“I hope ya fail.”
She whispers those words as he walks towards two stages, each uncomfortably visible in either of her eyes. Harriet keeps her arms out, magic pulsing through as the world goes quiet. She swallows, feels the icicle that Randall still keeps levied on her throat. It’s an easy reminder of a much larger fear than a pierced neck.
She’ll follow orders. Play her part. As perfectly as she needs to. Soteris will find that when his little plan falls to ashes around him, there will be nobody to blame but himself. But even then... would it matter?
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
“Friends.”
Soteris' voice rings out through the Leonardo's theatre, a dozen translators joining it. “Bạn.” “Chingu.” “Péngyǒumen.”
“I apologise for all the inconvenience brought about by our overbooking. I fear my excitement over what Polyphron has discovered has… heh... prompted me to share with too many.” Soteris chuckles again, nerves clear as he pulls his collar. “E-Excuse me.”
Figures.
Han Sung-gyu watches the executive stutter from a middle row seat, surrounded by gilded armrests and red velvet cushions. Businessmen whispers around him, or cough into thousand-pound sleeves, or shuffle away for emergency calls. The stench of cigarettes is thick; hell, Sung's smoking a pack of duty-free from Heathrow right now. But none of it distracts him from the inelegance on display.
Westerners. No business sense, just goejja fresh from their mother’s basements and forced onto trading floors. His clothes, too. Wrinkled. Unbuttoned. No wonder this conference has been one blunder after the next.
The businessmen were ushered in five minutes early. No warning, no message, barely a sorry face. A projector displays the Greek letter psi behind Soteris, but otherwise, it’s a darkened stage. The boy fidgets with his sleeves.
“... We live in a changing world. A world of instant information. A world more connected than our ancestors could ever conceive. When I think of the knowledge this revolution has brought, the laughter it has spread, the… erm... well, the money it has made us..."
Soteris lifts his hands in mock defence. Gets a few laughs.
“This world was brought forward by men just like you. Markets like yours, factories like yours, minds like yours. You’ve been a vanguard, and Asia, our most promising continent, has become a vanguard through you! There was a dream for our third millennia! And you, not Europe, have brought that dream!"
Sung scoffs. Already, an appeal to their pride? But the others applaud, some not mutedly. One or two even stand. Lapping at the chance to have their egos stroked by a Westerner.
Soteris lifts his hand, and the crowd goes quiet. "But I didn't call you here to tell you what already know. Gentlemen..." Another chuckle. A reach for a water glass. "... Excuse me... to those who desire change, the vanguard inspires. But to the other man, the common man..."
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
“... that vanguard is terrifying."
Harriet watches him from the twin screens, hears his voice from either side. Already, she trembles. The spell's not at risk of breaking, but Paradox wasn't made for such constant use.
"Why's he acting like that?" She looks at Randall. "All nervous? All sweaty?"
"Royal purples. Desert browns. He wants to be underestimated."
She frowns. Doesn't have to guess why.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
“Progress has always been twin to confusion and outrage, but this century, these changes… they have sparked something greater. A panic that goes deep in our human minds. Crashing markets, survival bunkers, panic buying, wars on terror... fear has taken our world's mind. And the vanguard..."
He makes a sweeping motion with his hands. The translators follow. “Senku-sha.” “Xiānfēng."
"... has ushered that fear." He crosses deeper into the stage, a spotlight following his form. “The world does not trust us. We all know this is true We’ve lost their capital, we’ve risked their safety, and most of all, we’ve stolen from them. Not like, heh, a taxman..."
More laughter.
“... I mean the little things. Quietness. Calm. Eyes not blasted by screens, paper we can feel with our hands. We've lost control. A machine doesn’t need a break. A machine doesn't stop to relax. Computers were sold to us as a tool. A wunderwaffe to make life easy. But... really? Which gentlemen in the room is going to claim that?"
Sung leans forward, hand resting on his chin. It's prattle, really... more a media talk than an investor call, but at least the boy can speak.
"Now, I’m not a luddite. I’m not saying people should smash their machines. A-after all, there's a good chance you fine gentlemen built them!" More laughter this time. The crowd's easing. “I... and Polyphron... have spent long time thinking about how we can reverse this. How we take back rest. Seize some form of control. And while some will criticise that I try to solve this problem with another computer product…”
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"Uh-huh," Harriet scowls.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
“... well..." Soteris brings his hands together. "Perhaps it will be easier if I show you. Stage?"
