PROXIMA CITY
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 21, 9:35 P.M.
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An indescribable pain, a terrifying sensation; and afterward, a great desire not to repeat the experience ever again. That’s what Juzo and Malin felt when they passed through the conduit between the different Kappa Points, crossing through that intangible radiation that existed in quantum space, outside of this reality, and then returning to the physical world, already in another place.
They materialize on their feet; quite a milestone, according to those who had done it before. However, their legs did not stay in a straight position for long. Dizziness beat them; dizziness beat anyone, and they soon went to their knees. Fortunately, they were trained people with quick reflexes, and they stopped falling to the ground with their hands and not with their mouths.
Juzo gasped for air, and waited for his breathing to settle, for his muscles to stop spasming, and for the pounding pressure in his head to subside, along with the thumping of his heart in his chest, before trying to move again. Was it tachycardia or was he having a heart attack?
An annoying ringing slit opened his ears. He rubbed his eyes—sparks of light pulsed on his retinas—and sat down on the ground. Wow, that had been horrible!
Someone moaned: Malin. She was alive! They were alive! They had survived the crossing. They had escaped from Broga. Who knows what the final result of the fight would have been if they had not gone through the portal? Better not to think about it; the possible outcome filled him with dread.
He looked around and found himself in a damp, warm alley between two brick walls, next to a pile of empty boxes and some old, musty-smelling blankets. They were under a cloak of nocturnal darkness, shrouded by an unpleasant odor that came from a garbage container. His first impression of Proxima City was not the best.
At least it’s not raining here, Juzo thought.
Malin’s head and chest felt like they were about to explode, too. A burning sting in the pit of her stomach, and an itching sensation from her feet to the last strand of hair, as if she were covered with bedbugs. Of course, that sensation was preferable to the one she had experienced when she had put her arms into the Cyclops’ shield.
“Now I understand why Aurigas are forbidden,” she groaned and remained sitting on the floor for a moment.
Her whole body ached. Her back was numb, as well as her thighs, neck, and rib cage area, there, where she’d taken most of the enemy’s blows. Those robotic arms might not have been in good condition, but heck, they could still pack a punch! Her cheeks burned, and she tried to remember if the android had hit her there too, or if it was from the experience of going through the portal.
“You okay?” Juzo asked.
Malin nodded.
Their senses began to return to normal. The ringing in their ears lessened and the noise of the traffic reached them. There was a street ahead; they could see cars go by, and there was also a green glow imprinting on the pavement. Time to stand up. They tried to help each other up, but they were still carrying a lot of static and shared a shock. They cursed, took a deep breath, and straightened their legs; at least as much as they could.
Malin rubbed her waist; it hurt a lot. Found that her jacket had been torn; a low price for what they had just experienced. She fixed her hair, and then did the same for Juzo, though his hair was so short no one would have noticed that the electric shocks had ruffled it; no one, except someone who worked in a hair and beauty salon like her, of course. She straightened out his uniform, which had become somewhat disheveled after their arrival. As bad-tempered as he was, he allowed her to do so without protest; he always allowed her to do it.
Then, with the sleeve of her jacket, Malin wiped his ears. “A little blood,” she announced.
“You have something, too,” Juzo said and wiped hers with his finger.
“And the android?” Malin looked around.
“He didn’t make it.”
With the dizziness still touching their feet and stomach, they peered out onto the street and found the source of the greenish glow: a huge luminous sign above their head that said, ‘Welcome to Dana’s, the first shopping center in Proxima’. They were indeed in Proxima City, an ocean away from their country. The Auriga had worked. And if there was any doubt, there was a huge clock on the top of a building announcing the time. 8.53 p.m.
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“Five hours apart,” Juzo pointed out.
“Oh, the past!” Malin sighed. “At this time, I was still home, getting ready to go looking for your damn motel. Juzo, if this is my second chance to make up for the hours I lost on that route, in the rain, tell me I won’t lose them again, going around in circles in this city because you don’t know where we’re going.”
“Adam White’s address is not far,” he pointed out and headed down the street toward an avenue.
Taking off her torn jacket, Malin gave it to a homeless beggar sitting on the sidewalk and, intrigued, followed Juzo, waiting for him to speak. When she realized she wouldn’t get an answer, she nudged him.
“Aren’t you gonna tell me?”
He didn’t say a word. Alright, that was Juzo being Juzo. But she was in pain, and she no longer had the patience to endure stupid attitudes.
“Don’t play dumb with me, Juzo. I wanna know what that Totem-thing was hiding. I wanna know if the bruises that in a few hours I’ll have all over my body will be worth it.”
