8:32 AM
Shadow's heart pounded in his chest as he realized that this time was different. The gnawing unease in his gut told him that the current disruption wasn't simply a glitch in the system or the aftermath of a devastating storm. It was something more sinister, something that made his hands tremble with a fear he couldn't name.
They were all gone—the Domizien emerging from cracks between worlds as Plurizien mobs chanted words of freedom. All that lively revolution was left behind in a different day: a time where hope had been fueled by rage and rebellion and faith, none left.
Today was a brand-new day—the second day of his third life—and only death, darkness, and despair remained. A day that felt centuries old after enduring hours of disruption from a new type of glitch. First came hallucinations of ghosts and monsters, followed by reality slowing to a crawl as their universe wailed inside their heads.
Shadow slept for a few hours after Sibyl patched him up. Peaceful moments of forced rest, abruptly ended by zir endless screams. Now, hours later at the lab, he attempted to hold on to his sanity after witnessing thousands of self-inflicted Underling deaths. A never-ending story reminding him of another childhood story—the nothingness, the swamp of sadness, the emptiness that comes from hopelessness.
Aimless, they fell to their deaths. For some, a final act of rebellion, the spark of hope they offered to the ones still standing. And zie cried, and screamed, slowing down time and killing the light with a monster-infused darkness—trippy hallucinations, still less horrifying than the digital reality they veiled.
Shadow stood by Harry in the dark digital lab, a space now devoid of the old trinkets that once gave them the illusion of reality. Thorn was further away, holding her head in her hands, cursing like a sailor, her face twisted in anguish. Around them, screens flickered with real-time images of the worlds’ devastation, a haunting backdrop to their despair.
In Pluriz, thousands leaped off buildings to their deaths. The pavement below turned into a sea of twisted, broken bodies piling up over each other. Further up in Holiz, large groups died together peacefully in Unanimity theaters all across the world. As each amphitheater turned turquoise, thousands drank a concoction of drugs and dropped like flies, one after another, until the Unanimity returned to beige, no longer sensing life within it.
“Sibyl, taaalk to meee,” he pleaded, his voice cracking as his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His words, coated by grief, were distorted by a slow-moving time. Zir answer arrived as a translucent skull—some flesh still attached—and he recoiled in horror, his eyes wide, as it hovered in front of his face before it flew around him and through him, leaving a chilling sensation in its wake.
“From what I can see,” Harry said, “January streamed a message across Pluriz before they left for Ordiz.” He somehow maintained his ability to reason and speak clearly amidst such chaos. “She shared everything, including the recording of Hepius’s death by suicide.”
Shadow closed his eyes, a futile attempt to shut out the horrifying images haunting him. The weight of the deaths, the eerie ghosts, and the mind-bending time distortions pressed down on him, threatening to shatter his sanity. He could feel the tears prickling behind his eyelids, and the lump in his throat choking him. “Soooo they all know they weeere created to suffeeeer; that their fateees aaaare out of their control. Out of hope, they have nothing to live fooor.” He held his breath and then looked at Harry.
“Depends on the world,” Harry said, his eyes darting erratically, out of sync with the images around the lab. His face was tense and his fingers twitching. He was probably immersed in his own mind connected to the machine. “Systiz is doing just fine. Looks like their scientists have sussed out the Plurizien broadcasts generate disruption, which in turn leads to less travelers.” He shook his head. “Fuck, they seem to be propagating the weak Plurizien signals deliberately. That’s why Storm’s words were reaching an Holizien audience. We’re down to ten percent of our usual daily travelers. This is catastrophic for Up Above. Where’s Stella?”
“People are dying heeeereeee and nooooow, brooo,” Thorn said, fighting against a lazy time while her translucent demons hovered over her head. This time, faceless dead girls dressed in fluorescent white. And while Thorn’s ghosts stayed by her side, they haunted Shadow, his gut coated in acid—burning.