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
From her side, Harriet watches the lights around her dim. She's breathing heavily, her arms shaking. Now her glowing skin appears even more bright.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
“You’ve just come home.” Soteris speaks softly. “Another too-long day at work. The sun has set, and your family - again - is eating out. You’re alone. You open the door, and the loneliness greets you."
Lights spring on. Sung sees a kitchen. Sleek. Modern. Stainless steels and polished tops. He sees familiar brands. His brands.
“But that was the old way.”
They've been changed. Not a single one has a button or interface.
“This is the new.”
Soteris walks around the kitchen, gesturing as he speaks. “Imagine now, on such a night, the lights spark on as you walk in, dimmed exactly…”
Suddenly, the room turns a shade darker.
“... as you want them to. Imagine your speakers playing your favourite song…”
Unseen speakers burst to life, playing a calm melody.
“... just as you hang up your coat. Imagine if the telly switched on without input to show your favourite game…”
His face is showered in light.
"Imagine if the oven knew what recipe, if the dishwasher knew itself when it was full, if your shower would turn to exactly what- oh!"
He skirts back, just as a small cadre of Roombas squeak across the ground. He gives the crowd a shy look.
“We’re affiliated."
That sparks a few cheers from the crowd.
“Your home doesn’t need to be merely the place where you sit and sleep. Your appliances don't have to be tools you contend. They can be tuned and tweaked and toggled to match exactly the person who uses them, who lives inside them… they can flow as one. They can sense your anxieties… your exhaustions… your joys…”
“Good morning, Soteris!” A chirpy, feminine voice lifts from throughout the room. “How are we feeling today?”
“... and understand them.” Soteris’ smile grows, and he looks back. “I’m doing wonderful, Hestia. Yourself?"
"A bit nervous with all the guests today!"
"Me too, me too." He nods along. "Though, Hestia, I think we have an issue. Some of them aren’t very familiar with English, but I want them to know you voice."
"Me too, Soteris!"
"Could you greet them for me?"
"Of course." There’s a pause, as if the machine is physically turning to look. But then... “Annyeonghaseyo, Han Sung-gyu!”
Sung gasps. He blinks, stunned by the words. And he hears similar reactions, as the voice repeats itself hundreds of times across the room.
“Ohaiyo, Iesada-san!”
“Magandang umaga-”
“Zǎoshang hǎo, wú xiānshēng!”
Men look at each, or look below their seats for a hidden device. Sung just squints at the table in the centre, covered by that black sheet. Hestia, has to be. But how...
"Bloodstreams." Tae-hyun, the engineer, turns and looks at him. "The scanners. The Ares Gate."
Sung's expression falls.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Harriet watches the computer in silence. She might not be very smart. She might be a ‘lumpy proletariat.’ But she knows enough physics to know this shouldn’t be possible. She careens her neck, avoiding the spike, and searches Randall's face for answers.
As usual, he’s expressionless.
“Now, no doubt some of you have ‘smart fridges’ and ‘smart TVs.’ " Soteris rings on. "You’re probably thinking, ‘there’s nothing new about this! I’ve seen it a hundred times!’”
His voice is so smooth. Cresting and falling in a strange, intimate rhythm. He shouldn't be able to talk this good. It pisses Harriet off. But the audience devouring his words? Pisses her off even more.
“But this isn’t a smart TV, friends. It is a smart everything. All machines, linked to one interface! Not some ultra-rich luxury, but affordable, a few hundred pounds, so we can put it in every home!"
She grits her teeth. They're clucking like hens.
“And with our integrated software package, our biometric scanning technology... your console to recognise you.” Soteris raises his hand. “Gentlemen, this is not some early development project. This machine exists today! This machine stands before you. This machine will come to market... in only half a year."
And now they’re crowing like roosters.
Soteris nears the table. Grips the black cloth. Hundreds of men’s eyes are glued to his hand.
“It is time to match progress with comfort! It is time to take back our homes! It is time to show the world..."
The cloth is thrown off with a rush.
“... FIRESIDE!”
