Drift pattern, p.30
Drift Pattern, page 30
“Alright, punch in 194576001X.”
She takes her time and slowly enters the numbers one by one, repeating them aloud for Cavazos’s benefit.
“Now press the orange button again to lock in the destination.”
When she does this, the automated voice states, “Warning: You have entered a destination point that is not associated with any verified skip point juncture. Please confirm NBSI destination code 194576001X.”
Her palms sweat. “What do I do? Should I reenter the number?”
“Just press the orange button, but hold it this time.”
Luci inhales and extends her index finger. This time, the keyboard returns to the slot and vanishes from view with a sharp click.
She breathes a sigh of relief.
“Chronal destination acknowledged,” the voice responds.
Waves of static electricity gently wash over Luci’s skin, but there’s no mention of obeying interval laws and customs by the automated voice like when she went to the Grange. She realizes this is because the place they’re headed to doesn’t exist. One can’t break a law or accidentally influence an interval if it’s nowhere.
The system pressurizes a thin layer of air around the pod, causing a muffled pop on the outside. Luci closes her eyes in an attempt to relax a little, but a burst of bright light explodes through her closed eyelids. She opens her eyes to impenetrable darkness, remembering her previous skips. Cavazos’s claim that it would last longer is true. What he failed to mention is the extended period of weightlessness too.
This is what it feels like to be nowhere, to be outside of time.
She doesn’t like it.
They don’t converse, but Luci wishes that she’d thought to ask him how long this will take. The intellectual part of her knows that she could ask him right now—it’s not as if the longchair is being piloted by either of them—but a strange dread prevents her from speaking to him. It’s an odd fear, a caution . . . the silence of two trespassers in some restricted part of the universe, a place humans were never intended to go, like invading the backroom of the workshop of the cosmos.
Luci begins to self-soothe with her special number, 2012. To further distract herself, she adds a layer of complexity by including the month and day of her family’s accident to it.
After completing five iterations of random calculations that terminate in the number 892012, a bright, quivering ring of aqua blue-green light envelops the longchair. The sudden change startles her, instantly ending the “number game.” She listens for the popping sound confirming their arrival, but there isn’t one. There’s only a faint hum oscillating in time with the pulsating ring of light shining in through the overhead glass of the compartment.
“Why isn’t there a pop?” she asks. “Is there air out there?”
As the hum grows, the rippling ring of light begins to brighten.
“It’s all different here,” Cavazos says loudly over the growing crescendo of the hum. “Everything resets here, including the air.”
The sound of the hum fades as the glow brightens into a large, white chamber.
Luci breathes a sigh of relief, knowing they’ve reached their destination. A million questions bombard her mind about the science of what they’ve just done, but she shuts them out for now. She wonders again about her role in all of this. What about her was important enough to this interrogation to warrant yanking her off the DPM project? Even if only for a few hours, the interruption doesn’t compute.
The overhead glass of the longchair slides open, but there’s no hiss this time. She stands on the cushioned seat in the pod, the walls of the craft coming slightly above her waist. Before she hoists herself out of the compartment, she scans the room. Save for their transport, it’s an empty a cube roughly double the size of a three-car garage back home. The entire white ceiling is one solid sheet of soft lighting.
Each wall bears the neon outline of a doorway to a passage that isn’t actually there—three in amber yellow and one slowly pulsating in crimson red. The air is odorless and stagnant.
Cavazos, already out of the longchair, beckons to her. “Come on. We’re on a schedule here, remember?”
His voice is strange in her ears; it’s him, but something is off like it’s been through an audio processor. She grunts as she exits the longchair and lands on the pristine white floor. This, too, sounds odd. “What’s with the—” She stops short, hearing the peculiarity of her own voice.
“Don’t worry about it,” Cavazos says, headed for the wall with the red rectangle. “You’ll get used to it in a few minutes. Something about sound waves and there not being any echoes in here with the way the time in the chambers reset.”
