21 Shades of Night, page 97
His eyes flickered to mine, reflecting puzzlement.
“Seriously,” I said. “If this isn’t about the terrorist thing, what do you want? Money? I don’t have any. Sex? There are easier ways, man. You’re not a bad-looking guy. One of my friends thought you were hot. I don’t know how she feels about seers, but knowing Cass, she’d try anything once.”
He frowned slightly, his eyes flickering back towards the road.
“Did someone hire you?” I said. “Do I have a rich crazy stalker this time?”
“You are the Bridge,” he said. “The Harbinger.”
“Great,” I said. “That’s what the other guy said.”
The man’s mouth firmed to a line. I got the sense my words irritated him, though.
“Terian likes his little games,” was all he said.
I waited, wondering if he would say more. But he didn’t.
Biting back impatience, I shook my head, as if to clear it. “So what kind of accent is that? German? I didn’t think any seers even lived in Europe anymore. I thought you were all in Asia, with the exception of a few who worked directly for—”
“You are not human, Alyson.”
When he didn’t say anything else, I broke into a shaky laugh.
“Okay. So you want to play that game again? Well, I’ve been tested, man. Like, hundreds of times. So pardon me if I think you’re full of shit. Whatever you’re trying to do, framing me as some kind of über-seer, Syrimne-wannabe, I don’t appreciate being the fall guy for whatever takeover trip you’ve got planned...”
He reached out without a word and laid a hand on my leg.
It wasn’t a sexual thing that time, but I sucked in a breath anyway, feeling him all around me, invisible hands shoving at me, pushing me out of my body until...
...I feel myself leaving.
I couldn’t stop it.
The car disappeared around me like a shadow in brilliant light. The road disappeared too, along with the mud-spotted windshield, the plastic saint statue glued to the dashboard, the handcuffs, my bruised legs, his shirt collar with the dried blood...
I passed through what felt like a stretched membrane...
* * *
...AND FIND MYSELF once again in that endless black and violet sky.
The colors shock me back into remembrance.
I remember this, from when we walked the streets of San Francisco.
Here, though, we are alone, surrounded only by distant stars and lumbering clouds. It is more than I can take in... the stars, the strange river-like currents I can feel, flowing above and below where we stand, filled with flecks of different-colored lights. A kind of prismatic wind ripples veins in my limbs, penetrating my light-filled skin.
I could spend hours looking only at him.
He stands beside me in the night sky, carved in detailed gold and white light. Bones, muscles, teeth, veins, irises, hair and skin are replicated in a million subtle shades and hues, all moving so fast that the colors appear almost to be stable. I only see their movement as waves flicker through the whole, changing him subtly and silently.
The space directly over his head fascinates me the most.
A line rises up from the crown of his head, filled with complex structures.
There rotate light-filled geometries, like living math equations rendered in multiple shapes and dimensions. Whatever they are, they look complicated, structured, but also strangely alive. I sense something there, too. The man’s presence lingers around them of course, but I also get a feeling of, I don’t know... function, I guess... as if those structures have a use. Whatever they are, I definitely get the impression they’re more than just a bunch of pretty lights.
One thing is for sure: he is nothing like the man in the park.
His light shines with a subtle clarity that is vastly different than Terian... and yet, he is not soft here, either. His eyes are diamond white, carrying a faint edge.
I am still staring when he points.
I see nothing at first. Nothing but clouds and stars.
Then I see movement. Beings dart from and into those massive thunderheads.
They remind me of old woodcuts of tentacled leviathans surrounded by underwater forests. Some are singing. Watching them, I know I should be more afraid.
The man watches me look.
They will not hurt you, he reassures me. Those kind are harmless.
My mind pauses on “those kind” then decides not to pursue it.
Where are we? I ask.
Instead of answering, he points down. Two long, twisting trails of light, one white and gold, the other a different shade of gold and white, loop languidly from our feet. I follow the course of those lights. At the bottom is a circle of blue daylight.
There, a black-haired man drives a car, blood staining the collar of his shirt. His hands grip a leather-wrapped steering wheel as he leans back in his seat, and next to him, a girl with matted blond hair with dark roots leans against the car door, her wrists handcuffed to the armrest.
I look dirty to myself, like some kind of vagrant or drug addict. I have a bruise on my face and dried blood at my hairline. My eyes are closed. Slumped against the door, my body bounces lightly from the car’s motion.
Landscape flows by as he steers the car down a frontage road. His eyes appear to shine white down there, too; I do not know how they would look to others.
To humans, I look normal, he says. After a pause, he adds, Your glowing eyes are unique in that regard, Alyson... although it is rumored that Syrimne shared this trait with you. Humans and seers can see it in the physical world when you operate your light at certain frequencies. It is something we can hopefully train you to control...
As he speaks, I watch his reconstructed veins pulse and plume more light.