She pales.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Soteris stands, smiling, the sheet still held high in his hand. Half of the guests stand to see the machine, Sung among them. There are two black boxes, each a bit larger than his boy’s video game machine. One has knobs and buttons, the other a larger, sleeker screen. Both turn brightly on, flashing the same name.
Fireside.
Sung can hear the murmurs. For once, not of bitter rivals, or petty politics, but the feasibility of the Greek's words. The legitimacy of his claims.
The funds they'll start requesting.
Both Firesides have a stripe along their top. Glowing a deep blue light.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The same blue as Harriet’s eyes.
“Keep focused,” Randall says. "Soteris is flickering on the second monitor."
She rights herself, sapping yet another ounce of strength. But she can barely think. The word rattling in her head, over and over. Fireside. Fireside.
“Gentlemen, with your investment, your partnership, and your integrated machines, Fireside will be a global force!” Soteris points to the machines. “We can change the home. We can change the world! And we can change-"
“It will not work.”
It's not Soteris. The murmurs from the theatres go silent. Harriet eyes over the monitors, looking for the source. Eventually, she spots it: a massive shape rising from the crowds.
Hajime.
“M… H-Hajime-san,” Soteris blinks a few times, clearly surprised. “I hadn’t realised you accepted my-"
"I deal in revolution, Mr. Chrysanthou,” Hajime says in near perfect English. "Not pipe dreams."
If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
Her eyes widen. He's... he's nervous? Off-guard? Getting more than laughter and applause!?
Holy shit it's happening.
She leans close to the screen, her grin wide. On the second monitor, whispers are rising. Yes. Finally, someone stands up. Finally, someone's not a mark. Finally, they're gonna make some fucking-
Wait.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Sung lifts his brow.
Hajime? Where? It’s not like the Earphone King could be easily missed.
Soteris seems to stare at the wall, listening intently to nothing. Some of the men are standing now. The volume rises when the boy starts to sweat.
“I… I don’t believe…”
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Hajime's on the first monitor.
Shit. SHIT SHIT SHIT
"Fireside..." Randall's voice is harsh.
“I know!”
“If you don’t-”
“I KNOW!”
“Stop it!”
“How!?” She looks back at the screen, Soteris, Hajime. A part in the back of her skull is still giddy, and the other is fucking terrified. What the FUCK does she do!? She told him-
Wait wait wait wait wait wait WAIT!
She stretches a hand towards the stage, feeling new heat, listening to new sparks. Her mind strains. Body immediately revolts. It was already reaching capacity, and now-
Wait, shit, delay! She has to delay it. The second stage. They’re in mid-conversation. She has to start from the top or-
Light starts bursting from the pores in her skin.
Muscles start to twist. Lightning from her eyes.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
“-that I-”
Soteris Chrysanthou freezes entirely.
The commotion falls dead silent, then explodes again. Even the translators seem lost as to what’s going on. Sung just watches, mouth agape. Soteris doesn't move for ten seconds. Then suddenly, he snaps back.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Behind him, the machines start to hum. She sees it just as her spell releases. The blue stripes of the Firesides, glowing a little bluer.
She squints. So exhausted she can barely think. That... they didn't... did...
"Let's start with your fundamentals."
Fuck it. She can ask questions later. To people she thinks will answer. She's got bigger fish to fry. An illusion to pull off. If God forbid if she collapses before Soteris' ass gets reamed.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
“... ‘A model in every home,’ that is fools’ play. You won’t capture the market. You won’t even capture a-"
Sung blinks. A deep voice has filled the hall. Everyone starts looking around. But there he is. Hajime Kurokawa, the Earphone King, in the middle of the room. How did Sung miss him? He's legendary! For a second, Hajime blinks, stuck on the words, looking around.
"... a fraction. Do you know why?”
Soteris watches him intensely, his breaths short. Hajime waits a moment, feeling all those eyes on him. Then three…
… two…
… gone.
“Home size. The average is a hundred square metres in Japan, two people a room, and around the world, every year, it shrinks more. You clearly know this. You’ve made your console small. And thank God for that, or I would truly think you had no sense for business in your entire body!"
The voice is so loud that men in the audience snap. Soteris says nothing. His mouth tight.
