Light flooded the table, reflecting off its metallic surface as I came too. I looked up. A single lit disk illuminated a cone directly below it. The walls were dark, just beyond the light’s reach. Sitting half lit, half obscured, was a gray tunic fastened by dull brass buttons. The man leaned in. His chiseled jaw looked as though it had never felt a day of stubble. His eyes were masked by a veil of tint that seemingly hung from his brow on its own.
I tried to speak. I wanted to ask the man where I was and what was happening. But every time I tried to form a sentence, a thick fog descended around my brain, shrouding any cohesive thought.
“Wyeeeey,” I managed to mumble incoherently. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
“M–a—r J—k u—r—-n—c—t—l,” the man said. As I watched his lips, the sound came out in fits and spurts.
“Wyooooy yooooo?”
“T—-s—-n—-t—-g——ng—-rk,” the man sputtered.
A moment later, I caught the back end of a metal door jamming into the wall behind me. I turned to look just as a needle dug into my neck. Second one. Fire shot through my veins, lighting every neuron in my brain and burning off the fog immediately.
I gasped. The air tasted like copper as it filled my lungs. “Holy shit.”
“Now, that’s better,” the man said with a smirk.
“What was that?”
“Stims.”
“I think my heart is going to explode.” I choked down a hardening strand of saliva as my throat constricted.
“It won’t,” he said matter of factly. “Where is the man you know as Constantine?”
“What? I don’t know.”
“Where is the man known as Peter?” The man’s fingers played at the air, strumming an invisible screen.
“Dead.”
“Where is the man you know as Constantine?”
“I don’t know.”
“What was the name of your vessel?”
“What? Why?”
“Who was your commander?”
“Why does that matter?”
“What was your wife’s name?”
“Claire.”
“Where is the man you know as Constantine?”
“Where am I?”
“Not yet,” the man said under his breath. I looked around. The room was empty except for us. “What was your daughter’s name?”
How the fuck does he know about her? “She didn’t…. She never had a name.”
“Where is the man you know as Constantine?”
“I–DON’T–-KNOW.”
“OK, enter.”
The door behind me swung open again. I looked back, but as I did, the man in front grabbed both of my wrists, pulling me halfway across the table. My head slammed against the desk just before a metal collar gripped my throat from behind. I jolted upright and pried at the band. Not even my fingers could slip into its grip.
“Where is the man you know as Constantine?”
“I don’t fucking know.” I lost breath as a small spike dug into my spinal cord. I couldn’t tell at first, but when I tried to stand, I toppled back into my seat. I’d lost feeling in my feet. “What did you just—”
“Who was your commander?”
“Richardson. Admiral Richardson.” Another spike entered my neck, numbing my legs below the knee.
“Fuck.”
“What was the name of your vessel?”
“The Trinidad,” I said between gritted teeth.
“Where is the man you know as Constantine?”
I looked at the man, trying to meet his eyes where they would be behind the visor.
“I swear to god, I don’t know.”
The man’s fingers paused momentarily. “Who is responsible for the burning of the crop fields beyond the city walls?”
“I am. And Peter. And Con… and Constantine.”
“Who led the attack in the heights?”
“Constantine.”
“Who bombed the Old Town District?”
“I didn’t… don’t know about that.”
The man’s hands stopped, save for a single tapping finger. “Why were you sent here?”
“You captured me, remember?”
“No, that’s not what I asked. Why did you come here?”
“I just told you I didn’t have a choice.”
“Again, not what I asked.” His fingers resumed at full speed. “Why did you,” he started but paused uncharacteristically. “Why did you come to our time? Four hundred years past yours?”
“Believe me, if I knew, I’d–” The door swung open again, crashing off the wall. The man in the gray tunic bolted to his feet and stiffened with a raised chin.
“Uncuff him. He’s in my charge now.” The voice split my spine more than the spikes ever could. I recognized the pompous, entitled tone. Claudius. What the hell is he doing here?
