Rebel's Gambit (Sim-Verse: Book 2)
Date: 2019-09-23 00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fiction; Science Fiction; Action & Adventure; Cyberpunk; General; Genetic Engineering; space exploration; Military; Space Opera
Description: Astro-miner Taven Smith has a secret. It’s in his DNA, an unsolicited gift from a woman with green eyes. Meyer Corp wants it. Murderous machines want it. Taven doesn’t. But it’s his only chance to find answers, set things right, and survive. Unwittingly tossed into yet another mind-bending odyssey, Taven must race to find Cat before his relentless assailants find him. Follow him further down the rabbit hole in Book 2 of the Sim-Verse saga. The truth can only be known by the willing.
Publisher: Smashwords

REBEL’S GAMBIT

Sim-Verse: Book 2

ALLEN KUZARA

Copyright © 2019 by Allen Kuzara
All rights reserved.

"If you assume any rate of improvement at all, then games will (become) indistinguishable from reality, or civilization will end. One of those two things will occur. Therefore, we are most likely in a simulation, because we exist.”

― Elon musk

“Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away.”

― Philip K. Dick

CHAPTER 1

Clink. Clink.

Taven turned and saw Dr. Hewitt staring through the glass window, a big dumb grin on the face of this overgrown man-child.  Hewitt mouthed something Taven couldn’t hear.  Then the scientist’s smile changed into a look of confusion.  Finally, Taven raised his hand to his ear, motioning that he couldn’t hear.  Hewitt’s smile returned as he punched buttons on the wall below the window.

“Is that better?  Can you hear me now?” Hewitt said, his voice now amplified into Taven’s room aboard the quarantine orbiter.

Taven nodded.

“Have an okay weekend?” Hewitt continued.  Then there was an awkward silence when the chubby scientist remembered Taven was there against his will, on indefinite detention for crimes unclear.

“Oh, yeah.  Right,” Hewitt went on nervously.  “Well, I did some thinking since Friday, and I think I’m on to something.”

“Something that will get me out of here?” Taven answered.

With an exaggerated gesture, Hewitt said, “Maybe.”  Then, wasting no time, the pudgy-fingered man in a white lab coat shuffled around in his bag and brought out something that Taven couldn’t see and inserted it into the exchange tray.

Hewitt gave another gleeful look through the glass as he and Taven waited for the materials he had deposited to finish being scanned and sanitized.  Taven looked away, the eye contact feeling weird, and he couldn’t help but think about the gorilla exhibit he had seen with Amy and Evelynn last summer.  He had wondered then if the Silverbacks always had that bored/depressed/stoic look on their faces or if it was because of where they were.  Now he thought he knew.

A bing interrupted Taven’s machinations, followed by the computer’s antiseptic voice: “Contents secure.”  Then a drawer opened and extended into Taven’s room underneath the glass.

He got up from his chair and walked to the drawer.  He didn’t know what to expect but was still genuinely surprised when he saw two syringes sitting there.

“Go ahead.  Grab ‘em,” Hewitt chimed.  “I’ve got a hunch, and I want to see if it will work.”

“Care to share a bit more with your guinea pig?” Taven asked as he picked up the syringes.

The balding scientist hesitated for a second, not following Taven’s meaning.  And then said, “Oh, yeah.  I think these may unlock your … well, I think this will help you get out of here.”

Taven didn’t like the direction Hewitt had taken.  It was bad enough that Meyer Corp had him dead to rights after he had brought back who-knows-what from the colony ship Hudson, but to keep him in the dark about the experiments they were doing on him seemed extra cruel.

“The red one first,” Hewitt said, licking his lips afterward.

“Where?”

“Doesn’t matter.  These are auto-injectors,” Hewitt replied.  “I’d put one in each leg.”

Taven swallowed hard and then stabbed himself with the red syringe in the right leg.  “Now what?” he asked.

“Feel anything?”

Taven waited.  After a moment, he did feel a change.  “My eyes are getting heavy,” Taven finally said.

“Good.  Now use the other.”

This time Taven didn’t need to build up any courage.  Whatever he’d been given seemed to take away his inhibitions, fear, and autonomy.  He grabbed the blue tipped syringe and stabbed his left thigh.  This time, he felt a sharp pain run up and down his leg and he immediately winced.

“I was afraid of that,” Hewitt said, fretfully.

“Is something wrong?” Taven asked with a muted sense of alarm.

“Oh.  No.  Nothing.  Just a little side effect.”

Before Taven really knew what he was doing, he swooned back over to a chair and sat down clumsily.

“That’s fine,” Hewitt acknowledged.  “You can do this from there, I think.”

As the room began to spin, Taven heard himself ask with slurred speech, “What am I supposed to be doing?”

“I want you to tell me about the Hudson, about Cat and how she sent you back from the construct.”

“I’ve already...”  Taven found himself out of breath and his head drooped.

“Just tell me again,” Hewitt encouraged.

“We were at the beach.  She took me into the water.  The waves were at my back, and she told me to look into her eyes.  Her green eyes.  They were so … I thought I would fall into them.  And then the sounds changed and I realized a giant wave was about to sweep us away, except it didn’t.”  Taven paused, momentarily lost in the memory.  “It submerged us, tore us apart, but I wasn’t underwater.  I was in that … place, that in-between state as I shifted back into the real world.”

“Taven, look,” Hewitt said excitedly.

It was only then that Taven realized he had retold the story with his eyes closed.  When he opened them, the bright lights made him squint.  He expected his eyes to adjust, but they didn’t.  It wasn’t the overhead lights that were hurting his eyes; it was the massive spinning wheel of light emanating from the glass pane.

“Isn’t it marvelous?” Hewitt squealed.

Taven could hear Hewitt’s voice, but he could no longer see him.  The shimmering phenomenon filled up the window, blocking his view.

“How’d you—”

“I didn’t do it,” Hewitt exclaimed.  “You did.”

“I—”  Suddenly, Taven felt himself grow faint and the light that had blinded him started to fade.  The room grew black, and he felt like he was a million miles away.

CHAPTER 2

“TAVEN.  TAVEN,” A VOICE repeated.  Taven’s mind seemed far off, and the sound of someone’s voice seemed less real, less immediate than the world he had been in, though he couldn’t rightly name or even remember this other world, the memory seeming to vanish faster than his ability to recall it.

Suddenly, the world snapped to, and Taven quickly sat up from the floor.

“Are you okay?” Hewitt asked.

Taven grabbed his throbbing head and looked toward the window.  He noticed the clock above it read twelve, and he wondered how long he had been out.  “Yeah, I think—hey, it’s gone.  The … thing.  What happened?”

“It vanished as soon as you passed out,” came the scientist’s reply.  “Maybe I made it too strong.  We’ll have to try a weaker dose next time.”

“What’s in that stuff?” Taven pointed at the empty syringes on the floor near the exchange drawer.  “And more importantly, what happened?”

“A cocktail of RNase inhibitors and neurostimulants,” Hewitt spit out.  “But it worked,” he added excitedly.  “It really worked.”

“Yeah,” Taven said, frustrated that Hewitt wouldn’t get to the point.  “So?”

“Right,” Hewitt said, snapping back into the conversation.  “It’s still a speculation at this point, but the evidence is suggestive.”  He stopped and looked down into his bag and pulled out some items that Taven couldn’t see below the window.  He seemed to shove something into the computer, and moments later the vid-screen inside Taven’s room came to life.

“That’s you,” Hewitt explained as the greenish-blue against black background imagery first appeared.  Taven saw the outline of a human body, like a product of electromagnetic imaging.  Then the image changed, seeming to zoom in rapidly.

“You recognize this, don’t you.”

“A double-helix,” Taven answered.

“That’s right,” Hewitt said as if Taven was his pupil.  In the past few weeks, he’d been around the chubby man long enough to know it wasn’t conscious belittlement.  These egg-head types couldn’t help but see people around them as mental weaklings.  Even if it was wrong, it seemed innocent enough.

“Watch as we overlay your genome that Meyer Corp has on file with your current scan.”  The computer fussed for a couple seconds before redrawing the screen.  This time, it showed two horizontal lines, one running parallel above the other.

Taven looked closely.  “I don’t get it,” he said.  “They look identical.”

“You’re right, from this point of view.  But look closely.”  Hewitt zoomed into an even smaller section of the genome.  At this resolution, Taven could see multiple nodes along the line highlighted with red.  “These spots,” Hewitt explained as he circled the cursor around the red nodes, “are where the differences are.  Which was really surprising to me when I first looked at it.  It’s so specific, so intentional.  No mere virus is going to act like this.  Only a conscious mind could act with such specificity.”

Taven exhaled.  Hewitt was back in his own private world and was wasting more of Taven’s time.  “In layman’s words, please.”

“Right. These nodes represent parts of the human genome that are often overlooked for a very specific reason.  Ever heard of junk DNA?”

Taven had, but he thought that scientists no longer accepted the concept.  He nodded anyway.

“These segments in our genome aren’t as useless as we once thought they were,” Hewitt said.  “But they still take a backseat to all the other, more highly expressed segments.”

“Thanks for the biology lesson, Doc, but could you get to the point?”

“Look and see,” Hewitt said, seemingly unfazed by Taven’s slight.

The screen changed again, and the segments in view expanded.  Then it became clear.  The so-called junk DNA was where there was a divergence between Taven’s old genetic code and what was inside him now.  The colors between the two segments were contrasting, red and green—the red ostensibly representing his new genetic material.

“What did she do to me?” Taven mouthed.

“Now that’s not the right question,” Hewitt answered.  “We know she … or the construct changed your genome.  The real question should be, why?”

Taven blinked and wished Hewitt would hurry up and tell him.

“Well, I think we have a partial answer,” Hewitt continued.  “That phenomenon we just witnessed is of primary importance.”

On screen flashed the recording of the experiment on Taven and the bright-as-the-sun shimmering disk that had shone from the window.

“You see, Taven, I figured out part of this pretty quickly.  How much do you know about quantum computing?”

Taven sighed and admitted he knew very little, only that its application was limited.

“That’s right.  And there’s a good reason for the limitations.  Current quantum computers are capable of crunching problems that are beyond astronomic and have been capable of doing this for several hundred years now.  Literally, current computing power exists to take into account every atom in the universe.  What doesn’t exist is a reasonable way to store such information.”

“Memory shortage,” Taven added.

“Exactly.  So, we’ve been left with the problem of having machines that can think about hard problems but with no way of retaining the data from their computations.  It’s a bit more complicated than that, but you get the idea.  Well, one of the ideas that has been passed around for decades is using genes to preserve memory.  It’s still not ideal, but unlike binary code—ones and zeros—nucleotides are composed of four different bases, giving them dynamics more suitable to quantum computing.”

“So it imprinted some kind of information into my junk DNA because that’s the part of my code that wouldn’t be needed?”  Taven asked, trying hard to put the pieces together.

“Basically.  But it goes further than that.  It’s not just information.  There’s a reason it was stored in a living person instead of in a group of cells in a lab.  The genes actually express proteins, and the proteins are able to actuate, to move, reversing their polarity, switching on and off several times per second.”

“And?”

“And that means they are influenced by your environment.”

“Okay, I thought genes were what controlled your body, the proteins that get built.”

“Yeah, they’re the blueprints.  But they respond to your environment, to the electromagnetic signals on the surface of the cell walls, as well as to the myriad of hormones and transmitter/signaling molecules floating through your body.”

“Epigenetics.”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Hewitt said even more excitedly, his trapped pupil exceeding his expectations yet again.  “And where do the majority of these external signals, the ones that switch your genes on and off, come from?”

Taven felt like he was taking a test in school that he had forgotten to study for, and he couldn’t help but worry that if he got the answer wrong that he’d get trapped here forever.  “Your surroundings,” he finally muttered.

“Oh!  Man, I thought you had it,” Hewitt said, now fully on his pompous egg-head pedestal.  “To a certain extent, you’re right.  Your external environment has a huge impact on your gene expression.  But even more importantly, it’s your...”  He waited, teasing out the answer as if he hoped Taven would guess it.  Finally, he dropped his shoulders, giving up.  “Your brain,” he pronounced.  “It’s your thoughts that influence your genome.  Your perception is your reality.”

Ordinarily Taven would have rolled his eyes.  Such poppycock esoteric pseudoscientific sounding stuff was what he steered clear of.  But today, he had no choice but to take it seriously.  Not only was he a prisoner of this impromptu teacher, he had seen the impossible happen with his own eyes.

“So, the construct gave me … abilities?”

“Apparently.”

“To do what?”

“Well, that is still to be determined.  We know you do that now,” Hewitt said pointing at the shining disk on the screen.

“But what is that?”

“Again, we don’t know—”

“What do you think it is?” Taven demanded.

“I think that is how you got out of the construct.”

Taven shook his head.  “No, that doesn’t make sense.  I was plugged into the machines.  My mind was seeing what the computer wanted me to see.  But I was in my body.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Taven was silent.  There wasn’t much that he was sure about anymore.  “So if that was how I got out, what am I doing with it now?”

“I think it’s a link, a way back into the construct.  I think you could move through it the same way you passed through—what did you call it?  The door?”

“Yes.  It was how we moved between simulations.”

“Maybe—almost certainly—there are more profound implications from your experience aboard the Hudson than what we first assumed, this being one of them.”

Taven started to ask him how he could be linked to the construct this far away from the Hudson, if it even still existed now and hadn’t burned up in Jupiter’s atmosphere.  But before he could formulate his question, Hewitt became distracted.  Looking down at his comm unit, he said, “Oh, looks like you have a visitor.  I’ll let you rest, and maybe after I modify your dosage we can try this again.”

CHAPTER 3

“HEY, BOSS,” CAME a familiar voice from the other side of the glass.

“Mack Carter, what are you doing here?” Taven asked.

“My next mining tour starts tomorrow.  Thought I’d stop by first and see if they were treating you right.”

Taven and Mack exchanged smiles that slowly faded.  There was nothing Mack could do for his old boss, and Taven felt like he was a prisoner trying to make small talk with someone from the outside, someone who still had a life and things to talk about.

“Amy and Evelynn came by,” Taven blurted out before he’d thought it through.

“Oh, that’s good.  I bet that baby girl’s getting big.”

Another fading smile.  “I think Amy’s leaving me,” Taven said before looking down.

“Ah, that can’t be right.  Didn’t you tell her about the early payload bonus?”

Taven grinned at how simple-minded Mack was.  In his juvenile world, women were like houseplants; instead of giving them water and sunlight, all they required was a full bank account to keep them happy.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Did she actually say something?”

“I just got a feeling, something about the way she wouldn’t look me in the eyes.  She kept interacting with Evelynn instead of me and didn’t stay very long.  I think she’s had enough.”

Mack was silent, looking away, and for the first time Taven had ever noticed, he seemed serious.

“I had sent home a message,” Taven continued to confess—he hadn’t planned to do this, but the fire hydrant was open now.  “I told her I didn’t want to go on her dumb trip with her dumb friend Jamie.  I guess it didn’t go over well.  I knew it wouldn’t, but I thought that I’d be there to smooth things over.”

Mack continued gazing off to one side.

“Are you hearing me?” Taven pressed.

Still looking away, Mack said, “Uh, yeah Boss.  It’s just—”

“Why’d you come all this way to see me if you’re just going to watch vid-screens?”

“It’s not that,” Mack said.  “There’s something happening on the station’s security feed.”

“You’ve got security images over there?” Taven asked, futilely pressing his face against the glass.

“Something big, Boss.  I don’t know who or what these guys are, but they’re making trouble.”

Just as Taven had decided to discount Mack’s reaction to whatever was really going on, an alarm sounded, one that Taven hadn’t heard before in the three weeks he’d been in quarantine.

“Blast it!” Mack said, reacting viscerally to something he saw onscreen.

“What?  What happened?”

“They’re shooting the place up.  These big robot-looking dudes are blasting with energy weapons.  I don’t know—I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Where are they?”

“I don’t know,” Mack lifted his hand and pointed.  “There—on screen number...”—he squinted—“two.  No.  Now they’re on screen three.  Boss, they’re wrecking the place.”

The alarm continued screeching directly above Taven, but despite his painful proximity to the noise, he was glued there, grasping for information through the glass.

“Number four, now,” Mack said.  “They look like they are after something.  When they aren’t blasting somebody, they’re picking people up, shaking them around.  I can’t hear anything, but I think they are talking to them.  Oh, now they’re into screen five.”

Taven’s mind raced for answers but none came.  “Mack, can you put it on my screen?  Dr. Hewitt does it from where you are, but—”

“Lemme check.”  Mack messed with controls for a couple seconds.  “There, did that do it?”

Taven glanced up and saw the split screens of the security feed on his main viewer.  His heart sank, realizing that Mack hadn’t been exaggerating.  These intruders were everywhere, feeds three through five, and where they had been was nothing but chaos and bodies on the floor.

“Now they’re in six,” Mack said.

He was right, and Taven quickly tried to figure out what part of the station that represented.  He’d been trapped in quarantine and only had a rough impression of the layout of the rest of the station.  But he didn’t have to figure it out, the sounds of blaster fire soon told him they were nearby.

“Mack, you better get out of here.  I think they’re coming this way.”

“Go where, Boss?  Docking bay’s that way,” he pointed toward the sound of blaster fire.

“I think they’re coming for me,” Taven said, not knowing how he knew that.  “Just get out of here.  Go hide.  Maybe when they find me, they’ll go away.”

“No way,” Mack said, searching the room.  He grabbed a mopbot that—completely oblivious to the impending danger—was diligently working nearby.  He detached its pole from its base, transferring to a manual mode, and swung the pole like a bat.  The brains of the unit flew off and made an electronic squeal that under different circumstances would have made Taven laugh.  “I’ve never hid from a fight,” Mack said, “and I don’t plan on starting now.”

Taven began to argue with him, but he knew Mack well enough.  Unprovoked he didn’t follow orders, and if he was directly challenged like this—well, there was no way Mack would release his bulldog bite.

Taven stepped back, feeling woozy.  The siren continued blaring as he watched Mack take practice swings with his feeble weapon.  Then it hit him, the way the room was starting to spin reminded him of how Dr. Hewitt had drugged him before Taven had created the disk.  Hewitt had said it was a link back to the Hudson, though Taven didn’t understand what that meant or how it was even possible.  But he was out of options now, and if there was a possibility of escape, it was a chance worth taking.

“You ready, Boss?” Mack asked.

Taven closed his eyes.

“Hey, you okay?”

Taven didn’t answer but tried to concentrate and block out the impossibly loud sounds around him and briefly forget the jeopardy he was in.  Cat.  Those green eyes.  That’s what he thought about and about the waves and how she had sent him home.  Faintly, he thought he heard the sound of rushing water.  He focused with all his might, seeing those eyes as if he would jump into them.

“Boss, what happened?”

Taven opened his eyes and saw the shimmering disk in the window.  He glanced up at the screen and saw the intruders advancing down a hallway that he knew led to his quarantine cell.

“Quickly, jump in!” Taven yelled.

“What?  What’d ya—”

Taven advanced toward the glass, though he couldn’t see Mack on the other side.  “Jump into the glass.  C’mon.  Before they get here.”

“Okay, Boss,” was all he heard from Mack.

Unsure if Mack had already jumped in or if he ever would, Taven knew they were out of time.  He took a breath as if he were diving into deep water and leapt forward into the disk that shone so bright he saw it through closed eyes.

CHAPTER 4

A FAMILIAR FEELING enveloped Taven.  It was a sensation that had come upon him in dreams, day and night, ever since his time aboard the Hudson.  There was no up or down, before or after, only now.  But there was a sense of motion, that he wasn’t staying put.  That he was on his way, somewhere.

Without warning, the pleasant void dissipated.  In its place was a heaviness and cold.

“It worked,” came a voice.

Taven looked, widened his eyes but couldn’t yet see past the streaks of color that he’d seen upon entering the disk.  Slowly, as if he’d stepped outside on a dark night, his surroundings began to appear.

Mack waved his hand in front of Taven’s face.  “You there, Boss?”

Taven slapped his hand away, annoyed.

“Hey, what was that for?”

Before Taven could answer, a sonic boom erupted behind them.  Instinctively, they both ducked down, and Taven pushed Mack the rest of the way down to the hard ground.  They turned around on their bellies to see the source of the sound.

“What in the—”

“Shush,” Taven admonished.

Before them was what looked like a train, though its specific design was different from anything Taven had seen before.  They were in a city square, nondescript buildings lining up on both sides of where people hopped on and off the parked train.  And in the far distance, blending in with the haze of the horizon, was a large domed structure.  To their backs was an alleyway, and Taven was glad they were mostly hidden behind the corner of a red brick building.

“Whoa.  Look at that,” Mack whispered.

Taven watched as the train closed its doors and began to glow an iridescent purplish-white.  Then as it appeared to turn white-hot, another boom erupted and the train descended underground, gone.

“Have you ever seen something—”

Taven covered Mack’s lips with the palm of his hand and shook his head.  Then he whispered, “Follow me.  Stay down, and stay quiet.”

Mack nodded his head in compliance and Taven removed his hand.  Taven turned and creeped carefully down the alleyway.  He could hear the scrapes and scuffles of Mack following behind him, and he hoped he could keep this dog on its chain before he got them both killed.

They crawled behind what looked like a dumpster in the alley, the closest thing to true cover he could find.  He turned to Mack and only then noticed that both of them were wearing the same clothes they had been wearing on the quarantine orbiter, Taven in hospital white and Mack in his casual off-duty garb.  That was different, Taven thought, remembering how the construct had altered his clothing last time.

Their backs against the wall, Taven spoke first.  “You’ve got to listen to me, Mack.  This isn’t the real world.  You can’t go around acting like you ordinarily do.”

Mack had a blank expression on his face, and Taven couldn’t tell if he was listening or lost in thought.

“Dr. Hewitt said that disk was a link back to the Hudson,” Taven continued.  “We’re back in the construct.”

At that, Mack turned and faced Taven.  “You mean, that thing we jumped through moved us a hundred and fifty million miles?  That’s impossible.”

“You got a better explanation?”

Mack resumed his back-against-the-wall posture.

“Like I was saying,” Taven whispered, “this isn’t the normal world.  You remember what I told you about the construct.  People would rather kill you than waste their breath talking to you.”

“How’s that different than the real world?” Mack quipped.  “You saw what those bots were doing on the station.”

“Just listen,” Taven said, frustrated.  “It’s different.  I admit, that was weird back there.  But that’s nothing compared to what I’ve seen here.”

“Alright.  You’re the boss.  Hey, wait a minute.  If we’re in the Belt, inside the Hudson … how are we getting out?  And how do we warn people back home about those things that were tearing up the station.  We gotta do something.”

Taven wished Mack would shut up long enough for him to explain.  It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought of all that already.  “The answer to both your questions—how we warn people and how we get out of here—are the same: we find Cat.  She’ll know what to do.”

“But she’s the reason all this is happening in the first place,” Mack argued.

“Well, we don’t really—”

Suddenly, they heard voices.  Both of them froze and listened.  It was coming from the other end of the alley.  Slowly, Taven crawled to the corner of the dumpster and peered out at the street.  Immediately he felt Mack crowd in behind him, his breath forming clouds of vapor in the cold air.

“What are they—”

“Shush,” Taven scolded.  They watched as several people passed on the street that was adorned with trees in bloom despite the wintery chill.  It reminded Taven of cherry blossoms in early spring he’d seen the time he’d visited Hokkaido.  The passersby all wore the same garb, red or brown hooded robes, tied with sashes.  A couple of denizens stood at the corner of the street and alleyway and talked.

“They’re speaking Commerce,” Mack said.  Taven couldn’t tell—his ears ringing, a condition that had first started after he’d left the Hudson.  But he wasn’t entirely surprised.  Everyone he’d met aboard the construct had all spoken his language.

“I don’t see anybody shooting anyone, Boss.”

“That’s cause they’re all on the same … hey, where are you—”

But before Taven could stop him, Mack had stood upright and was walking toward the couple on the street.  Taven cursed and squatted back against the wall.  What would happen if they got killed? he wondered.  Before, when he was in the construct, he would always reappear back in the bathroom in the little house that had the door.  But he hadn’t been there this time, hadn’t gotten here that way, and there was no guarantee they would be okay.

After a few moments had passed and he hadn’t heard any yelling or gunfire, Taven timidly poked his face around the dumpster and watched as Mack, someone who’d never met a stranger, virtual or otherwise, conversed with the two hooded strangers.  They went back and forth a few times, and then one of them raised an arm and pointed across the street.  At that, Mack smiled and spoke quickly before heading back toward the dumpster.  Taven saw the couple turn and look toward him, and he reeled back, fearing exposure.

“What was that all about?” he asked when Mack returned.

“You said we needed to find Cat.  How did you plan to do that from behind the dumpster?  And besides, those folks were nice enough.”

Taven was mad, but he pushed down his desire to prove Mack wrong and simply said, “Well?  What’d they say?”

“Oh, they have no idea who Cat is.  Never heard of her before.”

That didn’t make sense at all to Taven.  Last time, the recurring chorus from all he met inside the construct had been, ask Cat.  It simply seemed impossible for anyone here not to have heard of her.

“Then what was all the pointing about?” Taven asked finally.

Mack offered his hand to Taven who was still crouched down.  Taven took it, and Mack pulled him up to his feet and smiled before saying, “Lunch.”

CHAPTER 5

THE BRASS BELL rang noisily as the door closed behind Taven and Mack.  And before Taven could muster a new argument for why this was a bad idea and that they should get out of here, a teenage looking girl came by with her hands full of dirty dishes.  “Sit anywhere.  I’ll be right back,” she said.

Mack moved forward into the dimly lit room, and Taven followed.  The room was mostly empty, and Taven wondered if these people ate on a schedule: breakfast, lunch, and dinner—or if time was truly irrelevant.  The last time he’d been inside the construct, he’d been unsuccessful at getting a bite to eat.  Even as late as yesterday, he’d had vivid fantasies of the Italian sub and Red Runner IPA he’d left unconsumed inside the construct.  He knew they needed to find Cat now, but there was a secret part of himself that was giddy at the idea of actually getting to eat inside the construct.  Everything else that was generated from the user’s desires was so much better inside than it was out in the real world; he hoped the same would be true for the grub.

Mack sat down on the floor.  The knee-high tables didn’t leave room for chairs.  The tables had a central piece that looked like charcoal or an artificial fire log—Taven couldn’t decide which—surrounded by an ornate, florid tablecloth with designs that mimicked the beautiful cold-hardy blossoms on the trees outside.

As soon as Taven sat down, he wished they had chosen a different table or at least a different sitting configuration.  He had his back to the long window that ran the length of the wall by the front door.  As if they weren’t conspicuous enough without robes, Taven felt especially vulnerable sitting there.

“Whacha gonna have?” Mack said jovially over the menu.

Taven picked up his menu.  “Well, they may speak Commerce, but I can’t read a word of this,” Taven said.

“Yeah, that’s what pictures are for, Boss.”

Taven resented the ease that Mack felt in this precarious situation.  Taven was having to worry for the both of them.  He took a second to examine his surroundings, noticing the tables scattered about with mostly couples sitting together.  At most of the tables, a holographic image was playing above the center piece, but because of the angles, Taven couldn’t make out any of the images.

“Sorry about that,” said the same girl they’d met at the front door.  “We’re understaffed today.  A couple of servers went to the tournament and left me by my lonesome.”   Just then she paused, and Taven believed it was the first time she’d really looked at them, noticing their unusual clothing.

“Oh, we’re not from around here,” Taven said nervously.  He wasn’t sure if that would make sense to her, and he had to remind himself that there was no way of knowing who he was really talking to.  She could be young, old, male, female, human or AI.  And that was just what he knew from his limited time inside the Hudson construct.  He’d only scratched the surface here previously.  That much he knew from the door and the hundreds, maybe thousands of unvisited listings he’d seen there.

The girl smiled, clearly having an agreeable personality, and said, “We get all kinds with the games.  Sorry if I gave you a funny look.”

“We’re used to funny looks, sweetie,” Mack said.  And Taven felt a new surge of concern, fearing Mack would get them in trouble, mouthing off one too many times.

“What can I get you?” the girl redirected pleasantly.

“Well, baby doll,” Mack said, “when we said we’re from out of town, we meant really out of town.  We have no idea what’s good here.  Why don’t you pick something you like for us?”

