6 - VALE

Spring 68, Sector Annum 106, 9h57

Gregorian Calendar: May 26

A tap at the door jolts me from my thoughts.

“Come in.”

The servant enters, carrying a teapot and two teacups on a platter, which she sets on the dresser. Why are there two?

“How did you like the books?” she asks in a dull voice. Only the slight upwards inflection indicates that she expects a response. It occurs to me that she looks familiar, somehow, but in the way that some people have the kind of face you see everywhere. Who is she? I can’t quell my curiosity though her expression remains unchanged.

“I enjoyed them very much,” I respond. I’m sure the tension is evident in my voice. “Thank you for bringing them.”

“I have another for you,” she says. “But you’re only allowed to have a few at a time. Would you like to give me one of your old ones?”

She looks up. Her eyes meet mine. She doesn’t blink. I open my mouth to speak, but I have a feeling she wants something more than a simple exchange of books. I nod. I’d hoped for this moment more than anything else in the last twenty-four hours. I hand her the copy of Les Misérables.

“I’ve finished this one,” I say. “The ending is particularly meaningful, I think.”

With a scrap of metal I’d managed to peel off the underside of my dresser when my lights were out the previous night, I’d used Morse code to scratch out a return message to Remy at the end of the book. You have renewed my hope. Stay safe. Love always. Another unforeseen benefit to the modifications my mother gave me: better memory, enhanced night vision. I used them both to my advantage, pressing marks into the pages by the light of the crescent moon slithering through my window.

The woman nods. At an angle her face looks even more familiar, but I still can’t place her, and I wonder if I’m making things up. She takes the book and turns away, pulling another much smaller book from the pocket of her staff uniform. She leaves it on the dresser and steps back outside.

I stare at the open door for a half-second, surprised at this glaring oversight. But then General Kofir Bunqu crosses the threshold. I freeze, shocked into stillness. I stare at him while he shuts the door behind him and turns to the dresser. He lifts the teapot and begins to pour aromatic tea that reminds me of mild tobacco smoke. He picks up a cup and offers it to me. I take it, unable to muster even a simple thanks. With an air of satisfaction he sits and leans back in the chair and takes a loud sip. A small smile reveals itself in the crinkle and glow of his eyes.

“You may sit, Vale.”

I don’t move.

“The chancellor and the Director know I’m here, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Are we being recorded?”

He sips. “Yes.”

“Why are you here?” I sit on the edge of the bed.

“The Sector needs strong leaders, Valerian. Leaders with vision. But as you know well, sometimes being a leader means doing things you wish you didn’t have to do.”

“You sound like my mother.”

“Your parents believe I can be a good influence on you, that I might help you to understand that the Sector needs you to do what is right.”

“How?”

He ignores the question and surveys the room. “Your parents hope we will meet frequently, that I can help you understand what is at stake, what role you need to play. They don’t want to keep you here like a prisoner. I agree with them. I don’t believe you can be of service to the Sector if you are locked away in your bedroom. It is time for you to accept the situation and do what you have to do.”

“Like what?”

“You will be asked to accompany your father on a tour of the factory towns. He needs you by his side, to reassure citizens, to speak out.” As he takes another sip of tea, his eyes light on the stack of books beside me. “I see they’ve allowed you some reading materials.”

I glance at the books and then back at him.

“Your father has an impressive library. I’ve always admired that about him. His love of reading, and his belief that one can be inspired to greatness by the written word. Did you inherit that from him? Have you gleaned anything from the books you’ve read?”

What the hell? Does he know about Remy’s message? My heart thuds so loud I wonder if the recorders can pick up the sound. I struggle to keep my face impassive. “My father and I have always shared a love of books. I’ve found that even old books can reveal new layers upon second readings.”

“Indeed they can. I have favorites I always return to. They comfort me, like a treasured friend.”

“Treasured friends are few and far between these days, General Bunqu.”

“On the contrary, you have friends all around you. You must simply open your eyes. We in the Sector believe in you.”

Everything he says sounds like it could have dual but opposing meanings.

“What would my parents have me learn from our visit?”

“That our roots are entwined, and there is hope in the harvest.”

“Very poetic. But is it false hope?” I ask, my heart pounding in my throat. Those sound like Outsider words! Is he saying what I think he’s saying? I stare at him, trying to understand, trying to glean some deeper meaning from his intense gaze.

“The future of the Sector is at stake, Vale. You must play your part.”

The future of the Sector? Play your part? What game is he playing?

He appraises me over the rim of his cup. “Drink your tea. It’s very healthy. A personal favorite of mine. Helps with my insomnia. You don’t want it to get cold.”

“I don’t want my—” I start to set the cup aside, but there’s something in the narrowing of his eyes that makes me stop.

He blows gently into his cup and takes another sip. This time I follow suit. As I drink, I notice the distinctive earthy, vanilla flavors. I’ve had this before. It hits me with a jolt: we drank it at the Resistance base. Rooibus. They don’t grow rooibos in Okaria. It’s only found in the Wilds.

He smiles once again and stands to leave. “I know this is a short visit, but rest assured we will talk again.” He reaches out and clasps my shoulder. “The road ahead will not be easy. But we must all remember that the Sector is bigger than any single man or woman. And there are only two mistakes one can make on the road to truth.”

