I woke up feeling groggy and exhausted and confused, with a pulsing burn in my thigh where the Taser probes had landed.
I was lying in a hospital bed, with guardrails on either side of me. The room felt like a luxury suite in a sleek modern hotel, warmly lit and tastefully appointed with a stylish living room set, an expansive kitchen across the room with a cooking island ready for duty, and a beautiful view from what seemed to be an upper floor balcony, looking out at what I guessed to be pre-dawn in LA. I was seemingly positioned to be the center of attention for anyone who entered. Thankfully I was still in my dress from the fundraiser, so I didn’t have to kill anyone for changing me into a patient gown while I was unconscious. No IVs, so they weren’t (currently) pumping me with meds or taking my blood or whatever.
They were monitoring me somehow, though: my left arm was firmly inside what felt like the full sleeve version of a blood pressure cuff, which was connected via a twisted bundle of thin cables to a shiny green cube of a device on a stand near the bed. It had the gleam and polish of a prop from a retro sci-fi movie, with analog switches and dials and tasteful chrome finish, but also a gorgeous modern display that felt almost holographic when you stared into the indecipherable readings that seemed to flow like liquid alloys across the screen. The sleeve was tight around my arm, but not uncomfortable. I didn’t see an obvious, quick but nondestructive way to remove it.
Then I noticed the luminous presence of famous recording artist, Jordon Connelly, dozing on the nearby couch, wearing jeans and a tank top—again with the effortless popstar casual. That meant we were likely inside the “dazzling” Los Angeles headquarters of the Church of Gorvod.
I tried to get her attention, but my throat was incredibly raw and I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t work up the energy to try to get out of bed, couldn’t even be troubled to try to throw a pillow at her.
I was not out of options, however. Several power morphemes relied primarily on sounds that I could project without requiring my full voice: sibilant hisses, plosive clicks and pops, affricative stops and starts, manipulations of breath and placement of tongue against teeth that didn’t need the vocal cords to vibrate a vowel sound. The aural effect would be that of an intricate series of consonant whispers.
I queued up power morphemes twenty-three and seventeen in my mind, rehearsed them once or twice, and whispered them as loud as I could manage. Twenty-three was a kind of reverent call to prayer, signaling to the subject to pay attention but in a deeper way than simply listening; and seventeen was a form of plea, designed to capture a subject’s sympathy and direct it toward you. It sounded like a delicate breeze, the rustle of metallic fabrics gently scraping against each other, the ornate tsh-tak of a tabla being lightly struck by wire brushes.
Jordon roused quickly, as though she had been just about to wake up anyway. She sat up, smiled when she saw that I was awake.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
I was feeling very much like I needed all the oxy she could track down. What I managed to express, though, was a tiny moan.
“Let me get some help.” She got up to leave.
“Wait,” I managed to whisper loud enough to hear. “Are we safe here?”
She said, “Physically? Sure. Spiritually? Your mileage may vary.” She pulled a chair up to my bedside and sat down. “Lonso’s alive and well somewhere on campus. Doesn’t look like he suffered a concussion or any permanent damage. Lucky he’s got a thick skull I guess. Maddy’s locked up in the basement. Yes, that’s where they lock people up sometimes. Violet Parker is on her way here. And you’re here because Phyllis and Max didn’t know whether you or Maddy had assaulted Lonso, so they decided to nab both of you just to be on the safe side. Yes, nabbing people is something they do sometimes. And I think that catches you up. Now. Can I get a doctor to check up on you?”
I nodded.
The doctor accomplished two things: provided me with assurance I hadn’t sustained any lasting injuries; and provided me with a bottle of spray lidocaine to anesthetize my vocal cords, to help me speak without as much pain.
After the doctor left, I asked Jordon if she had any clothes I could change into. She asked me my sizes, and then she ran off to find something. I realized I had no idea where my purse was, so I didn’t have my phone. What if no one told Olivia or Devin I was here?
Jordon returned with a T-shirt, a gray hoodie, gray sweatpants, and some new tennis shoes for me.
I said, “Can you get me out of this machine now so I can change clothes?”
“Sure.” She started working on a series of clasps on the sleeve.
“What is this thing?”
“An etheric monitor.”
“What? I didn’t consent to ‘etheric monitoring.’”
“That’s just part of basic triage by our medical staff,” she said. “But Lonso can get deeper understanding from it, as opposed to the basic readings the doctors are trained to interpret.”
Uh. Okay. Uh.
She said, “Of course, full etheric monitoring from Lonso himself will set you back five grand the first time. So I wouldn’t worry about that happening without your consent.”