It’s unnerving to hear his voice detached from the source. It’s as if she’s listening to his response through headphones, not from a few feet in front of her.
He grins at her confused expression. “There’s something else. Shout something . . . shout your name.” He waits before prompting her again, “Go on, shout it.”
Luci eyes him suspiciously but shouts, “I am Luci G!” She’s stunned when the volume doesn’t match the sensation in her throat. To her ears, it sounds as if she made the declaration in a normal voice.
With eyebrows raised, Cavazos bows his head slightly. “Now whisper it.”
She does this too, and although she can detect audible differences in the pitch, the volume is identical. Her gaze drifts to the slow pulse of the red outline of the door as she tries to quantify the experience. “I don’t . . . I don’t understand this.” She looks back at him. “How can this be?”
He shrugs, amused at how she’s perplexed by the phenomenon. “It was explained to me once, but I don’t remember the technical reasons. The main thing is that it’s important to remember this when we get inside: don’t whisper anything that you don’t want Roderick to know, because he’ll hear everything you say.”
She points at the white space within the neon-ish red glow. “He’s in there?”
“In the flesh—at least he’d better be, or we’ve got a big problem,” Cavazos answers, amused. “Currently, he’s the only occupant here.” He gestures to the three non-pulsating door outlines in amber. “That’s only until we apprehend Gicul and his henchmen.” A mischievous smile forms on his face. “Has anyone told you what Malom did to earn this prestigious honor, to be a guest here in Carcerium?”
A bead of sweat runs down the back of Luci’s neck, but she doesn’t wipe it. “Crimes against Relicus City,” she says, following up with, “He formed L’inversione with Gicul.”
“Much more than that, I’m afraid,” he says, motioning for her to approach the keypad. “I want you to enter the validation code.” The smile changes into the devilish smirk that she’s grown to hate. “What could it be? What would someone have to do to have the chancellor agree to allow me to lock him away in here forever?”
When she doesn’t move, he says, “Come on, now. I want you to open it.”
She’s wary of him. Something about the way his countenance has morphed into something more malevolent. Luci shakes her head. “No, you do it. I did the longchair code thing.” Her mind races through reasons why he wants this: Is it booby-trapped? Does he not want a record that he was here? What’s he up to?
He glowers. “You seriously think I would have you do something that’s dangerous to your person?” He lunges at her and snatches her by the wrist.
Luci screams, but the sound is flat.
Cavazos manages to forcibly extend two of her fingers to the pad. “In case you’ve forgotten that little speech of yours back at the guesthouse, we still need you.”
She resists and tries to wriggle away from him, but his grip is stronger than she expects.
“Five, two, zero, eight, nine. See? That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”
He releases her, and she steps back out of his reach, massaging her wrist.
“Why must you make everything difficult?” He shakes his head in disgust. “I wanted to have a little fun is all.”
She can’t figure out his game here, but she knows that he’s definitely up to something. She stumbles as she takes another step backward from him. “What’s fun about this?”
His eyebrows rise again as he offers a mock shrug with palms extended outward. “Aren’t you a little curious about Malom’s crime? You said it yourself that you couldn’t imagine what someone could ever do that would fit this punishment.”
Two flashing buttons the size of silver dollars appear, one orange and the other blue.
“Let’s just get this over with so I can get back to working on DPM,” Luci says, exasperated.
“Press the blue one, and all will be revealed, my dear.” Cavazos makes a mock bow and distances himself from the panel to allow Luci to approach.
She’s fed up with this. She wants to get back to Ish. She marches up to the keypad. Staring at Cavazos, she mashes the blue button, keeping her finger on it. “Satisfied?” She’s surprised that the door doesn’t open. Wondering if it’s not responding because she doesn’t wear a Viatorio, she shoots him a nasty look. “So, what’s the gag here? Why isn’t this working?”
