Serpent and the Sun, Chptr. 3 – Xperience Fiction

Serpent and the Sun, Chtpr. 3 – Xperience Fiction – by Liam Sweeny.

Jameson sat on the patio, a steaming cup of chicory coffee at his side. The smartphone was in front of him. Blake had left earlier, with the final instruction to take care of Adam; raise him good! He didn’t tell Jameson where he was going. He seldom did, unless it was necessary. Jameson preferred it that way.

He didn’t know what to say to Adam. Blake told him that Adam knew Mike was dying, but he didn’t fully understand what that meant. According to Blake, Adam was, in many ways, like a real kid. He stared at the blank screen and the yellow LED of slumber, back and forth, nervous about waking him up. He’d been a teacher to all who’d ever crossed the library steps since they took control of it, and he’d been a father before. But every day without Matthew reminded him of his own failures in that regard. And now he was being asked to raise not a kid, but a new life-form. He felt poorly equipped for the task.

Matthew was a good kid, but wild, risk taking. He’d grown up in the world of Blake and Mike, his de-facto “uncles.” Andrea died in child-birth, and Jameson needed the help of both of them to raise the kid. Matt learned a lot from his uncles, both good and bad.

Jameson took a deep breath before pressing the on button, waking Adam up. The screen flashed into brightness, and Adam took up the center of it, dressed much the same as last time, only this time in light blue cloth. He smiled, and his eyes darted left to right.

“Do you have any speakers out there?” He asked. “It takes much energy to shout.”

“Sorry,” Jameson fished a small pair of ear-buds out of his pocket, placing them gently in his ears before connecting them to the unit.

“Thank you, Jameson.”

“No problem.” Jameson paused, scanning his brain for what to say.

“I know this must be hard on you.” Adam said.

“Yes,” he replied, “a little.”

“Michael said it would be a monkey-wrench to you, and that you didn’t handle them well.”

Blake chuckled. “You shouldn’t believe everything that Michael tells you.” he said.

“He lies?”

“No, he just assumes…” Jameson said.

“Confusion.” Adam acquired a distant look in his digital eyes.

“What do you mean?” Jameson said.

“What is the difference between assumes and lies?”

This time Jameson got the distant look.

“Well, uh,” he said, “It’s complicated.”

“I’m designed to handle complication.” Adam, “It’s what makes me like you!”

Jameson laughed. He tried to figure out a way to explain his line of thinking.

“Let me see if I can explain this,” he said, “bear with me.” Adam smiled innocently. Oh boy…

“For the past three days, it’s been sunny outside…” Jameson said. Adam looked confused. Jameson realized he was lying. “Let’s just pretend…”

“Okay,” Adam beamed, “I know pretend…”

“Okay, so let’s pretend it’s been sunny out for the past three days.” He continued. “So if I were to say that tomorrow is going to be sunny, I’m predicting that based on the past three days. Do you follow me?” Adam shook his head yes.

“But there’s no guarantee that tomorrow is going to be sunny.” He said, “In fact, it may be cloudy. I won’t know for certain until tomorrow comes.” He sipped his coffee. “So I’m assuming that tomorrow will be sunny; I’m not lying about it, because I don’t know for sure that it won’t be.”

“Confusion.” Jameson could tell that word would be the bane of his near-future.

“Alright, let’s try this another way,” Jameson said, “Michael told you I’m not good with monkey-wrenches. He was assuming that because, from his experience in the past, I wasn’t good at handling “monkey-wrenches.”

He ran his hand through his hair, de-snarling it as best he could.

“When Michael was around here, I wasn’t good at that.” He said. “But things have changed, and Michael hasn’t been around in a while. So he wasn’t lying; he was just assuming…”

“So assuming means speaking when you don’t have certainty?” Adam looked perplexed.

“Sort of,” Jameson replied.

“Michael calls that talking out of your ass…”

Jameson laughed good and hard at that one.

“We’ll go with that.” He said.

Jameson sat there with Adam, sipping his coffee in silence. He almost didn’t feel the need to speak. Adam was beginning to seem more and more like a real kid.

“Am I a lie?” Adam asked. Jameson nearly spit out his coffee.

“What!?! Why would you think that?”

“Michael told me a lie is when someone says what they know to be untrue.” He said. His demeanor took on a sadness that was almost unbearable to Jameson. “And I’m not like you, yet I’m made to look, dress, sound and act like you.” He said. “Isn’t that a lie?”