The collar released, immediately flooding my legs with sensation. Tiny pinpricks gave way to blunt, then acute, feeling as I rose from my seat. I turned. Claudius stood in the doorway, his eyes peering down an outstretched jaw. More so than before, the sight of him now reminded me of my pledge to snuff out his undeserving life.
“Master Jack, if you would,” he said, ushering me out of the room. The halls beyond were a series of matte gray corridors, just as I had remembered after landing. Is this the same place? It can’t be.
“What was that in there?”
“An interrogation.”
Yeah, no shit. “They didn’t look like Capital Guard. And that collar…”
“Ah, yes. If they keep it on too long, the loss of feeling is permanent. And those weren’t Capital Guard. If they were, you wouldn’t have been set upon like that.”
“Who were they, if not the guard?” I asked, rubbing the sealed puncture marks on the back of my neck.
“They answer to the General Secretary but work for the GCS. Awful group.”
I’ll leave that one for later. “Claudius, what the fuck is going on? Who’s side are you–”
“In time, Master Jack. For now, keep walking before we both end up in another one of those cells.”
We sped down the hall, steering clear of any gray tunics we encountered. Even Claudius appeared off-kilter when approaching them. At the end of a long corridor lined by gray hexagonal tiles, we entered a small room with two benches lining each side.
“I think you remember this part.”
I didn’t. An instant later, I was balled up on the far bulkhead with my head between my knees. When the room came to a stop, Claudius stood above me, nudging me out of the way with the toe of his shoe.
I picked myself up and followed. The gray walls turned to a familiar gilded form. We were back in the capital, or at least a tower that looked very much like it. Claudius opened a door and walked through. We were in my old room, but the door was on the wrong side.
“How?” I asked, taking stock of the identical furniture and layout.
“What?”
“The door.”
“Of all the things you’ve seen, you still have to ask?”
He had a point. I dropped the subject and moved on to the next. The one that burned at the front of my brain since I saw him back at Constantine’s tower. “Why are you doing this?”
“What is it you mean, Master Jack?” he asked in his typical smug form.
“Does Augustus know?”
“Does it matter?” Claudius asked back.
“I suppose not, but what do you get out of it?”
“Nothing. In fact, I stand to lose much,” he replied. His tone didn’t have the usual sarcastic edge. It was more matter-of-fact than expected, especially given what he had just admitted.
“Then why?”
“That’s not for you to understand right now.”
“Scheming your way to the top in here. Playing revolutionary out there,” I said, accentuating the last word with a chuckle.
“What’s funny?”
“You’re a cliche. You know that, right?”
Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
“No, I don’t. I don’t know what you mean. And please, it’s been a long day, so spare me the explanation.” Claudius stepped to the fireplace and traced the intricate designs of the mantle with his finger. “Jack, you had a part to play, and you played it. Not well, but you played it. For that, I am grateful. Now, for the time being, your part in this is over. And soon, the rest of us will play our parts.”
“Jesus, you even sound like–”
“Careful, Master Jack. My patience and gratitude only extend so far. Whether she… well, you would be wise to hold your tongue.”
She?
Claudius gazed at the woodwork silently. My thoughts drifted to Ariel and Julien, wondering what would become of them. “What happened to the others?”
“What others?”
“In the Tower,” I replied.
“Oh, right. The women and children were released. We had no use for them. The men, on the other hand, were given a choice. All under the table, of course.”
“What choice?”
“To be meat for Constantine’s grinder or slaves to ours. Most decided on the former.”
“And the others?” Claudius continued to paw at the mantle, moving down to the stonework, ignoring my question. “There was a young woman and her child. Ariel. Do you know–”
“Do you honestly think I would know what happened to them? If they were with the other women and children, they’re back in the hovels they sprouted from. The same ones you dragged them out of… which reminds me, what were you thinking?”
“Huh?”
“What was the plan? Honestly, I’ve spent sleepless nights trying to figure out why.”
“Why what?” I asked. The confusion on Claudius’s face grew, contorting his brow.