“Oh,” she started, “I don’t know if—”

“That’s a good idea,” Taven agreed.  “Your favorite two entries, please.”

“Okay,” she said, smiling and looking down bashfully.  Then she punched something mechanical that looked like a tiny abacus that she quickly returned to a pocket in her red robe.  “I’ll get those started for you.”  She turned and then stopped in her tracks.  Whipping back around, she said, “Did you want the tournament on?”

Mack had a confused look on his face, and Taven knew he hadn’t noticed the holographic images on the other tables.  “Sure, that’d be great,” Taven said quickly.

The girl bent down and pulled out a small box with a wire that draped under the table.  She sat it on the edge of the table and punched buttons.  As the blue-white light first flickered, she scurried off toward the kitchen.

As promised, some kind of sporting event came on over the hologram.  Taven could see Mack’s face through the colorful image between them.  Mack was immediately enthralled by it, but Taven was disinterested, watching and observing everything else besides the game.  He glanced over toward the kitchen and saw the girl place her abacus device on the counter for a couple seconds.  There was a faint bing, and then kitchen workers moved to receive the new order.  He could see into the kitchen, the open bar area showing waist-to-necks only of the kitchen staff who wore skintight black garments.  He figured they had literally disrobed to do their work.

Then he had an alarming thought: how would they pay for this meal?  It hadn’t occurred to him because he’d never witnessed any form of commerce in the construct before.  It seemed that material items—food, clothing, weapons, helicopters, you name it—were all provided by the computer.  But here, now, it seemed people were behaving like they would in any restaurant he’d been in, besides a few unusual quirks.

Mack messed with the controller box, and suddenly the sound of the sportscaster was excessively loud.

“Turn that down,” Taven ordered.

Looking like a scolded dog, Mack hurriedly scrolled down the volume, though it was still louder than it had been at first.  Taven allowed himself to be distracted by the holographic feed, some lazy part of himself wanting to forget the predicament they were in.

Taven listened to the sportscaster:

And now for the event you’ve all been waiting for, our undefeated champion will defend her title.  The officials have signaled to both parties to commence and have started the match clock.  Let’s see if our champ has any new tricks up her sleeves.

“They basically just go after each other,” Mack said.  “Hand to hand stuff, except—”

“Why do they need so much space?” Taven thought out loud, noticing the large arena’s floor, larger than a tennis court or even a cyber-clash rink.  He saw boxes on the sides of the arena floor that he imagined were for the coaches or other teammates to sit in.  Then the camera view shifted to the sky, showing the entire arena complex, and Taven realized this was the distant dome shaped structure he had seen earlier.  Except now it wasn’t truly a dome, its round roof retracted, allowing daylight to flood into the arena.

“You’ll see,” Mack said, already the expert.  “This is no normal kung fu.”

Taven watched as the first player walked forward to the center of the arena.  She looked young, barely a teenager.  And he was surprised she was wearing similar garb to what everyone else he’d seen wear.  Her hood fell back, showing off her long bright copper-red hair, and she raised a single fist to the sky.  The arena of thousands erupted into cheers.

Then they turned silent before a gate opened, revealing the first challenger.  The young man walked forward, and Taven noticed angst visible in the young man’s face.  Why’s he afraid of a little girl? Taven thought.

The young man, almost twice the girl’s size, thrust both of his fists forward like a karate stance.  Then Taven noticed his hands beginning to glow, purplish-white, the same color as the train they’d seen earlier.  After a moment, the challenger ran forward toward the girl.  She stood with her back turned as if unconcerned.  The camera angle shifted to show her front side, her assailant approaching fast from the rear.

Her eyes closed; she too began to radiate glowing light from her fists.  A couple seconds before it seemed her challenger would reach her, she twisted around with such speed it made Taven jump.

Then she thrust her arms forward, and an intense band of blue light, bright as a laser and as wide as flames from a propulsion rocket, shot forward and knocked the young man down.  He smacked the ground hard enough for the impact to be heard over the live feed, and there was an audible gasp by the audience before, as if on cue, they roared in celebration.

An official ran forward and raised the young girl’s hand up in victory while others came forward to cart off the unconscious, or worse, challenger.

“Whoa,” Taven said.

“Just wait.  I don’t think it’s over,” Mack added.  How he knew from five minutes of watching, Taven didn’t know, but it turned out to be true.  New challengers, this time three of them, emerged for a second round.  The girl seemed only mildly more concerned by the new contestants than she had been by the impotent first challenger.

The new three worked as a team.  They too had the ability to fire on the girl, but their blasting powers seemed like weak imitations compared to hers.  Plus, their ability to aim was pitifully inferior.  Shots were fired as if at random, and Taven again reacted physically to what seemed like a close call: one of the challenger’s blast going off toward the stadium seating.  At the last moment, the blast impacted an invisible shield that blocked and absorbed the energy.  Taven wondered if it was physical or a forcefield, but then he remembered none of this was physical.  They were all in the construct and there was no way to know how far the laws of physics would be bent.

After toying with the trio, the girl effortlessly dodging attacks and deflecting blows—she possessed the ability to charge her hands up and use them as shields—she withdrew inward, tucking her hands to her body and placing her feet together and closing her eyes.

The weary assailants seemed to sense that this was their moment, that she had lowered her defenses, and began charging her from three sides.

“Here she goes,” Mack said with giddiness in his voice.

Taven saw her hands glow brighter than he’d seen them glow before, and then, without warning, she slammed down both fists to the ground.  The impact released a boom like the one they’d heard as the train took off, and a fraction of a second later, energy blasts leapt up from underneath all three of the challengers, lifting them momentarily off the ground before laying them out cold.

There was a new, longer gasp from the crowd before a raucous outpouring of cheers and shouts.  The official came and raised the girl’s hand once again.  Then the sportscaster chimed in:

There you have it, the surprise we’ve come to expect from this young lass.  The undefeated champion has retained her title and shown us that her training continues to progress.  Wow, just wow!  Right when you think you’ve seen it all, she shows us that there’s more that can be done in this ancient sport of ours.  And of course, we all know what to attribute this to.  Iris Shakar may be talented—we all agree upon that—but she owes much to her new master.  It’s only during these games we get to glimpse this enigmatic character.  Look now as teacher and pupil embrace in celebration, taking their victorious midday break before regrouping later this afternoon for what promises to be ever more exciting battles.

The camera zoomed in on the two robed figures united in a hug.  The taller of the two kept her hood on.  Then the camera view switched to a mobile unit that from the wobbly nature must have been carried by someone on foot.  As it came closer to the duo, master and student turned and began walking toward their exit.

Multiple persons shouted questions all at the same time.  And right before the two disappeared behind the gate that presumably led to this construct’s version of a locker room, the taller figure turned and looked back.  The light from the midday sun breaking through clouds shone onto her face and Taven gasped as he saw green eyes staring back at him.

CHAPTER 6

“THAT’S HER.”

“That’s who?” Mack asked.

“Cat, the one we’re looking for,” Taven said.

“You’re telling me that the one that runs the construct and placed the DNA voodoo spell on you is this girl’s—”

Taven kicked Mack under the table as he spotted the waitress approaching.

“Ow!  What was that for?”

“Here you are,” the girl said, placing down two plates of unrecognizable foods: long, straight noodles the color of carrots and bowls that resembled cooking pots with liquid dark enough Taven couldn’t tell if there was more in it than broth.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Mack said, grabbing a fistful of orange sticks with one hand.  “I’m starving.”  Then he unsuccessfully tried to take a bite of the hard sticks.

“Where’d you guys say you were from again?” she asked with a bewildered look on her face.

Mack, recovered from almost breaking a tooth on the hardened food, spoke quickly, “Oh, we’re not even from—”

Taven kicked his shin once again and interrupted, “Meyerville.”

The girl rolled it around in her mind for a minute and then said, “In the Ein Peninsula?”

“That’s the one,” Taven lied.

“I guess it’s true what they say.  Things really are different across the pond,” she said.  “Let me help you guys.”  Then she turned off the holographic projection and extended her hands toward the mantle in the middle of the table.

At first Taven thought she was grabbing for something she couldn’t reach, but then he noticed the change.  Her hands, similar to the fighters in the arena, began to turn color, a mixture of purple, white, and blue.  Then Taven noticed the mantel material begin to glow with similar colors, and he felt the radiant heat against his skin.

“There, that’ll work,” she said before she assembled their food over the hot spot.

“When it starts to smell good, you’ll know it’s done,” she said finally.  “I’ll be back to check on you in a minute,” she said turning to leave.

“Wait just a sec,” Taven said.  She backed up.  “Can you tell us where the game was today?”

She raised an eyebrow and gave an expression that Taven couldn’t decide whether it meant she was frustrated with them or just felt sorry for them.  “The tournament is being held in the Keaton Arena, in the center of town.”

Taven wanted to ask what town they were in but decided he’d pressed his luck long enough.  “Thanks,” he said.

After she was out of earshot, Taven whispered to Mack, “We’ve got to go there, catch her before she leaves.”

Taven waited for a response from Mack, but none came.  “Well?” Taven prompted.

“Oh, you mean I can talk now?” Mack asked sarcastically.  “I didn’t want to get another bruise from talking out of turn, Boss.”

“Sorry, I just didn’t—”

“I don’t get it,” Mack interrupted.  “Don’t they all know they’re in the construct?  I mean, what does it matter if we tell them we’re from outside of it?”

“I don’t know, Mack.  Call it instinct.  Call it experience.  I just know that our best bet inside here is blending in until we find Cat.”  Taven stopped, noticing Mack’s eyes looking over Taven’s shoulder.

“Are you listening?” Taven asked, annoyed.

“Yep,” Mack said without looking down.

“Then we need to figure out how to reach this Keaton Arena.”

“I’d say so, but right now we’ve got bigger problems.”

Taven turned and saw what Mack was looking at outside the window.  Out on the street were mechanized bots.  People were running across the road—Taven had never seen any vehicles on it—like scurrying rats.  Occasionally a bot would grab a pedestrian, shake them, and throw it away.

“Blast it!” Taven said loud enough for other patrons to notice him.  He started to stand up, but Mack grabbed his hands and pulled him back down.

“They haven’t seen us yet, Boss.  Blend in, right?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said, still watching intently.  “How’d they get here?”

No answer.  They both watched, hoping the bots would simply pass on by.  One of the bots grabbed another scurrying pedestrian.  But unlike with the others, it held onto the robed denizen longer and didn’t do the old shake and toss routine.

“Blast it,” Taven whispered.

“What?”

“That one knows something.”

“How do you figure?” Mack asked innocently.

“They’re looking for us.  Just watch.”

Then it happened.  The oversized bot lowered the person and released its claws, allowing her to move her arms freely and stand on her own two feet.  But instead of running and screaming, she turned and pointed, directly at Taven and Mack.

CHAPTER 7

TAVEN AND MACK jumped up to make a run for it, but as soon as they did, an explosion burst behind them.  Taven’s ears rang loudly as he looked over his shoulder and saw a cloud of dust and debris where the main entrance to the restaurant used to be.

“Out the back,” Mack shouted.

They ran through a door and found themselves in the kitchen.  The wait staff were all in the floor, their black tights blending in with the black rubber mats that lined the floor.  “Sorry,” Taven said as they jumped over and around the human obstacles toward what they hoped was a rear exit.

They ran through another door and gone were the bright kitchen lights.  Taven’s eyes had to adjust before he could see the slim crack of light at the rear of this hallway.  From the color and contrast of the light, he knew it was their way outside.

“Wait,” Mack yelled, and Taven slipped on the wet floor and almost fell before finding his footing.  He turned to see Mack grabbing robes off of hangers on the wall.  “Blend in,” Mack shouted, tossing Taven a robe.

The two ran for the door, neither one having figured out how to put on their robes yet.  When they came to the door, Taven slammed into it first.  And when it didn’t budge, Mack slammed into him.

“The blasted thing’s locked?” Mack shrieked.

“On three,” Taven ordered.  “One—”

“Three!” Mack yelled, hearing new commotion behind them from the kitchen.

Again, they slammed themselves against the metal door, but this time it opened, and they found themselves outside, the gray muted sky seeming impossibly bright.

As if they didn’t already have every reason to get their clothes on and blend in with the masses, the cold air sent shivers up Taven’s spine, and the thought of getting caught by those merciless machines made the sensation persist even longer.

In the clarity of daylight, the two put on their robes and moved toward the large group of people nearby.  Just then, a huge sonic boom erupted as the next train appeared.

“Come on, we’ve gotta hurry,” Mack yelled as they ran toward their only hope of escape.

“It’s too far,” Taven said mid stride.  “We’re not gonna make it.”

“We have to.”

But Taven was right.  The train held its doors open for only a few seconds, all the waiting passengers knowing exactly how little time they had to get on.  The doors shut, and Taven saw the huddled passengers through the translucent skin disperse inside the cabin, followed by a sucking sound, which he imagined was the train preparing itself for takeoff.

But that wasn’t the only sound they heard.  “We’ve got company, Boss,” Mack said as the backside of the restaurant blew open, chunks of debris cast far and wide.

“Act natural,” Taven said, hoping enough people that had exited the train would provide camouflage.

“But—” Mack started before Taven shushed him.  Taven knew why Mack was protesting.  The people off the train were acting like anyone would: running from danger, which meant he and Mack, standing still as statues, would immediately stick out.

Taven looked through the blue-tinted glass of the train that was about to leave and saw the interior.  Then he closed his eyes.

“Watch out,” Mack said, right as the sucking sound stopped and it became clear they were in immediate danger, not just from the bots but from the train’s imminent departure.

A sonic boom erupted all around them, and the train disappeared with lighting speed.  Taven’s ears rang louder than ever before, but he didn’t move, didn’t flinch.  He focused on what he believed was their only hope.

Mack tugged on his sleeve, saying, “C’mon.”  But his tugs stopped, and Taven heard a splattering sound.

He opened his eyes and said, “It worked.”  Before them was the same shimmering disk, brighter than this simulation’s cloud covered sun.  “Hurry,” Taven said.  And the two jumped.

CHAPTER 8

TAVEN CAME OUT of the electric fog, and his memories rushed back as he realized he and Mack were inside the train.  “It really worked,” Taven said.

“You can say that again,” came Mack’s response before he whistled.  “Never seen the likes of one of these,” he said running his hand along the clear shell of the train compartment.  Through whatever translucent material this was, Taven saw the purple highlight, that same glow he’d seen as the train seemed to charge up before leaving.  But beyond it was darkness.  They were underground, he decided, traveling at breakneck speed.

There was a sudden whoosh sound up ahead as the only other passenger in this car opened and closed a door, moving further up the train into another section.

“I guess they don’t see people appear out of thin air very often,” Mack joked.

Taven wished he could feel as lighthearted as his friend, but all he felt was a huge knot in his stomach.  He grabbed it and bent over trying to get relief.

“You alright?” Mack asked.

“Yeah, just nerves, I think.”

“Ah, you always were the sensitive type.”

Ordinarily, Taven would have given Mack a glare or even sucker punched him, but not today.  He sat down on the bench that ran the length of their compartment.  Mack came over and sat across from him and waited.

“How’d they follow us back into the construct,” Taven asked.  “Why’d they follow us?”

Mack had no answers.

And then Taven had a rush of fear.  “What if I never left the construct?  What if none of this is real, you’re not real?”

At that, Mack stood up and punched Taven hard in the arm.

Taven recoiled, grabbing his arm and shouting, “What was that for?”

“Did it hurt?”

“Of course it hurt.”

“Sounds pretty real to me.”

“You don’t understand.  There was—” He corrected himself.  “There is plenty of pain inside the construct.  Before though, if I got wiped out, I had the option to forget about it.  Nothing was permanent, including the memories unless I wanted them to be.”

“Well, give that wallop enough time, and if there’s a bruise, you’ll know this is all the real deal.”

Taven was quiet.  He knew Mack was trying to help, but he wasn’t making anything any easier.  He was acting like Mack, which seemed realistic enough.  But it wasn’t like Mack was a deep thinker, a personality that couldn’t be replicated by a computer advanced enough to generate the Hudson’s construct.  And Taven couldn’t forget the way Cat had disguised herself as Ferah.  No one here could be completely trusted.

As he gazed into the blackness through the translucent shell, Taven’s eyes changed focus to a nearer image.  It was his own reflection he saw, a purple tinted face in low resolution.  But even in this blurry image, he saw the scar that ran down his cheek.  That was real.  And that wasn’t in the construct last time.  None of this made sense.  Clearly he had jumped through a portal back into a simulation, but this was different than before.  Where was his body?  It couldn’t be strapped into one of those hibernation pods.  And what happened if he or Mack got killed?

“Mack, it’s different this time.  I don’t know how or why; but I got the feeling the rules have changed.  The stakes are higher.  We can’t afford to get caught by those bot things.  We’ve got to find Cat before they get to us.”  He grabbed his abdomen again, the pain real and unrelenting.

“Hey, easy Bossman.  Everything’s going to work out.  It always does.”

“It doesn’t,” Taven said.  “Things don’t just work out. Someone has to make them work out.”  He paused and then said, “Look, I dragged you into this.  We caught a few breaks, but there’s no reason to think our luck will last.  Those things are determined to catch up with us.  And when they do...”

“Hey, look at it this way,” Mack said.  “At least they’re not back at the orbiter or on Earth hurting people.  At least here, the people they’re hurting aren’t real.”

“Yeah, but all those people at the station—they’re dead because of me.  I’m the one who decided to go into the construct back on the Hudson.  I’m the one who carried home the foreign DNA.  And I’m the one those bots are after.  We know it now, because they followed us here.”

“You’ve been a foreman too long,” Mack said.  “This ain’t your fault.  You’re responsible for you and what you do.  That’s all.”

Taven saw the goodness in Mack’s face and wished he could see the world the same way his friend did.  Mack was someone in his corner, but it would take more than friendship to get out of here.  He could just make another portal back home, he knew, but those things weren’t going to leave him alone.  He’d just be bringing them back to hurt more people he cared about.  No, his only hope, the only person with the solution was Cat.

There was a loud bing that woke Taven up from his ruminations.  An artificial voice came on over the comms:

Next stop: Downtown.

CHAPTER 9

AFTER ANOTHER SONIC boom, this time less audible from inside the train, the doors opened and Taven and Mack stepped off the train.  The cold air on Taven’s exposed face made him shiver and pull up his hood.  He turned and faced Mack who had his hood up as well.

“Not so crowded for a downtown,” Mack said.

Taven looked left and right, noticing the taller buildings.  They were higher than those where the restaurant had been, but they weren’t different in quality or construction, more red-brown brick walls and more of those blooming trees that didn’t seem to mind the chill in the air.  Taven wondered if this place really had seasons or if this was how it always was.

Taven grabbed Mack and pulled him further away from the train as it glowed in preparation for departure.  Just as Mack was starting to protest, the train boomed again and was off in a flash.

“We need a map,” Taven said, “or we need to find someone and ask them where the arena is.”

Mack pointed his finger up and to the left, and Taven traced his aim down the long carless street and caught sight of the giant dome that towered over all the other buildings.

The two began marching toward their destination.  More than once, Taven felt the need to slow down or find water, but the memory of those killing machines that had chased them to the train was fresh enough to motivate his feet to keep stepping.  Mack was a few years younger than Taven and didn’t seem to get as fatigued, or at least he didn’t let on if he did.  Taven wondered if his age was starting to play a role in all this, if he was getting old.  He was used to being around younger miners—there’s no such thing as an old miner out in the Belt.  But he hadn’t been in a situation where he had been outdone by someone’s youth and vitality.  Usually, it was the other way around; the youngsters didn’t have the experience he had, hadn’t been tested enough, and didn’t know how to keep pushing until the job was done.  Now, here in this unreal world where only some aspects of reality were retained—the undesirable ones, it seemed—Taven wondered if he had what it took to finish this mission.

There was a roar that took seconds to crescendo before reaching its impressive climax.  “Must be about to start,” Mack said.

“We better hurry,” Taven said, looking at the front gate of the arena.  But they already were moving as fast as they could without being too conspicuous, and the duo maintained their uneven half-run.  It reminded Taven of when he was a child and his mother had told him not to run.  He and his brother had to keep playing, had to keep the game going, and moved at this same jagged pace, one foot always on the ground. That was the definition of walking, after all.

As they neared the front gate, Taven examined the arena’s structure.  It wasn’t the same ubiquitous brick exterior.  Instead, this looked older, more timeless in some way, as if it had been built with carved stone like a gothic cathedral.

They reached the front gate and fell in line with their fellow stragglers.  Taven spotted the ticket taker.  Each person who approached extended his or her hand, which the ticketer then scanned, producing a beep, before allowing them to enter through the gate.

Taven pulled Mack out of line.

“Hey, what the—”  Mack started.

“I think they all have a chip or something in their hands,” Taven said quietly.

They reached the back of the line and someone came up behind them and asked if they were in line.  They stepped aside and let them through, then resumed trying to look inconspicuous as they figured out their next move.

“We need to get in there,” Taven said.  “But I don’t know what they’ll do when they realize we don’t have those chips or whatever they are.”

The line shrank, and Taven knew they’d soon be getting strange looks from the ticket taker.

“I’ve got an idea,” Mack said, reentering the line.  “Come on.”

Taven didn’t argue.  He wanted to know what the plan was, but he’d come up empty with no ideas, and Mack seemed confident.  The longer they stood in line, the more Taven questioned his trust of Mack.  Mack always seemed confident, and so far, he’d been lucky.  But luck was something that ran out.

As they moved up to the ticket taker, Mack whispered, “Be ready.”

“Proof of purchase, please,” came a feeble voice.  Taven saw the older man sitting behind the booth look up from his ho-hum job.  “Sir, proof of purchase,” the man said with only a bit more enthusiasm.

At this, Mack started to extend his hand, and Taven felt like he could jump out of his skin.  What was he thinking?  But right before his hand could be scanned, Mack pulled it back and reached for his throat.  His hood flew back, and Taven watched as Mack’s face turned bright red.

“Sir, are you okay?” the ticketer asked.

Mack didn’t answer except with intermittent coughs and gasps.  Taven stepped back as the remaining sports goers moved closer to Mack as he continued his antics.  Once the ticket taker had come all the way around the booth to assist Mack, the faker fell to the ground and began shaking as if he were having a seizure.

This was the moment, Taven understood.  He looked once more at Mack’s bright red face, his tongue extended like a wild man, but his eyes were closed and there was no recognition that this parting between them was intentional.  But Taven knew this was his only chance to get inside unnoticed.  He just hoped he could find Cat and fix this before Mack got himself into too much trouble.

CHAPTER 10

TAVEN CLOSED HIS eyes and took a deep breath before pressing forward through the gate.  He feared there were other sensors that would detect his deceit, but nothing happened.  He opened his eyes and noticed the lighting was darker.  He groped through the shadows and felt the cool rock wall on one side.  The tunnel turned left and he spotted daylight at its end right as another wave of cheers erupted.  From inside this cavernous entryway, Taven felt the rumble of the arena in his body, the vibrations threatening to shake him apart.

He broke through the tunnel’s exit, the muted sky producing adequate light to cause him to squint.  He didn’t know why, but he tugged on his hood, pulling it as far over his face as he could.  No one knew him here; well, almost no one.  Those bots did, and so did Cat.  Where was she?

He glanced out and saw the girl—so small seeming in person—in the center of the field ostensibly awaiting her next opponent.  He recalled the sportscaster’s words, finally remembering that her name was Iris.  Then Taven looked and found the two coaches’ boxes he’d seen on the hologram.  He squinted at one and saw a face he didn’t recognize.  Must be the other coach, he decided.  And then he realized he needed to move to the other side of the stadium to be able to see into Cat’s box.

He moved laterally along the handrail and appreciated the magnitude of the arena.  Not only was he walking in front of thousands of viewers on this level, but there was also a level down below, recessed into the ground near the playing field, as well as several levels up above him.  The total number of people in attendance had to be in the tens of thousands, and he figured most of them had to be AI.

As he made it a quarter of the way around, the next challenger entered the field, and—after a short round of applause—the entire arena grew quiet.  From this vantage point, he noticed a set of descending steps that led down to the arena floor.  It appeared to be the only way down there, and he knew he should continue moving toward them.  But he felt more conspicuous than ever before, and stopped and took an empty seat, promising himself he’d continue moving toward Cat when the game had paused again.

The challenger began his attack.  In person, Taven struggled to see the same colors of this fighter’s energy blasts like he’d seen on the hologram.  But just like he’d witnessed before, this challenger’s attacks were reckless, sporadic, and futile.  Iris remained still at centerfield, hunched over like she was meditating and only moving a small step here and there to avoid the direct impact of an energy blast.  Meanwhile, the challenger circled around her, casting blow after impotent blow.

After a moment, Iris seemed to finally grow weary of toying with her prey.  She stood up straight, and her hands began to glow.  Taven expected a blast from her at any second, but instead she coupled her hands together and Taven saw the faint translucent glow of what appeared to be a shield.

Iris walked straight toward her challenger who, seeming to sense he was in heightened danger, quickened his pace encircling her.  She shifted her slow approach, cutting him off and forcing him to fight.  Then he stopped and stood his ground, mustering what looked like his most valiant version of an energy blast.  Brighter than previous ones, this blast shot straight at Iris who braced herself for the impact.  Taven expected the shield to deflect or absorb the blow, but to his surprise and apparently the surprise of those around him, the energy blast bounced back directly at her opponent, dropping him to the ground in a single blow.

A loud horn sounded, and the entire arena burst into adulation as an official ran forward and raised Iris’s hand.  Taven rose to his feet and moved toward the descending stairway.  He could imagine the voices of the sportscasters going on about yet another new technique or skill displayed by this young phenom.  But Taven knew why Iris was so effective.  She had the construct’s gamemaster as her coach, which was essentially cheating.  What he couldn’t figure out was why no one else seemed to notice.

Taven reached the stairway as the next round began, signaled by Iris’s midfield pose and the crowd’s palpable silence.  Taven, unable to find a proper seat, sat down on the hard stairs.  Like when he’d watched at the restaurant, this round had three challengers emerge.  The audience was transfixed, but Taven barely noticed the goings-on of this fight.  He was too busy searching the shadows of the coach’s box, trying to get a glimpse of Cat.

He could see the outline of her figure, but the lighting inside the box was too dark for him to see her face.  He wondered if she had spotted him, if she was looking straight at him now, and what she would say when they spoke.

Lost in thought, Taven was startled by the roar of the arena when Iris deftly laid out her opponents once more and was awarded a medal by an official.  It reminded Taven of the medallion he’d fetched with Cat—though then he thought she was Ferah—and he wondered if there were more to this sport than what met the eye.

As he descended the stairs he came to realize that the tournament was over.  The myriad number of attendees flooded the stairway and began their ascent back to the main exits.  Taven was like a fish swimming against the current, except he was going down instead of up.

As he fought against the wave of ascending fans, Taven caught intermittent glimpses of Cat and Iris.  He soon realized the duo was leaving the arena, exiting through the private gate he’d seen them walk through before on the hologram.  “Wait,” he shouted in vain.

Desperate, he doubled his efforts and began shoving people, some of whom slipped or fell and attempted to confront Taven.  But he pressed on with singular purpose and evaded their retribution.

He reached the edge of the playing field and jumped over the rail.  But just as his feet landed, he had a sickening thought: what if he touched the force field surrounding the court, the one he’d seen come alive on the vid feed at the restaurant?  It reminded him of when he’d first entered the Hudson’s hangar bay and feared getting chopped in half by the untested automated door.  And just like then, he pressed forward, disgusted by how easily his fear paralyzed him.

He saw Iris enter the exit gate, and Cat was only a few steps behind her.  At about midfield, Taven was stopped by armed guards, the only people since the wait staff in the restaurant’s kitchen that he’d seen wearing something other than robes.  They tackled him from three sides, and he realized he was caught, unable to shove further toward Cat’s position.

Panicked, Taven yelled, “Cat!  It’s me, Taven.”

The guards pulled his hands behind his back, hog-tying him, and he careened his neck, trying to see around one of them.

Cat stopped.

“It’s okay, we have this under control,” said one of the guards.

“No,” she said without turning around.  “Release him.”