“What does an apartment man need a Fireside for? What does any man need a Fireside for? A market test could have taught you that! But what should I expect from a man who doesn't tie his own tie. Expert analysis, no. Why not march boldly into the laughing stocks of this industry!?"
“Aiish…” Tae-hyun looks at Sung. “He’s tearing into this guy.”
Sung shrugs. “That’s Hajime.”
"And that price? Two-hundred?" He spits. “You call yourselves cheap, like some vainglorious whore. Two hundred shows me nothing but faults. A production line so inefficient that it's an insult to your adopted country. Though I suppose it would only matter if it could ever reach a sales floor."
Soteris is trembling. Sung would be too, if Japan’s most infamous drill sergeant came unannounced to his stage. Everyone's heard the rumours. Knew they weren’t really rumours. Tokyo police don’t put nets on company roofs for nothing.
“Quickly. How does your Magic-8 ball integrate with other systems? Foundation code?”
Soteris blinks. “It… we-”
“Quicker!”
“It does.”
Hajime lifts his hands. “So, if your stalker-bot - which, best of luck with regulations - wants to integrate with anything, a toaster, a ceiling fan, my grandkid’s GameBoy… that company will need to open their software up, buy yours, and shove it in. Yes?"
Soteris takes a moment to compose himself. “We would-”
“Yes or no!"
“Yes.”
“And will it be expensive?”
“Yes.”
“Millions of pounds per product?”
A slight pause, then: “Yes.”
The audience is silent. Hajime claps three times, slowly. “And I’m sure firms will leap to you with generosity."
Soteris remains silent.
“I feel bad for him,” Tae whispers.
Sung shrugs. “You gonna invest."
No response.
“If you were Japanese, I would call you sagashi,” Hajime frowns. “I’d say you know that Fireside won’t sell, that you’re just trying to fleece all of us!"
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
“He ain’t wrong," Harriet whispers.
Randall frowns. “Keep focusing.”
How Soteris hasn’t burst into tears, Harriet doesn’t know. Randall is just as unemotive. Staring at the screen.
“But I won’t say that, I know you are young, and coddled, like every Westerner. That an easy life has blinded you, and what would normally be malice, we can write off as idiocy.”
Soteris stands there, arms behind his back. His face is rigid, eyes shrouded in shadow.
“I thought the Ares Gate was something, Mr. Chrysanthou. The ability to scan blood like that... the patent is a mountain of gold. A shame that you spend on frivolous games. A shame that it's held by a child."
A part of her wonders where he got this skill. It's not like his skin is thick, and he certainly doesn't tolerate with her. But when she remembers that he must have had a Keeper, Harriet feels...
weird.
"You are a fool, Soteris Chrysanthou. And in a couple years, you'll be a bankrupt one."
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Hajime turns around, sauntering back towards the double doors. The whispers of the men around him suddenly erupt again.
Their god has spoken. And not with favour.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
She should feel better about this.
Soteris deserves far worse than a chewing out. But this wasn’t a headshot, quick and easy. There’s no thrill, no sensation. Just that cold cruelty she's always attached to the monster.
It'd be easier to watch if he fought. Or cursed. Or sobbed like an infant. But Soteris is silent as the grave. Staring at the ground, like a battered dog.
She wants to tell herself it suits him.
The spike by her neck disappears. Randall is reaching for his pack of cigarettes, a lighter touched with cold, delicate hands. She takes a long breath, the lights starting to fade around her, before the Poisoned One raises his hand. "Not yet."
She smells the petrol from the lighter. "Randall. It’s done.”
Indeed, many men on the screens already gather their coats, standing, departing. But Randall bores into her with those pale blue eyes, his voice doubled over.
“Crimson streaks on velvet skin. Red ink, buried by grass and sky. It's not over until Hajime walks out of the door."
“Hajime.”
"And he won't."
In slow motion, Hajime turns. One screen, then the next. Soteris still looks at the ground, but his stance his changed. It’s more aggressive. Predatorial.
“Samsung." He says. "Fujitsu."
Hajime's face changes, but Harriet just blinks. “What?”
“Update the names.” Randall says quickly. “Can’t use Samsung on the other one, they have people in the room. Use-”
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
“Matsushita. LG.”
Sung and Tae look at each other.
LG?
Hajime takes a few steps back towards the stage. “You’re in talks with Panasonic?”
