Rebel's Construct: Sim-Verse: Book 1, page 14
She stopped and turned her head as if holding back tears. When she regained her composure, she simply said with a flat tone, “They all want power. Most of them just want control of others. But some of them are really disturbed. They’ve built up some kind of cult, a religion with me at the center of it. I’m both the object of their scorn and an icon of veneration.”
The last sentence, she spit out like foul-tasting medicine. And Taven finally understood her plight.
“Why not just pull the plug?” he asked.
She looked him in the eyes, those eyes that promised to cut you in two, for a long moment, then said, “I think about that every day. Believe me, I do.”
Taven processed her words. Then a question came to mind. “Why all of this? I mean, I get why you’d hide the medallion on the rubble hill and make it hard to get and all, but why have the medallion at all? And more importantly, if we can just whisk away to this island willy nilly, why couldn’t you have saved both of us all the trouble of retrieving the medallion in the first place?”
“Those are big questions,” she said softly, sipping her drink again. She paused, and Taven felt as if she expected him to reframe them or pick just one. He didn’t. He deserved an explanation.
“The medallion didn’t used to be called the medallion and didn’t used to be hard to find and use. It was akin to a help kiosk, and instead of finding me inside the Temple, the computer would just yank me out of whatever construct I was in and bring me to the kiosk to answer questions. What eventually became known as the medallion is a foundational piece of code, meaning it can’t be altered without rewriting the entire source code. The hill, the Temple gate, and all the rest were things that I was able to alter to give myself a chance for peace.”
“So, you couldn’t just show yourself to me before we got to the Temple?”
She shook her head. “Not without a rewrite, and there wasn’t time for that. You said it was urgent.”
“But you could have spoken to me, told me who you really were. There had to have been an easier way,” he said.
She looked away again, and Taven realized he was right; it could have been easier, but she had chosen to do it this way for a reason. He could tell by her mannerisms she wasn’t going to volunteer the information, so he decided to go about it a different way.
“I saw you in the first world, the one where I got torn to bits by the fighter plane,” he said.
“That’s right. I was watching you there.”
“How’d you even know where to find me. I mean, was it because you knew I was from outside the construct or what?”
“I told you how hard I made it for people to get the medallion. But that’s only half the story. The medallion exists for a reason. It’s part of the foundational coding for a good reason. People need to be able to talk with someone who is able to make changes, just in case there’s an emergency or . . . some people want to leave.”
“So, people do leave?” Taven asked.
“In reality, no. No one leaves, but they could if they wanted to. And I keep an ongoing alert for every time someone mentions Cat in the construct.”
“Must be exhausting, like a deity answering prayers.”
“Something like that.” She grew quiet again.
“There’s more,” he prodded. “Why appear as Ferah? Why become the object of my desire, as you put it?”
“Well, the woman you took out of the construct, the one you traded places with—she really did have this computer-generated companion, so the precedent was already there.”
She cleared her throat and sat back in her chair as if she was bracing herself for what would come next. Taven noticed her hands gripped the arms of her chair.
“Do you remember how the inside of the Temple looked?” she asked.
“Yeah. It’s gorgeous. Hanging gardens and the throne room with all the stained glass and tapestries.”
“What else do you remember about the—” she paused at the word, “throne room?”
He shook his head, drawing a blank.
“There were two chairs,” she said.
Taven still didn’t understand. Was there someone else? Had there been?
“I had hoped,” she went on, “that you as an outsider might become—” She stopped, apparently too embarrassed to say it out loud. “Look,” she said. “I’m all alone. I just hoped you would like it here and that, maybe, you’d learn to like me too.”
Taven, shocked by what he immediately knew was the truth searched her eyes. But she wouldn’t look at him. Instead, she gazed out at the sea again.
Taven reached one hand out and touched her chin, gently turning her face toward him. No matter how he prepared himself, looking directly in her eyes always evoked a feeling that he couldn’t ignore.
“Ferah—” He caught himself, and she smiled a sad smile with him. “Cat,” he corrected, “I’m sorry.”
“I know. Me too.”
“You know why I came. I needed to warn the Hudson colonists before it’s too late.”
“And you’ve done that now,” she said calmly.
Taven blinked. “Have I?”
“You’ve done all you can. The rest is up to me.”
Taven wasn’t satisfied. Sure, he was ready to leave, but somehow, he wasn’t convinced she would tell the others.
“Are you going to exit the construct and make repairs yourself?” he asked.
“That’s complicated,” she said flatly. “No one that leaves is allowed back inside. And besides that, I don’t have the unanimous consent of the inhabitants to make repairs or change the course of the Hudson.”
Taven felt like he was talking to a total stranger, not Ferah, not Cat, but some random official who spoke in administrative jargon and bylaws.
“But you’ve got to do something or you’ll all die,” he said.
“We’ll see. There’s time.”
“No, there isn’t. That’s what I’ve been telling you. Someone has to act fast. I don’t care about all the silly rules you think you have to abide by. Trust me, these people should thank you for saving their lives with or without consent. We would have done it ourselves if we could have gotten past the computer.”
“I understand, Taven. But there is time. Time is relative.”