CHAPTER 11

TAVEN STARTED TO speak, but his jumbled-up thoughts competed with each other, and nothing came out.  There were a million questions: about the construct, about his DNA, about the portals, about the killer bots that were chasing him.  But the longer she stood there with her back turned, the more he knew she was waiting for the arena to clear out before they spoke.

His anxious mind wandered as he stared at her maroon robe.  At the bottoms of each sleeve’s cuff, he could see the tips of her long fingers, and he remembered how she had felt when they had been together, how shocking it was when she’d changed appearance from looking like Ferah—the object of his desire, as she had explained it—into her true form.

Finally, when the last stragglers were almost out of the arena, Cat called out to the guards and told them to leave.  They didn’t second guess her, and Taven wondered how she had come to rule this roost so quickly, in only a matter of weeks and why it was, since she was taking her recognizable form, she wasn’t being swarmed by everyone in the construct.

“There,” she said, and Taven saw her noticeably relax, exhaling and releasing bodily tension.  She turned, and though he’d prepared himself for it, he was struck by her green eyes.  Under the midday sun, they glowed like embers stoked in a night fire.

“How did you get here?” she asked plainly.

“Mack, he pretended to be sick so I could get past the ticket taker.”

“No, how did you get here?”

Taven realized she meant the construct, and he started to explain.  But she stopped him.

“Never mind,” she said.  “It doesn’t matter now.  We don’t have much time.  Come with me.”

She turned back around and started for the exit gate, the one Taven figured led to a locker room or private quarters for the fighters.

“You dropped your focus,” she told Iris.  “They were no match for you, but you can’t be sloppy like that.  Do you understand?”

The young girl bowed respectfully to her teacher.  “I won’t disappoint you again,” Iris said sincerely.  Then they continued walking toward the gate.

“Cat,” Taven said, stopping them, “I don’t think you understand.  There are these mechanical things following us.  They came to Earth, and Mack and I jumped through a portal to get here.  And they’re—”

She stopped him with a wave of her hand.  And by the look on her face, she knew exactly what the machines were. Taven thought he saw a fleeting expression of fear pass over her that quickly turned into a look of annoyance.

“I didn’t think it would come to this,” she said, looking away from Taven.  “Not yet, anyway.”  She turned to Iris and said, “Today is the day.  Do you understand?”

“Look,” Taven pleaded, “can’t you just fix whatever has gone wrong and send Mack and me back home.  Oh … Mack.  We gotta get him.  He must be—”

“Not unless you want them to follow you back there,” she interrupted.  “What’s been done can’t be undone, only finished.”

Taven was getting flustered.  Cat knew what was happening, but she was keeping him in the dark.  “Can’t you just … I don’t know what’s happened,” he said, surprised by his mixed emotions.  On the one hand he was tired of all the games, but at the same time he was feeling coldness, even disdain from Cat, and he found himself wanting her to treat him the way she had before.  “I just need you to fix this, make things go back to normal.  Then we won’t bother you anymore; I promise.  Let me go get Mack, and you can send us back,” he said, insisting on the idea that she could make this all go away, that there didn’t need to be more to the story.

She looked at him, and her annoyance faded.  Taven got the clear sense that she was checking him for duplicity, as if she didn’t think it possible that he didn’t know more than he did.

Then, before she could address him, there were shouts and screams from outside the arena, followed by the unmistakable sounds of blaster fire and mechanized movements.  Then, seconds later, the blaster fire stopped, followed by the humming rhythm of actuating pistons.

Taven quickly thought through their predicament: Those bots couldn’t squeeze through the narrow entryway, could they?  And then he realized they didn’t have to.  The sound of piston powered arms and legs grew louder, communicating the grim reality: the machines were climbing over the arena walls.

“It’s too late,” Cat pronounced.  “They’re already here.”

CHAPTER 12

TAVEN FELT HIS legs grow numb and weak like they would buckle as the first bot appeared at the top rim of the arena, climbing up and over like a spider.  Taven swallowed his fear, telling himself that whatever they were, they wouldn’t be beaten by shaking like a leaf.

“What are they?” Iris asked, like a child seeing a poisonous animal for the first time and not knowing to be afraid.

“The ones I told you about,” Cat answered.

At once, Iris’s hands began to glow, and for the first time Taven had ever noticed, there was a similar flash of purple-white light from her angry eyes.

Just then, Taven saw movement from the other coach’s box.  Some of the defeated players, the ones who were still conscious, walked onto the field, and Taven imagined that they had seen Iris’s reaction and were coming to their fellow fighter’s aid.

Iris ran to center field and shouted to the remaining fighters, “Unite our forces against the invaders.  Make them pay for their past transgressions!”

Taven wanted to find a way to get to Mack whom he assumed was still outside the arena.  But when he turned to Cat, her expression made him forget about Mack altogether.  She was like a proud parent, watching her pupil rise to the occasion, and her lack of concern helped Taven stop panicking.

As the three bots descended into the arena, the five fighters, led by Iris, stood ready, charging their fists for battle.  The moment the first bot reached the floor, Iris unleashed her fury.  The energy blast smashed into the bot, pushing it back against the hard stadium seating.

Then the second and third bots reached the floor, and the remaining fighters delivered their blows in similar fashion.  Taven couldn’t help but smile as it seemed these iron spiders had been smashed by the fighters’ first attempt.

But then the bots got back up, the blows only temporarily disabling them.  Now it was their turn to attack, and without audible communication, the machines began working in concert, firing energy blasts from cannons that sat atop their shoulders.  Iris and the others turned their backs against the attackers and, focusing their collective powers, raised an energy shield over themselves, repelling the volley.

Seeming to sense the futility of their attacks, the bots disbanded and began moving toward the center of the field, still sending intermittent blasts as if to keep their prey distracted.

Iris appeared to anticipate this move and shouted to her team to scatter and keep moving.  The fighters ran in irregular patterns, firing blasts, most of which missed their intended targets.

The bots stopped their approach, abandoning this strategy.  Then Iris successfully smashed one of the bots with an energy blast, sliding it back fast to the rock bleachers.

The scattered fighters continued to run interference, firing wildly and mostly missing their attackers before retreating from return fire.

Iris blasted a second bot, and Taven’s heart leaped up.  They were gaining the advantage.

“Concentrate your fire on the remaining bot,” Iris instructed the team.

Quickly, they took up separate positions, spread far enough apart that the bot couldn’t fire on all of them successfully.  It shot down two of the fighters, their injuries looking grave.

But then Iris and the remaining two fighters successfully blasted the machine, pushing it back against an empty coach’s box.  “Keep firing,” Iris yelled.

They did, and Taven wondered if they would destroy the bot.  But he noticed small, jagged movements from the iron demon.  Turned on its side and pinned against the wall by their blasts, it was still able to move its arms and legs in between blasts.  Finally, the bot righted itself, turned, and faced its attackers.  Then its arm emitted a red glow.  At first, Taven thought it was a new weapon, but then he saw the next round of blast fire from the fighters bounce off the bot’s force field.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Taven said.  He saw Cat raise an eyebrow at his reaction, but she kept her gaze on the unfolding battle.

In no time the machines were back up on their feet and, using their new strategy, successfully moving in toward the three fighters.

“It’s time to go,” Cat yelled to Iris.  Then she turned to Taven and said, “Step back; I’ll make a portal.”

“But what about Mack?” Taven asked.

“There isn’t time,” Cat said, unbothered.

Then as if by clockwork, Taven heard his friend’s voice from the far side of the arena.

“Who started this party without me?” yelled Mack, who had picked up a small blast pistol like the ones Taven had seen the guards wearing.

“Here,” Cat said, handing Taven a similar weapon.

“Where’d this come from?” he asked, bewildered.

“Try and buy your friend a fighting chance.”

Taven eyed Mack who was now descending the stairway, firing erratically toward the bots.  His weapon’s fire, the few times he actually hit his target, didn’t seem to penetrate the bots’ shields.  And Taven wondered why Cat would hand him such an ineffectual weapon.

“Here goes nothing,” Taven whispered as he raised his blaster and aimed, knowing that his attack might cause one of the bots to retarget him.

As soon as he pulled the trigger, he knew his weapon was different than Mack’s.  It glowed green instead of red before discharging, and its heavy recoil kicked like it could break his arm.  After flinching, Taven opened his eyes and saw he’d hit his target.  The blast had gotten through the bot’s shield, the machine weakened but still on its feet.

Taven heard a whoosh sound and accompanying splat.  He checked quickly and saw that Cat had opened a portal, a shimmering disk just like the one he’d been able to create at the quarantine orbiter and later at the train.  He glanced back at his target and realized he’d taken his eye off the ball too long.  The bot had moved and Taven saw its blast cannon retract and something new rise from its shoulder.  There was a faint reddish glow that he somehow recognized, his body moving before his eyes could understand why.  He leapt to one side just as a small rocket took off from the bot’s shoulder.  It zipped through the air, gaining speed as it flew, but missed Taven.

Only after the explosion subsided and Taven was able to confirm he was still in one piece did he remember where he’d seen that red glow before; it was from when he’d been on the run inside the construct and had used a launcher to blow up a building.  If the bots had this kind of fire power, why would they wait until now to unleash it? he wondered.

He looked over to where Cat was and saw that she was unshaken, her position and portal still intact, but large chunks of rock lay spread around the hole where the missile had torn up the ground.

Taven shook off the fog of war and fired on the offending bot.  He shot three times, once toward the machine’s middle and twice higher toward its head.  The recoil forced him to rest, and he saw that the blast had had its effect, the bot stumbling backward, and the rocket launcher torn off its shoulder, lying on the ground beside it.

Taven turned to fire on the other two machines and saw Mack reach ground level.  He waved for his friend to come his way and then put his eye back behind his blaster’s sights.  But before he could fire on the next target, he saw one of the bots—its arm changed into what looked like a large pincher, like what a crab or lobster might have—fire its arm at nearby Mack.  The iron clasp found its target and pinched around Mack’s torso, his arms trapped within its clasp.  Immediately, the arm retracted, its grappling hook rope reeling up fast.

Iris redirected her fire toward the bot that had Mack in its grasp, but before the blow impacted the machine, it raised its shield with its other hand.

“Let’s see you block this,” she cried as she charged her fists and made a pose that Taven recognized from watching her in the tournament.  She was going to pound the ground, sending the energy blast underneath and up through the feet of those machines.  This could actually work, Taven thought amidst the terror of seeing Mack squirm inside the bot’s iron hand.

Just as Iris raised her fists high before slamming them down, she froze.  Taven couldn’t help but stop his attack and watch her.  Something wasn’t right, and he noticed he was holding his breath, waiting for her to move.

But then he noticed the other fighters.  They, too, were frozen, motionless in mid-move.

“What’s going on?” he yelled at Cat.

She stood next to the portal.  He saw her cross her arms, but she didn’t answer him.  He then noticed Cat’s gaze was fixed on one of the bots.  Taven turned to see the bot that had fired a rocket at him moving closer, the other two behind it, holding their positions.  Taven quickly raised his aim, but before he fired on it, the machine stopped.  Taven watched as the bot raised one arm and, using oversized fingers from the other hand, tapped buttons on its forearm.  There was a hiss of gas, followed by a quick retraction of the bot’s helmet, the two hemispheres of its dome-for-a-head sliding apart and disappearing inside the bot’s armor.

Taven nearly dropped his weapon when he saw in place of the machine’s helmet a man’s face.

“I should have known it was you, Gabe,” Cat said.

“Couldn’t you tell?” the man with short blonde hair asked.

“I have my hands full,” Cat answered, gesturing toward Taven, the portal, and the others.

“It’s over,” Gabe said.  “Stop running and come home.”

“Why?  So you can do to me what you did to Eleazar?”

“It doesn’t have to be like that.”

The two stared at each other in silence for a long moment before Cat pulled something out from under her robe and threw it toward Gabe and the other armored fighters.  Gabe turned and dove to escape the blast, but before the grenade fell to the ground, it stopped mid-air, frozen like Iris and the others.  There was no explosion.  Instead, a blinding white light shone toward Gabe and the bots, expanding from its source and forming what Taven thought might be a force field.

“Grab her,” Cat told Taven.

Taven turned and realized she was talking about Iris who was still frozen in mid-attack.  He ran toward her, but his eyes were in search of Mack, still in that machine’s grasp somewhere behind the energy screen, or whatever it was.

He grabbed Iris and threw her over his shoulder, dropping his weapon in his haste.  Somehow, she seemed impossibly heavy, like a statue made of stone.

As Taven carried Iris back to the portal, Cat yelled loud enough for the bots to hear, “This isn’t over.”

Then she stuck her hand into the portal and looked at Taven, motioning for him to go first.  He wanted answers.  He wanted to help Mack.  But he also knew Cat was his only ticket out of here, the only chance of saving himself or his friend.

He closed his eyes as he neared the shimmering membrane and leaned forward as if he was about to impact a cyber-clash defensive lineman.

Instead of smacking hard against the portal, Taven felt himself dissolve slowly over several seconds until he was semi-conscious—time, memory, fears, and desires no longer relevant.

CHAPTER 13

“LET GO OF me!” Iris screamed.  Taven came to his senses, realizing that he still had the little girl over his shoulder.  No longer acting like a trained fighter, Iris hit and kicked and whimpered, demanding he put her down.

Taven bent over.  “Sorry,” he said, quickly releasing her.  As he straightened back up, he caught a glimpse of the hate in Iris’s eyes.  They literally glowed before burning out and returning to normal.

“Why did you stop me?” she said, turning to Cat who had already started walking.

“I didn’t stop you,” came Cat’s quiet response.  “They did.”

“I don’t—we were about to—”

Cat silenced her protests with a simple hand gesture, one arm raised to the side as if she was patting the top of some waist-high water.

The girl fell in line, walking behind Cat as she led the way to who-knows-where.

Taven, still stunned by the whole experience, stayed put at the arrival site, examining his surroundings and trying to piece together a rationale for what had just occurred.  They were in another simulation with similarly muted gray skies like the last one.  But this was different in every other way.  They were on the outskirts of a major metropolitan area, it seemed, replete with skyscrapers higher and more magnificent than Taven had ever seen on Earth.  Behind them was a forest, and Taven imagined this simulation was merely that: a giant city surrounded by wilderness.

He hurried to catch up with the others who were closing in on the nearest building.  “Hey, wait,” he said feebly as he trotted forward.  Iris glanced back at him, contempt still in her face, before turning forward, literally following in the footsteps of her master who didn’t change pace and didn’t acknowledge Taven’s plea.

The urban street passed through a wide concrete corridor that seemed to mark the edge of the city proper.  When Taven caught up with Cat, he was out of breath and struggled to talk and walk beside her at the same time.

“What about Mack?  What will they do to him?” he gasped.

“Whatever they want to do to him,” she said grimly.  “They’re used to getting what they want, doing things their way.  So that’s that.”

That was not that to Taven.  “I don’t understand.  You’re the—I don’t know what they call you, but you’re the leader of this place.  They’re all after you; they all want power, the medallion, all that.  You can do something about this.”

For the first time in this simulation, Cat looked at Taven out the corner of her eye, then back forward toward the nearby building where they were headed.  “Taven—” she sighed, and Taven wondered what could be so hard for her to say.  “We’re not aboard the Hudson.”

Taven stopped walking for a couple seconds, then hurried to catch up with Cat.  “You mean this place isn’t in the construct?  We’re on Earth somewhere?”

“This isn’t the construct,” she said as if it was a shame to admit.  “But it isn’t Earth either.”

Taven waited for more explanation, but she gave none.  Then they were at the front entrance of a building, the revolving door motionless.  By the looks of this place, no one was home and Taven wondered if the building was even open.

Cat stepped forward to enter, but Taven grabbed her by the arm.  “No,” he said.  “You’re going to tell me what’s going on before we go any further.”

She pulled her arm away and stared at him for a second.  “We don’t have much time,” she offered.

“Before what?”

“Before they come again.”

Taven understood her meaning.  That had been his experience since being on the orbiter; those men in metal had chased him from Earth back to the Hudson.  And now she was telling him they would chase them here to wherever this place was.  Another construct aboard another ship? Taven wondered.

“Look,” she said.  “There’s too much you don’t know.  If you want to help your friend, you need to come with me.  Help me, and we might be able to get him back.”

“I’m not going on another wild goose chase,” Taven said.  “Not like last time.  I need some answers before I’m going to just give in to whatever you say.”

Cat breathed in, looking like she had a bad taste in her mouth.  “Alright.  How’s this?  This place isn’t aboard the Hudson.”

“You said that already.”

She waved him down.  “And neither was Iris’s world, from where we just came.”  She waited to see if Taven would make a connection.

“We’re on another ship?”

She dropped her shoulders as if she’d just been sucker punched.  “No,” she said disappointed.  “We’re in a simulation, like the ones in the Hudson’s construct.  But...”  She looked one more time into Taven’s eyes as if to check for something.  “But you’ve always been in a simulation.  Your world, the world that had the Hudson in it is a simulated world.  This world is a simulated world.  The world where Iris was born is a simulated world.  Taven,” she reached her hand out and touched his shoulder, “we all live in a simulated universe.”

CHAPTER 14

TAVEN LIMPED ALONG behind Cat and Iris, taking his turn in the revolving door.  It was dark inside this building, and Taven felt as if he was falling headlong into this never-ending rabbit hole.  He saw Cat in front of him, but he didn’t recognize her.  She was the same person but gone were all his former attachments to her.  Who she was meant nothing.  Or rather, who she had been to him meant nothing if the world, the universe, really was as she had told him.

He thought about it as hard as he could, but his mind was cold, collapsed inward by his broken spirit, the chaos of his experience too great.  Could what she had told him be true?  Or was she lying to get what she really wanted?  Which was what?  He had no way of knowing.  And the implications, that the Hudson wasn’t the only construct, or better put, that everything was part of one enormous construct, that there were worlds like Earth but not Earth—it was all too enormous to reckon.

Cat led them to the center of the room, something akin to a lobby.  Taven even looked for elevators but saw none.  Then, the walls, the dark walls, started to come to life, lighting up in spits and spats.  And after a moment, Taven realized that this room wasn’t just one of many inside this skyscraper; the building was completely open from inside, like a giant modern cathedral, except there was no external light, only a dim background haze that seemed to be emitted in response to their presence, parts of the room turning on and off depending on where they stood.

“Come along,” Cat insisted.  She stood inside something that resembled the mining cage that Taven had been in before, the kind used to descend into the depths of already tunneled asteroids.  Except this structure was minimal with only handrails surrounding it on three sides and no cage above.

He stepped onto it and noticed the metallic plinks his feet made.  Once they were all on, Cat touched something on the railing, and the fourth side of the structure changed, a hidden rail ascending and clicking into place behind Taven.

For a split second, Taven felt like a caged animal, like he had just sprung a trap and needed to get out.  But before he could act on his instincts, the rectangular skid began to move.  Taven grabbed a rail for support.  Then the room began to spin, and Taven feared he was about to pass out.

“It’s okay,” Cat said.  “Relax.”

“So, this is it?” Iris asked, sounding totally at ease with what was happening.

Taven, still gripping the rail with two hands, found his bearings and realized that the room wasn’t spinning; they were.  The skid underneath them was moving upward, climbing higher through this nauseatingly tall building.  He knew better than to look down over the sides.

“This is it,” Cat answered Iris with a tiny bit of pride in her voice.  Apparently, she was driving this vehicle and knew where they were going.

Taven heard a low-frequency hum and the air dragging against this fast-moving machine.  He closed his eyes, the whirl of dimly lit lights on the wall causing him more disorientation.  Then the rush of wind he had felt and heard stopped, and only the hum remained.

“Here we are,” Cat said, and he had the distinct impression she was thinking out loud for his benefit.  He opened his eyes and saw that they had come to rest near a wall.  He looked up and was startled; they were close enough to this building’s ceiling he could almost touch it.

“Does this look familiar?” she asked as she manipulated the wall, an interface that came alive when she touched it.

Taven stared at the peculiar symbols that flashed across their selected section of wall like ticker prices on a market exchange.  “The door,” he whispered.

“Is that what you called it?” she replied.  “Most of us simply call it an index.  Any primary simulation—or a construct that imitates one—that has subsidiary simulations has one of these.  It’s how most people travel from one sim to another.”

Too many questions crowded Taven’s mind, but only one blurted out.  “What do you mean by primary?”

“Earth is a primary sim.  So is this place.  Primary simulations were set up in the very beginning by the Makers.  Some worlds—if you prefer to call them that—became adept at creating simulations themselves.  They weren’t always conscious of the fact that they themselves were in a simulation, but their technology had advanced far enough that they could set up experiments, worlds inside of a computer, that allowed them to test out and learn from artificial intelligence.”

Again, there were too many competing thoughts, but Taven said, “If this,”—he pointed down—“is a primary simulation, where are all the people.”

Cat smiled without looking at him.  She was immersed in whatever she was doing on the wall, punching, sliding, and clicking commands.  “This world has gotten the nickname of the Ghost City.  There are actually several cities here, but this one—it’s believed—was this world’s capital once.  No one exactly knows where its inhabitants went, but the most obvious answer is that they all fled from what they thought of as reality and entered into the sub simulations.”

“Then who runs th—”

“The cities are entirely automated,” Cat interrupted.  “You don’t see them often, mostly because there aren’t any people here to tear things up, but there are bots and AI that takes care of this place.  It’s an eternal city.”

“Bots, like those people chasing us?”

Cat’s smile vanished.  She continued with a no-nonsense tone.  “No, those are Gatekeepers.  They think they run the Sim-Verse.”

“But what do they want with me?  Why do they even care?” Taven asked.

“I knew they’d notice your signature,” she said, back to thinking out loud, it seemed.  “But I didn’t think you’d unlock your powers.”  She made a couple of quick motions before mashing a command with emphasis.

“There,” she said.  “That should do it.”

“Do what?” Taven asked, feeling dumb.

“I just set up a quick sub sim.  Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”

“Won’t those … Gatekeepers,” — he tried out the word — “just follow us there too?”

She exhaled before grabbing their flying carpet’s controls, a simple looking display box on the corner of two rails.  Taven felt butterflies in his stomach as they began to drop faster than any elevator he’d ever ridden in.

“It doesn’t work that way,” she said, raising her voice to be heard over the wind whipping around them.  “Gatekeepers don’t care about the sub sims.  They’re only alerted, disturbed, when things don’t go according to their plans in the primary simulations.”

“So, the reason they followed me to—where were we?  And how’d I jump to a simulation I’d never been to?”

“No, it wasn’t a primary simulation,” she said.  “That’s what you’re really asking, isn’t it?”  She didn’t wait for him to confirm.  “You moved trans-laterally.  You didn’t just jump from a primary to another primary, or from a primary to one of its sub sims.  You jumped from your primary simulation all the way to a sub sim of a different primary sim.”  She chuckled.  “You left a signature a mile wide.”

“But you said they didn’t care about sub simulations.  Why’d they follow me there then?”

“They don’t care about subs.  They don’t care about you either.  They’re not really after you; they want me.  They want to make me pay for not going along with their rules.”

At that, Taven felt like he should stop, that he’d touched a raw nerve.  He wanted to know more, but there was already more new information, complete paradigm busters, in his mind than he could process.

The skid slowed, and Cat moved them laterally to another section of wall.  “Notice anything?” she asked.

This time Iris who had been patiently observing and listening spoke up.  “Are these where they came from?”

“That’s right,” Cat answered.

Taven looked but didn’t notice anything different at first.  Then they reached another portion of the wall, and he realized the color and contrast were different.  Both parts of the index had black backlighting, the numbers and symbols showing up in white.  But the section they were looking at now was grayed out, faded.

“Why are these different?” Taven asked.

“These subs are occupied by Eleazar’s forces.”

Iris suddenly grabbed the rails, releasing a loud metallic ringing from the fast clasp.  Taven saw another emission of light from her eyes.  She was apparently enraged by the name.

“Iris’s sub sim is one of the few that have successfully fought off a Gatekeeper’s ingress,” Cat said.

“Is her world up here?”

“No, her world is a sub of a different primary.”

“You can do that, jump from a sub to sub that’s not even under the same primary...”  Taven ran out of words as he struggled to even understand this new reality.  He fell silent as his vocabulary became obviously insufficient to convey his thoughts.  Then a new thought occurred: How did he know any of this was real?  What if he was back aboard the Hudson, in the construct?  Would he know any different?  Sure, he’d seen what he’d seen.  But Cat could have set all that up; she could still be the puppet master and he’d never be the wiser.

“See here,” Cat explained, pointing to the edge of the grayed-out tiles that represented subs occupied by Eleazar.  Taven watched as one of the darker tiles that he understood to be unoccupied adjacent to the gray tiles suddenly started flashing gray, then became solid gray.  Iris released a shriek, outraged by the event.

“I told you this happens,” Cat said to Iris.

“Yes, but...” Iris’s voice wobbled, her emotions taking over.

“Listen to my voice,” Cat said.  There was silence, and Taven wondered what was happening.  But Iris seemed in tune with something, was affected by Cat in some way that was invisible or inaudible to Taven.

“Thank you,” Iris said softly after a moment, her voice calm again.

“So,” Taven asked, “you can’t enter the gray subs?”

“Oh, you can.  You just don’t want to.  Trust me,” Cat answered.  “We’re going here,” she said, pointing at the black tile adjacent to the one that had just turned gray.  Only then did Taven notice the long, faint series of numbers at the bottom of each tile.  He guessed there were twenty digits or more.

“Is that wise?” Taven asked, not understanding why she’d contradict herself that way.  “You just said—”

“It’s where we can get what we need to rescue...” She stopped as if she couldn’t remember the name.

“Mack,” Taven offered.

“Yes, if want to help Mack—” she turned to Iris, “—and make them pay for what they’ve done, this is where we must go.”

Not waiting for anyone’s opinion, Cat stretched out her long thin hand and pressed the dark tile.

CHAPTER 15

TAVEN HEARD THE chirps of birds and felt bright sunlight on his face.  He felt like turning over, like he was in bed and had slept in.  But heaviness in his feet soon buoyed him, waking the rest of his senses and the flood of recent new memories along with them.

“What is this place?” Taven asked Cat who stood next to him.

She shushed him, which he disliked greatly.  It was always this on-again, off-again thing where she treated him well, like he was important to her, and then put him in the backseat without explanations as if he were a burdensome child, her unwelcomed responsibility.

Cat crouched down, and Iris followed in like manner as they began walking through lush jungle foliage.  Taven followed begrudgingly at the back of the line.  They climbed a small rise, and when they neared the top of the mountainous hill, Taven, already sweating from the heat and exertion, stepped on a stick on the ground which made a loud snap.   Immediately, there was fluttering in the treetops, and Taven saw a flock of large birds with brightly colored feathers take off en masse.

“Get down,” Cat demanded.  The three literally hit the ground with their bodies.  Taven crawled forward, and the three of them looked out over the rocky peak, onto a valley below.

Iris, between Cat and Taven, whispered, “If that didn’t alert them to our presence, I don’t know what would.”  Cat shushed her, and Iris and Taven exchanged dirty looks.

The valley below was cleared of the tall jungle trees and shrubbery.  In their place were short bushes and evenly spaced trees between mud huts.  Taven didn’t recognize the plants, but he could tell by their spacing and their orderly appearance that these were food- or fuel-providing plants, intentionally managed by these villagers.

But what caught his attention even more was the epic view of an ocean whose name he didn’t even know.  The small village appeared to stretch out as far as the eye could see up and down this coast.  Further out toward the horizon, Taven saw the outline of boats, undoubtedly the same kind as the long slender craft he saw parked on the beach.  They had no sails and appeared to be powered entirely by paddles.

“So what are we—”

Cat shushed Taven once again.   And he felt like he’d had quite enough of this and would protest, but then there was a familiar sound and a flash of light down near the coastline that caught his attention.

“Seekers,” Iris whispered.

Just as Taven was wondering why this little girl didn’t receive a similar admonishment from Cat, he realized where he’d heard that sound before; it was the same wet splattering sound of when he or Cat created a portal.  But he didn’t see a portal.  After the flash of light, there appeared a round object on the beach.  It resembled a snail’s shell, though it was too large to be one and had a metallic shine.