“I am.”
Hajime laughs. A bellyful, cutting laugh. “Since when?”
“Forty minutes ago.”
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Harriet watches it play out twice. The shocked expressions. The worried looks. She remembers what Soteris said, dividing them by their rivals, and-
“In fact, I have their contract right here.”
Soteris looks back up. His face looks weird with the glasses, but his smirk is all the same.
He lifts his hand. The attendants file into the theatre, shoes clicking on tiles.
White binders in their hands.
They line up one per row, all young, all beautiful. Passing them along. But with each one, the rooms' volumes raise closer to a fever pitch. Shouting. Swearing. It cascades across the halls.
And finally, Harriet realises what's in those binders. Where they came from.
“Oh my God."
“You'll see more than their names in the paperwork," Soteris smiles. "I made partnerships with every firm in the other room.”
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
“Gae-sae-kki!”
Sung clutches the binder. Five hundred such swears are being tossed about the Leonardo theatre. But right now, he only hears the one.
They wouldn’t. They couldn’t. It’s insanity.
Fifty billion. Fifty fucking billion! That’s how many won they’re giving him. That’s how much LG’s lawyers, analysts, execs believe in this drivel. Fucking LG! They think it’s legit. They think it will sell.
“Sung!?” Tae’s voice can barely reach him in the tempest that’s taken hold. “It’s not real, right? Legal couldn’t possibly…”
“It’s real,” Sung replies quietly. “You can’t fake the letterhead.”
"Friends!" Soteris shouts. "Your fellows on the future's continent did not have these reservations. Did not share these doubts. Fireside is here! Fireside is the future! And they embrace it with open arms!"
The plastic starts to scrunch in Sung's hands.
"Fireside will integrate with their machines. Fireside will show up on their labels. And they offered me premiums if I let them retake our homes... exclusively."
The entire room seems to freeze.
"I'm holding the door open, gentlemen." Soteris gives a final bow. "But I can't hold it for much longer."
Barely a second of silence passes from his final word. And then, pandemonium.
The room is hot. Stuffy with shouts and panicking and cigarette-clogged air. Men fling binders at the walls. Cry in their hands, rush to find a signal. Sung just stares at the wall, disbelieving. No. It can't possibly. This is a step too far, even for him. But then he remembers those Japanese men. The ones who laughed, and got a special room. It finally clicks. Soteris Chrysanthou is an act. The nerves, the apologies, all of it. He's insulting them, and doesn't care.
There isn't a step too far. For anything.
Tae’s eyes nearly bulge from his head, when he sees Sung lift a mobile to his ear. “Sung!?”
“I have to sign."
No matter what the price is, no matter what the lawyers say. They don’t have time to verify. Negotiate. Even read the damn thing. And they’ll just have to bid higher. As high as they can fucking go. Why? Why would LG, or those Japanese fucks do this!? They’ve seen one demo. Heard one speech with no substance. And scanning blood through airwaves? How the fuck does that even work!?
But he won’t question it. It doesn't matter. Soteris has caught half the market now, and if Samsung pulls, that's just a lost advantage. He has to walk out with a deal. A better deal. Or his job...
Sung shakes as he listens to the receiver dial. There’s nothing to listen to but the panic, the outrage. And it’s taking. So. Damn. Long.
Slowly, he cranes his head. He doesn’t know what compels him to search for Hajime’s face. It’s not like he expects solace - the Earphone King has far too much money to ever care. But surely, he feels humiliated. Enraged.
But Hajime Kurokawa does not express even that. He’s still. Silent. Watching.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The power stops. The visions fade. Almost immediately, Harriet crashes onto the table. Gripping it for support. She’s out of breath, muscles straining and dimming light. Randall does nothing to help her. His eyes are on the stage.
Soteris stands a few feet away. Watching them - no, her - with some expression that’s impossible to describe.
“Fireside.”
She forces herself up, scowls at him, biting her lip, tasting her makeup. “They're gonna find out." She laughs, the defeat clear in her breath. "They're gonna find out, an' this little theatre trick gon' explode in yer-"
He moves faster than she expects. Not with a slap, or a chokehold.
He pulls her into a hug.
“We did it." His voice shakes, and he buries his face in her shoulder. "You did it."