“We neeeed to restore hope,” Shadow said, stepping in between the others. “Sibyl! Speaaak to me.” Zie failed to answer, at least not in words. Around them, the images of death Down Below got larger and more vivid until he could see the pain and the void that had replaced the faint spark of light in the Underlings’ eyes. Tom's teeth sank into his lower lip, coppery blood welling up and trickling down his chin. This was no time for self-pity or hopelessness. He had to act fast and lead, and so he spoke, “Hope issss…” Everything went dark and time stood still. For how long, he couldn’t tell.
“Is whaaat?” Thorn asked.
“A plan,” he replied. “The cooonviction, even if infinitesimally smaaall, that there’s a way out. A…”—time stood still again—“…solution.” What he’d lost. What they’d lost. What they all needed.
“A revoooluuuution,” Thorn added, fighting time and sharing her favorite shade of hope. “A war. A window shuuut, but its glass brokeeeen by courageous rioters. Their fists bleeeeeeding. A way out.”
Shadow looked Thorn in the eyes, both conjuring a plan with no need for words.
“New insights, consistently reproduced using large data sets,” Harry said.
“What?” Shadow turned to face his friend.
“That’s what hope is,” Harry declared.
“Unleeeess you have a better plan, I’m going to get him back.” Thorn said. “The Underlings need his revoooolution.” And for the first time in a hand full of hours, the trippy ghosts disappeared, and time returned to its normal cadence.
“Who?” Harry asked. But his tone hinted that he already knew the answer.
“I’ll join you—”
Thorn interrupted Shadow, “No.”
“Going alone?” Shadow asked.
“Yeah, I have a better chance. Wrath and the priestess hate me less than they hate you.”
“I can’t let you—”
“Your Storm can win back the Plurizien with his preaching if he erases his blind love for you from his revolutionary message. You’re not the face of revolution, but the mask of power, everyone knows it now.” Thorn and her ghosts took every opportunity to remind him their bond danced on a knife’s edge.
Shadow nodded; his face etched with determination as he clenched his jaw. “Rebellion against the Gods is the only thing that will pull the Plurizien out of their current hopelessness,” he said, his voice firm, his eyes fixed on Thorn's, seeking agreement.
“Why da fuck you making plans that feed the disruption and hurt the people Up Above?” Harry’s voice rose to a shout, his fair complexion turning all shades of red. “Even down there, you were urging him to keep preaching. What the…” He stared at Shadow, his eyes wide and accusing.
“They need hope, Harry. They need it if they're going to work with us on solutions one day.” Shadow said. “Nate is—”
“Violence and riots,” Harry said. “How’s that hope, Tom?”
“It’s hope’s last breath…” Thorn murmured.
Shadow placed his hand on Thorn’s shoulder. “Rosa, please don’t—”
“I’ll try not to kill your man while I save his ass. You should be worried he’ll try to kill me. That’d be funny and cause him pain.”
He ignored her taunts. “If you get Nate to Pluriz, he’ll do the rest. I’ll study the Holizien and then make my way there and attempt to reason with them.”
She nodded.
“Prick!” he called, anticipating her departure.
“What?” Exasperation in her voice.
He smiled faintly with his eyes. “Stay safe.”
“I’m always safer when I’m away from you, death,” Thorn spat, her voice dripping with resentment.
A cold emptiness settled in Shadow’s chest, her words echoing in his ears like a curse. She disappeared before he had time to ask her to change her privacy settings. Damn it! Sibyl, I want to know the minute Nate or Thorn are in any danger. Was Sibyl even listening?
“I don’t get how they are doing it,” Harry said, his brow furrowed as he stared at the screens, his hands moving rapidly over the controls.
“Doing what?” Shadow asked, turning to face Harry, his face pale and drawn.
“Death by suicide. It’s against the platform’s fundamental directives. Only allowed if required for a traveler’s experience.” Harry's voice was tinged with disbelief, his eyes never leaving the disturbing images before him.
Shadow recalled the implications of their third law. A law he’d rebelled against a few days ago…three decades ago. Hell: a torture chamber you can’t escape… That’s what we created.
“Stella must have changed it,” Harry said. “Where is that girl? All of this must be affecting Up Above.”