Then there was movement.  In a scissor motion, the object opened what Taven came to realize was a door that was equal in diameter to the object itself.  Quickly, a man stepped out of the craft.  Even from this distance, Taven could see the look of relief and joy come over his face.

“Watch this,” Cat said.

The man, wearing a helmet and a blue-gray uniform, turned and stuck his head back inside the craft.  After he pulled himself back out, the craft’s door slid down, shutting itself.  Then there was another flash of light and the splattering sound, and the craft was gone, leaving the man alone on the beach.

Then Taven heard the sound of someone blowing a horn, or maybe it was a conch shell.  More birds on distant trees flew off, this time heading toward the ocean.

“Here we go,” Iris said as villagers appeared from all over, approaching this visitor.  They first ran, mostly shirtless men with brown skin followed by women and children.  The men carried spears and other implements that looked like they could be used to bash someone with.  As they neared the Seeker, as Iris called him, the villagers stopped running and formed a horseshoe half-circle that contracted around the man.

The Seeker removed his helmet and pronounced something with a loud voice that Taven couldn’t quite make out.

“He who is blind sees all,” Iris whispered with contempt.

Taven wondered if the ringing in his ears was affecting his hearing or if Iris already knew these words.

“They’re not buying it,” Taven said, noticing the villagers pointing their spears at the man and shouting.  There was more back and forth, but then one of the villagers threw his spear into the Seeker who spasmed wildly before the entire group seized upon him with all their collective, brutal fury.

“Well, I guess that’s the end of that,” Taven said, astonished.

“I wish that were true,” Iris said grimly.

“It doesn’t matter,” Cat says.  “Seekers have found this simulation, and they won’t stop until they either control it or destroy it.”

Just as the villagers seemed satisfied to have finished their duty, there was another bright flash of light.  A little way up the beach, three more Seeker vessels appeared.  Their scissor hatch doors rose in tandem, and three similarly dressed Seekers emerged.

The villagers turned and ran toward the invaders, but the Seekers seemed more concerned with their craft than their lives.  Each, like the first visitor, reached inside their vessel.

“That’s our moment,” Cat said, standing up.  Taven wondered what she was doing, knowing those natives didn’t look happy to meet new people, that there was good reason they’d stayed hidden thus far.  But then he looked back at the scene before them and realized the villagers weren’t moving, and neither were the Seekers.  Like back at the arena, everything was frozen—the birds in mid-air, the tree limbs bending from the wind, the waves mid-crash—except for Cat and her company.

“Come on,” she reassured them as she stepped forward, down the hillside.

Taven followed behind Iris who didn’t seemed surprised by this phenomenon.  After staring at the unmoving crowd they were about to pass by, Taven noticed another feature of this frozen world: the ambient sounds, besides their footsteps, were completely gone.  Only in vacuous space had he ever been confronted by sheer silence like this.

They passed between two huts, and Taven admired their wattle and daub style construction: mud on sticks.  It was primitive to be sure, but there was some hidden part of Taven who wished for a life like these people seemed to live: food, fuel, and fun drawn directly from their immediate environment.  These wild people, Taven theorized, lived noble existences, were always in the present moment, and probably knew what a good life was really all about; they didn’t have mortgages, labor contracts, union dues, or taxes.  Sure, they might not have some of the creature comforts Taven had grown accustomed to, but what was air conditioning and interplanetary travel compared to happiness and peace of mind?

As they came out on the beach and passed by the frozen mob of would-be banishers, Taven was surprised by the contrast of the cold sand, dampened by the previous wave that had already receded.  He looked down and saw Cat’s footprints and the smaller footprints of Iris who was trying to use the same depressions as her master.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Taven said, skipping to catch up with Cat.  “I know you’re not into telling all your trade secrets,” he joked.  The look on her face said she didn’t get the joke or didn’t find it humorous.  “But if you can freeze everything willy nilly, why did you freeze Iris back at the arena?  I mean, what—”

She cut him off, “I didn’t do that back at the arena, or at least, I didn’t do all of it.  I had my hands full with the portal opening, and when the Gatekeepers decided to slow down the simulation, it was all I could do to expand the temporal bubble to include you.  That’s why I asked you to grab her; I could more easily keep you in the field.”

That made little sense to Taven, but he believed she was telling the truth.  “So, you’re not freezing things here, you’re—

“I’m slowing down the simulation, matching it more closely with base reality’s time.  This simulation hasn’t stopped; it’s just much slower.”

“But they’re experiencing—”

“Like nothing has changed whatsoever,” she said matter-of-factly.  “Doing this is...” She seemed to contemplate her choice of words and finally said, “We shouldn’t do this more than is necessary.  It’s costly.”

Taven wanted to ask more questions, but two things stopped him.  One, they were nearing the three Seekers and he knew that whatever Cat had planned would need to be implemented soon.  But beyond that, Taven was struck by the underlying question: what does any of this matter if it’s all fake, all one giant simulation?  He still didn’t know if he believed that was the case, but the evidence was piling up and he had no better explanation.  The sand under his feet was actually what: ones and zeros on a computer?  He stuck out his hand and examined it in the sunlight.  Was light slower here too?  What would it mean for a simulation to stop completely?  Nothingness?

Just then he realized that Cat and Iris were staring at him.  “Are you finished?” Iris asked irritably.

Taven withdrew his hand, tucking it by his side and stuck out his chest as if he was a soldier at attention.  “Sorry.  Just thinking,” he said.

“Here’s what we came for,” Cat said, pointing at one of the Seeker snail shells.  “Help me get him out of it.”

Taven realized he was the muscles.  That meant Cat was the brains, and what—Iris was the teenage attitude?  He chuckled and got another odd look from his companions who seemed to be losing confidence in his sanity by the minute.  Or was it by the second?  How do you measure time here? he thought.

Taven grabbed the Seeker who was bent over inside the vessel, his gloved finger extended over a punch pad of numbers.  Taven tugged and was surprised by the weight of this man who looked no bigger than he was.

“Give me a hand,” he grunted, and the other two reached forward and pulled.  Taven had heard the term dead weight before, but he was just now learning what it really meant.  After shifting the man a few paces from the small craft, Cat told him that was enough.  Then she instructed them to stand back.

She closed her eyes, and a second later a portal opened near the empty Seeker vessel.

“We need to push it through,” she said, opening her eyes and turning to them.

“You gotta be kidding me?” he said.  “That thing has to weigh—”

“Pathetic,” Iris said before moving forward to comply with Cat’s instructions.

“Hey, I just mean...”  Taven trailed off and decided he didn’t want to be shown up by a little girl, even if her fists were human blasters.

Cat touched a button inside the door of the Seeker vessel, and the scissor-hinged door shut.  Taven was distracted momentarily, thinking through the logic of this whole slow-down scenario.  Was Cat extending the temporal bubble to include the Seeker craft or...

Iris grunted, and Taven lunged forward to help push.  “Watch out!” Iris said, incensed.

Taven stepped back reflexively and saw that Iris wasn’t merely pushing the object; her hands were glowing as it seemed she was charging up the ground at the base of the craft, on the opposite side of the still open portal.

Then the girl let out a scream that worried Taven, but the look on Cat’s face told him not to be.  In fact, this master looked pleased by her pupil.  Another cry, and Taven saw the craft begin to move, first slowly and then faster.  A final blast released from the charged point in the sand, and the snail shell craft rolled into the portal and disappeared.

“Fantastic!” Cat said, stepping forward and offering her hand to Iris who had fallen backward onto the ground.

“Thank you, master,” came the little girl’s only response, and despite being impressed by Iris’s abilities, Taven was troubled by the whole exchange.

“Okay, let’s go,” Cat said, turning to walk through the shimmering disk.

Then, out of the blue, Taven had an idea.  “Wait, what about the other two?”

“We don’t need them,” Cat said.

“But they’re bad guys or something, right?”

“They are Seekers,” Iris said like the truth was self-evident.

“Yes,” Cat said, “but I’m afraid there’s little we can do here.  These people may be valiant, but they’re no match for Eleazar’s forces.  They will be overrun … eventually.”

“Then let’s at least make things interesting,” Taven said, looking at the frozen Seeker with his finger stretched out.

He caught a look from Iris, and for the first time he saw a grin flash across her face before disappearing.  “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to give them an advantage,” Iris said, turning to Cat for approval.

“Be quick, whatever you’re going to do,” Cat answered.

Taven and Iris pulled the other two frozen Seekers out of their craft and assembled the trio next to each other.  The first had his hand extended, now with two fingers out.  The second was in position to receive the eye poke.  And the third Seeker was behind the first, his foot awkwardly lifted so that he would kick the first Seeker’s rear end.

Taven stepped back, dusting his hands off.  But his smile faded when he thought about how much Mack would have enjoyed these shenanigans.  Where was Mack?

“What about him?” Iris said, pointing at the third Seeker about to deliver the kick that would start of the chain reaction.  “He won’t get hurt … until the villagers get here, anyway.”

“Here,” Cat said before reaching inside her robe and tossing a round object to Iris.  “Put it in his hand.”

Iris, like an indulgent child rushed over to the third Seeker and forced open his fist.  Taven didn’t like where this was going; wasn’t this murder?  But then again—he glanced back at the approaching mob—they were as good as dead already.  Maybe planting a live grenade—he thought that’s what it was—was showing mercy.

He heard a beep, followed by a high-pitched hum.  Then Cat said, “Back away from it.”  Iris did, and Taven noticed the explosive freeze with its blinking light stuck on, apparently no longer in the temporal bubble Cat was extending to Iris and Taven.

“Are you finished?” Cat said, suppressing a smile.

Iris and Taven examined their handiwork for one last moment before turning and following Cat into the portal.

CHAPTER 16

“DO YOU REMEMBER this?” Cat asked.

Taven’s sight had returned moments ago, but he wasn’t immediately sure that they had successfully jumped, the beach they were on looking very similar to the one they’d just left.  Another wave crashed over his ankles, and he noticed he was wearing new clothes: shorts and a thin pull-over shirt.  He turned to answer Cat.

When he saw her, he froze; except she wasn’t manipulating the simulation’s time; she was casting a different spell, one that had nothing to do with ones and zeros and everything to do with X’s and Y’s.

“You look … beautiful,” Taven said honestly.  She was wearing a long cotton dress that blew like a flag in the wind and a simple sleeveless top that accentuated her thin figure.  Her shoulder-length hair blew less than her dress but still drew Taven’s attention back to her face, her green eyes matching deeper pockets of water behind her.

She smiled sweetly and said, “I meant, do you recognize this place?”  She raised one hand, gesturing toward the coast.

Taven pulled his gaze away from her and examined the coastline.  Further down the beach he saw Iris, also in different clothing—he figured it was a bathing suit, though he’d never seen one exactly like it before—styles from another world, another simulation, he figured.  Her red hair shone brightly in the sunlight.

And beyond her was the Seeker craft they had stolen, sitting on the beach like it had washed ashore.  Unlike the last place they’d been, there were no mountains here, no incline to speak of, and by the shape of the coastline, Taven thought this must be an island.

Then he spotted the single structure in view: a palm-leaf thatched roof over a simple hut with an outdoor table and umbrellas.

“Before … this is where you took me,” he finally said.

“Not exactly.  We’re not on the Hudson, but I took the construct’s code and uploaded it as a new sub sim back in the Ghost City’s index.”

Taven shook his head, trying to keep up with how fast things were changing.  She stepped forward and, touching his arm, said, “It’s been so long, I’ve almost forgotten how hard this can be.  You okay?”

“I just need things to stay put for a minute,” he answered.  “If everything would just slow down, I think I could process it.”

She half-smiled and said, “We have time here.”  And, unlike when he’d been in the Hudson construct, he knew what she meant now.

“How?  You’re slowing things down?”

“Quite the opposite,” she said, linking arms with Taven.  They began walking down the coast toward Iris and the hut, and Taven wasn’t sure if she was leading this dance or if he was.

“This is a sub simulation,” she continued, “which means that we are in a lower temporal tier than a primary sim.”  She waited to see if he’d understand, but he didn’t.

“Primary simulations are close to the speed of Meta, though not as slow as base reality,” she explained.  “Most subs are running at a faster speed than the primary simulation in which they were created.  The Ghost City is the exception to the norm.  There people used the sub sims as places to enter other worlds.  But most subs are experiments, and people in the primary worlds have no idea that they themselves are in a simulation and consequently can’t imagine travelling into a sub sim.”

Taven tried to keep up.  “The subs are faster because the programmers don’t have time to waste,” he said.

“That’s it.  Most subs are experiments to test out societal variables.  Some are to see what civilizations might do with different climactic conditions or with different outcomes of history.  Others are far into the future, projections of what a primary world could become, to learn from innovation and to prevent primary worlds from making the same mistakes made by doomed sub sims.”

They stopped when they reached the part of the beach parallel to where the tiki hut was, shaded underneath palm trees.  They had stopped walking, but they hadn’t stopped holding on to each other, their arms still locked.

“Look at this one,” came a cry that Taven, had he not seen Iris’s face, wouldn’t have recognized.  She came running up to them, and with two hands held a giant conch shell over her head.

“That’s a big one,” Taven said, congratulating the girl.  But she didn’t look at him; her eyes were transfixed on Cat who smiled and nodded approvingly.

Getting all she would from her teacher, Iris turned back and ran toward where she’d made her discovery.  She dropped the shell on the beach before leaping out over waves, diving and resurfacing again and again in her search for the next treasure.

Taven looked at the conch shell on the shore, the waves now rising to reach it, and he knew if this place had high tide that the shell would eventually get washed away, that Iris’s prize was at risk.  But then he felt a strange sense of ease come over him.  What did it matter?  What could be lost here that couldn’t be recovered?

He felt Cat lean in closer to him, no longer side to side, her body half-tucked into his, her head on his shoulder as they both watched Iris play.

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” she spoke softly.

Taven didn’t answer quickly, not knowing if she was talking about the pleasant sensation he felt with her close to him, or the beach, or Iris, or …

“A strange universal piece of code,” she continued.  “Childhood.  It’s virtually the same wherever you look.  Not the circumstances, not how it appears, physically.”  She slowed at the last word as if pronouncing it was itself ironic.  “But the way consciousness plays with itself, hide-and-go-seek.  Time seems irrelevant, the future unimportant when they play.  They are lost and only get found by the grownups, who come to save them from the very thing they are chasing the rest of their lives: eternity, timelessness, a now that goes on perpetually.  What are the words that get used to rip the children out of heaven?”

She didn’t pause long enough for Taven to proffer an answer.  “Supper time.  It’s time to go.  We’re out of time.  It’s always the same answer, always time.”

Taven was quiet, not understanding half of what Cat was talking about.  She knew things he didn’t, things that he would eventually learn.  But he didn’t need to, nor could he, learn it all today.  Taven, he decided, wasn’t so different from Iris the way Cat was describing her: lost in some pleasant limbo.  And he stood there, motionless, barely breathing for as long as he could before his mind presented him with thoughts, blemishes upon his serene sense of now, nothingness.

“So, this is a sub, which means real time—” He stopped, trying to get it right.  “Primary time is moving slower than we are?”

“That’s correct,” she said softly.

“And the subs are set up by people in the primary sims?”

“Yes.”

“Then what are the primaries for in the first place?  Why any of this?  And how—why are you different from her,” he pointed at Iris, “or me?  What’s with the killer bots who aren’t bots and … What did you call it?  Meta?”

She breathed out, not in overt irritation but as if she was letting go of something.  “It’s a long story,” she said.

“Hey, you said we have time,” he said, turning to face her.  He smiled but she didn’t give one back.

“Some of your questions have answers.  Some don’t.”

“I’ll take the ones with answers then,” he said playfully.

“Those bots, as you called them, are Gatekeepers. They live in a simulation called Meta.  Well, that’s partly true.  They live inside a myriad of simulated constructs inside Meta.  When the Makers set up the Sim-Verse—we don’t really know when that was or who they were—they put Meta on top; all primary simulations run as fast or faster than time runs in Meta.  And then the subs run much faster than the primaries or Meta.”

Taven still couldn’t piece it all together.  “So why were the Gatekeepers out of this … Meta?”

“Because of you,” she answered.  “Well, really it was because of me.  They were chasing me, or thought they were.”  She looked down doubtfully.  “Taven, I’m a Gatekeeper.  Or, I used to be.  I was like you were once, living a life in a primary simulation, oblivious to the greater reality, of the Sim-Verse entirely.  They made me a Gatekeeper.  One of them overwrote his code onto my genes, turning me into one of them.”

“If you’re a Gatekeeper, why were they bothering you?  Or me, for that matter?”

“There are rules, Taven.  Rules set up by those who want to stay in charge, keep the power for themselves.  I broke the rules, and that’s why they’re after me.  That’s why they’re after you.”

“I didn’t break any rules … did I?”

She suppressed a chuckle.  “Oh, yeah.  Some big ones.  But it’s my fault.  I didn’t think they’d figure out how to unlock your abilities.  I knew that Meta would notice you, but if you were blind to what you can do, I thought they’d leave you alone after they realized you weren’t me.”

Taven was growing frustrated.  It seemed like the longer they talked, the less he understood.  “What are you saying?” he said with a tone that meant he was serious.

Her smile vanished, and she said, “Taven, you’re like me now.  You’re a Gatekeeper.”

CHAPTER 17

“YES, IT’S PERMANENT,” she answered.  “As permanent as anything else governed by the Maker code.

“And they’re going to keep coming after me anytime I jump back into a primary simulation?”

She didn’t have to answer again.  They’d been through this already.  Her eyes told him, yes.

“Then I can never go home,” he said.  “I’m finished.”

“That’s not necessarily true,” she said.

He was tired of all the qualifiers and modifiers she used in her language; why couldn’t she just say what she meant?  Why hold anything back?  What else could she possibly be hiding from him?

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to finish her partial confession.

“You can get back again,” she went on, “and rescue Mack.”

He felt a rock sink into his stomach.  He’d forgotten all about Mack, and a flood of guilt came over him; he felt his face turn flush and he grew lightheaded.

She put her hand back on his shoulder and said, “It’s going to be okay.”

“I don’t know how you can say that.”

“I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but what I gave you, what I did to you is a gift.”

“Why didn’t you just make one of those portals and send me back?  Why go through all the trouble of writing your Gatekeeper code onto me?  Why?”  He sounded whiny, and he noticed it.

She put her remaining hand on his other shoulder.  “I didn’t think you would get hurt.  I’m sorry.  It was meant to buy me time as I left the Hudson.  I needed a distraction, something that would lead the Gatekeepers down the wrong path.  Any time someone passes from one primary to another, Meta is alerted.  These Gatekeepers, if they want to reenter the constructs there, must go into primary simulations and correct the error.”

“But I didn’t move into another primary.  I just left the Hudson, back into the real world.”  He knew that phrase was woefully inaccurate as soon as he had said it.

“As long as I was inside the construct on the Hudson, as long as we are inside a sub sim—we’re off their radar.  And, trust me, they have every incentive to go back to Meta and forget about us.”

“But you knew they’d notice you leaving?”

“That’s right,” she said, looking relieved that he was starting to understand.  “I never in a million years thought that you would be able to turn on your Gatekeeper abilities.”

“But when Dr. Hewitt switched on my junk DNA and created the portal—”

“You sent an alarm throughout the halls of Meta,” she finished.

Taven had had enough.  He wasn’t satisfied, wasn’t happy about it all, but his mind was full, and he knew that cramming more chaos—true or not—into it wouldn’t help matters.  He turned back to the sea and watched Iris who continued to play, oblivious to his dilemma.

He felt a splash of water as Cat stepped beside him again.  There were several still moments before she touched his hand with hers.  He felt her reach for his fingers, trying to place hers between his.  Even in this warm climate, her fingers felt cooler than his.  He should have resisted.  He thought about Amy and wondered if he’d ever see her again.  But in his conflicted state, she’d fully grasped his hand and he had gently squeezed back automatically.

Taven sensed something he’d never felt before.  Emanating from their point of contact, the warmth grew.  It wasn’t hot, and it wasn’t unpleasant.  Quite the contrary, in fact.  Like the unthreatening waves they were watching roll in, Taven felt the distinction between him and her melting away, their very bodies seeming to merge into some other form.  He glanced down and back up.  Visually, nothing had changed.  Everything still looked the same.  But this feeling, this was real and he didn’t want it to end.

As the sensation spread across the rest of his body, Taven lost his worry, his fears, his fixation on the future.  And then, without warning, Cat let go of him.  The warm feelings began to dissipate slowly, but he didn’t care.  He was in the afterglow of whatever this unnamed phenomenon was called, and, if this moment was inferior to its climax seconds ago, it was still far better than any other moment he could remember.

She turned and kissed him on the cheek.  A new rush of pleasure flashed through him, this time from surprise.

“We can fix this,” she said.  “We can make things right again.”

This time, he believed every word.  He said nothing, happily lost in her gaze.

“But you need to rest,” she added.

A tiny fragment of his frontal lobe seemed to click on, questioning the advice.  “Rest?”

“Yes, even here.  You need your rest.  Another universal piece of Maker code.”  She looked up toward the tiki hut, and Taven understood.  He took one more visual sip of his companion and turned and walked up the gentle slope from the water to dry ground.

As he passed by the table and chairs, he remembered being with Cat in the construct, the conversations they’d had about her plight inside it and her desire for him to stay with her.  Back then he’d chosen to leave, to stay true to the world he believed was most real.  Now, he wondered if he’d made the wrong choice.  Clearly, Cat knew of ways to go on outside the Hudson, to extend this heaven on earth fantasy out for as long as she desired.

He tossed aside his questions and entered the hut, it’s door a thin curtain with tropical flower prints on it.  Immediately, he saw the leather couch inside and couldn’t suppress his smile.  It didn’t match, didn’t belong in this world.  But it was an object he recognized.  It was the same couch that had been inside the Hudson construct, the one he had passed inside his home each time he took another step through the door, the one he’d wished he could have sat and relaxed on.

And on the coffee table before it, he spied another surprise: a wrapped sandwich that he knew was an Italian sub beside a Red Runner IPA glass bottle, already uncapped with beads of sweat running down it.

CHAPTER 18

IRIS RAN DOWN the empty street.  This world, this simulation had been her home, the only one she’d known her whole life until she had met Cat.  The screeching siren that filled the air made it hard to think, hard to even hear her pounding footsteps on the pavement.

Just as she reached the corner of a building, she heard too late the sounds of other footsteps.  She tried to slam on her own brakes, but it was too late.  She ran straight into someone coming around the blind corner.

She felt the pain in her knee where she’d first fallen, but quickly rolled as she’d been trained to do, righting herself back onto her feet.

“Quick, turn and dispatch him,” came Cat’s voice in her ear.

She turned around, her hand already glowing, and faced the Seeker.  He was still on the ground, struggling to reach his blaster weapon holstered on his thigh.

She unleashed a blast that was instantly fatal.

“Reserve your energy,” Cat instructed.  “That was wasteful.”

Better too much than too little, Iris thought but didn’t say.  She knew better than to disrespect her master.

“They’ve reached the center square.  Hurry,” Cat instructed.

Iris sprinted down the next empty street.  As she neared the city square, this once beloved and beautiful part of her hometown, she saw someone fleeing from it, turning the corner and running in her direction.  Before she reached the robed runner, they turned into one of the buildings and disappeared.

“If everyone had stopped and fought, this wouldn’t have happened,” she said to herself.  Cat who no doubt heard her said nothing.

Iris noticed the blossoms on the avium trees lining the edge of the square and had a flash of memory from when she was a small child, one of her very first.  This time of year was magical, most of the world still asleep from the long winter.  But these avium trees were the first sign of spring and were wonderfully impervious to its chills.  Her parents had brought her here to celebrate their blooms with the festivals that accompanied them.  She suppressed a tear as she remembered riding on her father’s shoulders.  He seemed so tall and strong then.  She believed he would live forever and that nothing could hurt him or her family.

She turned the last corner and viewed the entire square, its native inhabitants scattered about, some fighting, some fleeing from the numerous Seekers that assaulted them.

Where are they? she thought.

Hands glowing, she charged forward, releasing her powers in alternating blasts.  She fired right, left, right, left in increasing faster speed.  And as she approached, the Seekers collectively seemed to recognize her as their most imminent threat and started firing at her en masse.

She raised one hand as an energy shield, deflecting the shots coming toward her and continued firing back with her free hand.

“There they are,” Cat said.

“Where?” Iris replied, but then she saw them.  On the other side of the courtyard, her mother and father were fending off a slew of Seekers in their own private battle.

She dropped her shield and blasted her surrounding opponents in rapid succession, outmatching them and their aim.

She raised her aim toward where her parents were and watched for a split second as they demonstrated where she’d inherited her talents from.

“They’re too far,” she said, knowing she wouldn’t be able to hit their opponents from this distance.

She ran as fast as she could, but as she came closer, time began to slow.  And she watched in what seemed like slow-motion as her mother was shot down.  Her father turned to his wife, realizing he was too late to save her, then looked over his shoulder toward Iris.  She couldn’t hear his words, but they were on his lips, unmistakable even from this distance.  “Run!” he yelled right as the Seeker forces shot him in the back, ending his life.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she marshalled all her hate toward the murderous soldiers in blue.  They seemed to have their guard down, a couple of them congratulating each other on their victory.  Iris shot them first, two at once.

This got the others’ attention, but it was too little, too late.  Iris ran through the remaining Seekers, their feeble blasters no match for her advanced powers.  She stopped, turning around in circles, looking for any left standing, but there weren’t any.  She quickly counted the bodies on the ground.  She stopped when she got to ten, because that’s when she spotted her parents’ bodies lying there at the other side of a fountain.  She could see their legs, but the rest of their bodies were blocked from view, and she couldn’t bring herself to look closer.

“That’s all the Seekers,” Cat said in her ear, “but more trouble’s coming your way.”

Iris took a deep breath and closed her eyes, regenerating her strength for the battle ahead.  Then she heard the unmistakable wet splat sound that meant someone had come through a portal.

Above the fountain that blocked her view of her deceased parents, a shimmering disk floated above the water.  She expected one of the Seeker craft to crash out of the disk onto the fountain at any minute, but instead, multiple bogies jumped through, wearing mechanized suits.

She fired on them before jumping, rolling behind a marble statue for cover.  “This isn’t what happened,” she said to Cat.  “There weren’t any Gatekeepers here before.”

“They are why you parents are dead,” Cat said quickly.  “Make them pay.”

Blast fire, more accurate and more powerful than anything a Seeker soldier could produce, ripped up the ground near Iris.  Then, just as she rolled out of position, the statue which she’d been hiding behind split in half, falling to the ground and shattering into pieces.

Iris, a shield raised with one hand, began firing on the Gatekeepers.  Her energy fire was accurate, hitting one target after another, but unlike the Seekers before, hitting her target wasn’t enough.  The Gatekeepers’ mechanized suits were resilient, often able to simply absorb the blows she dealt.  And even when the Gatekeepers were knocked off their feet, they were still able to get up moments later and fight.

“Change tactics,” Cat instructed.  “This could go on all day.”

Iris knew what to do, but it seemed risky.  Another blast hit her shield, and she felt herself slide back several inches.  She knew she couldn’t keep this up forever.

She closed her eyes for a half-second, and when she opened them, she looked at her hand she’d been using to deliver energy blasts.  Starting from her elbow and extending out several feet was an electric purple blade.  “I’ll have to get close,” she told herself.

She charged the nearest Gatekeeper who was already taking aim at her, having just gotten back on his feet.  Iris lifted her shield and pushed her way through blast fire until she was within arm’s reach of the mech suit.  Then with her blade arm, she quickly cut off the blaster from the Gatekeeper’s hand.

She thought she heard a muffled cry before she jabbed her blade directly into the Gatekeeper’s torso.  She raised a foot up onto the oversized mech leg for leverage and pulled out her arm-blade.

Hot hydraulic fluid spewed from the wound.  And just as she turned to face her other enemies, she heard the pleasing sound of the defeated Gatekeeper collapse onto the ground behind her.

The remaining three Gatekeepers seemed to respond to the loss of their comrade and doubled the intensity of their fire.  Iris raised her shield, but the combined blow of their attack was heavier than what she was used to bearing.

Her teeth showed as she took one labored step after another, moving closer to the nearest Gatekeeper so she could do to them what she’d just done to their friend.