There are several... oddities... in your make up, he continues. Your blood is undetectable as Sark... seer, I mean. Sark is short for ‘Sarhacienne,’ which is the real name for our race. The lack of discernible markers for your blood is an extremely rare condition. Only one in several hundred thousand seers have this. I have it, too. It is why they made me an infiltrator.
I am back to staring at myself inside that car, trying to convince myself that the rest of this isn’t real. He reaches out, catching hold of my light arm.
This is the Barrier, Esteemed Bridge. Do you recognize it?
I am forced to nod, which isn’t a nod of course, but a silent conveyance that feels like one. My heart isn’t really in it, but I feel his approval.
Good, he sends.
I’m not a seer, I say. I can’t be. It’s impossible.
My protests sound hollow, even to me.
Even so, I fight to hold on to that one thing.
I’ve read about your kind, I think at him. You play with people’s minds. You can convince them of anything...
This does not faze him.
You are right, he sends equably. But why would I do this with you?
I don’t have a good answer.
His opens himself somehow, and I feel more of him.
It is disconcertingly intimate.
You have known you are different from them, he says, letting me feel still more of his presence and light. You consciously chose to hide those differences... to suppress them wherever you could. His mind turns more pointed. You knew you weren’t human. You just didn’t want to know. So you pretended to believe the blood tests.
I don’t like this much, either.
His light begins to change, sparking in different-colored eddies that dance along his skin. I cannot help but watch. His veins pulse, changing from white-gold to orange and red rivers. The transformation is strangely liquid, fire-like. That fire starts from a particular structure over his head, leaking down through his light skull like thinned, living paint.
What are you doing? I ask.
I want to show you something, he says.
Show me what?
But he doesn’t answer me. Not directly.
Inside the Barrier, he says instead. There is only one rule...
The fire spreads to me, touching my light forearm first, where he holds me. Before the color has finished traveling to his waist, it is spreading into my transparent skin. Once it soaks my arm, it sears like ice, absorbed by my light bones.
Wait. I am fighting panic. Something’s wrong! Dehgo, whatever your name is—
Revik, he says. Dehgoies Revik. Do not be afraid. I am slowing it down so you can feel the process accurately—
No, Dehgo! Wait—
Revik, he repeats. Dehgoies is my family name.
The fire spreads up my shoulder. I struggle against his hold, panicking, but I can’t extract myself from his fingers, nor from that fire-like light.
...The rule is this, he continues, as if I hadn’t interrupted. To go anywhere you wish to go, to find anyone or anything inside the Barrier, you must become what you seek. Distance can impact this, and time. But ultimately, even these can be overcome.
Orange fire spreads to my stomach.
His body is all bright orange now, with the exception of one hand, which stubbornly remains a sparking gold-white. The denser orange sinks into my thighs, moving swiftly to my knees...
Wait! I shriek in the dark. Revik!
...Whatever you become, you are drawn to. This is called resonance. It is what you and I were born to do...
My left foot fills with liquid fire. Right as the last spot changes, his hand flushes orange. It occurs to me that he used that last piece of himself as an anchor...
When everything disappears.
I come out on the other end into the deepest silence I have ever felt.
Stars flicker in an expanse without clouds. Everything is so still and silent that a kind of wonder comes over me as I look around. Here, that same orange light he used to bring us here pulses in the sky. Gaseous clouds swirl in inexorable silence, a spiral with a fire-orange cloud at its center. We are swimming inside a nebula, I realize.
I watch flares arc over us and dissipate into the night.
It is heart-achingly beautiful.
He is pleased.
You like this? he asks. It is pretty, yes?
Are we... here? I manage.
He nudges my mind towards a particularly beautiful flare of light as it explodes outwards.
We are, he replies. But not in the physical, Esteemed Bridge. This is the Barrier. He watches as I look around, still exuding satisfaction. I thought it best to go first to a place where accidents were not so much of a danger.
I try to make sense of his words, can’t.
We float over unspeakable beauty for what could be minutes, days...
A part of me will never leave this place, I think.
...when suddenly, he changes frequency again.
The new vibration spreads more quickly this time. Several structures over his head are involved, working conjointly.
But I’m not ready to leave.
Wait! Can’t we stay a little longer?
You will only grow accustomed through doing. His presence exudes understanding, but his thoughts are firm. I want you to see that you can be anywhere, he says. With anyone...
Revik... wait!
The new frequency locks in. It is pale blue, the color of a virgin lake...
It rips me out of that flame-filled sky.
We pop out into a new night sky.
At once, I make out the familiar outline of Earth.
But Earth here is not the Earth as I’ve ever seen it, not even in satellite images. Light beings streak and hover over the shining blue sphere. They cluster over continents, attach themselves to other beings both lower and higher in the layers of atmosphere over the ground. They attach themselves to land masses and cities and even oceans.
The Pyramid hovers like a shadow over the largest concentration of lights.
It is huge here.
Even as I focus on it, he steers my attention firmly back to him.