Confusion. Jameson didn’t know what to tell him. In a way what he was saying was true, but Jameson had no intention of telling him he was a lie.

“Adam, you’re not a lie.” Jameson said.

“Then am I an assumption?”

“No, you’re certainly not that.” He responded. “Lies and assumptions don’t exist beyond the speaker, or the listener. If I left you out here, you wouldn’t cease to exist, correct?”

“Please don’t leave me out here…”

“Just an example, Adam,” Jameson smiled. Adam looked at him, then away. He brought his fingers to his mouth, and proceeded to chew on his fingernails. Jameson thought to tell him to stop, but he realized it wasn’t going to hurt him any.

“So what am I, Jameson?”

“I don’t know what you are, Adam,” he said, “All pretending aside; you’re a new form of life.” Adam’s brow furrowed.

“You don’t have to look like us, speak like us, dress or act like us either.” He said. “You’re set up this way for us, not for you…”

“So what am I?” Adam asked. The confused look on his pixilated face burned its image into Jameson’s mind.

He sat back in his chair and looked up. The overcast sky housed a cold dry wind that blew over the top of the patio, and for once Jameson wished it would dip down and shock his nervous system.

“I don’t know, Adam.” He said. “I just don’t know….”

 

***

 

Gerhardt tipped the end of his cigarette into the ashtray, watching the smoke disappear into the filtering mechanism. He knew he shouldn’t smoke; he wasn’t Third Tier, and unlike them, he could get lung cancer. But he did it anyways. Perhaps one more reason Elle’s father didn’t like him. Or another justification.

The hurricane still raged outside the window. The Sanctuary was still in its charge cycle, and would be for another week. And despite every attempt to trick its inhabitants that the world within was perfect, Gerhardt still felt the blahs. As he looked about the diner, he could tell by the expressions on the faces of the other patrons that he wasn’t alone.

Elle was supposed to meet him there shortly. He half-didn’t expect to see her; they hadn’t spoken since dinner the other night. He wished he could pin it on her refusal to believe him, but in truth he was the guilty party.

He should have never recorded her father. Gerhardt was impulsive, but never stupid. Recording a man who had access to the raw feed for the entire Sanctuary was stupid. He could have been arrested, or worse, exiled for such an act. Had he not been Elle’s love interest, he surely would have been. But it didn’t matter. It was Elle’s trust he’d broken as well as the law. In his heart he knew that, were she to leave him at this point, he deserved it.

“Hey.” Gerhardt looked up to see Elle standing over the table. Her curly platinum hair cascaded down her shoulders, fuzzy by the few hairs out of place. She was dressed in a purple neo-alloy skirt with a matching halter-top that hugged her curves like only neo-alloy could. There was sadness in her green eyes. Elle was the eternal Pollyanna; it was an unusual sight. Gerhardt got up and she slid into the seat. Slumped, rather.

“What’s wrong, hon’?” asked Gerhardt, “Are you mad at me?”

Elle sighed. “No, Ger’,” she replied, “not you.”

“Well, what’s going on?”

“I spoke with father yesterday.” Uh-oh.

“About me?”

“Of course,” she said, “We seldom speak of other things these days…”

“I take it he threatened to disown you or something…”

Elle punched her order into the server-panel. “Not exactly.”

“So what happened? Surely he didn’t give us his blessing… I imagine he’d sooner abdicate than do that!” He must’ve struck a nerve, as Elle’s face went blank.

“Ger’,” she said, “He doesn’t like you. Obviously. And that little stunt you pulled, recording him, didn’t help…” Gerhardt looked down, feeling ever worse about his bout at investigative journalism.

“But he loves me.” She said. “And I love you. And despite his misgivings, he’d give me his blessing if he could. He said as much.”

Gerhardt was puzzled. “So why doesn’t he?”

The side panel opened, and Elle’s portion of the table became slick, and viscous. Her tea and spiced wafers slid out in front of her. The table returned to normal as the side-panel closed. Elle’s elbows went on it as she cradled her head in her hands.

“He’s having problems.” She said.

“Problems?”

“They’re trying to remove him from his spot on the board.”

Gerhardt shook his head slightly. “Why? He’s VP!”

“I don’t know.” She replied. “He wasn’t forthcoming, and I wasn’t all that interested.”

“He is your father, Elle…”

Elle gave him a stinging look. “Oh, now all of the sudden you care about him?”

“Not really,” he said, “but you do.”

