The Dream Cloud, page 7
part #2 of Akropolis Series
The big man mimed his head exploding with his hands.
“Boom…and that, my dear, is why they don’t revive suicides anymore in Akropolis.”
The man held out his arm and the woman at his side immediately bent down to support him as he stood.
“Gets stiff after awhile,” he said, patting his leg, using the EMP rod as a crutch. “I guess you’re probably wondering why I told you this story in the first place.”
Mia licked her lips.
“Yes,” was her simple reply.
The man nodded.
“I told you, because we can’t just let you go blabbing your mouth about us two here. We are in the midst of something that is not exactly law-abiding, and we can’t risk having the ASF pop in unexpectedly. Unfortunately for you, that means if you don’t answer the next question to my satisfaction, I’m going to have to make your death look like a suicide.”
“I’m not afraid of dying,” she couldn’t help herself from saying, because in truth, the consequence he threatened felt more like the only avenue of escape from her doomed existence.
At least it meant they couldn’t take her memories away, the most important ones.
He studied her for a long moment.
“No…I don’t suppose you are.”
“What’s the question?” Mia asked, feeling calm and composed once again.
The man grunted and glanced to the woman at his side. It was almost as if he was going to change his mind about something, but her curt nod solidified his conviction.
When he turned back to Mia a mask of cold detachment had settled over his face.
“Why did you do it?”
She followed the woman who followed the man who carried a small light that was almost like the lamps of old. They took industrial walkways to stairs, heading down past the ground level that segued to winding tunnels that all looked the same, ducking here and there to avoid collision with the endless rows of pipes that overlapped at almost every junction.
After awhile she realized that they had left the plant far behind; were in fact, in some underground maze of connecting tunnels that probably intersected with and led to several other factories.
“All of the Waste Belt connects down here,” Chase confirmed Mia’s speculation from just a few steps ahead.
Bear led the way. It wasn’t his real name but he assured her that it was the moniker that would be recognized in their circle, not that she knew what that meant.
“Where are we going?” Mia asked, whispering despite the fact that it was only the three of them down there.
“The central point,” Chase responded.
Her bloody nose had stopped awhile back and with the rag gone Mia was able to see how pretty she was, swelling of the nose aside. She had strong cheekbones with a smattering of freckles bridging the length beneath her eyes, and every time she spoke there seemed to be a dry smile lurking at the edges of her mouth.
Mia found that she liked the woman right away. Bear, on the other hand, she reserved judgment on. Though he had spared her life, she was certain his mercy was predicated upon his own motivations, whatever they may be.
“What’s the central point?” she asked.
“You don’t know much about the Waste Belt, do you?” Chase asked wryly.
“I don’t really know much about Akropolis at all,” Mia confessed. “I’ve lived a sheltered life since coming here.”
“Where did you come from?”
“The Mountain,” Mia replied.
“Ah, you’re a recruit,” Chase said in sudden realization. “I guess that makes sense. Well, the central point is where our trade hub connects with the rest of Akropolis.”
“The hub, of course,” Mia said, recognizing the handle now. “It’s how I arrived here over twenty years ago.”
“We do some transports,” Chase concurred. “But they’re few and far between. Mostly it’s trade. The Waste Belt gets the incoming shipments from our sister sanctuaries first so we can fulfill our allotment of orders, then we send out the rest. A good portion of it goes to the Pantheon for the QUBIT production facilities as well as the labs. We also inspect outgoing shipments, with the exception of high clearance cargo. Well, that is, until recently. All trade has been suspended for the past few weeks following the incident.”
“What incident is that?” Mia asked.
Bear stopped suddenly, which almost caused a collision in the tunnel. He turned with a stern expression, but he wasn’t looking at Mia.
“That’s enough about that,” he said brusquely.
“Sorry, Bear.”
He stared at her for a long moment, and then apparently satisfied, turned to continue down the tunnel.
Mia felt slightly guilty but more confused than anything. She followed in silence for the next few minutes until they came to another connecting tunnel, this one much larger and higher with a concrete walkway and a magnetic rail running down the center of it. Lights were built into the tunnel walls and Bear was able to switch off the handheld lamp.
“This is one of the main trade tunnels,” he said with his baritone voice as they came to a stop. “This one goes straight to the Pantheon. If you ever get separated and lost down here just find one of these and pick a direction. You’ll come to another hub sooner or later.”
Bear took a right and headed in the opposite direction.
Mia kept looking behind her in the dimly lit tunnel, expecting to see a train come barreling towards them at any moment, even though Chase let slip that wasn’t going to happen soon. She wondered why the trade routes had been closed; more than that she wondered why her two rescuers were so secretive. There was something bigger than her going on here and she imagined Bear had spared her because she could be of some use, though what he could want from an admitted killer didn’t necessarily bode well for her future.
“We’re getting close,” Bear said over his shoulder.