“Why take in the vagrants of the city? You damn near built a small army of them. Why? What was the purpose?”
“I wanted to help them.”
A smile spread across his face, wrinkling the skin around his eyes. “You know what, I believe you. I believe you believed you could help them.”
“I did. I tried.”
“Look what good that did them,” Claudius said, still smiling. He dug into his pocket before chucking a small round disk onto the bed. I picked it up to examine it. “Arlo, I believe you called him. Such a primitive model. Still, he’s quite charming when you ask the unexpected of him.” I fidgeted with the device. “Keep it on you. All you have to do is talk. He’ll speak, but only you’ll pick up the vibrations of his voice. Careful, though. You can still be heard. I don’t need the other under secretaries complaining that you’ve gone mad, talking to yourself in the halls.”
“What’s it for?”
“Companionship. I figured you could use it after what you’ve been through. And I must admit, I started to grow fond of him during the transfer process. Quite charming and unexpected, indeed.”
Claudius clapped his hands and set off toward the door.
“Do the undersecretaries know? Or is it just you?” I asked.
He stopped to give me a slight wink out of the side of his eye. “You’ll have to be a little more specific, Master Jack.”
“About the attack.”
“Well, that would defeat the purpose of a coup, now wouldn’t it? Don’t worry, though, Master Jack. You’ll be perfectly safe in this Tower.”
“And the tunnel?”
“There are many tunnels.”
“The one bored under the Tower walls,” I said. Claudius winced. I knew I had caught a chink in his armor of information and deception.
“Goodnight, Master Jack,” he said, stepping out of the room. The door had nearly shut when he caught its edge with his fingers. “We’ll talk more tomorrow. I assume you’ll be wanting to meet your son as well.” The door slammed the rest of the way closed.
*******
The door had been locked from the outside. I spent the better part of the early morning hours trying to wedge any flat object I could find into the latch, hoping to free the bolt. I had visions of using a credit card to pop open the lock, but these were far more sophisticated than any lock I had encountered, and the thinnest object I could find was a decorative blunt butter knife.
My mind raced—flashbacks of all that had happened played on a continuous loop. I retraced every memory, trying to make sense of it all. This never-ending reel kept me from sleep. The edges of my lids burned, and my body felt as though it had fallen down every flight of stairs in the tower.
My eyes fluttered as I closed them. Laying against the headrest, I tried desperately to drift off. Nonsensical conversations formed at the fringes of my thoughts, worming into the center of my psyche, forcing me to run their course. I was about ready to knock my skull against the padded board until I finally blacked out when there was a knock at the door.
I sprang up, half expecting the Gaurd from the night before to take me back down below for another round. The heavy bolts slid home, allowing the thick wood panel to ease open. Two Gaurds entered.
“Master Jack,” one of the guards said.
“Yes?”
“If you would follow me, Master Jack. The General Secretary has requested you in the library,” he replied, bowing when addressing the man’s title.
I slid off the comforter and walked out of the room, following the other guard as he led me down a series of familiar corridors.
“Ah, Master Jack. How great it is to see you finally,” Augustus said as soon as I stepped through the door. He was seated on the same leather sofa I’d taken up so many hours of reading on.
“Augustus,” I replied.
“You seem less spirited than before. Less than I was expecting at least.”
“I suppose… A lot has happened since we last spoke,” I replied. A haze had set in around my thoughts.
“Many things, indeed. Do you blame me, Jack?” Augustus asked, his dark eyes peering through his furrowed gray brow.
“No… and yes, of course. I don’t blame you for sending me out there. But the things I saw. The horror that happened at your command…”
“Those decisions weren’t made lightly. I can assure you of that. But I am not to blame.”
“They were your commands–” I persisted but was cut off.
“No,” Augustus bellowed, rising from his chair. He held his arms out. “I am merely a face put on decisions I do not control.”
“You’re the General Secretary,” I rebutted skeptically. The frustration welling up inside me began to burn off the mind fog from my sleepless night.
“A figure head. Nothing more.”