“Yes,” he said; “Your bruises will have been worth it.”
“Okay, what if I decide that?” she stopped him. “Let me see what you recorded with your monocle, and I won’t bother you anymore with my questions.”
Juzo stopped, somewhat disoriented, as if he had just remembered it. He took off his backpack, opened it, and removed the small recording module. It was completely scorched, and the monocle was broken.
“Damn!” Malin said. “Was it damaged during combat? Or was it the electric shock from the crossing?”
Juzo wasn’t sure if either of those two reasons were the cause, and the image of him shooting the Totem came back to his mind. “Maybe,” he said then and moved on.
“Uh-uh,” Malin took his arm. “You won’t leave me in doubt. I think I deserve an answer after what we just went through.”
But when Juzo turned, Malin found pain in his eyes. No, in addition to pain, there was also fear. She was so taken aback by that look that she let him go.
“What happened there, Juzo? What did you see?”
“Malin, please. Not now,” he said. “Give me a moment to process it, okay?”
And, in silence, they reached the corner and found the panorama they expected: buildings that gave one the impression of being stuck in a great canyon of concrete and glass, people, cars, and bikes here and there, and parking meter robots harassing drivers who had just parked their vehicles; all immersed in a constant murmur of voices and engines, light towers, luminous billboards, and a night sky almost lost up there.
Juzo confirmed his location by looking at the street name signs and then walked down the avenue. As the blocks progressed, the skyscrapers got shorter and shorter and became buildings. As he passed by the pedestrians, he detected the gaze of some, perhaps surprised by his military attire, or perhaps by... With a yank, he tore off the small scarlet emblem of the Markabian Empire that was pinned to the chest of his uniform, and he put it in his jacket pocket. Maybe he might need it later. He didn’t know how much the Rodinians knew about the conflicts that occurred on the other side of the ocean, but for the moment, it was better not to attract attention with symbols that could bring them problems.
Malin made an annoyed gesture, very subtle, although Juzo detected it anyway. During the past few minutes, he’d seen her several times rubbing the area of her ribs under her breast. She was in pain and trying to hide it.
“You okay?” he asked; he knew she wasn’t.
“Sure,” she said and stopped rubbing it. “You?”
Juzo’s knuckles were red, and they burned; soon they would start to swell. The fight against the Cyclops was taking its toll on them. “I’m fine,” he lied.
So, to change the subject, Malin commented, “Did it occur to you that your brother might be, I dunno, vacationing somewhere far from here?”
“He hasn’t left the country. Rigel told me,” Juzo replied.
“Good, but what if he’s not home now?”
“I’ll wait for him to come back,” Juzo said. He was so stubborn it was overwhelming.
“And what will you tell him when you find him? That you are his twin and that he is part of a project to become a human repository of energy?”
“Will I be lying?”
“He’ll slam the door in your face,” Malin said.
“That will no longer be my problem.” Juzo walked faster. “Now hurry up. The Satellite Agency will surely have sniffed us out and may already be behind us.”
“Damn!” Malin patted her forehead. With the conflict, she had forgotten about them.
After a while, they came to a pedestrian area full of people, shops, and restaurants, full of life and bustle, of voices and music.
“Why are there so many people on the street at this hour?” Malin was intrigued. “Is it here they sleep during the day?”
“Curfews aren’t the rule,” Juzo replied and walked over to a newsstand to ask the clerk how to get to the intersection of Ninth Avenue and Twenty-first Street, where Adam White lived.
The clerk put down a bundle of inactive holo-newspaper cards and pointed out, “You go on for two more blocks and then turn right.”
While her friend made inquiries, Malin killed some time by looking over, amazed at the sheer number of publications on display; there were even some printed newspapers, just a few, but still, there they were. Huge, folded wads of paper. And she thought that only in her country, so advanced for some things, but so conservative for others, they continued to be published! Of course, most were holographic magazines, with their translucent and multicolored covers, one next to the other, projected from the countless cards that populated the display cabinet. She had never seen so many of them and so diverse. Until her eyes fell on one in particular, and she smiled in disbelief. The name was Loud, and on the cover was someone identical to Juzo, though slightly younger and more polished looking. It was a photo with a few years on it, although the truth was that this Adam White guy looked sexy in his underwear. She took one of the cards, and activating the issue, unfolded its holographic pages and looked at them one by one; then she handed it over to Juzo.
Her partner took a quick look at the holo-magazine. Dead serious, he deactivated it, left it among the others, and left.
“Perhaps this meeting between brothers will be interesting,” she said.