After I worked up the energy to shower and put on new clothes, we sat on the couch in the living room of the suite and chatted awkwardly. I couldn’t tell if she was just killing time until Lonso or Violet could get here, or if she genuinely wanted to hang out with me.
“If you’re a Devoted Scion,” I said, “doesn’t that mean you’re supposed to get your own pair of Watchful Eyes to follow you around?”
“Yeah, but they aren’t necessary on campus, because of all the cameras.”
Oh. Duly noted.
She cackled and said, “No, c’mon, you’re too gullible! Of course we don’t have cameras everywhere. I’m only revealed Sixth Echelon. You don’t get Watchful Eyes until you’re revealed Seventh.”
“Lonso’s Watchful Eyes weren’t in the room with us when Maddy attacked,” I said. “Isn’t there going to be a gap in the astral record of his life or whatever?”
“Exalted Scion has the Ten Prerogatives, though,” she said.
Oh right. Ten acts that the Exalted Scion is allowed at his discretion with no penalty from Gorvod. Awfully convenient belief system if you’re the Exalted Scion. I couldn’t remember all ten from when I read the torrented Church manuals. Attaining privacy was the one Jordon referred to in this case—because Gorvod itself was considered the true Watchful Eye of the Exalted Scion. I guessed that seducing young pop stars was probably also a good one to have, maybe doing fat rails of coke at parties, or killing a guy just to watch him bleed, whatever, I really couldn’t remember.
“So Phyllis and Max are just glorified bodyguards,” I said.
“Well, they were responsible for getting three unconscious bodies out of the governor’s fundraiser and into an armored van without being stopped. They’re good at what they do. I don’t think they bunk with the other Watchful Eyes, probably even have their own rooms. So maybe that’s glorified, yeah.”
“What about you?” I blurted out.
She pretended to be bashful and said, “My word, Isobel, are you asking me if I have my own room? Or perhaps do I share the luxurious penthouse suite of the Exalted Scion, is that what you’re curious to know? I have my own little chalet across the compound, actually. Used to be a guesthouse but I told Lonso I wasn’t moving here if I couldn’t have my own space. I mean, I’m the only living Devoted Scion in the Church! Yes, you should treat me like the elevated shard of Gorvod’s dreaming astral self that I truly am! My soul chambers have a place in the eternal firmament, for fuck’s sake.”
“Obviously,” I said.
“You’ve got to have juicier questions than this,” she said. “What do you really want to know about the Church and all its mysteries?”
I suspected she was trying to tease out any legitimate interest I might have in her beliefs so she could surreptitiously woo me toward joining the Church. This effort was doomed to fail from the moment I learned how much money the Church was fleecing from its members as they committed themselves to weird servitude. Because yeah, the torrent included many Church docs, not just spiritual texts. Lonso was clearly shielding Jordon and other celebrity members from the malevolent side of the Church’s activities. She didn’t have that general aura of corruption you’d have expected if she were neck deep.
“Okay,” I said, “what’s the deal with Gorvod’s Frenzy?”
She was clearly disappointed by the question.
“I mean, they’re cheating, right?” I said, pressing the question. “Or just trolling at mass scale? What’s going on with that?”
She sighed and said, “I feel sorry for them, you know? They don’t ever really get a chance to develop a character. It’s all just a simulation for them.”
“What does that mean?”
“They train in the game,” she said, “but when they actually pull off Gorvod’s Frenzy in real life … it’s fucking surreal.”
“I don’t get it.”
“It’s like—you know how Gorvod’s Frenzy makes the game itself glitch if they survive long enough? So, it’s like that, except they make reality glitch. Oh, don’t give me that look, Isobel, Phyllis and Max saw you knock Maddy across the room with your damn voice. Compared to that, Gorvod’s Frenzy is just a little parlor trick. I’ve only seen them sustain it for seconds at a time out in the compound, even though they’ve been training since Sparkle Dungeon 2. But you—you’re like an incarnated Wild Scion. One who follows her own uncharted path to Gorvod. That would explain a lot, actually. The arrival of a Wild Scion in our era would be an omen for sure.”
“Omen of what?” I asked.
“I don’t know. You’re the Wild Scion, you tell me.”
“I’m not a Wild Scion, Jordon.”
“Wait, I want a selfie with the Wild Scion, c’mere for a sec.”
“I’m not a Wild Scion, Jordon.”
“We can put this in the daily newsletter. Devoted Scion and Wild Scion, cosmic BFFs! I’m gonna put you in my next video.”
“Really?”
She laughed and said, “Sweetie, no.”