“Who then, if not you?” I asked. I knew the answer already. Claudius had let slip who, or what rather, held real control when I first arrived. Still, I wanted to hear him say it.
“A series of automated systems and controls–”
“The GCS.”
“Yes, that is how it is colloquially known.” He paused, lowering his arms to the side as he studied my expression. It was a rare moment of humility. He’s never had to explain himself. “Every aspect of our existence, from the buildings we live in - to the healthcare we’re provided at different stages of our lives, is an optimization problem.”
“Theirs.”
“What’s that?”
“Their lives. Not yours,” I said, correcting him.
“Even the lives of those living in the ivory towers are subject to its control. To its… optimal outcomes.”
I leaned against the nearest bookcase. I was exhausted. Too tired to rummage through half-truths and false blames. “What would you have done differently?”
“I would take back control. Use the system as a tool, not the final say in every decision.”
“That’s not what I asked. What would you have done differently? People are starving. Even before the fields burned, millions of hungry, destitute unpermitted lined the streets.”
“More than what is being done now,” he said in a deep tone, slowing the cadence of each subsequent syllable.
Typical politician. All he wants is power. He wouldn’t know what to do with it if he had it. I let the conversation drop. Augustus was pleased with himself, evident by the smug look he wore above a raised chin. He never had to answer to anyone in the past, not to peers, and certainly not to the constituents he was meant to serve. He had one thing right - he was a figurehead. Nothing more, nothing less.
“Why help them? The PLM?”
“The PLM?… Oh, that’s right. That’s what they call themselves. Such a silly name it hardly bears remembering,” Augustus replied. He dropped back down into his chair and folded his legs. “What makes you think I provided them assistance?”
“Claudius,” I said, catching him off guard. His facial expression shifted as if I had discovered some grand revelation in his plan.
“What makes you think I would have anything to do with his actions?”
“Even if he acted alone, which I doubt, you would know. Nothing in this city happens outside the watchful eye of the Capital. So, why did you help them?”
“Because they have a part to play in all this. We all do.”
“You sound like him,” I mumbled.
“Sound like who?”
“Claudius. He said something of the same sort yesterday.” My part to play. “If Claudius was there to help Constantine, then so was I,” I said, trailing off at the end as I thought aloud.
“And you did.” he dawned a soft smile like a proud father. “Wonderfully.”
I knew there was only one reason to fan the flames of Constantine’s revolution, yet I couldn’t fathom the purpose. “How does purging the city help you? A billion die, and for what?”
“That is quite the accusation, Master Jack. One I do not take lightly, but will forgive this one and only time given all that you’ve been through. You are clearly tired, bordering delirium,” he coldly replied, waiving in the guards who had escorted me. Their hands closed tightly around my biceps, pulling me from the room. I kept my eyes trained on him, his gray mane swooping out as he turned his head away in defiance. “I had hoped our conversation would turn toward the future, Jack. Maybe next time,” he said, never looking in my direction. The guards momentarily stopped, but when he didn’t continue, they dragged me the rest of the way out.
*****
The ground, hard as stone, rose to meet me after I was released from the clutches of a gray tunic. My clothes soaked, I slithered across the coarse ground until I slid to a stop. I tried to catch myself, but all I could feel were the remnants of pinpricks spreading across my feet.
Only the cone from a single tile illuminated an otherwise dark cell. Pushing up off the ground, I was reminded of how brief my stay in the Capital was. It had been ages since I’d slept in an actual bed. Concrete and compact dirt had replaced down comforters and foam mattresses for so many months. I felt a pang of regret, having not slept that first night, having wasted those precious hours when sleep eluded me. How I would’ve given anything to be back.
I had only just gotten comfortable when the inner door bolts unlatched. I was annoyed at first but not angry, figuring it was just Claudius back to ramble - to drop little breadcrumbs of his schemes. Then, my mind turned to Ancillae. I nearly lost my breath, worrying the young woman would step through the door carrying a child - my child. Instead, the heavy wooden hatch crashed open as five Capital Guards entered. Only they weren’t guards. They wore the identical gray tunics fastened by brass buttons as the one who had interrogated me the night before. They were back.