But just before she made it within striking distance, she heard the sound of another portal opening.  She held her position and careened her neck toward the sound.  Blasts were even harder to resist in this cockeyed position, but she had to see what she was up against.

Much to her dismay, three more Gatekeepers emerged from the disk and took aim against her.  Instantly, she dropped her energy blade and took up a second shield with her other hand.  She combined the shields into one larger one, extending the field to all sides.

“You must attack,” Cat instructed.

“I can’t.  There’s too many of them.”

“You can’t defeat them with shields.”

But Cat’s words seemed irrelevant to Iris who ordinarily took them with great earnestness.  The Gatekeepers were coordinating both their firepower and their positions to overwhelm Iris.  They moved until they had her surrounded, each of them equidistant from one another in a perfect circle.

“Get out of there, Iris,” Cat said.  “They have you.”

Iris would have loved nothing more, but how?  It was all she could do now to keep the shields going, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could do that.  Escape—that seemed about as possible as bringing her parents back to life.

Then the inevitable happened; the Gatekeeper mechs moved in concert toward her, making the circle around her smaller and smaller while intensifying their collective blast fire.

“Fight back!” shrieked Cat.

“How?”  Iris cried, her shields closing in on her, about to collapse.

“You must go deeper.  You must tap into the pain they’ve caused.”

“I feel it.  I always feel it,” Iris pleaded.

“No, not like that.  Not just pain.  You must find the hate inside yourself.  Look at what they did to your parents, your world.  Find it.  Now!”

Iris closed her eyes and searched beyond the fear and pain that threatened to suffocate her.  She searched her memories, the places and moments that she’d experienced but pushed aside, pretending they weren’t hers.  She had hatred.  She possessed it, but she hadn’t identified with it.  It was too much like what the Seekers had done, too much like her enemies.  She wanted to paint herself as good, as innocent.  But that wasn’t working anymore.  It was all pretense.  The truth, she now knew, was that the darkness that threatened to swallow her whole wasn’t her enemy.  It was her greatest ally, an untapped reserve of energy that she’d been unwilling or unable to yield to until now.

She opened her eyes, and intense purple-white hate flamed out from them.

“Yes,” Cat said.  “That’s it.  More.  More!”

Iris let go of all she’d been carrying, all of who she thought she was, all her memories, all her beliefs and yielded more to this blinding emotion.  Then, like shackles falling off her, she felt a great lightness.  She maintained her shield but with little effort.  She even dropped her hands, no longer needing to use them to generate the field around her.

She stared down her faceless, soulless enemies that surrounded her one last time.  Then she closed her eyes and clutched her fist and began to scream.  Not some child’s cry but a shout like the sonic boom created by the trains in her world.

The blast wave moved from Iris, its epicenter, out toward the Gatekeepers.  Not merely falling to the ground, her enemies were destroyed piece by piece, dissolving at the molecular level by the blast she created.

When she opened her eyes, Iris saw the energy wave hit the nearest buildings which toppled like an invisible giant’s hand had cut through them. Her enemies were gone, obliterated.

And then it was quiet.  No birds.  No wind.  Nothing but the ghosts in Iris’s mind, the voices of the fallen still speaking to her.  She stared at her parents’ bodies and thought about looking at them up close, something she hadn’t been able to do when it happened.  But maybe that was for the best, she thought.  Maybe she shouldn’t remember them this way.

Then the world around her began to fade, still there but its vibrant tones gone, and she heard footsteps behind her.

“You did it,” came Cat’s voice, this time not in Iris’s ear.

She turned around slowly, looking down before examining her teacher’s eyes.  Cat was clearly pleased, though no smile was on her face.

“It didn’t happen that way,” Iris said meekly.

“What does that matter?” came Cat’s response.

“I wasn’t expecting Gatekeepers.  When my world was attacked, there were only Seekers.”

“Yes, but the Gatekeepers created Eleazar.  And Eleazar created the Seeker soldiers.  You know this is true.”

“I know.  I just—I didn’t expect to have to fight them this time.”

“You weren’t there to fight anyone when it really happened,” Cat said.  “All of this is artificial; you knew that.  This isn’t some game.  This is your training, your preparation for what you must be ready to do if you are to make things right and force those who are responsible for killing your parents to pay.”

“You’re right,” Iris said, looking back down at the ground.

“You still want to go through with it, don’t you?”

Iris looked back up, locking eyes with the one who had given her a new life, the one who had single-handedly—though unknown to everyone else in her simulation—stopped the Seeker invasion.  Her life had been over, orphaned and destined to be overrun and dominated by Seekers, but Cat had given her another chance, an opportunity to make her life matter.

“Yes,” came her solemn promise.

Cat nodded in approval.  “Good.  Let’s get home.”  Then a subtle grin came across her face.  “Before Taven wakes up all alone.”

The thought made Iris smile too.  And for a split second, she felt the instinctual drive to hug Cat, something never allowed.  She maintained her adoring gaze as she watched her master create the disk that would transport them back.

CHAPTER 19

THE MORE MACK squirmed, the more he felt buried alive.  Except he wasn’t buried, he was captured and in a prisoner transport compartment in the back of one of those bots.  At least, he hoped that’s what it was, because prisoners ultimately get put in jail.  Unless, this was his prison, solitary confinement in a coffin.

Mack gasped in the dark, panic starting to rise again, but then his forehead smashed into the unseen wall before him.  He realized that the bot he was inside must have stopped moving and inertia had done its job.  That gave him hope.  The machine was going somewhere.  That meant they’d let him out soon, he told himself.  If they had wanted him dead, he would be dead already.  Unless, that is, they took pleasure in first putting him through this claustrophobic nightmare.

Mack listened, felt with his whole body for tremors, vibrations, sound, anything.  But it was completely silent, quiet long enough to make him question if there really were an outside to this hole they’d crammed him in.

He knew better than to think like that, to let his irrational thoughts get the best of him.  But despite his reasons, despite his logic, he couldn’t banish the fear.  He kept replaying in his mind what had happened after the bots had taken him.  Taven and the others had disappeared in a flash.  How, he didn’t know—he hadn’t seen them jump away.  He’d been grabbed by that mechanical crab claw, and the next thing he knew, everyone was gone except a few of those fighters that the girl had marshaled to her side. Then the one without a helmet took him and put him inside this place, this interminable darkness.

Suddenly, miraculously it seemed to Mack, there was sound.  Loud hisses that seemed to be coming from all directions.  And then ambient light, relatively dim light, but after his confinement—he had no idea how long he’d been in there—it hurt his eyes.

“Out you go,” came a strong voice.

Mack wasn’t going to argue, whoever said it.  He tried to move, and he felt pain from all over like he had been run over.  He pushed through the pain and fell out onto the floor.

Mack turned around and saw his captor walk away, the compartment on its back closing as it did.  The mech pilot was wearing his helmet now.  He turned and faced Mack and touched something on the wall.  Mack heard an electronic hum rise and then subside.

The mech just stood there.  Mack waited for some kind of communication, but none came.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” Mack asked.

Nothing.

Mack stood.  “Hey, what is this place, anyway?”  He looked around the three walls behind him and noticed a cot and toilet and bare bones fixtures: hard concrete floors and tiled walls.  Behind the mech was impenetrable darkness.

“Where are my friends?  What’d you do with them?” Mack demanded.

The mech remained quiet, motionless.  Mack moved forward.  “Well, if you’re not going to—”

Suddenly, Mack encountered the invisible fourth wall of his cell, a field the mech had turned on.  The shock wasn’t just figurative; white hot current ran through his body, causing Mack to momentarily black out.  His mind came back online right as his body hit the floor.

The mech pilot touched something on his forearm and his helmet receded, revealing the same face of the blonde-haired man Mack remembered seeing at the arena.

“Looks like you’re settling in now,” said the man.

“Blast it!  You could have just told me,” Mack said, scooting backwards from the field.

“It works better this way.  You don’t have to believe me; you know it’s there now.”

“Yeah, I know a lot of things.  Like, please and thank-you go a long way.  I mean, you already had me crammed in your garbage compactor backpack thing.  What more do you want to prove?  You won already.  You’re the boss.”

“We’ll see about that,” the man said, with an expression of subtle amusement at Mack’s outburst.  “Tell me about your … friends.”

“Well, a miner’s life is a lonely life except for his mates.  You see, when you’re stuck out there for weeks and months, you better figure how to get along with your fellow rockbusters.  When I was eighteen, fresh out of—”

“I mean your friends back at the arena,” the man interrupted.

“Oh, those friends.  Yeah, they are … oh, that’s strange.”

“What is it?”

“I’m drawing a blank.  Must have been that shock I received.  Blast it, I’ve never experienced anything like that.  The memories were there, and then—poof, they’re gone.”

“You’re wasting time,” the mech pilot said, unamused.

“Yeah, well I’ve got all the time in the world as far as I can figure,” Mack said, spreading his arms wide toward his meager accommodations.

“Tell me about your friend, the one that was with Cat.”

“Now there’s a name that sounds familiar.  Cat—oh, wait.  Nope, it’s gone.  I wish I could help you, but I’ve—”

Just then, the hairs on the back of Mack’s neck stood up, and electric tingles ran up and down his spine.

“Feel that?”

“Uh, yeah, boss.”  Mack stood reflexively as if it would make the discomfort subside.

“Tell me about him.”

Mack paused, trying to muster resistance, but then the pilot touched something on his forearm and the electric pain rose sharply.  “Okay, okay” he pleaded.

“Talk, and I’ll turn it down if you give me the answers I want.”

Mack spilled his guts, but the mech pilot drove a hard bargain, keeping the painful pulse high until he was satisfied that he’d extracted every last detail from Mack.

Finally, Mack felt a sudden shift inside, like there’d been a giant meat thermometer within him that had been quickly extracted.  He fell to the floor, lifted himself up and vomited.

“Is that the best you could do,” Mack said.

“Cocky fellow—I’ll give you that,” the mech pilot replied.  “A lot of good it’s doing you.”

“Just turn off all your gadgets and take that blasted suit off, and I’ll show you the good it’s doing,” Mack promised.

The pilot grinned.  “Another time, friend … after you sit and rot for a while.”  Then he touched his forearm and his helmet reformed around his head.  He turned and started to walk into the darkness.

“Hey, wait.  Where are you going?”  The mech pilot didn’t stop to answer.  Mack shouted, “How long are you going to leave me here?”

Then the pilot stopped and turned, pulled down his helmet and said, “Five minutes or a thousand years—whichever comes first.”

CHAPTER 20

TAVEN ROLLED OVER, his face against the back cushion of the leather couch.  These were some of his favorite moments, the twilight between sleeping and wakefulness.  He remembered being a boy in the summers in Montreux.  His parents had gone to work, and he was home alone, old enough to be alone but not old enough to be working.  How many times he’d wished he could go back there, to the way life was before he’d grown older.  No longer a child but yet unburdened by responsibilities and the inevitable losses experienced in adulthood.

The sound of gentle waves came and went, rising over the low hum of the ceiling fan which was perfectly sufficient to put this room at the proper temperature.  Taven was here, part of him anyway, the innocent, unscathed part.  His troubled self was still lost in the dreamworld, and slowly, his reasoning mind came back online and questioned what dreams were, how they were even possible, in a simulated universe.

A distant sound ruined the moment, instantly waking up his worrying, critical mind.  Taven stood after hearing the unmistakable splattering sound of a portal opening.  He rushed to the doorway and threw open the curtain.  He scanned the beach but didn’t see any shimmering disks, only the stolen Seeker vessel which he watched to be sure no one was exiting.  Then he saw movement, Cat waving in the distance as she and Iris trod the sand.

He met her under a palm tree, and they stood there in the shade without talking for some time.  He watched Iris playing in the water and recalled more summer memories from when he was about her age.  He thought about what Cat had said before, about how time seemed nonexistent for a child engaged in play.  Iris seemed like a different kid now, no longer the moody teenager he’d first met.

“She seems so happy,” he finally said.

“Aren’t you?” Cat asked.

Taven didn’t know how to answer.  Was he?  He didn’t know.  “This place is amazing,” he said, not really answering.

“Did you get a good nap, shloffer?”

“I’m sorry?”  Taven didn’t recognize the word.

“Oh, I haven’t done that in a long time,” she smiled.  “Of course, you wouldn’t know that.  It’s from when I was a little girl.”  She looked off in the distance, and Taven knew she was remembering, a time and world he’d never known.  He wondered exactly how old she was and started to ask her but was beaten to the punch when she said, “Ready for your training?”

“If it means helping Mack.”  The name caused another surge of concern to rise, and he added quickly, “Do you know where he is?  Is he okay?”

She touched his arm, calming him instantly.  “He should be fine, and there’s only one place they would have taken him.  We’ll get him back.  I promise.”  She waited until he looked her in the eyes and said, “After you finish your training.”

“Right,” he said, signing on to whatever she had planned.  He stepped back and forth, shuffling his weight between his feet like a boxer before a match.

She stared at him, amused by his ignorance.  “Do you trust me?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said truthfully.  He was all in; what other choice did he have?

Then she stepped forward to the edge of the tree line where the shade ended and the bright white sand glistened like diamond dust.  She pointed to the sky.  He followed her aim and immediately looked back down, the direct sunlight blinding him.

“Stare into it,” she said.

“The sun?”

She nodded patiently.

After a couple seconds of searching her face for insincerity, Taven stepped out of the shade.  He felt the intense light on his forehead, which he tilted up, his eyes closed.  “Here goes nothing,” he whispered before opening his eyes.

The piercing light shone into him and he felt like the photons were depositing increasingly heavier bits of lead into the back of his eyes.  Involuntary tears were shed, and Cat said, “Keep going.  It’s okay.”

Either she was right, or he’d just fallen for the cruelest joke in all of history.  But moments later, the sun’s intensity began to fade, and Taven worried his eyes were being permanently damaged.

“There; that ought to do it,” she said.  “Look down.”

Taven looked around, but there was something clearly wrong.  Gone were the normal colors, and all he saw was violet-whitish hues.

“Taven, look at me,” she said, seeming to notice his concern.  He turned to face her and was met by a bright red glow, as if she had an aura of flames.

“Whoa,” he said, stunned.

“What you’re seeing, Taven, is beyond the normal visible spectrum.  The Makers didn’t program us to see colors above or below specific electromagnetic frequencies.  But Gatekeepers have special abilities to see beyond.  It’s out of necessity that we do; the Makers wanted us to operate this way.”

“But she’s different,” Taven said, distracted by Iris and her undifferentiated purplish hue.

“She’s not like us,” Cat explained.

“Not a Gatekeeper?”

“No, and not from a primary simulation either.  I couldn’t overwrite the code onto her genome if my life depended on it.  Only persons from a primary simulation can become Gatekeepers.”

“So, you’re red because you’re a Gatekeeper?”

“You’re red too,” she said, “but don’t think of it as merely a color.  It’s our electromagnetic frequency your mind is turning into red, or violet or white, for that matter.  Everything has an EMF, because everything is energy, and energy exists in waves.”

“I don’t understand.  I thought we were all inside simulations.”

“We are.”

“But that means it’s all fake.  It’s all ones and zeros on some hard drive somewhere.  What you’re talking about is like the hooey Dr. Hewitt talks about, quantum physics.”

“First of all, who says the Sim-Verse isn’t running on a quantum computer?  And second, what you are describing, what scientists from your simulation have articulated, is a theory based on the seeming behavioral contradiction of matter when it’s carefully examined.  In other words, matter behaves like particles until you get up close enough.  Then the illusion dissolves, leaving nothing but energy, waveforms, and nonintuitive implications.  What your scientists—and scientists from every other simulation who have progressed far enough to notice—is the very fact that there’s nothing holding matter together except energy itself.  All those ones and zeros are just charged particles … except there are no particles, just polarized energy.”

Taven felt lost in the murky details, but before he could ask for clarification, something in the sky distracted him.

“Oh, you’ve found it,” she said.

“What is it?”

“Stop squinting and relax.”

He did, and then the object came to him as if being pulled forward on a computer screen.  Before him was a simple tile like the ones he’d seen at the Ghost City with a single symbol:

*+*

“The door?”

“Yes, it’s a simple index, a way to exit this sub simulation and return to its associated primary sim.”

“I thought that’s what the portals are for,” he said.

“That’s one way to do it,” she answered.  “You’ve already learned to do that, but it has its limitations.  Unlike a proper index, our ability to jump using the portals only works if the Gatekeeper has a distinct memory of the simulation they’re jumping to.”

Taven looked down from the tile and saw a lateral list of other tiles, each with their own unique multi-digit number.  “These are other subs?”

“Yes, these are those most proximate to our simulation’s frequency.”

“Frequency?  I thought that’s just how we see, not—”

“It’s all frequency,” she said simply.  “Matter is energy.  And energy exists as waves, and all waves have a frequency.”

Taven caught the glint of another object in the sky and pulled it up the same way he had with the index.  “Why’s this one separate?” he asked.

Brought forward, the single tile with no description or symbol glowed red just like Cat.

“You found it on your own.  Good.”  Then her expression of approval shifted to one of immediate concern.  “Don’t touch it,” she warned.

She was quiet for a moment, and Taven thought it best to let the tile move back into the distance, and when he did, Cat spoke.  “As a Gatekeeper, you will always have this tile available to you, regardless of whether you are in a primary or sub simulation.  It’s your way back to Meta.”

“Back?  I’ve never been there before.”

“No, you haven’t.  But it’s your home, my home.  It’s where the Makers intended us to spend the majority of our lives.”

“But?” he prodded.

“It’s a long story, Taven.  But suffice it to say I’m not welcome there anymore.”

“But the Gatekeeper in the mech suit acted like he wanted you to come with him.  He said it didn’t have to be like—”

“Gabe cannot be trusted,” she said.  “He’s like all the rest.  All they care about is getting back to their little worlds, forgetting about anyone and everything else.”

Taven didn’t understand.  Leaving everyone alone didn’t sound all that bad, but he sensed he shouldn’t pry too hard.  His hesitation to speak seemed to prompt Cat to continue, her confession overdue for who knows how long.

“Meta, as I said before, is at the top of the pyramid.  All primary simulations are below it.  Meta moves as slow as any simulation in the Sim-Verse and is as close to base reality time as we can experience.”

“What do you mean base reality time?”  He felt a little dumb asking, but she’d said it before, and he wasn’t sure if what he was thinking of was the same thing she was.

“Well, it’s actually not such a simple thing to know,” she said.  “Meta is as far as we can go currently toward base reality, which most of us believe is where the Maker society lives.  We are their creations, directly if we live inside Meta or a primary simulation, and indirectly if we’re from a sub sim.  The thing is, we’re here.  We’re alive, and we have rules and constraints imposed on us, and as Gatekeepers we’ve attributed all of this to the Makers.  They are why we are the way we are.  It’s their master plan to build this simulated universe for their purposes which can only be speculated upon.”

“We’re guinea pigs,” Taven whispered.

“Pretty much, as far as I can tell.  Of course, in Meta it’s a different song.  Everyone’s a fan of the Makers, of the current setup … because they are on top.  They rule the roost.  The Gatekeepers are given a semblance of immortality.”

She stopped as if to catch her breath, and Taven jumped in, “I can’t die?”

She chuckled.  “Oh, no.  You and I and any other Gatekeeper can die.  But when we’re in a sub sim our biological clocks are turned off, paused as it were.”

“We can live here forever?”

She tilted her head side to side as if she was balancing scales, “Essentially.  Assuming the Sim-Verse doesn’t end entirely.”

“Will it?” Taven asked, never having considered the possibility before.

“If we’re truly in a computer, what keeps someone from pulling the plug?  Or if the Maker’s base reality is in trouble—a commonly conjectured reason for why they would build the Sim-Verse in the first place—what if their world ends?” she posited.

“Ours would too.”

“Precisely.  We have a gift, Gatekeepers at least.”

Taven looked at Cat intently, noticing her energy signature.  Her distinct red glow seemed to grow more vibrant, more radiant as she revved up the intensity of her speech.

“Taven, Meta has its own constructs, its own sub sims.”

“Like the Hudson.”

“The Hudson was a poor imitation.  Even the Ghost City with all its sub sims is nothing compared to what has been constructed in Meta.  That’s all the Gatekeepers want to do, live inside those constructs, inside their little kingdoms.”

“Then why chase us around?” Taven asked.  “Why bother?”

“Because they have to, or at least, they choose to go along with the rules.  Again, reverence for the Makers and the status quo run high there.  Whenever one of these rules is broken—”

“Like jumping—how did you say it?  Trans-laterally?”

“Yes.  Anytime someone moves from one primary to another, a Gatekeeper is pulled from the constructs, exposed to time and all its negative effects, until the problem is remediated.”

“The Makers wanted to keep the sims separate?”

“They didn’t want their experiments to get tainted,” she said with a resentful tone.  “And the same thing happens when we slow down a simulation.  We’re exposed to time and aging.”

“That’s why, when you froze the sim in the arena, the Gatekeeper said you were wasting time,” Taven remembered.

“Yes, they think I’m being unreasonable.  But it was they who wouldn’t listen to reason.  I wanted to go beyond,”—she extended her glowing red arms and looked at them with contempt—“this carrier vessel, to live and transcend into an immortal state of being, free from the edicts of the Makers or other Gatekeepers.”

She relaxed her arms and breathed in.  Taven saw the purple-white space around her mouth twist and swirl like water as she inhaled.  Then she exhaled, and he saw the air, or whatever it really was, blow out red-orange, liquid smoke, moving out like a jellyfish swimming until if faded into purple-white.

“See, Taven, in a way, we never die.  Energy—that’s all we are, and it always goes on in some form.  Inside a computer simulation or out in base reality.  I just want to go on consciously, and I’d rather not do it alone.”

Though the color wheel of Taven’s surroundings had shifted dramatically, he could still make out Cat’s eyes staring at him.  They weren’t green anymore, but they still captivated him, drew him in like two whirlpools.

“Let me show you something else,” she said, holding out both hands for him to take.  He did, and immediately he felt a jolt of warm energy spread from her to him.  At the point of contact, their red silhouettes changed into bright shimmering white light, like a portal’s disk.  Slowly at first, then faster, the white spread across their bodies, and when it reached their faces, Taven saw his surroundings change too.

“What is this place?” he asked letting go of her.

“Gatekeepers call it a parley.”

He turned in circles, examining his new surroundings.  They were in a spacious room without windows or doors.  All was white, but not the blinding color of the disks.  It was soft, almost translucent like he might be able to push through them, like a tent of sheets.

“Another sub sim?” he asked.

“That’s the thing.  No.”  She stepped forward, intersecting with him and his viewpoint.  “We’re somewhere and nowhere at the same time.”

He looked at her.  She was ghostly white, and he imagined he was the same.  Their bodies were not clothed here, but they weren’t naked either, their features muted and generic.

“I don’t understand,” he finally admitted, growing tired of the repeated confession.

“Here, we’re energy. We’re simultaneously at our most basic and transcendent.  The Sim-Verse was set up with this feature for Gatekeepers.  Presumably its so that we can meet and decide about our next steps or actions while policing rule breakers.  It’s meant to be functional, not for everyday existence.  But it was here, in this state, that I first glimpsed the possibility of something greater.”

“It’s beautiful,” he admitted.  “But what can you do here.  We’re kind of stuck, aren’t we?”

“As it is, yes.  But we’re also as close to immortality as the Makers would allow us.  I told you that we don’t age inside the sub sims or the constructs inside Meta.”

He nodded, recalling another set of details that wanted to slip through his mind’s hands like sand.

“It’s true that we don’t age biologically inside subs and constructs.  But time, base time as we understand it, continues to pass.  At some point into the future, the Sim-Verse will end, just like the universe in the base reality.  We may have the luxury,”—she said disdainfully—“of experiencing longer lives than the average primary personality, but our time will come.  That much is certain.  That’s how I became a Gatekeeper in the first place.  They only overwrite the code after one of their own dies.  That’s another reason they came looking for you … me.  Another rule I broke.”

“But here,” she pointed down, “we are moving faster than any known sub simulation.”  She waited for him to respond.

“Which means?”

“Which means,” she said with subtle frustration, “that we are standing still.  We’re effectively frozen in time.  Real time.  Base reality time.”

Taven grasped the significance, though it seemed like a subtle difference for someone who could already, under conventional terms, abiding by the rules, live hundreds or thousands of years.  “But we’re stuck here,” he said, pointing out the obvious limitation.

“There’s more,” she said, stepping forward so forcefully that he flinched.  She grabbed his hands and pulled their bodies close together, and Taven, his head titled downward, was face to face with her.  He felt the warmth again.

“See what’s happening?” she asked raising their arms on each side.

He turned and saw their silhouettes blending together, and he felt something else, something beyond warmth and comfort.

“There, you feel it don’t you?” she said.  “That’s me.  That’s us.  We aren’t two different people right now.  We are part of each other.”

Taven tried to understand, but his consciousness was blurred by the blending.  His thoughts were not his alone, and he noticed now that when she talked to him, she wasn’t moving her mouth; the thoughts were inside him, his thoughts, her thoughts.  His energy, her energy.

“This is what could be ours,” she said.  “There is a way, I believe, for us to have this and more.  We could be this way together with the entire Sim-Verse as our home.  King and queen for an eternity.”

Taven’s mind spun.  It wasn’t just that he was being offered something spectacular, mind boggling even.  It was that Cat was inside him, changing his thoughts.  Except she wasn’t battling him, or at least it didn’t feel like she was.  Her thoughts seemed to be his own.  He wanted what she was describing and couldn’t imagine accepting anything else.

But then, Taven felt a sharp pain inside, like something in his guts was being yanked.

“Something’s wrong,” she said.

“It’s inside me,” he answered.

“No, something else,” she said.  Then like some adhesive bandage the size of a man’s soul, she pulled back, separating herself from him.

He fell to his knees, recoiling from the mental shock, but it didn’t hurt when he landed.  He looked up and saw her yet again as a separate entity, ghostly white.

Then she said, “It’s Iris.”

CHAPTER 21

THE SHEETS FOR walls turned brighter, and Taven squinted as the shimmering light blinded him again.  But then, in an instant, he was somewhere else.  He opened his eyes and realized they were back on the beach, his material body returned to its normal state and his vision like it was before his training with Cat.

Still under the palm tree where they’d been before, Cat stepped out of the shade toward the beach.  Taven looked past her and saw Iris running in their direction.  She was screaming.

“Blast it,” Cat said, her Aussie accent more pronounced than usual.  Taven smirked at Cat using miner speak, but then his amusement vanished, not just because of Iris’s cries—she seemed altogether in one piece—but because of the flash of light in the distance.  Taven looked to see a figure walking up the beach, and he suddenly realized it was a Seeker soldier and that the flash he’d seen out the corner of his eye was that of a snail shaped vessel disappearing.

“How’d they get here so soon?” Cat said, turning to Taven in disgust.

“How’d they find us at all?” Taven asked, not understanding how Seekers ever traveled to a new simulation without jumping as a Gatekeeper or using the Ghost City’s index.  But then his mind posed a different question: how was it, if what Cat said about the parley was true, that anything at all had transpired here in the sub sim?  She had said that time essentially stood still inside the parley.  What else was she wrong about?

Then Cat stood up straight, closed her eyes, and all grew quiet.  Taven noticed that the oncoming soldier had halted.  But so had Iris and everything else inside this sub besides Taven and Cat.

“What are we going to do?” he asked.

She looked down, her eyes searching.  “I’m not sure.”  Taven was surprised to hear her say that, the first time she’d ever seemed unsure of anything.

“Can’t you do whatever you did at Iris’s world?” Taven asked. “You stopped them there somehow.”

“I bought them time is all.  I recalibrated the simulation’s frequency, and when the next Seeker found us a few days later they were on alert, waiting for him.  They were successful in killing him before he could send back his jumper.”

“Then we could just … ”—he hesitated, troubled by how quickly he’d grown accustomed to the idea—“kill this guy.”

“No, he’s already sent his jumper back,” she said.  “Eleazar’s forces will know this sim is viable, habitable, and will continue sending troops here until they’ve wiped us out or … ”

Taven knew where that was headed; she’d said something like it before, something about converting people to their strange beliefs.  He guessed that simply wasn’t an option.

“I could reset this,” she said with new vitality in her voice.  “We could shift the simulation.”