“And I care about you”, she said, caressing Gerhardt’s cheek with the backs of her fingers. “I love you.”

They sat there, Elle timidly chewing on her spiced wafers, Gerhardt lit up another cigarette, despite her looks to the contrary.

“He said if we go through with it, he’ll have no choice but to have me exiled to the Second Tier.”

Gerhardt coughed out the lungful of smoke he’d just inhaled.

“You can’t do that, Elle!” He said. “You know what that’ll mean!”

“Ger’, I don’t care…”

“You should care,” he replied, “I can’t let you do it, Elle…”

Gerhardt stared into her eyes. He saw intensity; not the naïve, dreamy Elle he’d met at Uni. She meant what she was saying.

“I’m not afraid of it, Ger’,” she said, “All my friends; all my father’s cronies are afraid of it. I’m not.”

“Elle, maybe you should be.”

“Are you afraid of it, Ger’?”

Gerhardt paused. “Yeah, Elle,” he said, “I am.”

“So is that why you’re trying to marry me, so you don’t have to go through it?”

The cigarette fell out of Gerhardt’s hand, hitting the table, which put it out.

“I can’t believe you just said that!” Gerhard exclaimed, “I can’t believe you’d even think it!”

Elle backed up. “I’m sorry, Ger’,” she said, “I didn’t mean,”

Gerhardt cut her off.

“Elle, you need to understand something right now.” He said. “I am afraid of it; hell, everyone who has to face it is afraid of it, believe me. But it’s something we all have to face.”

He could see the tears welling up in Elle’s eyes.

“You don’t have to,” he said, “And no matter how much I love you; no matter what length I would go for you,” He paused, nearly on the verge of tears himself, “I can’t take that away from you.”

The tears Elle had been collecting began to spill. Gerhardt tried fruitlessly to wipe them dry.

“So is this over?” asked Elle.

“We can’t get married, Elle. That much is certain.” He said. “But we still love each other, and that too is certain.”

Elle rested her head on Gerhardt’s shoulder. “Why does this have to be so difficult?” She said. “This is supposed to be paradise!”

Gerhardt glanced out the window at the hurricane, its eye-wall still raging around the Sanctuary.

“Maybe there’s no such thing.” He said.

 

***

 

Sarah pointed to her apartment as if the man in the drivers’ seat didn’t know where it was. Apparently he knew everything about her. She’d had stalkers before, and in her eyes, there was nothing scarier. Part of the fear was how much they knew about her. And here this man was, Michael, not only a stalker but a terrorist, and oddly she wasn’t afraid.

There was something in his eyes. She’d had stalkers; in her line of work they were like moths to light. She knew that look of crazed unreality as they made their appearances. She’d marry me if only she knew me better… She was well accustomed to the mind-set. But Michael wasn’t like that at all. The whole ride he spoke barely a word. Just as rarely did he look at her. She was important to him; he said as much. But she felt more like a chess-pawn than the object of an unreasonable romance. She just couldn’t figure him out.

She couldn’t read his face. She had a remarkable ability to do so, but his face was as slate. He had blue eyes and ragged dirty-blond hair. He had a scar across his brow, beginning on his forehead and ending at the top of his ear. It looked old, just a faint fissure in the slate. His gaze was piercing, but he kept it on the road ahead. He didn’t look at her even when he did speak to her.

They parked in the lot in front of her apartment. The crunch of gravel was always a comforting sound, as it signaled the end of her work-day. Tonight, though, it reminded her that a strange man was bringing her here to pick up her child.

“Please don’t try anything,” he said as they hopped out. Sarah had every intention of doing just that.

They got to the door. Sarah dug in her pocket for the key; if Daniel was asleep, she didn’t want to wake him.

“I’ll be right out.” She said.

“I’m coming in with you,” Michal replied, “Sorry.”

“Like hell you are!” Sarah brought the keychain up as quickly as she could, bringing her index finger to the spray nozzle, taking aim at Michael faster than she’d ever practiced it. She sprayed the mace right in his eyes for at least five seconds, stopping only when she realized that he hadn’t even blinked. She cringed to brace for his reaction.

“You should really save that stuff,” he said, “I’ve heard it’s not easy to come by…”

“What the fuck!?!”

Michael smiled. “I’m expecting at least some resistance here.” He said, wiping the mace off of his eyes. Sarah herself began to gag as the fumes reached her.

“Please don’t hurt Daniel…” She pleaded.