She stares at the wall past him. Confused, paralysed. Arms trapped at her sides.
"We showed them all."
He’s pulling her tighter, to the point that she has to stand on her toes. Harriet casts a desperate glance at Randall. But the Poisoned One has buried himself in the screens.
Soteris eventually parts them, his hand staying on her shoulder. “And, heh… and you were so scared that you wouldn’t be able to."
“I-”
“You don’t have to worry, Fireside.” He smiles, genuinely. "I can worry for both of us."
She watches him. Her brain short-circuiting whenever she tries to form words. This is the same Soteris, right? He isn't... what does Aisling call it... schitzing out?
He's feeling her wrists when her eyes go wide. "Not wearing your-"
"Soteris."
Soteris follows her sight, until his own expression pales.
Hajime Kurokawa towers by the curtains. His suit still crisp, not a bead of sweat on his brow. Immediately, Randall leaves his screens and bows, and Harriet tries to hide from sight. Soteris stands tall. Confrontational.
“Hajime.” His voice is immediately harsh. “This area isn’t-”
“Quiet, boy.” Hajime walks forward, the floorboards creaking with his steps. “I did not become Hajime by going where others please.”
Harriet hitches. Soteris has grabbed her wrist from behind his back. Tight. Painfully.
“I don’t know how you did it,” Hajime scowls. “Even if half my compatriots are nepotistists, and the others incompetent shits, you’re trying to pull wool over the eyes of the eighty-five largest tech firms in Asia. The logistics, the forgeries, the sheer audacity."
“Do you have any proof to support these allegations Mr. Hajime.”
Hajime laughs. “Our continent’s wealth is young. Our capitalism, even younger. We only got where we are through trust, through loyalty, and have you taken those values and stomped them into the dirt. It’s criminal. It’s unconsciable. And it’ll probably net you a billion in licensing.”
For the first time, Randall’s reaction is instant. He floats back to the computer, rapidly typing, his face bathed in the white screen’s light. Harriet can see numbers reflect on his cheeks. Matching the Veneficii’s awe.
“One of the largest fundraisers in history,” Hajime continues. “And it’s not even mid-afternoon.”
Soteris doesn't turn back. He keeps holding Harriet in one hand, while boring Hajime down. “What do you want?”
“Five hundred million.”
Soteris lifts a brow. “Kurokawa Hajime is bought with so little?”
“Pounds, not yen. It’s the amount I’m going to invest in you.”
Silence. Even Soteris blinks
Hajime sighs, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. “Better to start small, I think, before I’ve had a chance to see the product myself.”
“H-...Half a billion pounds?”
“Excluding arbitrage.”
Soteris' grip is colder now. Like he's struggling to keep form.
“I don’t invest in products, Chrysanthou, I invest in people. Put this into Hestia, Ares, your girl’s asshole, I don’t care. I just want 20% of whatever you touch, and when your value goes up, I match. Deal?”
“I…” Soteris stammers. She watches him look back at Randall, and for good reason. The Poisoned One looks surprisingly stern. “I-I-I’m not sure I-”
“You’ll make it.”
Soteris stops.
“I am Hajime. My contracts aren’t forged. I have built seventeen titans from mud. The men back there would kiss my feet for a tenth of the money I'm offering. Is that clear?"
“Yes.”
Hajime smiles, and offers his hand. A single instant of hesitation, before Soteris takes it, meeting the man’s eyes.
“Now, be honest," Hajime says. "Do you believe even half of the bullshit you said on stage?”
“I believe it all.”
“Good.” Hajime grins. “It doesn’t matter what it costs. It doesn’t even matter if it works. I see in your eyes, Chrysanthou, what sort of man you are. Before you’d let the world stop you, you would break the world. So the only thing I can offer is that..."
He steps closer, whispering in the Sovereign’s ear.
“You need to think bigger."
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
She stands before the window, a glass of ‘wine’ in her hands, basking in the heat of Soteris’ false Sun.
Harriet had forgotten the feeling. It feels strange to say. How could she forget something that had stood with her every morning, every dusk, for nearly twenty years?
But she had.
She had forgotten what it was like to see the city beyond its lights. She had forgotten how quickly clouds could move across the wind. She had forgotten what it was like to feel warm.