“But they’d eventually find us again?”

She nodded.  “But who knows, we could get lucky … ”  She stopped, allowing Taven to savor the innuendo.  “And stop the next Seeker from jumping back.  Then we’d be in the clear.”

“I don’t know,” Taven said.  “What about Mack?”

“Besides our time in the Ghost City,” she explained, “we’ve been in sub sims this whole time.  Which means very little time has passed for him.  They may have not even gotten him back to Meta yet.”

She stepped closer to Taven as if to draw him in to her intent.  “But we’re wasting time now,” he said.  “You said so yourself.  Slowing the simulation puts us back closer to Meta’s time.”

“As soon as we readjust this sim,” she started.  “Or better yet, we can go to another sub sim, indexed by a different primary simulation.  The frequencies are so distant, the Seekers won’t find us there.”

She sounded like she was pleading now, her usually calm, confident demeanor eroding.  She touched his arm, but something inside him reeled back from her, and the radiating warmth that had been there before was absent.  She stared intently, searching his face for answers.

He shook his head.  “Cat, we can’t … ”

“It’s her?”

He nodded, knowing she meant Amy.  “And Evelynn.  They’re waiting for me, too.”

“You’re sure about this?” she asked.

Taven was silent, trying to maintain his resolve.  Slowly, he nodded, swallowing emotions and words.

Then a single tear streaked from one of Cat’s green eyes, and Taven felt a wave of regret at hurting her.  He reached forward with his finger to take away the tear and her pain.  But before he could touch her, she turned toward the distant Seeker and stretched out one of her hands.

Taven heard the sound of wind blowing, but the simulation hadn’t restarted; it was still frozen.  Then, amazingly, the Seeker was drawn forward at Cat’s beckoning.  There, frozen and suspended in midair before Cat’s outstretched hand was the Seeker soldier, still oblivious to how much danger he was really in.

She gave one more look at Taven, and he noticed the hurt in her eyes was gone, replaced by something he could only guess was anger.  She swiveled, turning her back to Taven, and the Seeker followed her motion, floating through the air in a half circle until Cat stopped.  With a spasmodic gesture of her hand, she ejected the Seeker who flew impossibly fast into the tiki hut where Taven had napped earlier.

Then the simulation snapped back into motion, and Taven watched in awe as the tiki hut imploded on itself and their extinguished guest.

“They’re here,” cried Iris as she ran closer.  Cat didn’t answer.  Iris stopped, and with a puzzled look on her face, watched as her master walked toward the parked Seeker vessel they’d stolen.  Finally noticing the vanished soldier, Iris asked Taven, “Where’d he go?”

Cat stopped and turned back to the two of them.  “Are you coming or not?”

“Where are we going?” Iris asked.

“To save his friend,” she answered, eyeing Taven as she spoke.  “And to end this once and for all.”

CHAPTER 22

A PORTAL OPENED on the beach, and Cat started to step through it.  “What about that?” Taven asked, pointing to the Seeker craft they’d worked so hard to bring here.

“It will be here when we get back,” she promised.  Then she stuck her hand through the disk as if keeping the door open for the two of them.  Iris and Taven jumped through first.

When Taven came through, he questioned if he was still traveling, though he felt his feet firmly on the ground.  He couldn’t see, hear, or feel any surroundings.  Just darkness and cool, damp air.

“Lights,” Cat said.

“Welcome back,” an electronic voice answered.  The overhead lights began to come on, the fixtures daisy-chaining one block at a time down a long corridor.

“What is this place?” Iris asked, sounding astonished.

“Insurance,” Cat said.  “A policy I put into effect … well,”—she looked slyly at Taven—“hundreds of years before either of you were born.  Taven marveled at the thought and wondered yet again how old Cat actually was.  Then he questioned if she was measuring time in the same years as he was.  Was it Meta, primary, or sub time she was counting?  Maybe she didn’t even know, he thought.

Those questions evaporated when he spotted the perfectly assembled rows of weaponry that lined this long hallway.

“It’s an arsenal,” he exclaimed, “enough for a small army.”

“Like I said—insurance.  Follow me,” Cat said as she started down the center aisle.

Taven remembered visiting a military surplus store when he was a kid and feeling the same awe and intrigue he felt now.  Except this time, he wasn’t just playing soldier.  There was a fight coming, and he knew his very life would depend on utilizing these weapons.

He extended his hand to one side, stroking some of the objects as the traveled.  He recognized several of them, though he hadn’t seen their exact make and design before.  There were blasters: small handheld models and larger rifles that promised more firepower than anything he’d seen used on Earth.  Then he spotted orbs that he knew better than to play with.  They looked just like the one that Cat had thrown in the arena, and Taven guessed they weren’t all smoke screens or force fields.  Some of those had to blow things up.

They came to a stop at what appeared to be the end of the hall, and Taven’s eyes were still to his left, examining objects he wasn’t sure of.  They were cylindrical canisters, too large to easily be carried by one person.  And on one end of each cannister was an opening the circumference of Taven’s waist.

“Those are attachments,” Cat said simply.

“For what?” Taven asked.

But Cat didn’t answer.  She was busy, her palms searching on the bare brick wall at the end of the hallway.  “It’s here, somewhere.  It’s amazing what you can forget in a few hundred years.”

Cat stopped moving and said, “Aha.  I found you.”  She made a lifting motion with her hand, and Taven heard a faint click.

“Voice ID validated,” said the electronic voice that had welcomed them earlier.  “Confirmation required.”

“Taven,” Cat motioned for him to come forward.  He stepped beside her, only a couple feet from the brick wall.  “Look closely,” she told him.

He stared at the mortar between the red bricks.  “No, like I taught you,” she said.  Then he thought back to the beach and how she’d made him stare into the sun until his eyes had changed.  But she’d never explained how to do it at will.  “Just … see,” she said.

Taven thought of the colors, purple-white, and tried to remember the feeling of what it had been like when his eyes no longer burned looking into the sun.  And then it happened.  The color in the room changed.

“See it?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, startled by the shift.  Before him was the wall, now white.  And inside it was a red lever that had been invisible before.

“Grab it,” she told him.

He started to question her, knowing that it appeared to be inside the wall, but Taven had already experienced stranger things than passing through solid matter.  He reached for it and saw his hand pass through the translucent white bricks and grasp the lever.  He lifted up and was met by a loud noise that made him retract his hand snake-bite fast.

His vision shifted back to normal, and he watched as the brick wall before them shook violently.  “Step back,” Cat warned.

All three of them did, and the wall crumbled down, mostly falling away from them into another chamber.

“Whoa,” Iris said.

“I guess we—what?—broke your piggy bank?” Taven asked Cat.  She didn’t seem to know the reference, or if she did, she didn’t care to acknowledge it.  Instead, she stepped forward over the rubble, and the automated lights came on in the new room.

The new chamber was shorter than the hallway they’d already traveled down, but its contents were more amazing than mere rifles and explosives.  Lined up on all three walls were mech suits, a couple feet taller than Taven, exactly like those the Gatekeepers had been wearing at the arena, all in dazzling bright solid colors.

“What’s your favorite color?” Cat asked Taven without looking at him.  She was eyeing a blue mech in the corner.  He didn’t answer, and she turned to face him.  Behind her was a green mech that matched her eyes.

“Green, I guess.”

“Good choice,” she said.

“We’re going to wear those?” Taven asked.

“Unless you’d feel more secure like that.”  She looked down at his feet and back up to his face.  “They’re for Gatekeepers, another perk of the job.  Specially designed to enhance our abilities and keep us from getting killed outside of Meta.”

“What about her?” Taven said, looking at Iris who was playing with a redish brown mech that matched the robes her people usually wore.

“They won’t respond to her,” Cat said.  “Her sub programming won’t match up.  Same reason I couldn’t overwrite her with the Gatekeeper code.”

“And besides,” Iris said almost cheerfully, “I’ve got to go another way.”

Cat didn’t respond, and Taven was confused by yet another example of Iris knowing more than he did.

Cat turned back to the green mech suit and touched a button on its forearm.  The metal beast awakened, its power untarnished by idle centuries, and stepped forward as if at attention.  Then it squatted down and unfolded upon itself, its chest plate dividing in two, exposing the human-sized cavity within.

Taven blinked, then looked to Cat who had an amused expression.  “Well, what are you waiting for?” she asked.  “Get in.”

CHAPTER 23

TAVEN STARED AT the shimmering portal, hesitating.  Then Cat, standing next to the reflective disk in her own blue mech suit, raised her metal arm.  Taven’s whole body felt numb inside the machine, his nerve endings seemingly fused to the machine’s electronic awareness.  As he contemplated how the mechs in which they fit like hands in gloves were controlled by the power of thought, the portal rose higher above the ground.

“Jump,” Cat said.  He couldn’t see her face under all that metal, but he could hear her voice like she was inside his machine with him.

The portal was now some six feet off the floor, its top touching the ceiling.  Taven had the keen sense that he was Cat’s new pet being trained to do tricks, but he knew she was probably doing this for his own good, to teach him what his new suit was capable of.

“Okay,” he whispered before going for it.  He felt and heard his massive legs move.  There had been a slight delay between his thought and the machine’s response.  And then he found himself soaring with surprising force higher through the air toward the disk.  He believed he could have jumped even higher and felt a rush of elation right before losing consciousness in the portal.

Seconds later—or maybe it was hours—Taven came out the other side, continuing to soar several feet into the air, the law of inertia obeying as he traveled between simulations.  As he regained his full awareness—that he was inside this metal marvel—he, still airborne, flailed his arms wildly, not knowing how to land this tank.

Just then he heard a whoosh and felt gentle pressure under his feet.  As he descended slowly onto the beach, he saw sand blow in all directions from the jets under his feet.  They clicked off and he dropped the last few inches onto the ground.  He felt no pain from the impact, but the sound, unusually loud for an earthen landing, told him just how much weight and force he was commanding.

Iris, who had jumped from the arsenal simulation first, was already back at the water’s edge.  He noticed a small blaster pistol in the sand nearby her and reasoned that she had taken it from the arsenal.  She seemed like a kid on the last day of vacation, their looming departure threatening to ruin her good time.  But, like all kids everywhere, she seemed able to overcome this danger, insisting on having fun through sheer kid will power.  He recognized it, because it had once been him at that age, and he wished he could push out the fear and the future long enough to feel like she did now.

Taven heard a whoosh and thud behind him before the portal closed.  He turned and faced the faceless blue mech that he knew was Cat.  Behind her, and much to his surprise, he saw the once destroyed tiki hut perfectly restored.

“I’m glad new Seekers haven’t arrived,” he said.  “At least,”—he turned back around to examine the beach—“I hope they haven’t.”

“Only a few seconds have passed here,” she explained.

Taven felt something inside relax, puzzled by the disparity of time and the baffling possibility of faster and faster sub simulations that almost made time itself irrelevant.  But whatever that relaxed part of himself was—was it physical or something artificial from his suit?—it stiffened again with fresh concerns.  “What about Gatekeepers?  Won’t they notice the … what was it?  Trans-lateral—”

“That’s only when jumping from primary to primary.  Or,” she added like a teacher going over an already graded test, “when jumping from a primary to a different primary’s sub simulation.  Sub to sub movement doesn’t kick the Gatekeeper’s hornets’ nest.  They couldn’t care less.”  She moved a few steps past Taven toward the water, her motion at first sluggish and then powerful and swift.

“Okay, Iris.  It’s time,” Cat said.

Iris dunked her hands down into the water one last time and lifted them high above her, throwing water in all directions.  She then turned and came running to her master.  “Already?” she asked innocently.

“Would you rather wait for them to act again?” Cat chastised.

Instantly, Iris’s childlike affect vanished, replaced by an all too grown up look.  It was one of bitterness and disappointment.  Taven knew she had had her fair share of suffering and at an early age when she was, doubtless, less capable of navigating through the chaos.  But then, he thought, at what age did tragedy make sense?  When was the loss of what or who you held most dear bearable?  Still, it was a shame she had come to this so young.

“You know what to do,” Cat said.  “We’ll be there shortly.  And leave that,” she said, pointing to the blaster in the sand.  Cat turned back around to face Taven as Iris ran further away from the water’s edge, grabbed her robe and put it on.  Then, hurriedly, she ran to the stolen Seeker vessel and climbed in.

“Where’s she going?” Taven asked.

“To Meta,” Cat said plainly.

“But they’ll know.  I mean, if they can track us jumping from my sim to hers, they’ll certainly—”

“They’d notice if we returned, Gatekeepers or people from a primary simulation.  But their security isn’t set up to detect someone from a sub sim entering.”

If Taven’s head wasn’t wrapped inside the metal dome—he still didn’t understand how he was seeing through it—he would have scratched it.

“And it’s a … ”  Cat stopped, and Taven thought she was searching for the right word.  “A one-way trip.  Even after you get inside Meta—if you can get inside undetected—you can’t leave.  That’s why she must go first, to turn off their security so that we can enter undetected.  And after we’re there, I can disable the exit barrier.”

“Security or not, won’t they see us?  How big is this place, anyway?”

Cat touched a button on her arm and the helmet she was wearing opened and collapsed around her shoulders.  She gave Taven a look.  He couldn’t decide if it was one of condescension or empathy.  “Trust me.  The Gatekeepers want to spend as little time outside of the constructs as possible.  If we’re careful, they’ll never know we were there.”  Then she smiled, “That is, until we leave.”

Taven wasn’t sure what that meant, except that maybe they would notice Mack was gone.  He started to ask more questions, including what would stop the Gatekeepers from merely following them again after they left with Mack.  But then his concern turned back to Iris who had shut the Seeker vessel door.  “Shouldn’t she at least be armed?” he asked.

“There’s little room for weapons in those craft,” she answered.  “Even the Seeker soldiers can’t squeeze more than a blaster pistol in there.  But that’s not the point really.  She needs to focus on the task at hand.  A blaster will only complicate things.  And besides, I’ve trained her well,” Cat said, looking proudly on as Iris’s craft disappeared in a flash.  “She can handle herself.”

Taven wanted to know how to lower his helmet but decided his chance to ask questions and actually have them answered was scarce enough that he should focus on Iris.  “But her abilities didn’t help her back at the arena,” he said, “not after the Gatekeepers slowed down the simulation.  She would have been a sitting duck if you hadn’t been there.”

Cat shook her head.  “It’s different in Meta.  You’re forgetting that their time is the slowest in the entire Sim-Verse.  That’s how they are able to slow down all the other primary and sub sims.  They slow them down to match Meta time.”

“So, they can’t freeze people there?”

“No.  Their … ” She corrected herself.  “Our other abilities are all they have.  I wouldn’t mind seeing Iris unleash her powers on a few Gatekeepers when they can’t slow her down,” she added.  “But it shouldn’t come to that.  Not unless we’re very unlucky.”

Taven swallowed hard.  “I just wish she wasn’t alone,” he said, feeling his fatherly instincts kick in.

“It has to be this way,” Cat said.  “She won’t set off their alarms, and the exit barriers don’t work on people from sub sims either.  The Gatekeepers’ arrogance will prove to be their undoing.”

“But what about Eleazar, and the Seekers?  They’re all from subs and they—”

“The Gatekeepers made that impossible,” she interrupted.  “Safeguards are in place.  He and his forces can’t get out of the subs.”

The way she said it made him imagine the worlds he and his forces were occupying were the underworld, abysmal simulations.  But he knew different.  They weren’t bad at all.  In fact, if Cat had told him that Earth and his simulation had actually been a sub sim, he would have believed her.

“How will we know the alarms have been turned off?” Taven asked.

Cat looked out onto the sea, the green-blue waves gently crashing onto the dry sand as the tide rolled in progressively higher.  “She’ll send her craft back, and then we’ll know,” she said.  “But … we’ve got plenty of time here.”

Taven realized her meaning; if Iris was in Meta and they were in a sub sim, that meant that they were running much faster than Iris, that time would seem to go on for who-knows-how-long.

“Care to get more comfortable?” she asked, as she touched his mech suit arm.  His helmet receded, and the mech suit squatting and opened itself for him to exit.

Before he answered, she touched her mech suit’s forearm and had it open itself likewise.  But then there was a sound that Taven had grown to loath.  Quickly and without saying a word, Cat reassembled her mech suit and touched Taven’s so that it would do the same.

She turned and faced the offending intruders.  Three Seeker craft sat in formation on the beach, their scissor-hinged doors already opening.  As the Seekers stepped out, she raised a hand and froze them.

“Want to see what your suit can do?” she asked.

Taven wasn’t sure.  Something about this didn’t seem right.  These soldiers were enemies, at least according to Cat.  But this didn’t seem like a fair fight.  It would be too easy, too much like murder.

“Come on,” she said before he could answer.

They charged forward, their mech suits kicking into a pace that was super-human.  Arriving near the vessels impossibly fast, they stopped.  “Use your weapon,” she instructed Taven.

He didn’t know what that meant, except that maybe it was something to do with the attachment she had given him, that large extra hunk of metal that hung from his right arm.

“How?”

“Just do it,” she said impatiently.

He obeyed, trusting that she knew all the things he didn’t.  He raised his arm and thought of firing on the nearest jumper.  But as soon as he mentally pulled the trigger, a bright green blade of energy, one that matched the color of his own mech suit and of Cat’s eyes, protruded upward several feet.

Although surprised, Taven instinctively knew what to do.  He stepped forward and batted the empty jumper.  He expected his blade to dent it or, if the suit’s powers were strong enough, knock the craft out into the ocean.  But it didn’t feel like he had even touched it, his mech torso effortlessly whipping around one-hundred and eighty degrees.  He looked back and saw the green glow where his energy blade had sliced through the craft like a hot knife through butter.  The pulsing green aftermath on the jumper began to fade.

“Toss it,” Cat said, pointing at the damaged craft.

“Taven mentally withdrew his blade, and his weapon obeyed his mind’s command, retracting into the attachment.  Then he stooped down near the craft, eyeing the frozen soldier steps away from it, and took both mechanical arms and grabbed it like Atlas lifting the world.

Taven reared back, and this vessel that looked like the impossibly heavy one they’d stolen was now balanced above him with ease.  He turned to face the other two craft and moved the mech until he had lined up with them.

Then he took his shot, launching the carried craft with his most ferocious mental effort.  He heard something click on, like an afterburner, and a split-second later his suit hurled the Seeker vessel toward the other two with computer aided precision.  Like billiard balls, the two parked vessels smashed into one another while the hurled craft ricocheted to one side.  Only moments had passed, but all three Seeker vessels were a hundred yards or more out to sea, sinking out of sight.

Quite satisfied with his handiwork, Taven would have dusted his hands together if they hadn’t been covered in steel.  He startled suddenly, hearing a terrifying pounding of the ground behind him.  He turned just in time to see Cat, who had taken a running start, raise her own blue energy blade from her arm attachment and attack the three frozen soldiers.

She held the blade like a samurai, clasping her two hands together with what appeared to be formal training.  As she reached the first Seeker, Taven noticed the blade elongating, doubling in length.  She passed the first soldier and stopped short of the second.  Then with expert accuracy, she tilted the blade downward and swung it in a wide horizontal arc.

Taven was astonished to see Cat slice through all three frozen soldiers, dissecting their torso from their bottom halves.  But there they stood, dead men still on their feet and appearing to be in one piece, if you could ignore the glowing blue lines that pulsated like those marks Taven had left on the Seeker craft.

Cat extinguished her blade.  And before Taven could ask her how she had extended her blade the way she had, she stepped over to the nearest Seeker and delivered a kick that shot the soldiers top half sailing through the air, bouncing off the unmoving water like a stone skipping across a pond.  She proceeded to dispatch the remaining two Seekers in like manner.

“What do you think?” Cat asked when she was done.  “Pretty great, aren’t they?”

Taven stumbled over his words.  The gruesome scene he’d just witnessed was shocking, but it wasn’t just because of the awesome power of their suits or because of Cat’s ability to slow the simulation.  It was how easily, unflinchingly, that Cat killed.  He knew they were bad guys.  But those words sounded absurd.  This wasn’t a game.  Those people were just as real as he was.  Good or bad, from a primary or a sub sim—they were people too.

“Amazing,” he finally offered, trying to disguise his unease.

“It won’t be long now,” she said, taking her helmet down.  “We wasted enough time with these … ”  She wouldn’t say the word people, Taven noticed.  “Since the simulation has been slowed, we’re running close with Meta’s time.  Iris will be finished soon.”

CHAPTER 24

IRIS SHIVERED, WHICH was unlike her.  She loved the cold; it was in her blood like it was in the blood of all Tarshins.  But this was different.  Here, in what Cat had called Meta’s attic, the air was thin and ice cold.  But it was surreal; there were no howling winds, no precipitation or ice anywhere—just cold nothingness.  Nothing unless you counted the nondescript structural components, most of which Iris had no idea what they were.

Fortunately, she’d found her target, or at least the beginnings of it.  Next to the Seeker craft, its internal lights shining out into the shadows, were the twin pieces of conduit, right where Cat had told her they would be.  Actually, she’d gotten lucky.  Yeah, they’d fine-tuned the Seeker craft’s navigation frequency, placing additional digits after the decimal so that she would be sure to arrive in the attic rather than a more populated section of Meta.  But Iris had been told that she would likely have to hunt and search for these pipes.  But there they were, a stroke of luck.  She had double and triple checked them, comparing their red and blue glow to the other channels of conduit near her.  They were the only ones that matched Cat’s description.

“Okay, time for a walk,” she said, marshalling her courage.  She gazed at the dim lights of her craft.  Until now, she’d never even noticed them.  The light of all the environments she’d been in heretofore had been strong enough to outshine them.  But here, in this barely habitable portion of her enemy’s home, they were a beacon, her only way out of here.

“Come on,” she said, frustrated by her fear and weakness.  She tapped her robe’s pocket to be sure she had the relay coupling, tightened her hood around her face to try and choke out the icy air, and turned around to face the darkness.

She stretched out her right hand, the one closest to the blue and red conduit.  Her eyes adjusted quickly, and she realized she could see the conduit’s faint glow out in the dark.  If she had to, she could simply follow them, using their light to finish the job.  But she was thankful to say, she didn’t need them.  She had her own light.

After a couple seconds, her fist began to glow purple-white.  She concentrated her strength.  It was a sensation of pushing and pulling at the same time, building up the energy but holding it inside and not releasing it like she did when she was fighting.  The purple-white glow turned to a pure white light.  Then she turned her fist over and opened her hand.  She smiled as the light shone warmly ahead, a soft spotlight.

“Out of excuses now,” she whispered.  Then she took the first step, following the twin pipes.  This was always the hard part, she thought.  That moment right before beginning.  Once she’d started—whatever it was she dreaded or was afraid of—things got easier.  But starting, committing—that was the hard part.  Like her parents before her, she was a finisher.  That was something they’d been able to teach her in the few short years she’d had with them.  Most of her memories had faded, frustratingly so.  It seemed the more she tried to imagine, to recall the images of her childhood, the more difficult it became to conjure them and the more distorted and unreliable they were.  But this ability, this truth they’d taught her—this was something she could hold on to.  Finishing what she started, seeing her work through until it was done was proof that they had really lived, that she was their daughter and that their lives had mattered.

The pipes reached a wall.  At least that’s all she could think to call it.  But it wasn’t like any wall she’d seen before.  It was opaque; nothing seemed to bounce back from it.  Even when she shined her light directly at it, the light just disappeared.  She couldn’t decide if there was something solid there or not, and she wasn’t brave or stupid enough to try and touch it; she had the visceral image of extending her hand out and the darker than dark wall sucking her into nothingness.

She turned back and looked at where she’d come.  The craft’s lights now looked like a dim star on the horizon, and it was only then she realized how far she’d come and just how large this place really was.

She extinguished the tiny impulse to run back to her vessel, that little girl lost in the woods feeling that she resented.  She was more than that, she believed.  She had to be, yet her feelings betrayed her, who she was.  Then she turned around and examined the conduit.  It made a right turn and ran alongside the strange wall, as far as her light would shine.  She needed to cross it and started to do so.  But then a shot of adrenaline shot through her veins as she remembered Cat’s warning about touching the pipes.  They were pulsing with energy; that was dangerous enough in their uninsulated state.  But it could also trip the security alarms, and then she’d really be in trouble.

She picked up the hem of her robe and took a few steps back.  She focused her light back at the obstacle, dropping one side of her robe.  The pipes were too low to the ground for her to crawl under.  She’d have to jump them.  She then committed the image to memory and picked her hem back up, her human generated light gone.

“Help me,” she whispered, a prayer to her parents.

When she felt they were with her, she ran forward into the dark and leapt as high as her thirteen-year-old body would let her.  After what seemed like a terrifyingly long moment—she refused to put her feet down, fearing she would hit the conduit in midair—she landed roughly, her knees, her only shock absorbers, crashing into her chin.  If she hadn’t been clenching her teeth in the first place, she could have badly bitten her tongue, she knew.

After a second, she pulled herself up and listened.  If she’d set off the alarm, there would be noise, she figured.  Satisfied by the silence, she breathed again and relit her lamp-for-hand.  Iris glanced back and realized she’d cleared the conduit by a wide margin, but what she hadn’t correctly assessed was her trajectory.  Beside her, at arm’s reach, was the conduit she intended to continue following.  If she’d been off by a few degrees more, she would have crashed into the pipe when landing.

“Thank you,” she acknowledged, believing they had kept her out of this danger.  She tapped her pocket to be sure her cargo was still intact and began tracing the twin pipes to her left, walking into the dark.  She didn’t know how much longer she’d have to go, only that she was closer now than when she’d begun, and that was enough.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the backdrop get even darker, and when she turned and looked, she realized something had completely blocked the distant light of her craft.  She returned to the pipes, not letting her fear bubble up: vanquishing those irrational thoughts that someone had discovered her and had shut down the Seeker vessel’s lights or that she was now lost and wouldn’t be able to find her way back.  She had the conduit; it would lead her on to her destination and lead her back again, she told herself.

After several uneventful minutes of walking, long enough that the predictable, repeated visual pattern of pipes and path had cast its hypnotic sleepy spell on her, her view suddenly changed, and she felt a sharp jolt of attention.  There it was, the box that her master had told her about.

She slowed her approach, taking all precautions.  This hub, Cat had explained, was the brains behind the alarm system, at least that part which detected intruders.  The mainframe facility was elsewhere, and the conduit ultimately led back to it.  But it was this hub that was responsible for the barrier that kept Cat and Taven from entering Meta undetected.

She searched her pocket and retrieved the relay coupling she’d brought with her for this exact moment.  She raised it with her free hand, still shining her light brightly with the other.  Iris noticed her hand shake slightly, and she cursed herself, unsure if she was weak, tired, or nervous; all were unacceptable.

“Right here,” she decided, finding the spot where the twin pipes reached a seam in their exterior, and only a few feet further attached to this box.  She held her breath in anticipation, knowing that one false move would both cause her a painful zap as well as set off the alarm.

“What?” she said, flustered when she realized the coupling was too small to connect both pipes.  Further back, away from the box and the seam, where the pipes were closer together, the coupling was a perfect fit.  But here, in the exact spot where Cat had instructed her to place the relay that would short-circuit the signal, it was several inches too short.

A rush of panic flooded over her, her face feeling flush despite the cold air around her.  And she felt nauseated as she let the fearful thoughts dominate her: It’s not going to work.  If I try, they’ll find me.

She slouched down onto the cold floor and huddled there in the darkness.  Her hand’s glow diminished as she retreated inward, not knowing her next move.  But then before the light of her hand had completely gone out, she dropped the relay coupling from her free hand onto the ground—it was conspicuously noisy.  But her mind was immediately elsewhere, because at that same moment, she saw a subtle flash in the distance.  A mixture of fear and hope filled her as she refocused her energy into her hand, shining more brightly toward the flash.

Just as she had secretly hoped, several yards away was a piece of scrap metal, something she thought might have been intended for flashing, some odds-and-ends piece that had been lost or forgotten during this city’s construction or maintenance.

She walked to it quickly, drying her tears and pushing aside her fear.  She picked it up and examined it.  “I think this will work,” she said.

Back near the conduit, she took the scrap of metal and placed it on one end of the relay coupling.  There, kneeling on the floor as if she was offering a hi-tech sacrifice to the gods, she held the two pieces of metal together with her free hand.  Then with her hand that shone as her only source of light, she shifted her powers, first slowly and then more intensely, generating a steady beam of narrow purple energy directly where the two pieces met.