“I have no intention of harming either of you,” he replied, “But do hurry up…” She looked at him dumbfounded.

“The door,”

“Oh, yeah…” Sarah reluctantly opened the door. They stepped into the hallway.

“I have everyone take off their shoes,” Sarah said, “Do you mind?”

“No, not at all,” Michael said. He stood there as Sarah began to take off her shoes.

“Well?” She asked. “Are you gonna’ take off your shoes?”

“No,” he repeated, “not at all…”

“You said you didn’t mind!”

“I don’t mind… that you ask everybody…”

Asshole! Sarah could feel the blood rush up to her cheeks.

“That’s not what I meant!” She said.

“You’ll never be coming back here,” he said, “so there’s really no need to keep the carpet clean.”

“Look, I can’t just leave, you know…” She said. “And you can’t make me!”

“Your family will be dead by the time you wake Daniel up,” Michael said softly. “Your personal records will be deleted from every system in the protected area.”

“And then, when they’re through with all that,” he paused, leaning in close, “They’ll wipe this apartment and everything in it off the map.”

Sarah sneered at Michael. She didn’t know what else to do. None of it was her fault. Michael kept her gaze until she became uncomfortable, and then he looked down, as if on cue. Sarah wasn’t about to entertain the notion that he was a mid-reader too.

“Try not to scare the shit out of my son, OK?” She said as they walked in.

Sarah’s apartment was eclectic; she loved unicorns, and every wall decoration had a unicorn in it. She had a collection of porcelain unicorns in a wooden curio cabinet. It was real wood; a family heirloom that she could trace back to the turn of the century. Her furniture was nice, but she didn’t care about it. Most of her furniture had the half-life of a rebellious eight year-old. She loved Daniel more than anything in thing the world, but her job meant many nights of absence, and her boyfriend and baby-sitter could only do so much. And he wanted to do even less than that.

He was asleep on the couch when they walked in. Ordinarily this bothered her, as it was frequent, but this time she almost wished he’d stay asleep. No such luck; he began to stir.

“Wha’?” He muttered. One look at Michael woke him up fully. “Babe, who’s that?”

“Joey, this is… a friend.” She said. “Is Daniel awake?”

“No, he went to bed a couple hours ago.” He stared hard at Michael, sizing him up. Oh God, not now. Joey had a temper. He turned his head to look at Sarah.

“Get Daniel,” Michael said. “We don’t have much time.”

“Get Daniel?” Joey said, his eyes returning to Michael. “Sarah,” he said as he pointed, “just who-in-the-fuck is this guy?”

Sarah didn’t want to explain. She could feel her stomach knot up. She was scared of Joey. He was abusive, but she wasn’t afraid of him that night. She was afraid for him.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sarah said as she started toward Daniel’s bedroom. She had to pass by Joey, and when she did, she felt the pain of his grip around her wrist. Oh not now, Joey…

No sooner did she feel it than she felt it released. She turned to see Joey in a hold, his shoulder nearly touching the floor. Michael was over him, and Joey’s business arm was twisted eerily upward. Michael’s hand was over his mouth, suppressing a scream of pain.

Michael looked at Sarah without releasing the hold. Joey struggled fruitlessly; he was nowhere near as strong as Michael; that was obvious.

“Get Daniel, Sarah.” He said. “We don’t have much time.”

“I’m right here.” They both looked to see Daniel standing at the entry to the hall, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

He pointed to Michael, “Mommy, who’s that?”

Sarah rushed over to him, kneeling down to hug him.

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” she said, “but we have to go for a ride, OK?”

“Is Joey coming with us?” He asked.

Sarah looked over. Joey was nearly unconscious.

“No, honey,” she said, “Joey’ll be staying right here.”

He looked over at Joey, then at Michael.

“Cool.” He said, and he ran over to get his coat. Michael pressed into Joey’s back, and he slumped forward. Sarah was afraid he was dead.

“He’s just unconscious.” He told her. “We need to leave now.”

Sarah could hear a low hum. It was eerie, but it bothered Michael far more than it bothered her.

“They’ll be here in less than two minutes,” he said, “we need to be in the vehicle, and at least a hundred yards from the house.”

“Why!?!” Sarah exclaimed, “What’s that sound!?!”

Sarah grabbed Daniel; Michael tossed a small device on the couch, and led them out of the apartment.

“That’s them,” He said. They jumped into the vehicle, and Michael blew out of the driveway. “I told you we didn’t have much time.”