And where one memory rises, others follow. Once, her lungs moved like they were built to. She got hungry, and thirsty, and there was never a foreign voice that pulled at the back of her head. Once, she slept in the same bed each night. She could pass through a crowd without thinking of them as meat. Once, she hadn’t killed.
Once, the kills had meaning.
She had collapsed ten minutes after her performance, but the last hours were calmer. Soteris has been in and out, constantly on call, but she's too exhausted, and they're too overstretched, to justify putting someone on guard. It's given her the first moment she's had to...
… to breathe.
Harriet reaches out, touching the plastic screen. Watches it shimmer like a desert mirage. Once, there was a farm. The whirr of the windchimes. Fields of gilded wheat. And-
“You’re beautiful.”
She’s back. The approaching footsteps. The conceited voice. The clothes. The collar. The reapplied chains.
He stands by her side. "Your looks like it's catching fire in the Sunlight."
He’s changed again. No more glasses or wrinkles, and he’s applied his usual hair gel. She can smell his cologne, darker than her citrusy shampoo. He puts a hand on her shoulder, and it feels strong.
“Do you remember that night in the Highlands? The dead deer? You had pointed your gun at me. I left my card on the ground.”
"I remember." She scowls. “Ya said somethin’ ‘bout savin’ me. Not keepin’ me in cuffs.”
“The offer still stands. I just know you’d refuse.”
She sucks in a breath. She doesn’t make eye contact. Doesn’t give Soteris Chrysanthou what he wants. What Soteris Chrysanthou always seems to get.
“In Scotland, I said you looked lost. Faded. Disconnected from a dying world. I want to know if that’s still true. If all the… excitement, the pageantry of these past few days hasn’t sparked-”
“It’s sparked anger.” She interrupts. “Outrage.”
He pauses. “But the Wilds still Call?”
She gives him a look. Of resistance. Of invasion. He turns to the windows.
“It speaks to me, too. Perhaps… once a year. But I’ve noticed that each song is more frequent, and always sings a little stronger. I’m still young. I can only imagine how often it will Call me in a hundred years…”
He reaches up. Pets her hair.
“How often it Calls you.”
Harriet twitches, but holds her hands close. Keeps her focus on the window. It makes her squint.
“You're quiet.”
“I’m tryna figure ya out.”
Soteris smiles. “What part?”
“If yer jes’ deluded, or if yer actually a fraud.”
Soteris stands a bit taller. “If you’re concerned about the product’s quality, I’d remind you that Hajime and the others clearly-”
“No.” She shakes her head. “They’re bandits. Rich men. They don’t know England, or workin’ people. An’ ya expected that. Ya counted on that. Or ya woulda cared.”
He lifts his brow. “I just spent seven million trying to woo them.”
“Randall spent seven million. He thought the project was on the line. But you don't. Ya spent the whole conference pullin’ carpets over heads."
“Heheh,” Soteris chuckles. “Actually, I do need their money. And their contracts, even more. But I can’t show that. You’ve seen how weakness is perceived by men like Hajime. The Court is no different. Someday, you will have to hide your weaknesses too.”
“If he’s so strong, why ya foolin’ him?”
“Fooling him? Do you think I was lying? That I don’t want to change lives?”
Another scowl. “Yer tech’s built like people want a robot playin’ in their house. F-ffff-frickin’ with their systems.” Harriet stumbles on the word. “But that takes trust. The sorta trust a vampire don’t ever get, an’ ya bloody sure don’t have. So yer either pretendin’ like ya do, which makes ya delusional, or yer lyin’ ta everyone, which makes ya a fraud.”
He’s silent. Too silent. The kind of silence that makes Harriet prime herself for a slap he doesn’t give, an order he doesn’t say.
“I’d call it pride,” she goes on. “But these aren’t some easy target, Court-bribed bureaucrats. Not in yer eyes. These are yer equals. Yer market geniuses. They’re gonna find out. So ya could only ever wanna do it if ya need the cash now, if ya need the contracts now, but what in God’s name could be so important about that little frickin' computer that…”
She stops. Finally, it hits her. The same message his growing smirk displays.
“Look at you.” Soteris pulls her by the shoulder. Ignoring the way it makes her tense. “For someone who so despises the Court, it didn’t take long for you to start thinking like them.”