“There,” she said, seconds later.  It took effort, but she shifted her hand back into a light producing element and reviewed her handiwork.  “It will have to do,” she said, pleased with the now welded solid piece.

Next, she took the crudely modified relay coupling and held it up near the two pipes.  It was going to fit, she realized happily.  All that was left was the hard part.

She whispered another prayer to her departed parents, asking for strength and courage to finish what she’d started.  She took one last look with her light at where she wanted to fix the coupling onto the twin pipes and then relinquished her light producing hand.

Iris held out the modified relay coupling, suspending it only inches away from the conduit.  Despite the darkness, she retained the precise contact point firmly in mind.  And then when she could wait no longer, she pressed it forward.

There was an electric zap that she first heard, then felt.  And then right as a red-pink glow began to emanate from where the relay touched the pipes, Iris felt an increasingly stronger current pass through her arms and body.

She concentrated on attaching the coupling, using the same metal melting abilities she’d used moments ago with the scrap piece.  The difference now was that she had to attach both pieces, using each hand to weld onto the pipes all while enduring an increasingly heayr electric current.

She watched intently in the dim ambient glow of her arcing hands, waiting for the moment she was sufficiently convinced the relay was affixed.  She’d been told multiple times by Cat that this was a one-time opportunity, that if she failed to attach the coupling, the security alarm would sound as soon as the coupling fell off.

The current continued to build, now strong enough to numb her arms and hands all the way up to her shoulders.  There was pain in her chest, and she had the distinct fear it would disrupt her heart.  But dying here would be better than being captured by Gatekeepers, she told herself.

She noticed her hands weren’t arcing with the same force, the numbness no doubt interfering with her abilities, and the pain was getting unbearable.  With a crescendo in her voice, she let out a growing cry and finally relinquished her grip.

She fell backwards, out of breath and exhausted.  Her ears rang from the current; at least, that’s what she figured.  She had to listen carefully to be sure the ringing wasn’t the sound of distant alarms.  But after a few moments in the dark, when her eyes had adjusted again, she decided it must have worked.  Not only were there no blaring alarms, but the conduit’s faint blue and red glow showed that the coupling was redirecting the energy flow, allowing it to recirculate without reaching the box.

She then stood, made a light with one hand, and shone it on the box past the relay coupling.  With great satisfaction, she blasted the box, bursting through its outer container, and charring its insides.

“That ought to do it,” she said, before turning back and starting the long walk back to the Seeker craft.  She felt elation, like her feet weren’t even touching the ground.  And then she wondered if she was drunk on victory or if the current’s shock had numbed her feet as well.

She chuckled at the thought, and then, as the return trip became hypnotic and monotonous once again, she turned her mind to her parents.  She told them all she’d done, all she would do, and that she’d see them again soon.

And then, like an unconscious afterthought, Iris said, “They’ll pay, I promise.  They won’t hurt anyone ever again.”

CHAPTER 25

THERE WAS A flash on the beach, and a single Seeker vessel appeared.  Taven couldn’t help but expect another soldier to step out of it at any moment.  It was irrational given that Cat had slowed the simulation.  Plus, she had explained the Seekers’ rigid and predictable pattern: They always skipped integers in the Fibonacci sequence.  That’s how Cat had first said it to him, using the vernacular she thought he’d recognize.  And when he didn’t, she explained by example.

“They send one.  Most of these are one-way tickets to nowhere.  They modulate their destination frequencies and gamble on arriving at a tenable sub simulation.  Most don’t appear anywhere and are lost instantly.  Those who do make it send back their jumper as a sign that they have found a new sub sim.  Then, regardless of what happens to them, whether the inhabitants of that simulation are receptive to their message or not, three more Seekers follow.  Then eight, twenty-one, fifty-five, and so on until the inhabitants have succumbed to Eleazar’s message of peace.”

So, Taven knew better but couldn’t help his internal alarm bell from sounding at the sight of the new craft.

“Do you want to do the honors?” Cat asked him.

It took him a second to realize what she was asking.  He knew they were going to Meta, but he just assumed she would be the one opening a portal.

“Oh, right,” he said remembering the index.  He looked off in the distance, and his vision quickly changed.  He saw the glint in the sky and brought it forward.  “Ready?” he asked when the tile representing Meta appeared directly before him.

She nodded, and he began to touch the tile, but as soon as the decision had been made and before he could lift his arm, the tile darkened, then disappeared entirely.  Immediately, a portal disk opened beside them.

“Ladies first,” he said.

Cat stared blankly, not moving.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“It’s been a long time,” she said.  “That’s all.”  Then she touched her suit’s forearm and her helmet returned, her suit fully activated.  And she lunged forward as if the metal beast she wore would have to break through some thick barrier.

Taven started for the disk, but then something caught his eye.  It was the dropped blaster Iris had left behind.  He scooped it up, sand coming up with it before sifting through his giant fingers.  The pistol was too small for him to use, but, he thought, Iris had brought it back.  And maybe, though Cat had said otherwise, the girl could use it.

Then his suit did something surprising.  At the mere thought of wishing he had a way to store the blaster, his suit opened up a rear compartment behind him, and his mech arm swiveled up and over his head, delivering the blaster before returning to a forward position.  He couldn’t help but recoil from the sensation of his mech arm moving in an inhuman range of motion.

Taven turned and ran toward the disk, disappearing through it.

CHAPTER 26

“WHAT TOOK YOU so long?” Cat asked, still completely enclosed inside her mech suit.

Taven started to explain about the blaster but then was distracted by a noise in the ceiling.  He looked up, on alert by some unseen enemy.  Cat, from what little he could tell with so much metal between them, didn’t seem alarmed.

The tall ceiling seemed to consist of large square tiles, not heavy ceramic but perhaps a lightweight, insulating material.  As he watched, Taven spotted one of the tiles moving, close to the wall, which he only then noticed was entirely comprised of shelving.

The wiggling tile disappeared, and Cat said, “There she is.” Then Cat took a rolling ladder nearby and moved it underneath the missing tile.  Seconds later, two legs in black skintight material appeared, dangling and searching for the wooden ladder.  Once the feet touched, the rest of Iris descended along with her robe that had been temporarily hung up.

“Run into trouble?” Cat asked as she held onto the ladder, securing it.

“Not much,” Iris said, climbing down.

Taven took in the room.  It was two stories tall, and the walls were covered in shelving.  It was large and spacious, but not what he’d expected, not as grand as he had imagined the Sim-Verse’s capital city would be.

“Seen one of these before?” Cat asked, taking her helmet down.

“Are those … ”  Taven touched the spot on his arm, the same one he’d seen Cat press, and removed his helmet.  He stepped closer to the shelving and examined the rows of thin multi-colored columns.

“Books,” Iris said.

“This is a library?” Taven asked, knowing the concept but never having seen one in person, only centuries old pictures from Earth’s past.  “What would Gatekeepers want with a bunch of old books?” he added.

“I’ll show you,” Cat answered.  “First look at the spine.  This one,” she said, pointing.

Taven stooped down so the book would be at eye level.  He saw a long series of numbers that meant nothing to him.  “Are these like … ”—he searched his memories for what he’d read in history class more than a decade ago in school.  “Dewey decimal something-or-another?”

Cat chuckled.  “I don’t know who Dewey was, but these are vectors in the Sim-Verse.  Grab that one.”

Taven obeyed, though he couldn’t imagine his oversized mech hands being agile enough to handle the small book.  As soon as his fingers neared the orange covered spine, the book lifted off the shelf, levitating before him.

“Open it,” she said.

“Is that … my world?” Iris asked, stepping forward with interest.

Again, Taven began to physically act on the object, but it reacted to his intention before he could touch it.  It opened, revealing pages full of numbers.

“These are all primary simulations within the same sector.  They are all proximate to each other in the Sim-Verse.  Select … that one,” Cat said, stepping closer to point.

Taven didn’t know which one she was actually pointing at, her mech fingers as large as his.  But the floating book seemed to know.  Quickly, it changed angles, laying itself flat, horizontal, and shot upward a holographic projection.

Then Taven watched as a sequence of images flashed by: a picture from space of a planet he’d never seen before, faces of smiling strangers, buildings with odd designs.  After what seemed to be an introductory overview of this simulation, the presentation stabilized with a list of tiles, similar to those in the index.

“These represent this sim’s relevant stats: population, technological development, the civilization’s age, its time differential compared to Meta, etc.”

“It says Iris’s civilization is twenty-six thousand years old,” Taven noticed.

“Oh, that’s not her sim.  This is the primary that created her sub.”  Cat scrolled the screen down and clicked on a different tile with a symbol that didn’t mean anything to Taven.  Then the screen changed and showed a new list of numbers.

“Notice how there are more numbers here,” Cat explained.  “They are still within this sector, but there is a virtually unlimited ability to drill down smaller.”

“By adding a new digit,” Taven said.

“Exactly.  The sub simulations have longer identifying number sequences beyond the decimal point than the primary simulations have.  Here’s Iris’s sim.”  Cat found a number and selected it.

Again, the hologram showed pictures of a foreign world with people and places Taven had never seen before.  Then it showed a similar list of stats, representing Iris’s sub simulation.

“Something just occurred to me,” Taven said.  “How did the Seekers reach Iris’s simulation?  It’s not part of the Ghost City’s index, right?”

“No thanks to Gatekeepers—I’ll tell you that much,” Iris said, instantly enraged.

Cat spoke quietly, and Taven remembered they were in enemy territory.  “I was able to place entrance barriers on her simulation, requiring a Gatekeeper’s code to pass through.  To my knowledge, her sim was the first sub outside of the Ghost City index ever accessed by Seekers.”

“I guess we’re lucky,” Iris said, quieter than before.

“And the Gatekeepers just sat idly by?” Taven asked.

“It’s unlikely they even knew the Seekers made it outside of the Ghost City’s index.  The safeguards the Gatekeepers had put in place limited Eleazar’s forces from entering Meta and primary simulations but not from entering other sub sims.  Frankly, the Gatekeepers don’t care, not about subs,”—she glanced at Iris—“or the people living inside them.  And they spend as little time here in this library as they possible can.”

“They’re in constructs here?” Taven asked.

Cat didn’t answer, but the resentful look on her face confirmed it.  Taven stepped away, and the book they’d been looking at closed and reinserted itself into the shelf.  He walked a few paces away from Cat and Iris, examining the walls of books.  What had first seemed unimpressive was now astounding.  Tens of thousands of books had to be in this place, and if they were all like the one he’d been shown, each contained thousands of primary simulations.  And an unknown number of primaries had hundreds or thousands of sub simulations indexed within them.

“What are you doing?  Stop!” Cat yelled.

If the words weren’t alarming enough, her volume told him whatever was wrong was bad enough for her to risk being heard by their enemy.

Taven froze, not moving a muscle or a piston.  She came to him, and said with a softer tone, “You aren’t seeing it, are you?”

Taven looked at the shelving in front of him.  It looked just like all the other shelves and all the other books.  He scanned the numbers quickly, searching for something different but saw nothing that looked important.

“I don’t know what I did,” he stammered.

“You need to see,” she told him.

Then he understood there was more here, things visible outside of the normal EM spectrum.  He tried to relax, tried to remember the feeling of seeing into the sun.  His eyes shifted, and he saw Cat’s red aura and the rest of the room in off-white.  “Okay, I did it,” he said.

Then, impatiently, she pointed back at the bookshelf in front of them.  “Do you see that?” she asked sarcastically.

He looked forward and saw a huge red lever, like the hidden switch in Cat’s arsenal.  “What is it?”

“That’s how you kick the hornet’s nest,” she said.  “It’s a failsafe alarm.  Something anyone can pull if they see us.  And if that happens before we can lower the exit barriers, we won’t escape.”

Iris gave her a knowing look that confused Taven.  “I didn’t see it.  I promise,” he said.

“Well now you do,” she said sternly.  “What else can you see?”

He turned around and examined the room.  It seemed empty of anything charged like Cat or the alarm switch.  Maybe, he decided, this was why Cat hadn’t seemed too worried about being seen by Gatekeepers.  She’d already looked through the environment and hadn’t seen any Gatekeepers.

“Nothing,” Taven finally answered.

“What about Mack?”

“He’s not a Gatekeeper.  He won’t stand out, will he?”

“Think about him, like you thought about me before you jumped from your simulation,” she said.

He tried to imagine Mack’s face.  It was hard to do without seeing his big dumb grin.  As soon as he envisioned his missing friend, a spot of red showed up in the far end of the room.

“There,” he said, pointing.  “But it’s a tiny blip, not even a silhouette.”

“That’s because he’s far away.  On that end of this library begins a series of hallways leading to other parts of the city. It’s a long twisting maze, but he’s down there, and as long as you keep his signature in mind, you’ll find him.”

“You aren’t coming with me?”

“We have to shut down the exit barrier,” she said.  “Otherwise it won’t matter if you find him or not.  We’ll meet back here when we’re both finished.”  Another silent look from Iris.

“But how will I get back? You said it was maze,” Taven questioned.

“This level will stand out like a lighthouse,” she said pointing to the hidden switch.  She then slapped him on the back, the metal on metal sounding like the time he’d crashed a slicer inside the St. George’s docking bay.  “Time’s wasting,” she said before she and Iris started walking in the opposite direction.  “Good luck.”

CHAPTER 27

TAVEN WALKED THE halls toward Mack’s signature.  It was difficult using this part of the EM spectrum to navigate, because it meant he lost some of the normal resolution.  He tried going back to regular vision, but these halls were dimly lit, and it just made things more difficult.  Plus, he couldn’t see Mack then, and that was the only point of reference that helped him decide between right, left, or straight.  He figured a real Gatekeeper would know where the light switch was, but after what Cat had shown him with the alarm lever, he wasn’t sure he’d turn one on even if he found one, which he hadn’t.

When he’d first started down these dark halls, he’d been afraid, nervous that at any moment a Gatekeeper like those he’d seen at the arena would step out from behind the next corner.  And it wasn’t like he could exactly be stealthy.  More than once the reverberation of his own steps down this oversized air chute maze had made him stop and question if he was alone.  His suit was heavy, and sophisticated technology or not, there was no way to dampen the metal on metal impact of his tree-trunk-stump feet on these hard metal floors.

If the library was rarely occupied by Gatekeepers, Taven figured this section of the city was even more empty, absent of all domestic trappings.  It was so monotonous, he thought it would elicit bad dreams some day: lost inside a never-ending labyrinth.  But he could see Mack, his signature growing larger and brighter, and when he turned around, the alarm switch in the library was still there.  That was all that kept him from panicking.

He wondered if there was a special part of Meta where the constructs were organized, similar to the library.  Or if the constructs were just inside Meta’s computer system like those aboard the Hudson and instead of needing neural interfaces to move one’s consciousness into the constructs, the Gatekeepers merely jumped into them.  He considered looking for an index, the one that allowed him to access Meta while in other sims.  He wanted to see if constructs, essentially sub sims here, would show up.  These thoughts occupied Taven’s mind, but he didn’t dare stop for a detour.  First things first, he told himself.  Questions could be answered later, if they got out of here alive.

Just then, Taven felt the hair on the back of his mech-covered neck stand up.  He stopped, listening to the echoes of his steps bounce down the hallway and disappear.  Except they didn’t disappear.  They kept going, or rather, they kept coming.  Closer and louder.

Taven’s lizard-brain nervous system had reacted quickly, before his conscious mind was able to process the threat.  But he realized both parts of him were too late.  He spotted movement around the corner up ahead.

Taven was stuck between turning to run and pulling up his energy sword to attack.  And right as the mech walked out into the middle of the intersection and turned ninety degrees to face Taven, another impulse competed in Taven’s mashed up mind.  As the Gatekeeper walked toward him, Taven slowly came to realize there was something different about this one.  Something about its gait, not to mention the fact that it most certainly had seen him by now but hadn’t threatened him in any way.

Maybe they think I’m one of them, Taven reasoned.  But when the Gatekeeper came close enough that Taven could touch it, he realized that wasn’t it at all.  The mech suit reached Taven, stopped, turned precisely ninety degrees, stepped against the wall, turned another ninety degrees, and attempted to pass Taven.

When it couldn’t squeeze by him without bumping into Taven, the mech simply stopped and waited.

“You’re not a Gatekeeper, are you?” Taven asked, already knowing the answer.  Why he hadn’t noticed that the mech wasn’t glowing red, had no signature to speak of, he didn’t know.  But he let out a heartfelt laugh, relieved to be wrong and alive.  This was merely an empty suit, just the mech itself going who-knows-where.

Taven stepped aside and let the machine pass.  He wondered if it was on patrol and didn’t perceive him as a threat or if it was on its way to a charging station.  Maybe it was returning from some maintenance work.  More questions for later, he decided as he pressed onward toward Mack.

After several minutes, Taven turned a final corner.  Mack was close now.  He shifted back to regular sight and saw that this hallway was different than all the others.  Along one side of it, were open rooms, barely more memorable than the endless halls he’d been walking.  He decided they were holding cells.  Taven walked forward toward Mack’s signature, though he was now going on memory.

“A little privacy would be nice,” Mack said, squatting in the corner.  Taven didn’t respond, just tried to understand what his friend was doing.  Then it dawned on him that Mack was using this primitive excuse for a toilet.

“And you said five minutes—this was at least ten,” Mack said, finishing up.  He stood, adjusting his clothing—he still had the robe he’d stolen from Iris’s world.  “D’you decide to take me up on my offer?” Mack asked, machismo in his voice.  “Of course, the deal was you had to get out of that tank on legs first.”

Taven felt joy, real joy for the first time in as long as he could remember.  He was surprised by the pure, unsullied emotion spawned by the sight of his friend, unharmed and as defiant as ever.  He also was starting to enjoy this little charade and kept his mouth shut.

He shifted to Gatekeeper sight and realized there was some sort of energy field between him and Mack.  How do I shut that off? he wondered.  Then he noticed in the wall beside him another hidden switch.  He looked back down the hall and saw similar switches in the walls adjacent to each of the cells he’d passed.  They were all down, and so it seemed were their associated fields.  He knew this had to control Mack’s cell door, but he couldn’t help but worry it was another alarm switch, like the one in the library.  But what other choice did he have?  Finally, he swallowed his fear and tripped the switch.

The field came down, and Mack said, “Oh, alright.  You’re serious about this, huh?”

Taven stood there, silent.  Could Mack see the barrier, or had he learned that this was how his cell’s containment field was operated?

“But a deal’s a deal.  Drop the armor, and let’s get this little rodeo started.”  Mack shadow boxed in preparation for a fight that wasn’t coming.

“You about finished?” Taven finally said as he touched the helmet release button.

“Boss man!  How’d you—”

“I’ll tell you later.  We’ve gotta move.”

Mack stepped forward, first stretching out his hand to test the field.  Then, as if there was still a chance the field would zap him, he lunged forward like a runner bursting through a tape at the finish line.

Taven turned around, avoided the dark shadowy room that this end of the hallway opened up into, and began walking back toward the library.  “Hey, aren’t we gonna just jump out of here—do one of those portals things you know how to do?” Mack asked.

“It might not even work here,” Taven explained.  “These Gatekeepers have a barrier that … ”  He stopped, realizing how much he’d learned from Cat since Mack had been taken and that there wasn’t time for a full explanation.  “We gotta get back to Cat and Iris.  They’re turning off the exit barrier.”

He expected to hear more questions from Mack, but his literal-minded friend seemed to take his words at face value, trusting him.  Taven stopped, remembering he’d forgotten something.  He reached back into his rear compartment, his arm doing that very un-human movement, and retrieved the blaster he’d picked up at the beach.

“Here you go,” he said, handing it to Mack.

Mack’s face lit up like a kid opening a birthday present.

“Just in case,” Taven said.  “Don’t use it unless you need to.  We don’t want to draw any attention to ourselves if we don’t have to.”

Mack nodded, agreeing, though Taven knew there was only so much he could expect from his loyal friend, his instincts too strong; like a dog off his leash.

Suddenly, there was a flash that came from down the hall further past where Mack had been held prisoner.

“What was that?” Mack whispered.

“I’d rather not find out,” Taven said, putting his helmet back up.  “Come on.” Taven turned back around and headed toward the library.

CHAPTER 28

IRIS FOLLOWED HER master through the winding halls.  She would have been worried if she were by herself or if she had been with anyone else, but she was glad to follow, to trust in her greatest teacher.  More than the powers that Cat had helped her develop, it was the ability to trust again that she was most grateful for.

“Here we are,” Cat said without turning to face her pupil.  There before them at the dead end of this hallway was a set of double doors unlike any they had passed on their way here.  Iris felt a surge of angst, knowing her time was near, as Cat activated the lever that was only visible to Gatekeepers.

As the doors slid open, Iris spotted the glowing cylindrical core inside.  It was multicolored, or rather, it shifted from one color to another, the shades of the spectrum so subtle it was hard to determine when something was still red before it was orange, or yellow before it was green.  The object could have been a star, Iris thought, at least as powerful as one, as real as one.  It was mesmerizing, and she found herself lost in the moment, even forgetting that she had come here to destroy this beautiful pulsar.

Cat stepped through the doors and turned, lowering her helmet.  She stood there, waiting for Iris to follow.  The cue, her master’s discontented face, knocked Iris out of her reverie, and she scurried forward like a panicked baby chick going back to the brood.

After Iris stepped through, Cat closed the doors behind them.  Her master retrieved an object from her mech suit.  It was unrecognizable to Iris and she didn’t know where it had come from.  But it did look familiar, and when Cat strapped it to the interior door command console, she realized it resembled the relay coupling she’d put on the conduit.

There was a flicker of light as the object seemed to come online and activate.  “There, that ought to keep them out,” Cat said.

“Aren’t they going to know?” Iris asked, worried.

“It’s just a precaution,” Cat said.  “I never count on plan A.  But … ” She exhaled.  “This is going to work.  And they’re not going to know what hit them.”

Cat moved away from the door, circling around the cylindrical core, Meta’s central processor and power source.  This was the heart that pumped blood through Meta’s veins, Cat had once explained.  A swift stab here, and the entire Gatekeeper hegemony would come to a halt.

“Are you ready?”  Cat asked.

Iris felt doubt emerge, but she pushed it down.  “As long as you help me,” she said, mustering courage.

“I’ll be here,” Cat promised.  “Until the very end.”

CHAPTER 29

TAVEN STEPPED FORWARD through the darkness, keeping his eye on the distant lever in the library.  Somehow, this return trip seemed longer, and he thought it had something to do with the fact that Mack was with him now, that he wasn’t just worried about his own skin.  He had the weight on his shoulders of leading his friend to safety, like the burden he used to feel for his miners as foreman but one hundred times more.

“What was that?” Mack asked, real fear in his voice.

Taven had seen another flash but hadn’t been sure what it was.  He switched back to normal sight and turned to Mack.  “Get in,” he told him, kneeling down and opening the rear compartment that was barely big enough to carry Mack.

“Oh, no.  I’m not going back in one of those again.  That’s the last place—”

“Do you want to get out of here or not?” Taven asked.  Then, not waiting for Mack’s answer, he added with his sternest tone, “Get in the blasted thing.”

Apparently, he still had the bluff on Mack who climbed in without a rebuttal.  Taven stood, the compartment shutting around his friend.

“That’s one way to keep him quiet,” Taven whispered.

“Keep who quiet?” Mack said.

“You can hear me?” Taven asked, surprised.

“Yeah, boss.  Loud and clear.”

So much for that, Taven thought, hoping Mack couldn’t hear his thoughts, too.  Quickly, Taven tuned his vision back above the normal visible EM spectrum.  He saw the library lever again, but he wasn’t looking for that.  He was searching for the source of the flashes, hoping that his sneaking suspicion was wrong.

He turned slowly, taking time to fully scan the giant city.  About thirty degrees to the right, he spotted a Gatekeeper’s signature.  He agonized over it for a second, but when he noticed the signature of the smaller purple-white figure next to it, he realized he was looking at Cat and Iris, wherever they were.  He continued scanning, and just as he’d almost made it three-hundred sixty degrees around—back to the lever in the library—he spotted a new red figure.

“How’d you get there?” he said.

“Get where?” Mack asked.

“Shut up, Mack,” he said, focusing on what had to be a new Gatekeeper up ahead.  He examined his anticipated path forward and realized it would bring him directly in contact with the Gatekeeper.

His mind raced, trying to think of a way around.  There had to be one, of course, but he didn’t know these tunnels.  And just as he thought he’d simply turn back and find a different way forward, he noticed the Gatekeeper was walking slowly in his direction.

“I’ve got an idea,” he whispered.  “Hold on.”

He didn’t know if it was a good one or not, but he knew he didn’t have time to think about it.  He stepped forward, slowly, deliberately, and swung his arms in a measured alternating pattern that balanced out with his legs.

He rounded the corner and held his breath, knowing the Gatekeeper would spot him, that he was now in clear sight.  Taven turned his suit left, trying his hardest to make the motion appear as automated and unnatural, unhuman as possible.  Then with what he hoped would be understood as the lack of fear only a computer-driven machine would possess, he marched directly toward the Gatekeeper.

Taven switched from ultra-EM to regular vision and examined the Gatekeeper as he approached.  He wasn’t in a mech suit, which was a relief.  The blonde-haired Gatekeeper stopped and appeared to be examining the mech.  Taven hoped he wasn’t picking up on his signature.  If he had, he wasn’t showing it, just standing there, watching.

Keep moving, Taven told himself.  Don’t acknowledge him.  Taven eyed the Gatekeeper as he came closer and remembered seeing him at the arena.  Cat had called him Gabe.  Taven was careful not to turn his head toward the blonde-haired man.

This is going to work, he thought right as he passed by Gabe.  But then his heart skipped a beat, hearing the man’s voice.  “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming back here, Cat.”

Taven’s mind raced through the implications.  Of course, he thought, Gabe thinks I’m Cat.  I have her code.  He recognizes me.

“But, unfortunately for you,” Gabe continued, “you’re as predictable as ever.  Drop the pretense.  This is over.”

CHAPTER 30

“HARDER,” CAT INSISTED.  She wasn’t yelling, not yet.  But the tone in her voice made it clear she was disappointed with Iris’s performance.

“I’m trying,” Iris cried, her hands glowing bright against the core.

“Try harder,” Cat said.

Iris closed her eyes, both to focus her strength and to keep back the tears.  She didn’t want her master to see yet another one of her weaknesses.  She clenched her teeth, putting all her attention on her hands which burned like she was sticking them in a fire.

“Push past the pain,” Cat told her, now standing right behind her.  Her closeness was jarring, but it reminded Iris of her training, of all the countless times Cat had been in her head, teaching her.  And quickly, she felt her hands turn numb.

“That’s it,” Cat said, now more nurturing.

Iris opened her eyes briefly and seeing that her hands were now pulsing and shifting colors like the core itself, she shut her eyes again.  This was progress? she wondered.

“Focus,” Cat said, apparently sensing her wandering mind.

“This is all I can do,” Iris said wearily.  “I’m giving it my all, but it’s just absorbing my energy.”

“You must go further.  You’re holding back.”

“I’m not.  I promise I’m—”

“No,” Cat said, silencing her.

Iris knew better than to cross her teacher.  Cat was always right, had always been right.  Iris waited on the truth, the understanding she lacked.

“You are afraid,” Cat said.

Iris searched herself, struggling to think under these conditions.  “Yes,” she finally said, deciding to agree even if she wasn’t sure.

“You’re afraid of the pain.  You’re afraid of dying.  You’re afraid that you will fail.”  Cat paused and in an even closer voice whispered, “You are afraid they died for nothing.”

Like Cat had flipped some switch, Iris’s eyes filled back up with tears, the truth overwhelming her.

“Yes,” she admitted.  She’d prepared for this moment, but her fear, her doubt hadn’t ever fully left her.

“You must decide, Iris.  Do you want to make things right or go on living with the knowledge that your parents’ lives meant nothing?  That those who murdered them will never be held to account for their crimes?  That those who set up this merciless Sim-Verse, who worked to ensure that it was maintained despite its injustice, will go on believing that might makes right and that you and your kind aren’t worth anything?  That you are less than nothing?  That you can’t ever touch them, can’t make them care, can’t make them pay?”