His smile grows, exposing the gaps between his teeth. “Oh, it’s working. Of that I’m sure. Press it again and I’ll tell you Malom’s major crime.”
Sensing something’s off about this, she pulls her hand away. “Just tell me so we can be done with all of this bullshit.”
“Very well,” he says, his eyes wide with enjoyment. “Malom Roderick was banished here because of a heinous murder he committed, a murder that had far-reaching ramifications for the common good of Relicus City.”
She can tell he’s paused, awaiting her response. She reluctantly gives in to his game. “Okay, I give up. Who did this guy murder who was so important to get thrown in here?”
Cavazos clasps his hands together and gleefully announces, “The one and only time-traveling visitor Relicus City has ever hosted. He murdered you, Dr. Luci Gaudiano.”
~ Three ~
Nil: Carcerium Chamber
karscEum KAmbc
[0.0000000/0.0000000/0/0:00:00]
— — — — — — —
Luci leans against the wall in order to maintain her balance. Cavazos’s revelation stuns her more than any other shock over the last week since her abduction. It dazes her more than when she learned that she will become the mother of time travel or how her formulas will inevitably pave the way for Hi no Kawa, the end of the known world. A Jardon headache flares up, and Luci clutches the sides of her skull. “No . . . no.”
“In the short time of our acquaintance, have I lied to you about anything?” Cavazos asks with a saccharine sweetness. “If anything, I think you’d have to agree that I’ve been very forthcoming with information, even about things like the New Australia farce . . . about how traveling in longchairs kills reproductive cells.” His eyes gloss over as if he’s somewhere else. “I can hardly wait to see the look on Malom’s face when he sees you with me.”
She glares at him but is forced to admit to herself that there’s a sadistic logic to his perverse plan. Malom Roderick being forced to confront his murder victim may be dramatic enough to cause him to slip and reveal information about Gicul’s objectives. It’s a desperate Hail Mary of a plan, but she plays along in case anything of note is said that may help her and Ish save some steps on the DPM. “Just for the record, I don’t enjoy being your pawn in all of this.” Her head is splitting.
“A pawn?” Cavazos shakes his head emphatically. “Not a pawn, my dear. In the game of chess, you are the queen. You’re our salvation.” He raises his hands demonstratively and mockingly makes the sign of the cross. “You’re our Joan of Arc leading the way, and today, we’ll find out what Gicul is planning so we may put an end to this once and for all.”
“Joan of Arc, huh?” she asks, her tone bitter. “When it was all over, Joan of Arc was burned at the stake.” Before he can offer a rebuttal, she says, “Yesterday, Macer said that you feel Cyphor is gearing up for something big and that’s why there’s been a break in his activity.” She pinches the back of her neck multiple times in various spots to increase the circulation of blood in hopes of easing the impending migraine.
He nods. “For whatever reason, you’ve cast me as your adversary, Luci, but I assure you that we’re on the same side—the side of the people of Relicus City.” He takes a cautious step in her direction. “You don’t have to like me to do what’s right here, but when we go into the chamber on the other side of this door, it’s important that we work together as a team against him. We’ll only have a little over fifteen minutes in there before the room resets and traps us in there with him, so let me do all the talking until I give you a sign.”
Luci lowers her hand and fidgets as she contemplates contingencies. “Do you have a churka weapon or something to keep him from attacking me?” Her heart skips a beat as she pictures half a dozen possibilities in which the encounter can go bad. “I mean, if he strangles me, then he’ll achieve the goal of L’inversione and none of this will—”
He waves the idea off. “Don’t worry, he’s in restraints. He won’t be able to harm you ever again. When we go in, be quiet and stand behind him out of his line of sight until I motion for you.”
“Constraints?” Luci scoffs. “Why constrain him at all? He’s in nowhere.”
Cavazos’s sadistic grin reappears as he moves to press the blue button. “So that we may do this.”