“Fireside.” She frowns. “What does it do? How am I involved?”
“How can you be so certain you are?”
“Ya named it after me.”
“This is privileged information, Fireside. Information I don’t think-”
She grabs his vest and drags into him. Hard and fast. He can’t react. Their faces are close. She growls.
“I don’t care.”
Harriet can see his shock, his anger. His grin doesn’t vanish, but she can see his eye twitch. They can smell the blood on each other’s breath.
“It glowed when I used my powers.” She squeezes. “Why?”
“Because we alone could not fuel it. The Fireside is a powerful device, a revolutionary device, but the energy it uses is just too great. We needed a new source. We needed-”
“BULL!” Her lips curl back, showing fang. “I know what I am ta ya. Ta the Court! This ain’t jes’ another fraud. Ya wouldn’t do this-”
She shakes her hands, rattling the chains.
“- fer a frickin’ refridgerator!"
A pause. Soteris reaches out, feels her fists with his smooth, clean hands. Never cut. Never worn. Then, suddenly, he’s taken them. She inhales. He’s pulling them down.
“... Do you know who founded the Court, Fireside? Who led you, and me, and all Nocturni forever from the Wilds’ dark?”
He swivels. Forcing her along. Until he’s facing the window, and she can only see his silhouette. His glowing, gilded eyes.
“Lucis Lator. Bringer of Light. They say he cut the Voice. They say he killed their cities. That his power was infinite. Invincible. That he who ended the Predecessors was so strong…”
He tilts his head, so that her eyes are blinded by that brilliant sphere.
“... that he could walk in Sunlight."
Her breaths are short. She blinks, trying to shake herself from his grip. It makes him grip harder.
“Do you believe them? Do you believe one of us walked as we once walked? That a Nocturni could silence the Call?”
Her teeth are grit. “Do you?”
“That is what power is.”
He turns, gesturing beyond the window.
“It doesn’t matter if I do.”
She keeps her body locked on his. Stiff. Rigid. Waiting to strike.
“You’re right. I have been lying. To the government, to the businessmen, to everyone I must. But I don’t do it for short term profits or easy cash. I do it because I can only show them the facets of Fireside they’ll accept. The words they’ll want to hear. Power is image, and image is power. Tell every man that our work will make them rich, that our work will keep them strong, that our shares their dream, and they will worship it. They will worship you.”
“So what’s the goal!?” She hisses. “If ya didn’t build it fer the army. If ya didn’t build it fer them, then-"
“You.”
Harriet blanks.
“I built Fireside for you."
Time is slowing. Thoughts are ending.
“Every word I speak. Every screw I twist, line I write. Every drop of blood this curse has forced us to drink, has been done to save these hands…”
He cups her cheek.
“This face.”
His skin starts to glow.
“This soul.”
Harriet’s mouth hangs open. His touch is warmed by the aether, the heat lamps. Until it’s hotter than a mortal's. Something more.
“I see those dimming eyes, those pale lips, and know the same truth that will one day come for me. For all of us. That the clock is ticking. That the Wilds Call. That we are all doomed to be monsters, and lose ourselves, like you are doomed to lose you."
“What?” Her heart begins to beat. Her breath picks up. “I… wh-what do ya want?”
“I want what you need. Life.”
She sharply inhales. He’s taken her shoulders, squeezing them.
“Living.”
He’s moving close. They’re only inches away. Eyes brighter and brighter.
“I want what Sunwalker had. What was promised to us, taken from us.”
“But what’s-”
He kisses her.
It’s quick, and forceful, and it makes her aether ignite. Harriet yelps into his breath, hot and full. His hands are on her back. Hers are on his chest. Pulling and pushing, in a room of old and new, blazing with the light of a Sun they can’t see.
“I want laughter in the parks.”
He speaks between kisses.
“Food in our stomachs.”
Her cheeks start to glow.
“Air in our lungs.”
She gasps. Her whole body is trembling. From shock and hatred and a hundred unspeakable things. Brain and heart and nerves and lungs. Ancient parts now move.
Soteris holds her cheeks in his hands. “No matter what I tell them. No matter what they believe…”
Windchimes scream. White clouds swirl. Century-old tears form in her eyes.
“Fireside is for us,” he tells her. “Fireside will make us human.”