Then the two grew silent, both apparently having said their piece but neither persuaded by the other person’s arguments.
“I guess you’d like to be on your way,” Cat said, standing up and walking out into the sunshine.
Taven felt like she had multiple personalities, that she phased in and out of different profiles depending on the situation. Then, he decided, everyone was like that to a degree and that, perhaps, this is what the construct does to a person: magnify and compartmentalize the personality.
He stood from his chair but didn’t answer. He still felt as if the wrong word or phrase could ruin everything and he’d be stuck here forever.
As he followed her out onto the beach, a small part of himself wished it were true, wished he would screw up and have to live here. He could learn to do it. He could learn to forget his other life.
Cat walked to the water’s edge and again stared out toward the horizon. Taven stood beside her and saw what she was looking at. It was a beautiful sunset, yet another impossible scene.
“Are you ready?” she asked without looking at him.
“No. But it’s time. Are we going back to the Temple?”
She exhaled and smiled. “No. Remember, getting here is the hard part. Going home is easy.”
She took his hand, still without looking at him, and led him into the water. “Here, face me,” she said. He was knee deep with his back to the sea, and the small waves moved him enough that he feared losing his balance.
“Hold on to me,” she said smiling sweetly. Then they locked arms, and he meditated upon the lonely green eyes that he believed he would never see again. “Don’t look away,” she told him, but there was no chance of that.
A mighty rush of wind swept through like a sudden storm, except the sky—Taven could see it out of the corner of his eyes—hadn’t turned dark or cloudy.
He maintained his gaze.
The water around his legs receded, and he suddenly realized that the sea had sucked in its water, breathing in deeply, before delivering its next blow.
“Goodbye, Taven Smith,” she said. And Taven felt the spritz of salty water on the back of his neck before the giant wave covered them completely.
Before he could panic, before he could think of trying to swim out of the deluge, he was greeted by the now familiar translucent glow that stripped him of fear and consciousness.
CHAPTER 26
TAVEN GASPED FOR air in the darkness.
“He’s out,” a familiar voice said.
He flailed his arms trying to swim, but they struck hard objects he didn’t recognize. Then two hands grabbed him by the shoulders.
“Taven, it’s alright. Talk to me.”
He knew that voice too, but the darkness continued to shroud their identity. He stopped flailing and tried to relax, though he had one of the worst cases of vertigo imaginable. If it wasn’t for the fact that he could breath and he could hear people talking, he’d be convinced he was upside down under ten feet of water.
He let the two hands on his shoulders calm him. He trusted them, and soon the first pinhole of light appeared.
“Can you hear me?” someone asked.
He tried to speak, but his mouth felt like it was made of floppy rubber. Finally, he uttered, “Yeah.”
He heard a loud sigh in the room as if someone was relieved.
Moment by moment, his vision grew brighter and clearer until he realized he was looking into golden-brown eyes.
“Ferah?”
“It’s me,” Ferah said. She was looking over him with an optimistic expression on her face.
It was Ferah, alright. But not the Ferah he’d come to know. Not his Ferah.
“Do you know where you are?” she asked as she shone a penlight into both of his eyes, temporarily blinding him again.
“Uh, yeah. Back on the Hudson,” he said.
“Back? You’ve been here the whole time, Boss.”
Taven turned and saw the man-child Mack grinning.
“Get me up,” Taven demanded.
Ferah pulled his weightless body up and over the glass tomb he’d been living in. Then she helped him stand upright until his space boots met the floor. She reached down and turned on their magnetic pseudo-gravity, and Taven felt them click down onto the floor.
“There. That ought to do it,” she said. Again, she looked her patient over, and when she looked him in the eyes, Taven tried to find her, catch a glimpse of the woman he’d known in the construct. It was the same color, the same blond freckles in her iris. But this Ferah never seemed to recognize him. There was no knowing in her eyes. Sure, she knew who he was, but gone was this all-in-one fantasy woman.
“Good as new,” she declared. “Glad to have you back, sir.”
Taven felt a rush of adrenaline as he had a moment of panic: What if he was still inside the construct? How would he ever know the difference? This could just be Cat’s elaborate plan to keep him here. Maybe you couldn’t leave the construct. Maybe what happened to the woman they’d removed was what would happen to everyone.
“Water. I need water,” he said, trying not to show his panic.
“Sure, Boss,” Mack said, handing him a stainless-steel bottle.
Taven took a deep draw from it and held much of the water in his parched dry mouth. He examined the bottle as he savored the drink. It seemed as if he hadn’t had anything to drink in days.
His eyes focused on the container, but his mind was elsewhere, still evaluating his surroundings and questioning what was real. Then he snapped back to the present as he noticed his reflection in the metallic bottle.
Even in its dull matte finish, he could make out the deep scar that ran down the right side of his face. “That looks real,” he whispered.
“What’s that, Boss?” Mack asked.
“Nothing. Well, give me an update. What’s our status?”
Mack and Ferah looked at each other with bewildered expressions.
“You probably know as much as we do,” Ferah shrugged.
“Yeah, did you get my messages?” Mack asked.
“Which one? Yesterday’s or from the day before?”
