SENALL

29 Dorie Senall took at least two more squares of RuBy as she lay there on the floor of the suite, maybe more. She kept the buzz steady, not dipping into sudden lows, avoiding the initial fist-clenching highs, wanting only to luxuriate in steady, mind-numbing euphoria.

What should’ve been on her mind were her next steps. The RuBy hadn’t given her any hints after all, damn it. It couldn’t be that she’d taken the RuBy out of need, now could it? She should be debating whether to flee Ribon altogether or plan her revenge against Tom Sakson, instead of trading one Bubble for an alternate drug-induced bubble.

It would take her a longer time to break RuBy’s hold on her than when she’d sworn off it after the first Ultra scare. Her determination to do right by Dave and the remaining population of Ribon, as well as her desires to public office had helped, of course. Didn’t she want the same things now? Need the same people in her life? Need to protect the citizens of Ribon?

“Help me, Dorie,” she mumbled.

The echoes of her long-dead other self had quieted to an unintelligible murmur. Instead, she imagined conversations in this suite between ghost-Dorie and Movement leader Plenko:

What do you want me to do, Terl?

Bring her here to Ribon. Get her to trust you. Offer her a ticket to Coral Moon.

But Coral will soon be gone.

We are all struggling to be free, Dorie. Do you hear me? Free. We show the way to humanity’s future. You and I have already experienced a grand part of that future.

You are a Thin Man now.

As are you. Here, this is for you.

How beautiful, Terl.

And how horrible. This is what happens to Ribon, and the Union, if we don’t break free.

Is this sculpture—

Yes, made of mortaline. I may not survive to see the new sentient life we’ve promised. You know that, don’t you?

Yes. But you won’t die.

I will. But there are copies. The pattern’s in the buffer.

The Movement’s near and Plenko’s near, his revolution made.

There’s comfort in that.

Here. Roll and pop one of these. They’ll help ease your way.

Wake up, Dorie. I’ve told you I don’t like that shit.

But you need it.

The Ultras need it, not me. Wake up.

What?

Wake up. Wake up, Dorie.

No.

“Wake up, Dorie!”

Someone was shaking her. She opened her eyes and the image hovering over her wavered, blurry and indistinct. Focus returned slowly and details sharpened around a wrinkled face, tired eyes, and thin dry lips. Orange hair with white streaks, disheveled and wispy.

Dorie looked on in surprise. “Lorway?”

The Memor nodded. “You gave me quite a fright.”

Sitting up on her own, Dorie blinked away the last of the fuzziness around her eyes. Lorway reached out, took Dorie’s arms, and pulled gently so she could sit up. Lorway still wore the blue gown she’d worn in the Bubble.

“You did make it here,” Dorie said, rubbing at her temples. A headache had started.

Lorway smiled broadly. “Lucky, so I could save you from yourself, it looks like.”

My self, or my copy’s self? “You left the card for me. You knew I’d—” She stopped, her mouth too dry to speak.

“Take your time. I have some water just over here.” She pointed in the direction of the main door of the suite. “Stay upright. I’ll be back.”

“Don’t go.”

“I’m not. I’m just going to get the water. Stay with me.”

Dorie nodded. Closed her eyes. Coming down now, head still pounding, senses returning. She leaned back, wanting to lay flat on the floor again.

“Stay upright.”

Lorway’s voice. Lorway? Oh, right. The Memor had known where to find her. At the Tower, at least. Maybe she’d searched all fifteen floors until she found this suite. Jesus, that wasn’t dangerous, going through all those damaged rooms. But she’d found Dorie’s body on the floor. What must she have thought? That she was dead? After all the planning, the twists and turns, all the subterfuge needed to thwart Tom Sakson and the whole Union government, all those who’d put her in the Bubble in the first place, she’d just decided to give up and end things?

“Here.”

Water moistened her lips. Dorie drank, slow at first, then more deeply. Lorway made her slow down.

Lorway said, “I was right here.”

Dorie didn’t understand, and she frowned.

“Not in this very room, but in the Tempest Tower. I visualized it as you did. I ended up on the sixth floor.”

“The 91^st floor.”

“What?”

“It was the 91^st floor before the salvage. Before the reclamation attempt.”