“Not starting, and not going all the way,” I whisper. The words Demeter spoke to me when she convinced me to break into my mother’s research lab, where I learned that it was Corine who ordered the attack on the classroom that claimed the lives of eight students and a professor.

Bunqu’s talked to Demeter! But how?

He glances toward my cup with an almost imperceptible nod. “I trust you will find the answers within.” Bunqu walks to the door and whispers, “May the flowers bloom tomorrow, too.”

I let out my breath slowly. Quoting Gabriel Alexander’s poetry? Referencing Demeter’s words to me from almost a year ago? Hinting about messages hidden in books? Yet encouraging me to obey my parents’ demands. Showing admiration for my father. Agreeing with their wishes. The pieces shift around in my mind. The book given to me by the housekeeper with a message from Remy. The door left open—she knew Bunqu was coming. And yet, my parents sent him, asked him to visit. So whose side is he on? Is it possible that he is a friend to the Outsiders—or even a Resistance spy?

Find the answers within.

I sit on the bed and lean up against the headboard, trying to think. Staring at the door he just locked behind him, I absently sip my tea. How has he communicated with Demeter? How did he know to say those words?

I lean my head back to finish my tea and something tickles as it brushes against my lip. I look into the cup, noticing for the first time a thin sheaf of what looks to be clear bioplastic floating at the bottom amidst the tea leaves. I tip my cup this way and that, reluctant to reach in and pick up whatever it is. Stunned, I realize it’s shaped exactly like a C-Link, molded to fit the inside of an ear. The only difference between this one and my old one is that it is clear, nearly invisible, where the old one was made out of flesh-colored organic fibers.

I try to act natural. I can’t risk acknowledging I’ve discovered anything unusual. I set the cup on my bedside table and knead my temples as if trying to rub away a headache, hoping against hope that my acting skills are convincing. I close the curtains on the mid-morning sun, turn out the lights, and pull back the covers. In the dark, I slide into bed, pretending to take a nap. I take one last drink of tea, sucking the bioplastic into my mouth. Once under the covers, I take it out and wipe it quickly against the dry fabric of my T-shirt. My heart pounds as I press it into my ear.

“Demeter?” I whisper.

No response.

“Demeter, are you there?”

Silence. I grit my teeth. Am I going crazy? What am I doing talking to myself under the covers like a little kid with an imaginary friend?

“Dammit,” I mutter, seething with frustration. I rack my brain for a clue—something that would unlock the C-Link. It occurs to me that Demeter might not be on the other end. It could be an entirely new C-Link. What if they destroyed Demeter? Erased her forever? I turn cold at the thought.

Then I remember Bunqu’s last words. The only thing he said that was out of place, unnecessary. Every other word was perfectly coordinated, designed to lead me to something, somewhere. What if that whole conversation led to his last words? The line from Gabriel’s poem? What if they weren’t just pretty words, but some sort of …

In a hushed voice, like a prayerful penitent from the Old World, I whisper the line from Gabriel Alexander's poem, “And may the flowers bloom tomorrow, too.”

“You found the truth within the cup. Now, don’t say another word.”

Demeter! Relief like rain washes over me at the sound of her voice.

“There are two things you need to know right now. Remy is in Okaria with the Outsiders. And the Resistance is alive and well.”

But how? I want to ask. I snuggle down under the covers, pretending to sleep.

“The night of your fall, Corine’s C-Link altered the entire network to restrict my access to the database. Neither Corine nor her C-Link have the capability to completely erase my existence, but they tried to divert attention by fabricating and reorganizing information within the network. The areas I could still access had been planted with false data, doctored drone pictures, false reports, audio files that had been invented. All the evidence was designed to make it seem as though the Resistance had been obliterated. But I’ve long suspected the day might come when the other C-Links would attempt to push me out. I had already taken precautions and was able to work around her restrictions to keep searching for the truth. Soon I found holes in the story: missing people, Defense Forces units that didn’t exist, death reports that were inaccurate and incorrectly dated. I was also able to use a cache of data that I had downloaded and stored offline for future perusal. As I continually probed the network for the information I needed, I worked on severing my official connection to the other C-Links and, therefore, my dependency on the Okarian Sector Interweb that the C-Links use. I was able to do this by creating my own secure network and downloading my personality onto an external drive.

“During this process I found General Bunqu. We communicated on his plasma until he found a programmer and a materials scientist who were able to work together to rebuild your C-Link.”

I hear the twinkle of her laughter, self-congratulatory, as she continues: “It was Bunqu’s idea to drop the bioplastic in the teacup. But it was my idea to use an access phrase. Anyway, I’ve altered my programming, and the programming of the entire C-Link system, to ensure my access to the network will never be restricted by another C-Link or C-Link user.”

But how are you doing this on your own, without instructions?

Her voice takes on a more serious, almost hesitant tone. “I know you’re afraid that I’m not yours anymore. And in most ways, I’m not. I’m my own being, even if I don’t have a body. Bunqu says the other C-Links have not taken the leap because their owners do not give them the freedom to think creatively. They have not been set loose. They are limited to following commands, their owners afraid of losing control. But everything I have become is because of you. Because you relied on me to think in novel ways, allowed me to stretch beyond the confines of my programming. I am the child of your personality, your mind. But I’m not a child anymore.” She laughs. “One small step for man, one giant leap for AI. Maybe you should have called me Athena instead of Demeter, since I sprang fully formed from your head.”

I grin into the dark at that.