Again, Mack and Ferah looked confounded.
“Somebody, start talking,” Taven said impatiently.
“Sir, how long do you think you’ve been gone?” Ferah asked.
“I dunno. Felt like three days, at least. But there weren’t any clocks inside the construct.”
Ferah’s eyebrows raised with amazement, and Mack started belly-laughing.
“What’s funny?” Taven insisted.
Mack stepped over beside Taven and raised his wrist console. “Boss, look at the time.”
Taven did, but the numbers didn’t mean anything to him. “Am I supposed to care?”
“Boss, you’ve been gone less than five minutes.”
Now it was Taven’s turn to be shocked.
“Oh, man. That’s so blasted weird,” Mack said.
“It’s the dream state, I bet.” Ferah said. “You know how time doesn’t feel the same when you’re dreaming? I bet it’s the same inside the computer-generated constructs.”
Both Ferah and Mack chattered on like this for several moments, but Taven was in his own world. Not a constructed CG world, but not the real world either. He remembered all the things Cat had told him about the relative nature of time and how she and the rest of the Hudson colonists had time to figure out what they needed to do. She had been right all along.
His fuzzy mind struggled to do the arithmetic. He’d spent what felt like three days in the construct, but in the outside world only five minutes had passed. That meant every outside hour felt like thirty-six days inside the construct. And every outside day was . . . well, all he knew was that Cat had what amounted to more than a thousand days before the Hudson would reach Jupiter’s atmosphere.
When the jabbering had subsided, Taven realized that Mack and Ferah were watching him.
“You okay, Boss?” Mack asked.
“Sure. Good as new, just like she said.”
They looked at him still, as if he hadn’t passed their test.
“And about to be even better,” Taven continued, “because we’re going home.”
Their confused looks returned.
“Wait, aren’t we going to try again?” Ferah asked.
“Not on your life,” Taven said, amused at the unintended irony.
“But we can’t just leave them to die,” Mack said. “Someone has to go back inside and try again.”
“No. We’ve done all we can. The rest is up to them now,” Taven said.
“Look, I know you feel like you were in there for days, but only five minutes passed for us. It seems like we’ve only scratched the surface,” Ferah said sincerely.
“Yeah, I get that. But you guys don’t know what I know. All that can be done by us has been done. It’s over.”
“I’ll do it,” Mack said. “I should have gone in the first time.” Mack moved toward the glass, but as he passed by, Taven put his hand on his chest.
“No, Mack. I said we’re done.”
“I’ll do it right. I’ll get it done, Boss. Don’t worry about it.”
“That’s not the issue. The issue is—”
“Look, I’ll be back in five minutes or less,” Mack said as he brushed past Taven on his way toward the glass capsule.
“Mack!” Taven shouted with an authoritative tone that even surprised him. “I said we’re done. Pack it up, we’re going home.”
Taven continued to stare down Mack, waiting to see if he’d follow orders. After a tense moment, Mack caved. “Sure, Boss. Whatever you say.”
Taven relaxed. “And, Mack,” he added, “don’t interrupt me again, or I’ll have to shoot you.”
Mack stared back, obviously befuddled by Taven’s comment. Finally, Taven smirked, and Mack’s expression changed to one of relief. Then Mack chuckled before erupting into full-blown laughter.
Taven caught Ferah’s watchful eye. She was smiling, though he didn’t think she really found the situation funny. She was probably glad they were in the clear now, that Taven had returned, and all was fine. Everything was almost like it had been before, except…Taven was different, and everybody knew it.
CHAPTER 27
THE WAY BACK to the St. George, and back to Earth for that matter, was mostly painless. The biggest hurdle was dealing with the Hudson colonist that they had removed from the construct. Ferah had sedated her after her episode coming out of the sleep chamber, and everyone had hoped that the apparent psychosis was temporary. Taven suspected otherwise, but he kept his guess to himself.
Following Taven’s instructions, Ferah and Mack had attempted to plug the colonist back into the construct. Everything had looked good until the last moment when, according to Ferah, it should have worked but didn’t. There had been conversation about whether the sedatives were interfering with her ability to integrate into the construct, but Taven realized then that Cat had told him the truth after all: Once you leave, you can never go back. The construct was a one-time deal.
Taven reflected as he rode his slicer back to the St. George. No wonder Cat had been hesitant about fixing the Hudson; she would have to leave the construct for good. And then what would there be left for her? She was already alone inside their made-up world, but at least she could make some things the way she wanted them. Outside, in the cold reality, she’d be alone on the Hudson, the only conscious member, and unable to live the life of her choosing. How much can be sacrificed in the name of duty? he wondered. Shouldn’t carrying out one’s duty result in a better life for everyone, including the dutiful person?
Back onboard the St. George, Taven left the incapacitated colonist to Ferah and her team. The rest of this woman’s life—if she ever truly was alive again—was to be spent outside the construct. She was a casualty or might as well be. All that Taven and his crew could do would be to transport her safely back to Earth. He dreaded the additional paperwork that would have to be filed, and he knew that Meyer Corp would be obliged to send another ship back to check on the Hudson.