She nodded. “I understand. I knew you were involved with that project. I left the Bubble, left that Tarot card. I’d kept both cards well hidden, believe me. I was told to. I didn’t know if you’d find it, but if anyone needed to find me, I bet it would be you, that you’d be imprisoned, and if you knew what the card was, you might be able to escape.”

“You were told to? Who told you?”

“And I was right,” she said, ignoring the question. “Now tell me what’s been happening.”

Dorie, feeling a little better, told Lorway everything since her first visit to the Bubble, when she was still governor of New Venasaille.

Lorway turned solemn. “Dorie, how’d you get the RuBy? If Sakson threw you in there and cut you off from it—”

“I found it here.” Dorie pulled her knees to her chest. “I hid a stash several years ago when I kicked RuBy after Coral Moon. This was my suite.”

Lorway’s eyes widened. “Your suite?”

“Mine and Terl’s. And then my copy’s suite. She was here with Movement leader Plenko after my Plenko disappeared, and after I lost time and ended up on Temonus.”

“Memory’s mercy,” she said. “But why?”

Dorie shrugged. “A test, maybe? I figured if I could resist RuBy, cut myself off from it, even if I knew where to find some, I could tell myself I was no longer beholden to it. I’d forgotten about it until—” She placed her forehead on her knees, not wanting to look at Lorway. She fought back tears. “Until Sakson fucked me up. Fucked up everything for me.”

“I’m sorry,” Lorway said. She reached out and grasped Dorie’s upper arm. “Don’t despair. Fight it and you’ll be back to being yourself in no time.”

“Maybe. But what do I do now? I’m out of the Bubble and I’m no closer to finding myself than I was two years ago. All I hear is the ghost of the Dorie who lived here. Who died here.”

“Then it’s even more important you live.”

“To do what? Run away? My Plenko is—” She stopped, suddenly remembering something.

“What?”

“My god. Sakson had me so high I didn’t—well, he said they’d done tests. The Helk I thought was my Plenko was a copy. I sensed something wasn’t right about him from the start. Then on the trip to Ribon. He was helping Dave, though. He might’ve been a copy, but he was good, and not the same as the Plenko Dave killed.”

And Brindos. God, poor Alan.

“Then you can still look for him,” Lorway stated.

“There’s no guarantee he’s still alive.”

“No. Do you want to look for him? Or do you want to be governor of New Venasaille again?”

Dorie thought about it. These were things she could do well enough. Which appealed to her more? Which was the most logical?

She felt like she could stand and not fall over, so with Lorway’s help, she got to her feet. Nothing would ever be the same between her and Plenko, even if she found him, which didn’t seem likely. Maybe, though. Over time. She owed her life and her service to Ribon, and particularly to New Venasaille. She’d left for a reason, but she’d not known the full truth about Sakson.

She took a deep breath as Lorway steadied her. “I want Tom Sakson gone. I want him and his cronies out of my fucking dome.”

Lorway smiled. “Governor then.”

“Damn right.”

“And how will you go about doing that?”

Dorie slipped away from Lorway and walked gingerly to the ruined French doors leading to the damaged balcony. She looked past it, taking in all of New Venasaille she could see, from foreground to the far curve of the city’s dome. The diffused light had dimmed. Had she been there on the floor that long? She took a half dozen steps onto the balcony. Night crawled in, shadows inching across the dome.

“Jesus,” Lorway said, “be careful. That doesn’t look very safe.”

Lower the shield.

She realized the remaining squares of RuBy were clenched in her hand, held tight while she Rubed out on the floor. Relaxing her fingers seemed a great effort, but she did, and she found the red papers crushed and torn. Perspiration had activated the dye and her palms were coated in red; tiny rivulets traveled along her lifelines. A few fragments of paper floated in the simulated early evening air flow, like glowing ashes rising from a fire. She watched them float out past the balcony wall, then she shook her hand and set the other squares and fragments free.

Finally, she turned back to the suite and faced Lorway. She raised her hand to show the blood-red palm, a symbol of both her failure and her new determination. She was out for blood. “We’re going back to the Bubble,” she said.

“We are?” the Memor said. “We?

“I need your help, and I need a trusted friend.” She brushed the last remnants of RuBy from her hands and re-entered the suite. “I need Aditya Thakur. There’s no one else left in the Bubble. We’re busting him out.”