Mia could start to hear the sounds of heavy machines running, the rumblings and grumblings of motors and the whine of servos. Minute vibrations could be felt through the floor.
After a minute she started to see a yellow glow at the end of the tunnel that grew brighter with each passing step. The reverberations continued and were now recognizable as a constant undercurrent that ebbed and flowed like waves against a beach at high tide, strong enough to almost tickle her feet through her shoes.
When they finally reached the end of the tunnel and entered the hub, Mia found that she was awestruck by the giant dome of a room they had entered. Above her on multiple levels were rails riding on transparent pathways, crisscrossing like intricate strands from the same web, all apparently heading off to different sections of Akropolis. There was a ceiling, but it could have been three hundred feet up. She imagined that had the trains been running, the image would have been truly magnificent. Even so, it was an awe-inspiring view she never knew existed until now.
When she first arrived in Akropolis all those years ago, the mental and emotional exhaustion of leaving her father and home had put her in a stupor, a state of such depression and sullenness that she had barely noticed her surroundings until arriving at the Pantheon. In hindsight, she would have made more of an effort to pay attention.
“This is the main hub,” Bear said, with less aplomb than it deserved.
Their tunnel had exited the open space two levels above the main floor. A set of switchback graded steel stairs led down to what Mia assumed was the loading area, a large open space filled with cranes, platform cars, switching rails, and unmanned Maglev-Train engines.
Taking front and center stage were four enormous tubular shaped machines, at least thirty feet high and sixty feet long, with six man-sized hoses protruding from both ends that disappeared into parallel tunnels to who knew where. They were the source of the machinations, churning and chugging, rumbling and rocking, their internal engines running so strong that the very force of their work created the vibrations in the floors and walls that Mia had felt when approaching the hub.
“Come,” Bear beckoned with a wave of his hand. “Take a look.”
Mia sidled around Chase and stopped at the man’s side. She could see that the giant hoses attached to the mammoth machines were undulating, as if some massive amount of liquid were being transferred, or pumped through.
“I’m not sure what I’m looking at,” Mia said, finally breaking her silence.
“Nor should you,” Bear replied. “This is the beginnings of a salvage operation.”
“Salvage for what?” she asked.
“A fallen sanctuary is our guess,” he said. “Those machines you see are water extractors; basically giant pumps that move massive amounts of water from one place to another. In this case, we’ve been draining the trade tunnels and dumping the excess far out beyond the Wall. Been going nonstop for a little over three weeks now.”
Mia tried to wrap her mind around what little information she was being given, but in the end none of it made the least bit of sense to her.
“I don’t understand why you are showing me this,” she said.
Bear’s visage finally broke away from its stern granite countenance. For a few seconds he looked unsure, perturbed, but it was a fleeting moment, gone as quick as it came, replaced by a firm resolution that was more attuned to his character.
“You are a survivor…and a killer,” he said simply.
Mia thought she would feel something, anything, upon hearing it spoken aloud the very first time; instead, she was strangely nonplussed.
The accusation was true, no doubt about it, but she had become almost detached to her crime, not because she lacked culpability or compassion; it was as if it happened to someone else in another life, a being who had been so consumed by their own weakness and fear and guilt, that their damaged soul could find no reprieve from their self-imposed torturous existence.
That person was a stranger to Mia now.
“I know what I am,” she replied. “And I know what I’m not.”
Bear nodded.
“Fair enough,” he said. “There’s a lot to talk about. Most of it won’t make sense to you because it barely makes sense to us, but there are a lot of lives at stake, human lives.”
“What exactly do you want from me?” she asked him, her own voice finding the knife’s edge that had seemed to be missing since her capture.
He appeared slightly put off by her demeanor, but was quick in reclaiming his composure.
“In exchange for sparing your life you’ll assist us in a rescue operation of sorts. We need people who…” he paused, seeming to consider the right words, and then continued. “We need people who aren’t afraid to die.”
“No one’s afraid to die anymore,” Mia stated flatly.
Bear stared hard at her.
“You die doing this, chances are, you won’t be revived.”
The silence lasted but a few seconds.
“Is that all?” Mia asked.
“No,” Bear replied, and here his eyes set upon hers with a heaviness that bore the weight of the world. “We also need people who aren’t afraid to kill.”
The Turn
“Daddy?”
“Hmm?”
“Why are you making that face?”
Trey scrunches up his features.
“You mean this face?”
She bursts out in peals of laughter. When she laughs people always look. There’s something about it that he can’t quite describe, but everyone knows it, feels it.
“That’s one cute little girl you got there,” the woman to his left says.
She’s older, about mid-sixties or even seventy, much too old to be here at the Cloud facility. There is an age limit to receive the uplink. She might have been accompanying someone but the seats next to her were vacant.
“Thank you,” Trey says, tussling Hannah’s hair.
She squirms and giggles before turning her attention back to the ragged doll that has seen better days.