I sprang from the bed, looking beyond the last tunic, hoping to find Claudius or Augustus waiting to explain. The hall was empty. I tried to fight, but before I could get off the first swing, the pinch of a needle punctured my neck.
Now, lying on the ground three days later, I figured it was the end. All the violence, the love, the hate - all of it was for nothing. A deep, unsettling chill set in. I curled up in the corner, trying to reflect what little body heat I could off the wall. Those were the little moments they allowed me to steal away from them. But more often than not, they were short lived. They came at random. Sometimes, I would get an hour, two even. Sometimes a minute. Tears streamed down my face, lapping the ground as I held my head between my knees, waiting for— Shuuuunnnk.
The door opened. Another faceless visor prodded me with a metal arm, paralyzing my senses. A new collar was wrapped around my neck and fastened to the metal appendage. They pressed a button, sending a spasm through my legs. I jumped to my feet as I fought their neural commands. God, not again. Just fucking end it. Another matte gray nondescript hall marched out before us. The hexagonal tiles lining the walls inhaled, opening black creases before receding, perfectly aligning with one another. The rims of the collar dug in as the gray tunic halted, and a doorway that had not been there a moment before opened up.
I pressed against the arm. A circular platform overhanging a clear liquid cylinder stood in the middle of the room. The gray tunic pressed, sending another neural shock to propel me forward. “Why? What else do you want?” I said. My hoarse voice carried up to a platform where three more tunics were perched.
Before I could say anything more, I plunged into the vat. The arm’s grip released, allowing me enough freedom to tread in the viscous pool. Aromas of glycerin and petroleum gelly wafted up. They were as pleasing as they were discerning, knowing what was to come.
“Where is the man known as Constantine?” one of the gray tunic’s voices boomed from all sides as if the walls personified his intent.
“God, please, fucking stop,” I cried out, choking on each word. My neck pinched, and my left foot numbed.
“Why did the General Secretary trade you to the PLM?”
“I already told you. To help them. To help them overthrow the capital.” I waited for another pinch. Mercifuy, the tunic continued.
“Why did the General Secretary allow Master Claudius to assist the PLM?”
“I think,” I swallowed, gulping some of the liquid. “I think to invoke a purge.”
“How did Secretary Hadrian reply when you asked about the Orion constellation?”
That’s a new one. “I don’t really remember,” I said. A moment later, another pinch took my right foot. To stay afloat, it felt as though I was pumping clubs. “He didn’t know. He thought, maybe…” My mind sifted through memories as my head barely broke the surface.
“Maybe what?”
“That it was related to an increase in mass in the universe,” I replied. The collar punctured another part of my neck, returning feeling to my left foot.
“How many buildings did the PLM rig to ignite?”
“A lot. I don’t know how many, but enough to take down entire city blocks.”
“Why did Augustus order the PLM to burn the fields?”
“What? He didn’t. Did he?” My right leg lost control as the collar shook. This time, I didn’t feel the needle. My chest dug deeper into the gel. Kicking wildly with my left stump, I only worsened my lean. Coughing, I struggled to keep the liquid from my mouth.
“Who gave Augustus the order to send Claudius down the PLM?”
He’s the General Secretary. Who orders him? I clenched my jaw and lips to prevent taking on water. I was now submerged. Holding my breath, I could only see distorted outlines of the tunics standing above me. I could still hear them speak as if the gel radiated their voices.
“Who gave the order to assasinate Scretary Hadrian?”
Hadrian’s dead? When? How? I bit harder, but the liquid seeped in. With my last gasp, I released a muted scream. It was the one act of defiance I had left before my lungs filled and I woke up in a cell. “I’m sorry, Jack. I wasn’t able to parse your question,” a familiar voice sprang up through my inner ear. What the hell was that? Arlo? My chest convulsed with icy gel as the room went dark.