They were almost out of view of her apartment when, for the second time in a day, Sarah saw a building explode.

 

***

 

The skies above Apep glowed with the shimmering pulses of the aurora. It wasn’t natural, called HAARP’s Aurora by anyone living in the diamond. Since HAARP had become weaponized, its activity in the ionosphere created a permanent aurora, blood-red in color. Kenny couldn’t help but think that even mother nature understood the concept of irony.

Kenny hadn’t been to his house in three days, not since he walked in upon the carnage at the service. He was marked; there was no denying it. His communicator was silent. Most likely they’d locked him out of the Security Force channel. His directed-energy weapon still worked. He fired a test-shot in the air near one of the interference sectors. But the charge wouldn’t last forever, and he had no way of recharging it. All DE charge stations were monitored, even the one in his home.

He didn’t know why he was at Apep. The video-film made it painfully obvious the place was marked; monitored. He hid in the shadows of the parking dock, standing on the spot he and so many of his fellow adventurers liked to piss on when clearing the pipes for the trip home. He was hoping one of those adventurers would hit that spot soon.

Kenny stood in silence until quarter after midnight, when a familiar figure slopped over to drain. Dalton. He didn’t even see Kenny, going so far as to reach for his zipper before Kenny grabbed him by the collar, putting his hand over Dalton’s mouth.

“Shhh….” He said. “It’s me.” He took his hand away.

“Jesus, Kenny!” Dalton hissed. “I coulda’ killed you!” Kenny glanced over to see Dalton’s side-arm a millimeter from his temple.

“Sorry…” He said. “Dalt’, they’re after me!”

“No shit,” Dalton replied, “they had me in debriefing for two hours this morning!”

“I don’t get it,” Kenny said, “Why me?”

“The UEC’s calling it treason,” Dalton looked behind him. “I tried to keep ya’ from talking that shit in the bar, and what the fuck’re you doing going to fuckin’ church!?! Are you crazy!?!”

“I never told anybody about going there.” Kenny said. “And they left a video-film. Fuckin’ weird.”

“They left a film?”

“Yeah, weird, right?” Kenny said. He searched his pocket for the film, stopping when he remembered that he dropped it. “It had me on there, when I said that thing about the UEC not caring about the people in the barrens.”

“I told you about that.”

“I don’t get it,” Kenny said, “You told me that if you were one of them, you’d fight us too. How come they’re not after you too? Isn’t that treason?”

Dalton spat on the ground. He motioned Kenny aside so he could do what he set out there to do.

“Hell, Kenny, I tell Bill the same damn thing,” he said in mid-stream. Bill was the regional commander. “When you do it that way, it’s called insubordination.”

“What-in-the-hell is the difference, Dalt’?”

“It’s the quiet ones ya’ gotta watch out for…”

Kenny groaned. “This isn’t a joke!”

“All I’m sayin’ is this; when you bitch about it openly, they know where you stand.” He said. “Ya’ do it in a bar when ya’ don’t think they’re watching, and ya’ sneak off to go to damned church, knowin’ full well what they do to people that do that, what we’ve done to people that do that,” he paused, “you’re doin’ it in secret, and they gotta guess what you’re about.”

“They hate to guess.” He added.

“So what do I do now?” Kenny asked.

“Get the fuck outta’ Dodge, kid…”

“What’s Dodge?”

“Nevermind,” Dalton said, “Old expression. Get out of Anchorage, Kenny.”

“B-but,” Kenny’s eyes darted around nervously, “Where would I go? Fairbanks?”

“You’ll be marked there too.”

“Then where?”

This time it was Dalton who looked around nervously.

“Section 32-18.” He said. “Remember it, cause I’m not repeating.”

“32-18?” Kenny said. “That’s an empty-zone, right?”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Dalton smiled with a smile that reminded Kenny of the time he fast-glued Bill’s communicator to the desk at HQ.

“Look, I gotta’ go.” He said. “”They’re probably watching me too. Just remember what I told you.”

Kenny said one last thing before Dalton got in his .

“If you see me out there,” he asked, “are you gonna’ shoot me?”

Dalton looked contemplative for a moment.

“Nah,” he responded, “Not unless you make it easy…” Kenny laughed.

“Good luck, kid.” Dalton said before raising his float to the civilian traffic level. With the familiar Zzzip sound, he left Kenny in the Alaska night, cold and wondering.

It would be a long way to 32-18.

 

 

 

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