“I remember when my little one was her age,” the woman continues. “Goes by so fast you know.”
Trey has heard this so many times in the past few years that his reply is automatic and without much thought.
“Tell me about it…blink and they’re all grown up.”
The woman nods sagely and Trey looks at his watch. The holographic display that is activated by his gaze shows that mere minutes have passed since the last time he glanced impatiently at it.
“Stop looking at that thing,” Shai says, her voice bemused but also slightly annoyed.
Sitting on the other side of their daughter, she is doing a brain teaser on the screen pad. It is a recommended activity before the first install and upload; something about as many synapses as possible firing to procure a better connection.
“Why don’t you play a game?” she asks him, still not looking up.
“I don’t like those games,” he says.
“Okay, Mr. Grumpypants, have it your way.”
Hannah laughs again.
“Mommy called you Grumpypants, Daddy,” she teases him, brushing the hair of her doll with her fingertips.
He smiles down at her in return and glances back to the older woman, only to find that she is gone. Craning his neck, he looks around the giant room but he doesn’t see her hobbling anywhere or standing at the screen pad rack. Wherever she ventured off to she was a speedy little thing.
“Mr. and Mrs. Boeman?” a man asks from an open door about ten feet away.
He is dressed in a lab coat like a technician and carrying a clipboard.
“Come on,” Trey says.
Hannah takes his hand and Shai abandons the screen pad to take the other proffered by their daughter.
“We’re Boeman,” he says, approaching the tech.
“Major,” the man replies, nodding his head.
This makes Trey pause. He is wearing civilian clothes.
“How did you know my rank?”
“Sir?” the technician asks, his expression perplexed.
“You called me Major.”
The man cocks his head to the side.
“I’m sorry, Sir. I think you misheard me.”
Trey wants to keep pressing but Hannah is pulling on his arm and Shai is giving him an odd look.
“Nevermind,” he says, shaking his head slightly. “Lead the way.”
It’s a long sterile hallway with many doors on either side as well as foggy stretches of glass, allowing them to see shadows moving on the other side but little else.
They come to a door with a number 6 and a blank chart in a plastic tub attached to the wall. The tech scribbles something on the clipboard, replaces the chart, and opens the door to let them in.
There are six hospital cots, three on each side of the room. Four more technicians are monitoring the equipment and a single doctor in smocks is examining a metal tray full of instruments and objects that look quite alien.
“Come in,” he says without looking at any of them. “Grab a cot; one to each please.”
Shai takes the closest one and Trey lifts Hannah to the next one. She plops down cross-legged and hugs her doll tightly.
“When are you going to trade that in for new model?” he asks her.
“I like this one, Daddy,” she says simply.
He looks at the ragged and frayed edges, the spots where the home stitching repairs can be seen. There are stains on the cloth doll’s red and white checkered dress and one of her button eyes is loose enough that it has started to droop a bit.
“We should at least clean her up a little,” Trey says. “Fix up that eye, maybe a new dress.”
“Will I get new eyes, Daddy?”
“What?”
Trey looks at her, wondering if he heard her correctly. She is staring at him frankly.
“When I die, will they give me new eyes?”
“What are you talking about, Bear?”
He is unnerved, glancing over at Shai to see if she is listening. His wife is having a low conversation with one of the techs, leaving him to fend for himself.
“When I die and they bring me back, I’ll have new parts right?”
“Where did you hear that stuff?”
“It’s true, Daddy,” she continues as if oblivious of the consternation she is causing. “Unless the uplink fails…then I’ll just stay dead…a part of the Ether.”
“Hannah, I want you to stop talking about this,” Trey says.
His heart is beating hard enough that he can hear it in his ears. He reaches out with his hand to grasp his daughter’s shoulder but she scoots away from him on the cot.
“Bear, come here,” he tells her, his voice commanding, but she is shaking her head.
“You were too late, Daddy,” she says.
There are tears in her eyes, lots of them, and when he peers closer he sees that the water is streaming down her cheekbones.
“Where were you?”
“Little Bear,” he says, and now he is crawling across the top of the cot towards her but can’t close the distance because the cot is stretching, impossibly stretching so that with each foot he gains he loses two more.
“You said you were coming, Daddy.”
“I’m right here,” he moans as she floats further away from him on the conveyor belt of white sheets.
Her face is wet; hair drenched, and yet there is still water coming out of her eyes, her nose and ears. It runs in rivulets down her cheeks, across her lips to drip from her chin, and just when his brain is telling him that this cannot be, that this is impossible, she opens her mouth to scream and a stream bursts forth and starts cascading like a waterfall.
“Do you know who you are?”
“I am…I am…”
“Take a deep breath,” the tech says. “Close your eyes for a moment. Let it come to you.”
He closes his eyes as instructed. There are blurred images, a hundred of them, flitting so quickly through his subconscious that he cannot focus on a single one, but there is a general knowledge that has come with them.