Your interest in them is natural, he says. But it is too soon.
Again, I don’t understand.
I get the sense he knows this, but he doesn’t clarify what he meant.
Rather, he changes the subject.
It is possible to go more directly to the thing or place you seek, he explains, still keeping my attention focused on him, and away from that bright cage of Pyramid-shaped light. I thought you should see where you are, first. So you would know you can do this, too.
He pauses then, his thoughts carefully polite.
...Do you have any questions?
I laugh. I can’t help it.
Seconds later, we are descending through clouds, aiming for the surface of that light-filled world. As we begin to speed up, vertigo hits me for real, tinged now with an edge of exhilaration. We pass through a layer of rough, exploding light which I realize lives at the edge of the atmosphere. Fires spark my body like solar flares, curling around me and diminishing. Eventually they leave me entirely and the landscape unfurls below.
As we pass through, I begin to feel connections between people and other beings, feel the warm pulse of life, the mix of vibration...
I also feel a liquid surge of delight.
You do remember.
His light is all warmth again, relief mixed with a feeling that borders on affection. I know this should probably unnerve me, but it only makes me smile.
North America grows larger.
We descend towards the west coast, then California.
I laugh as San Francisco appears in a shower of sunlight over fog-blanketed hills and suspension bridges. Steel skyscrapers and brightly-colored homes grow larger, more diverse. The glittering bay shimmers a pale gold with the light bodies of plants and fish, darker near the marinas and docks, lighter again at the gates of the open ocean.
It is breathtaking. Stunning.
Yes, he agrees. It is still quite pretty.
I pause on his qualifier, then let it go.
Now the lights of people dominate, but I see every other living being as well; I am shocked by the variety of them, their different colors and vibrations. Hawks, blue jays and sparrows wing by. I see dogs running down the street, their outlines discernible through a blur of amiable light. Flies and gnats and ladybugs are pale dots; worms, cats, moles, snakes, squirrels, raccoons, rats, fleas, butterflies, trees, flowers, ants, gophers, beetles. They all flicker and shine separately yet remain connected in the overall matrix of light. Stranger still, if I concentrate I can feel each individual frequency, until it vibrates slightly with my own.
Then I start to see them, moving among the blurred human lights.
They are everywhere.
Chiseled outlines like the man beside me are present in nearly one in five collections of humans. Some walk in their own clusters, five or six or even ten of them together, speaking to one another animatedly, the faint outline of business suits and blue jeans, T-shirts and name brand coats visible around their lit forms.
Just as often, I see them alone, or with groups of blob-like humans.
I see seers attached to humans by the geometrical shapes that rise above their heads. It’s not hard to see that the communication isn’t equal; instead, it’s more like ventriloquist and wooden dummy. In some places, two or three seers control the humans in an entire building.
A kind of horror takes over as I see more and more seers controlling humans in this way.
So many, I say. How did they all get past the Sweeps? Past SCARB?
He senses my fear.
His light grows cautious.
SCARB isn’t interested in controlling all seers, he explains. Only those who are not owned. SCARB is also not officially aware of the Rooks, who are quite good at infiltrating human hierarchies, including SCARB itself. Many of the seers you see now are owned. Many are also Rooks, albeit low-levels ones for the most part, non-infiltrators. It is in the interests of both human and seer governments to keep this reality from civilians.
Wait, I send. You’re saying human governments—
Yes, he says, emitting a shrug. Does this surprise you? Although, as I said, even they do not know the extent of it. Some know this situation isn’t tenable. There is a sort of ‘cold war’ happening between the seers and the humans on many levels...
I don’t answer him.
Shrugging. he adds, There are more seers here than you see now, Allie. A trained infiltrator can eliminate their frequency from regular perception in the Barrier, mainly through blending with the lights that make up their environment.
Another thought trickles in, one that has already occurred to me.
They cannot see us, Allie, he confirms in answer to my unspoken question. At least not in a regular scan. I am shielding us. There are ways to track anyone, of course...
I stare down, trying to count them.
It is impossible.
Seers have only three real options, he tells me. We can live with traditional, religious seers in seclusion, and according to their holy precepts. It is not a bad life, but it is not for all seers, just as it would not be for all humans. The second option is to be owned... to sell our sight to humans. It provides some freedoms, providing one is skilled and has an employer who is fair. But it is risky... a kind of voluntary slavery.
He adds, The third option is to join the Rooks... or ‘the Org,’ as they call themselves. They are an underground network of seers with an anti-human agenda.
Which are you? I say, unthinking.
He pauses, letting me know that the question is, indeed, rude.
Presently, I am all but the third, he says then.
I watch a cluster of seers toy with a crowd of humans, changing their emotions back and forth like ocean currents. I feel their laughter as we pass.
They are no more dangerous than humans, he says, a little defensively. There are mature elements, and less mature. Kind, and less kind. Thinking, he shrugs. Some are bitter about being enslaved, of course...
