should do. He knew this wasn’t right, that he should wake himself now and ignore it, but he couldn’t. Something was drawing him in.

The door was cracked a few centimeters.
I should leave,
he thought.
This isn’t right. I should wake up.

Instead, he touched the knob and opened it.

He knew where he was the moment he entered the old house. It was a memory. His family’s house.

His mother’s desk sat in the corner, her coat still on the back of the chair. The light board on the wall near the stairs beeped, and he saw a little green dot blinking steadily.

He was home.

Terry walked through the first floor of his childhood apartment, dazed and confused. How long had it been since he was last here? Yet everything was so detailed. So clear.

A loud crash filled the house, causing him to flinch. There was nothing there, but he could hear the faint sounds of footsteps overhead. Someone was upstairs.

He stood there for a moment, fighting the urge to investigate.
I should leave,
he thought as he walked to the bottom of the stairs.
What am I doing?

He gripped the handrail.

Against his better judgment, he climbed. The stairs creaked as he pressed his foot to them, sighing with age. Laughter rang in the distance, echoing through the walls, giving him pause. The voices were muffled, but different enough to know there was more than one. He climbed, and when he neared the top he heard them speak.

“When will I get a birthday?” asked a voice.

“You’re only four, so you have to wait,” said another.

Terry stood at the edge of a doorway. There were toys on the floor—blocks with letters on them in the shape of a castle and plastic soldiers. He knew these things, or he thought he knew them.

A tiny hand appeared from behind the wall, followed by a child. He had pale skin and dark hair.

Terry stared at the boy who would be him.

The little one gathered a few of the blocks and put them away.

Janice, who had been obscured by the wall, walked to the boy’s side and helped put the rest of the toys away. “I wish I was seven,” she said, frowning. “I want to go with you.”

“I’ll tell you all about it when I get home. I promise, okay?”

She smiled cheerily. “Okay!”

The boy grinned and marched out of the room, almost bumping into his older self. Terry stepped to the side to avoid him. The child didn’t notice.

Janice followed after her brother, and together they went downstairs. Terry followed them, staying several steps behind. They searched the house for their mother, checking the light board, which now displayed three blinking dots instead of one. Red, blue, and green. Mother was in the kitchen.

I was just in there,
thought Terry.

But there she was, sorting through her work with a hurried expression on her face—a woman he had not seen in nearly twelve years. She looked different from the way he remembered. She had the look of stress about her, with bloodshot eyes and frizzled, hastily brushed hair. Was this really how she used to be?

Terry stiffened as he recognized the moment. This was the day his mother had taken him to the academy. It was the final memory he had of his family in this apartment.

The woman placed her pad in his bag. “Come on, Terrance. We’ve got to get you ready and out the door. Today’s your first day, after all, and we have to make a good impression.”

“When will he be back?” asked Janice.

“Hurry up. Let’s go, Terrance,” she said, ignoring the question. She grabbed his hand and pulled him along. “We have about twenty minutes to get all the
way to the education district. Hardly enough time at all.”

Janice ran and hugged her brother, wrapping her little arms as far around him as she could. “Love you,” she said.

“Love you, too.”

She smiled. “Bye.”

Their mother grasped the boy’s hand and pulled him outside. They disappeared through the door, vanishing like smoke.

Terry stood there, uncertain of what had happened or why. Did Ludo ever experience this sort of thing when traversing his own mind palace? He’d never mentioned the possibility of memories manifesting themselves like this. Maybe he didn’t know.

Perhaps this was happening because Terry was thinking about his friends in the field, imagining Mei and John. But if those thoughts were to blame, why wasn’t he standing in the academy? Why remember something from before he even met them?

“Because this one is mine,” he heard a voice say.

He turned to see Janice standing there in the same place the boy and his mother had left her. The same girl he left who, only moments ago, had hugged her older brother and said goodbye. “I’m always here,” she said. “You should know, big brother.”

No, this didn’t make any sense
.

“Aren’t you happy, Terry?” she asked him. “We’re home now. No more bad people ruining our fun. We can stay here forever. We can play.”

A pile of blocks manifested between them. Janice fell to the floor and grabbed a few and waved them around. “Come on and play!”

This was too much. He needed to leave and quickly. He closed his eyes and concentrated, trying to pull himself out of the fantasy.

“You can’t go,” she said.

He ignored her, reciting the mantra to relax himself. “Peace of body. Peace of mind.” He repeated the phrase several times, but nothing happened.

He could feel his heart racing. No, he shouldn’t feel this way. He shouldn’t feel
anything
here. What was happening to him?

“You’re here to stay now,” said Janice. “You and me, together forever.” She tossed one of the blocks into the air.

Terry ran to the living room at the front of the apartment, to the door where he’d entered. He gripped the knob, but it didn’t turn. He kicked and pushed it, but nothing happened. “Let me out!” he cried. “Let me out let me out let me out!”

Janice giggled behind him. He turned to see her standing there, arms behind her back, wide and innocent eyes looking up at him. She grinned awkwardly, the way people did when they got photographs taken, showing too many teeth.

“Leave me alone!” he shouted.

She shook her head, still grinning. “You don’t mean it. I know you don’t.”

He tried to open the door again, but it was no good. The damned thing wouldn’t budge. He screamed and punched it. Why couldn’t he leave?

“Because you don’t want to,” said Janice.

“Liar,” he said. “Get away from me!”

“No, I won’t,” she said. “This is my home, and you can’t make me.”

“This isn’t a game!”

“Says you!” She walked over and pushed him, knocking him to the floor. He stared at her in disbelief. She touched him and he felt it. The pressure of her fingertips, the force of her arm. Unbelievable. “You can’t boss me around!” she said, placing her foot against his neck.

He tried to move, but couldn’t. The weight was too much, like a thousand bricks pressing on his body. He screamed.

“You should just go ahead and die,” she told him. “No one will care.”

“Shut up!” he shouted.

She ignored him. “They all hated you anyway. You couldn’t even do the mission right. Alex and Cole died. Roland, too. You didn’t save any of them.” Her voice grew deeper and thicker as she spoke, and her eyes changed from a light gray to a deep blue.

“Stop it!” he cried.

“Mei and John are dead, you know,” she said as her face began to morph. “They died trying to get away…died from the explosion you caused. It was all your fault.”

“No,” he said, wheezing through the pressure in his neck.

She laughed, but it was no longer Janice. The definition in her face had changed as her skin turned into putty, molding into something else. Within seconds, her hair receded and she grew much taller. Her clothes transformed into those of an academy student. “Poor little Terry,” it said in a familiar voice.

Terry gripped the boot and tried to push it off.

The empty face grew eyes and a nose, forming definition like a painting come to life. It was a boy. A child from his nightmares. “You could never save anyone,” said Alex. His dark blue eyes stared at Terry. “Not me or anyone else.”

Terry gasped for air beneath Alex’s foot. “No!”

“Don’t pretend with me,” said the dead boy. He chuckled, lifting his shoe from Terry’s neck and backing away. He clapped his hands. “Remember what I told you before I died?”