“I thought that was supposed to open the door,” she says, feeling apprehensive. “What does it really do?”
“You could say that pushing it alerts him that he has . . . visitors.”
“How, Pol? How does it tell him someone’s out here?” she demands, fearful of the answer to come.
He presses it one last time as a demonic grin forms on his face. “It sends a shock through his restraint coils—nothing lethal, just enough of a charge to make him puke himself.”
Fury and guilt swell inside her. Her ears feel like they’re on fire. “You sick son of a bitch. There is something very wrong with you.”
He shrugs, unfazed by her diagnosis. “Remember, we’re going in here on behalf of six million people in Relicus City. Pay attention and follow my cue.” Cavazos reaches to press the orange button and, with his free hand, puts an index finger against his lips, indicating silence. An opening appears where the bright red glow was, and the fat man enters the smaller chamber.
Luci is still fuming at him for tricking her into unwittingly torturing a prisoner—even if it is the man who killed her older self. Cavazos turns back in frustration to motion her into the area. She reluctantly follows, telling herself that they will have words about this later. For now, she must focus.
Metal coils extending from the ceiling and floor secure the prisoner in place in the center of the stark white room. Malom is dressed in a white jumpsuit and resembles Leonardo da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man the way he’s positioned with legs and arms spread to their maximum reach in the shape of an X. Thick, bronze coils envelop the wrists and the ankles of his bare feet. His voice is rough like gravel. “Hello, old friend,” he begins, though he’s facing away from them. “A little much with the shocker entrance. It gave you away, Councilman.” He accentuates Cavazos’s title mockingly.
The sound waves act in the same strange manner, making it sound as if his voice is in Luci’s head.
Long salt-and-pepper-colored locks of hair pour down over the captive’s shoulder. “Torture isn’t really Macer’s style, right, Sol? He’s more into total domination . . . likes to get right to the point.”
Cavazos struts like a prized peacock into Malom’s restricted field of vision. “Consider it a systems maintenance check to ensure everything is in proper working order for your extended stay.”
“You’re not half as amusing as you’d like to be, Pol.”
“Maybe that’s true, but that’s still twice as humorous as you.”
Malom tugs at the coil restraints, which barely give.
Luci is as still as a statue as her eyes bore into the back of the man’s head who saw fit to end the life of her other self. She seethes, wondering about his motives. Was it because of Hi no Kawa, or was there something else between them that made him feel he had to kill her? Was it out of simple sadistic enjoyment?
Though she despises Cavazos, she obediently waits for his cue, the exact moment to present herself and show this man that, for whatever the reason he did it, he failed, because this version survived. She will memorize his face, and when he comes for her in her future, she will be ready for him, an advantage that her other self never had. Her eyes follow Cavazos as he paces back and forth in front of her killer. She wonders how long Roderick has served time in here . . . served time in his mind.
“We’ve captured Gicul,” Cavazos declares, leaning in closer to bound man before him. “He is to stand trial. Enos has agreed to grant you leniency if you will testify against him and his crimes against the city. I am here to determine if you have anything of value to relay.”
“Enos? Leniency?” He laughs. “And what would that be exactly?” Malom responds caustically.
Cavazos crosses his thick flabby arms. “I don’t know. Maybe you’d be allowed to leave this place. It depends on what you tell us.”
Luci holds her breath, hoping that Malom will fall for the lie.
The prisoner takes his time in answering. Finally, he says, “I think I’ll pass, Pol, but I do have a question for you. Ever wonder how Macer managed to catch me and lock me in here? Where did he say he found me? Which interval? You’d never believe where I’ve been and what I’ve seen there.”
Luci is surprised by Malom’s causal demeanor. Is it an act, or has this place truly driven him out of his mind? Either way, she feels the same loathing toward him.
Judging by Cavazos’s jitteriness, Malom’s lackadaisical attitude has him a little thrown off too. “I could arrange a special public execution, a one-time event in the splash forums.”