“No!” Iris yelled, consumed by her rage, her singular purpose.

“That’s it,” Cat said.  “You’re doing it.  Go deeper.  Into your pain.  Into your hate.”

Iris felt spasms come over her, and each exhalation produced a scream.  But it wasn’t a cry of pain; it was one of power, of victory.  Each breath emptied a new portion of a previously untapped reservoir of hate.

“Yes.  Yes,” Cat said.  But Iris could barely hear her master.  This runaway train was on its way to its final destination, and nothing could stop it now. Not pain.  Not her teacher.  And not the flashing lights and loud computer voice warning of a systems failure.

CHAPTER 31

LIGHTS FLASHED REPEATEDLY, and Taven heard an electronic voice announce: “Warning.  System Critical.  Failure Eminent.”

Gabe recoiled backwards, with a confused look on his face.  He turned and looked away, and Taven knew he was scanning, trying to figure out what was happening.

“You’re not Cat,” Gabe snapped back.  “I don’t know who you are, but … ”  He looked down and then back up.  “I’ve got to warn the others.”

“Wait,” Taven said, unsure of what was happening.  All he knew was that he couldn’t let Gabe awaken other Gatekeepers from the constructs.

Gabe paid Taven no mind, apparently unthreatened by him, and ran full speed down the hallway.

“Stop him,” Mack said.

But before Taven could act, the Gatekeeper created a portal and jumped through it.  Taven ran after him, knowing he was headed toward the library.  His mighty mech suit shook the floor as he charged, but despite his ultra-human speed, the portal vanished before he could reach it.

Taven didn’t stop running but kept charging forward in the direction of the library, his guiding Polaris star the red glowing lever.

“What are you doin’, Boss?” Mack asked, somehow aware that they were running full speed toward a dead-end wall.

“Shut up a second,” Taven said.  Then he closed eyes while continuing to run, focusing on his memory of the lever and the book that Cat had pulled off the wall.  He hoped he could conjure up a portal in time to jump there.  After a couple seconds, Taven opened his eyes and was glad to be temporarily blinded by the bright shimmering disk before him.

He came through the other side quickly and noticed his reentry hadn’t caused him much disorientation.  Apparently, there was a correlation between the distance traveled and the duration of the limbo sensation he had come to expect.

On the far end of the library, Taven saw Gabe sprinting toward him.  Taven’s plan had worked; he had appeared between Gabe and the lever.

“Let me out,” Mack demanded.

“Shut up,” Taven said as he pulled up his green energy blade from his arm attachment.

Immediately, Gabe pulled out a blaster from behind his back and aimed it at Taven.

“Where’d he get that?” Taven mouthed.

He stepped forward, hoping to intercept Gabe.  Then Gabe’s blaster roared to life, more powerful than its size suggested.  The Gatekeeper proved to be an excellent marksman, and much to Taven’s surprise, the blast fire was more damaging than he had anticipated.  His mech suit took punishing blows, and the force of the blasts pushed Taven backwards, losing ground.

“Raise your shield,” Mack barked.

Taven wanted to tell him to shut up, but he knew Mack was right.  He didn’t know how to activate shields, but so far, the mech suit seemed to respond to his strongest mental impulse.  Despite the continuing blasts that loudly reverberated inside Taven’s suit, he imagined a shield emanating from his other hand like the ones he’d seen Gatekeepers use at the arena.

Then the sound of the blast fire changed, becoming dull and muted.  Taven opened his eyes and was relieved to see a green glowing force field projecting from his left hand and blocking the blaster fire.

“Here’s our chance,” Taven said.  Then he began charging Gabe whose blaster fire was now rendered ineffective.

When he’d cut the distance between them in half, Gabe stopped firing and began to retreat.  He dropped his blaster, and Taven believed victory was in sight.  But then, the Gatekeeper pulled out an orb and tossed it Taven’s way.

Taven threw on his brakes, the floor below him feeling like it would tear apart from the friction.  Taven’s mech suit finally came to a stop right as the grenade landed a few feet before him.  Then a blinding light shone, and Taven felt a wave of nausea from the intense pulse.

“Where’d he go?” Mack yelled.

Taven didn’t respond.  His vision had returned, but now there was a cloud of residual smoke from the grenade, and he’d lost sight of his nemesis.  There was a quick flash behind the wall of smoke, and Taven guessed Gabe had jumped away, retreating.  But then, before Taven could scan for Gabe’s signature, he learned he had guessed wrong.

Out of the smoke came a charging red mech suit, and by its motion Taven could tell this was no automated mech; Gabe was suited up for battle.

“Let me out.  I’ll blast him,” Mack said.

“No, you’ll just get yourself killed,” Taven said, raising his green energy blade, readying himself for impact with the charging mech.

But then Gabe stopped, and for a split second Taven thought his blade had scared him off.  Then he realized he had guessed wrong a second time as Gabe’s shoulder cannon rose into view.

Quickly, Taven thought to fight fire with fire.  He had to have a cannon too, he thought; all the mech’s he’d seen in battle had, but he had never used his.

Sure enough, he heard the hydraulic whirl of his suit following his mind’s command.  His shoulder cannon rose into position, and just as he took aim—a targeting bullseye had come into view—he saw the blaze of red, the other mech firing first.

Taven closed his eyes, fearing the damage of this larger blast.  But after feeling nothing, he opened them and noticed his targeting crosshairs were gone.  Then it dawned on him that the red mech had shot his cannon clean off.

“Shields,” he said, panicked.  If that cannon was strong enough to shear a piece of his suit off, what would a direct hit do?  Immediately a green glow shone from his left hand, the translucent shield in front of him now.

And it couldn’t have come a moment too soon.  Gabe again fired his cannon, and though the impact wasn’t as loud as Taven had expected, the force of the blasts was strong enough to push him backward.

Taven withstood the blows the best he could, but each blast made him lose ground, slide back toward the wall of books and the lever that he’d decided was important enough to guard with his life.

Then Taven felt pressure at the back of one of his feet, an odd nerves-through-metal sensation, and he realized that he’d been pushed all the way back to the wall.  To make matters worse, he noticed his shield changing.  With each new blow, the outer edges shrank inward.  And it flickered like it was about to fail.

“Come on, Boss.  Let me out now.  We’re both dead if you don’t.”

Taven didn’t like the idea, but Mack was right.  He wished Cat would show up and save the day, but she probably didn’t even know they were in trouble.  He had to play the hand he’d been dealt.

“Go,” Taven said, dropping down to one knee and releasing his friend.  Mack jumped out of Taven’s suit and rolled several yards away.  Instantly, he fired his blaster pistol at Gabe, hitting his target.

It was no shoulder cannon, but Mack’s blaster fire was apparently having an effect.  Because Gabe stopped to raise his shield.  As he did, Taven took advantage of the short ceasefire and moved forward several steps.

The red mech resumed firing at Taven, which was part of Taven’s haphazard plan.  After all, Mack was a soft target without a shield or armor.  Again, Taven attempted to stand his ground, his own shield seeming to have regenerated slightly during the brief break.

Mack moved further to one side, trying to get around the mech’s shield.  And when he did, Gabe turned his aim toward Mack.  The cannon blast tore up the ground near him, but Mack leapt away, narrowly avoiding mortal contact.

Taven knew his friend’s luck was about to run out.  He charged the red mech with all his might, extending the length of his energy blade like he’d seen Cat do at the beach.

Gabe turned to block Taven’s advance, but it was too late.  Taven lunged forward, his blade like a knight’s lance, piercing both shield and chest plate of the red mech operator.

Taven felt a strange sensation, as if his blade had lodged in solid concrete, and he had to withdraw it from the mech suit with great effort.  It wasn’t like those Seeker vessels he’d sliced through on the beach.  Whatever he’d cut through—the armor, he guessed—was made of something much stouter, much stronger.

When he’d retrieved his blade, Taven saw the glowing green spot in the middle of Gabe’s chest plate, and he knew he’d delivered a victorious blow.  The Gatekeeper stumbled backwards, losing his balance.  Then, in what was clearly a last-ditch effort, the red mech operator lunged past Taven toward the alarm lever.

Taven tried to react to the unexpected move, but Mack was faster, blasting the rear of the mech suit repeatedly.  Each blast incrementally slowed the determined Gatekeeper until finally reaching a critical point that put him on the floor, face first.

CHAPTER 32

“YES.  YES,” CAME Cat’s repeated, almost hypnotic encouragement.  But Iris could barely hear her now.  The core, this energy source that she had attached herself to, was dynamic, almost like a living entity.  And once she had merged with it completely, she no longer felt pain, not physically anyway.  All that was left, of her and of this moment, was her singular drive to finish.

“Almost there,” Cat said.  Iris understood, but the words seemed hollow, unreal like all the times they had rehearsed.  None of this was real, was it?

Then there was a new sound.  The alarm screeched louder, higher in pitch, and the voice that had been warning of a potential system failure changed its message: “Total system failure in two minutes.”

“That’s it,” Cat said.  “We’ve done it.”

“Done what?” Iris said, her concentration broken for the first time in many minutes.

“You need to continue focusing.  I told you I’d be with you to the end.”

Iris, now no longer herself, somehow merged inside the core, nodded, though she doubted the gesture could even be seen by her master.

“Do you want to see them again?”

“My parents?”

“Then focus.  They are here, with us now,” Cat said.

Iris felt a new wave of emotion, something she thought had permanently been extinguished after she had committed to the core’s destruction.  And then it happened; she was back at her home world, her disembodied spirit flying fast over the streets until she was there, where it all happened.  Her parents were down, the Seekers having already killed them.  With only a thought, Iris laid waste to the remaining soldiers, slicing them down with a swipe of her invisible hand. Then she was near her parents, floating over their blasted bodies.

“Roll them over,” Cat instructed.

She reached down and turned over her father.  His eyes were closed but she could see him still breathing.  Iris’s heart leaped, and she quickly went to her mother and turned her over as well.

Her mother opened her eyes.  “Child, you’ve returned.”

“I’m here, mom.”  Iris heard her own voice change.  She was no longer her thirteen-year-old self.  She was eight years old again, just like she had been when the Seekers had wreaked havoc on her world.

“So am I,” her father said.

She rushed to him.  “Father.  I thought I’d never see you again.”

“Things aren’t as they seem,” he told her.  “We’re never really dead.  We go on, somewhere, some way.  What’s important now is that we are together again.”

“Yes, my dear,” said Iris’s mother.

Iris pulled her parents closer to each other, dragging them on the hard ground until they were side by side.  “We are together,” she said, attempting to embrace them both at the same time.

“Always,” her mother said.

“Forever,” her father added.

CAT STOOD BACK, looking at her pupil for the last time.  She knew what Iris was seeing, what her last thoughts and images would be, but all Cat saw was the blurry figure standing inside the energy core, no longer a sub sim human.  Now she was a human weapon in the final moments of detonation.

“Goodbye,” she said quietly, knowing Iris could no longer hear her.  Then she turned all the way around, scanning Meta one last time.  “Good riddance,” she pronounced before creating a portal and disappearing.

CHAPTER 33

“SYSTEMS FAILURE IN sixty seconds,” came the countdown warning.  The cacophonous alarm was so loud inside his mech suit, Taven struggled to think.  He pulled down his helmet, hoping to escape the siren, but the alarms were sounding everywhere inside Meta.

“What now, Boss?” Mack asked.  He was hunched over, like he was in pain.  Or maybe he was just trying to hide from the screeching noise.

“Now, we find Cat and get out of here,” Taven said, not understanding what the change in the alarm meant or why there had been one in the first place.  Cat and Iris were supposed to have been disabling the exit barrier, not tripping alarms.

Suddenly there was movement on the floor, and Taven had the distinct rush of fear like he’d discovered a snake in the grass.

“He’s still alive,” Mack said, aiming his blaster toward the red mech.

“Don’t shoot,” came a soft voice.  Then Gabe’s helmet retracted, and Taven saw the back of the Gatekeeper’s head, his blonde hair no longer seeming as bright as it had before.

“Cover me,” Taven told Mack.  Then he took hold of the red mech suit and slowly flipped it over.  He tried setting it down gently, but the tank-heavy suit still made an unpleasant crunch as it landed.  There, staring back at them, was a man who was clearly dying.

“It’s all over,” Gabe said, coughing.  Taven saw blood in the corner of the Gatekeeper’s mouth.

“What’s over?” Mack said.

“She tricked you.  She tricked us all.”

“Cat?” Taven asked.

“See for yourself,” said Gabe.

Taven looked out, scanning where he last remembered seeing Cat and Iris’s signature.  But all he saw now was a multicolored cylindrical object glowing with a faint purple-white figure inside it.

“She’s gone,” Taven whispered.

“System failure in thirty seconds,” said the computer.

“Why would she leave without us?” Mack asked.

“How could she leave?” Taven corrected.  “There were exit barriers they were supposed to lower.”

The Gatekeeper started a laugh that turned into a heavy cough.  “There are no exit barriers, just entrance alarms, which,”—more coughs—“she somehow turned off.  I knew she had something planned.  That’s why I waited for her, but I never thought she’d try this.  She couldn’t have things her way, so she’s destroying Meta and every safeguard in the entire Sim-Verse.”

Taven and Mack looked at each other with stunned expressions.

“You’ve got to get out of here,” Gabe said.  “It’s too late for me, but you can live.  You can stop her from whatever else she’s got planned.”

“Systems failure in fifteen seconds,” the computer screeched.

Taven felt like he’d received the greatest sucker punch in the universe, and he struggled to breath, let alone think.

“He’s gone,” Mack said, pointing at the dead Gatekeeper.

“Okay, let’s go,” Taven said feebly.  Then with what focus he could rally, he calmed himself and pictured their destination.  Home, he thought.  Then he heard the wet splatter of a new portal materializing.

Taven opened his eyes and saw Mack’s grinning face, the only guy in the Sim-Verse who could smile after the day they’d had.  “After you, Boss,” Mack said, extending his arm toward the disk.

The computer voice counted: Five, four, three …

Taven pushed Mack into the disk and jumped through after him.

CHAPTER 34

TAVEN’S CONSCIOUSNESS SEEMED to travel impossibly far, and time itself seemed irrelevant.  There was a strange knowing, an awareness that he was himself.  Though, if it had been possible to converse while traveling through the portal, Taven couldn’t have told anyone his name.

Bright lights greeted him on the other side of the portal as he came to, and after a couple of seconds, he recognized the room.  It was the one he’d been held in at the quarantine orbiter.  Then the rest of his memories rushed back, like he was downloading them from some distant server.  The sensation made him wonder if that was indeed what was happening, that his consciousness—if such a thing was real inside a simulated universe—was being safely stored somewhere while his material self traveled between simulations.

“Couldn’t you have put us on the other side of the glass, Boss?”

Taven spun around and saw Mack who seemed entirely unbothered by the jump or their near miss back at Meta.

“We did it,” Taven said, and before he knew what he was doing, he grabbed Mack and tried to give him a celebratory hug.

“Easy, big fella,” Mack said under Taven’s squeeze.

“Oh, how’d I forget?”  Taven released Mack and stepped backward.  His mech suit squatted down and opened, allowing him to exit.  “Are you okay?” he asked, stepping out.  “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Might have a bruise in the morning,” Mack said, grabbing one shoulder.  “But I’ll survive.”

Taven just stood there, enjoying Mack’s perennial dumb grin.  He felt like giving him another hug, something that until today he’d never done before.  It hadn’t seemed appropriate, Taven being Mack’s superior and all.  But none of that mattered now.  They were just two people glad to be alive.

There was a knock on the glass, and Taven felt a spike of adrenaline as his supercharged internal threat detector went off.  He was relieved, however, to see Dr. Hewitt on the other side of the window with a curious smile on his face.

“You made it back,” Hewitt said after turning on the comm system.

Just then Taven noticed the clock on the wall above the glass window.  It said it was five minutes until one o’clock.  “Glad to see you, Doctor,” Taven said truthfully.  “I was afraid the Gatekeepers had—” He stopped himself, realizing Dr. Hewitt wouldn’t know who the Gatekeepers were.  “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“We all are,” Hewitt said, as if the novelty of the idea was more important to him than being alive.

“But I saw on the security feed those mech operators lay waste to dozens of people,” Mack interjected.

“It was all non-lethal,” Hewitt said, raising his hands, palms up.  “We all woke up about ten minutes after you disappeared and have been putting this place back together ever since.”

“How long?” Taven asked.

“The whole time,” Hewitt answered.

“No.  I mean, how long were we gone?”

Hewitt gave a puzzled look.  Then he checked the clock and said, “Almost an hour, it looks like.”

“Blast it all,” Mack exclaimed.

Taven turned to his friend.  “Time’s relative, just like it was for me back at the Hudson.”

“Yeah, well.  I thought you were just off your rocker back then.”

“Thanks for your vote of confidence,” Taven quipped.  They grinned at each other, but then Taven’s smile disappeared.  “She tricked us,” he said.

“She left us to die is what she did,” Mack corrected.

“Iris,” Taven whispered, the thought hitting him hard.

“The kung fu kid with flame thrower hands?  You think she was in on it too, Boss?”

Taven shook his head.  “No. Not exactly.  Cat used her, just like she used us.  Except I don’t think Iris made it out.”

They were quiet for a minute, thinking through all the implications.  Then Mack added, “I guess that Gatekeeper was telling the truth after all.”

Then Dr. Hewitt, who had been patiently eavesdropping, spoke up.  “What’s a Gatekeeper?”

Mack and Taven’s grins flashed back across their faces.  There was so much to explain.

CHAPTER 35

“BABY GIRL!” TAVEN said, kneeling down.

“Daddy.”  Two-year-old Evelynn ran into his arms.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he said.  He couldn’t help the thoughts that entered his mind, that tarnished this wonderful reunion.  If they were all just ones and zeros in the simulation, what did it matter?  But then he decided he wouldn’t care, not now anyway.  He loved his daughter, and that was enough.

He released Evelynn and stood to greet Amy.  She wore a smile, but he saw through the cracks in her façade.  She wasn’t dishonest, no more than anyone else he knew.  It was just that they weren’t in the best of places, that the message he had sent after first leaving the Hudson had predictably rocked the boat in their relationship, and getting quarantined by Meyer Corp hadn’t helped the matter.  But she was here, and she was trying, at least going through the motions of being a spouse.  And that, too, was enough for today, he decided.

They were in a Meyer Corp office complex aboard the quarantine orbiter, in the waiting room, and Amy still stood near the door where she and Evelynn had entered.  Taven stepped toward her and opened his arms, gently embracing her.  He whispered in her ear, “I missed you.”

“Me too,” she said.

That too was enough for now.  He could work with that, build on it later.  He wasn’t sure how, especially since he’d already turned in his resignation with Meyer Corp and didn’t have more work lined up.  But the early payload bonus he’d earned—gosh, that seemed like years ago—would cushion his transition, would buy them time until he got the next gig going.

“Is this your lovely bride?”

They turned and saw Mack enter the waiting room door.

“Amy, this is Mack, my second in command.  Or … well, he used to be.”

They greeted each other warmly, and Mack laid it on thick, saying how Taven had never shown him pictures of Amy and that now he knew why Taven was quitting: who could stand to be away from such a beautiful women for so many weeks at a time?

As usual, Mack made people around him feel at ease, and Taven was grateful for the fact.  “This won’t take long,” Taven promised Amy.  “It’s mostly just signing stuff, red tape.  Then we’ll be off.”

“We’ll be here,” she said sitting down in one of the chairs and letting Evelynn climb into her lap.

“Say, Mack.”  Taven eyed Amy as if to be sure he had her permission.  “Want to join us back at Guss’s after this is all over?”

“No can do, Boss.  Got big plans with the boys.”  He stopped and looked at Amy.  Taven realized for one of the first times ever that Mack was self-censoring, keeping things on the up and up around women and children.

A voice came on overhead saying that the board would see Taven and Mack now, and the electronic tone reminded Taven of the countdown alarm at Meta.  Some things stick with you, and Taven knew this wouldn’t be his last triggered memory from another simulation.

CHAPTER 36

“AH, MR. SMITH,” said one of the Meyer Corp big-wigs.  Taven shook hands with the man who then motioned for Mack to also have a seat but did not address him verbally.  The slight to his apparently less important friend gave Taven an instant distaste for these corporate types, as if he didn’t already possess the sentiment.

“Well, I suppose you already know what you are here for,” said another executive.  She smiled faintly, but Taven didn’t return the gesture.  He was ready to get this over with and never step into a Meyer Corp office again.

“Here are the documents you need to sign before we release you as a free agent,” she said, sliding the electronic paperwork across the black table.

Taven and Mack both touched the table in front of them where the icon she had sent came to rest.

“It’s boilerplate legalese,” she explained.  “The main thing you must know is that you can never discuss what happened aboard the Hudson or the … ” She cleared her throat, apparently uncomfortable with the notion, “the Sim-Verse.”

Mack didn’t seem troubled by the edict, but Taven thought it was preposterous.  “You actually want me to keep quiet about the Sim-Verse?” he asked.  “Something this important—the world has a right to know.  You can’t just sit on knowledge like this.  It’s too big.  Too important.”

“Trade secrets cannot be shared, even if you are no longer working for Meyer Corp,” said another executive.  “You are already bound by your existing contract.  These documents are simply the corporation’s gesture of good will, our attempt to make it exceedingly clear what our terms are so that there are no misunderstandings.”  There was a pause before the man added, “Mr. Smith, you don’t want to go against us.  We have the courts on our side, and I don’t think you’d like the outcome.”

The veiled threat only made Taven want to kick back against the system that much harder, but he refrained from speaking his mind.  He knew what they meant, that even if he exposed the truth to the world—he, after all, could provide undeniable proof—Meyer Corp’s litigation would make his family’s life a living nightmare.  The truth would come out eventually.  It had to, he figured.  Maybe he could leave a trail of bread crumbs for someone else to discover what was going on.  But for right now, he had to live his life, do what made sense for his family.  Cat—wherever she was now—had gotten what she wanted, revenge with the powers that be.  Taven was uncomfortable with the way things had ended.  The Gatekeepers and Meta being taken down would undoubtedly have consequences, but what they were was impossible for him to guess.  He could leave revealing the Sim-Verse to the world for another day.  Time was relative after all.

“Fine,” he said, telling himself he didn’t have to stomach this garbage for much longer, that his last day mired in Meyer Corp bureaucracy was almost over.  He quickly signed his name to the documents and pushed them back across the table.  Mack did the same, following his former boss’s lead.  Taven knew Mack was a doer, not a thinker.  And he preferred to let those he trusted—like Taven—think for him.

After the documents had been returned, Taven waited.  No one spoke, and he started to rise, his two hands palm-side down on the table.  But then an older man, someone Taven had never seen or heard before, spoke.  “Wait … please.”

There was another pause, and the frail man with anachronistic wire-framed glasses looked around the table as if to get confirmation from his cohort.  “Mr. Smith,” he continued, “Meyer Corp regrets seeing you end your tenure working here.”

“That’s very kind,” Taven said quickly, “but I’ve had enough years in the Belt.  It’s time for a change.”

“And that’s precisely what Meyer Corp would like to offer you.”  The man passed new documents across the table to Taven.  “As you know, it appears … ”  The old man chuckled.  “I have trouble believing it, but the evidence is overwhelming.  We live in a simulation, part of a larger simulated universe.”

Taven heard the man’s words, but they were second in his mind behind the pictures and figures in the documents.

“We have a responsibility to our shareholders to capitalize on this new revelation,” the man continued.  “And we need people with expertise and leadership skills to help us with the venture.”

Taven still wasn’t hearing it all.  He was struck by the picture before him.  It was of a house, one like he and Amy had driven by and wished they could one day have.  It was an old memory from when they’d first been married, back when everything seemed possible.

“I don’t quite understand,” Taven said.  “I’ve told you everything I know in the debriefing sessions.”

“We don’t want information,” the man said.  “We want you.”

Taven put his hands out defensively and pushed back from the table.  He started to speak, but another executive stopped him.

“This isn’t mining, Mr. Smith,” she said.  “This is one of the most important, innovative, and significant careers anyone could ask for.  You could be exploring for us, helping us discover and extract assets in other simulations, all while earning a substantial salary with benefits.”

Taven leaned back over the table, examining the document with the salary breakdown.  He’d never seen a salary number with that many zeros after it.

“And the house—it’s yours,” said the older man.  “In the older part of Montreux.  If you don’t like it, we’ll find you another.”

“I think Meyer Corp has been most generous,” said the female exec.  “I don’t want to push too hard, but honestly, what are you going to do on Earth, in this simulation, that could compare to what we’re offering?”

He didn’t answer but continued reading the compensation package.  It spelled out tons of time off, paid vacation, everything.  It was more than he’d ever thought he could earn, and he couldn’t help but think of what Amy would say.  It would be a dream come true for them, and maybe, it would be enough to keep them together, to heal the wounds from their past.

Then Taven had an even better thought.  Even with the time off spelled out in this contract, there was still an honest load to bear, and he knew Meyer Corp would ask more of him than they were now presenting.  They always did.  But he had more time than it appeared.  He could take Amy and Evelynn through a portal and into a sub-sim in the Ghost City index.  Time would effectively stand still, and they could be together in paradise for weeks at a time, and Meyer Corp would be none the wiser.  Only a day, a weekend, might pass.  And when they wanted to come back to this simulation, they’d still have a life, still have a means to pay the bills and enjoy themselves.

Taven looked at Mack across the table.  He was off in his own little world, and Taven bet he was thinking about the fun he had planned for this furlough, disinterested in the apparent nitty-gritty of Taven’s offer.

“I want two concessions,” Taven said finally.

“Name it,” said the first big-wig who had been playing hardball with Taven at the beginning of the meeting.

“I won’t start until Monday,” Taven said.  That was only three days from now, and Taven didn’t even know if they had planned to use him that soon.  But it was the amount of time he needed to run away with Amy and Evelynn.

The executives eyed each other quickly, scanning for objections.  Finding none, the hardball exec said, “Done.  What else?”

“Second, I’m guessing you’ll have me working with a team.”

The older man with wire-framed glasses spoke up.  “We’ve gathered the very best individuals, all experts in their field.”

“Dr. Hewitt’s on board,” added another exec.

“That’s fine,” Taven said.  “But I want Mack on my team.”

Mack awoke from his daydream, and Taven watched as a slow smile spread across his face.

“Mr. Carter already has a contract with us for another tour in the Belt,” said the hardball exec.

“Then change it,” Taven replied.

“But he’s not … he’s not in leadership and he doesn’t possess any of your special abilities,” said another exec.

“Take it or leave it,” Taven said flatly.

There was another long pause while the board members exchanged worried glances.  Taven enjoyed their squirming expressions.  He knew that what he was asking for went against corporate thinking, that Mack was seen as nothing more than an expendable tool, a depreciating asset that would need to be replaced in the not too distant future.  But Taven also knew Mack was an ally, someone he could always count on no matter what happened.  He couldn’t say the same for the teams of experts he’d be forced to work with.

Finally, after removing a handkerchief and wiping his forehead, the hardball exec cleared his throat and spoke.

“Mr. Smith.”  He stood up and extended his hand across the table.  “It’s a deal.”

The story continues in Rebel’s Rule (Sim-Verse: Book 3).

Table of Contents

- REBEL’S GAMBIT
- Sim-Verse: Book 2
- CHAPTER 1
- CHAPTER 2
- CHAPTER 3
- CHAPTER 4
- CHAPTER 5
- CHAPTER 6
- CHAPTER 7
- CHAPTER 8
- CHAPTER 9
- CHAPTER 10
- CHAPTER 11
- CHAPTER 12
- CHAPTER 13
- CHAPTER 14
- CHAPTER 15
- CHAPTER 16
- CHAPTER 17
- CHAPTER 18
- CHAPTER 19
- CHAPTER 20
- CHAPTER 21
- CHAPTER 22
- CHAPTER 23
- CHAPTER 24
- CHAPTER 25
- CHAPTER 26
- CHAPTER 27
- CHAPTER 28
- CHAPTER 29
- CHAPTER 30
- CHAPTER 31
- CHAPTER 32
- CHAPTER 33
- CHAPTER 34
- CHAPTER 35
- CHAPTER 36