Matilda turns back to find Donovan’s piercing eyes staring at her, but not meeting her eyes. He continues, “You wanted to know what part you play in this, girl? That pendant around your neck can give you access to a very special place in the Triangle. That’s where we can fix the System.”
Matilda clutches the dog tag firmly and rubs her finger on the titanium. All those hunters sent after her weren’t to stop her attacks on the slavers. It was all to get him another artifact. Now he’s trying a different approach. Whether it’s his money, influence, coercion, persuasion – Donovan is a master of getting what he wants.
James moves closer to her side. He takes a moment, looking around the room at the various anomalies housed in cases. He lets out a resigned sigh, but his face remains stony.
“Even if what you say is true, getting to the Triangle is pointless. We can’t fix the System unless we have all the keys.”
Donovan reaches into his suit pocket and removes a gold card.
“Yes, the keys. Objects from each domain, entrusted to their leaders.” He looks over the gleaming, impossibly-smooth object, turning it in his hands. “In case anything threatened the Cyberside, we would all come together and fix it. A noble concept. But we both know that won’t happen, don’t we James? Virginia and Tom would never leave their realms, and Hank… well, Hank isn’t quite right in the head, is he?”
James shakes his own head in disbelief. “You can’t seriously be asking us this.”
Donovan shrugs. “Why not?”
James grunts the words out. “You want to reboot the System with different default parameters?”
Donovan steps away from the sphere. “If we don’t, the whole world is going to burn.”
Taciturn points an accusatory finger at him.
“You’re just trying to get rid of the others without dirtying your hands, you son of a bitch.”
Donovan gestures at the sphere in the center of the room.
“The world’s going to burn, James. I’ve seen it.”
Matilda imagines shattering the weapon case, snatching the katana, and then using it to extract some straight answers from the smug bastard. One wafer-thin slice at a time, if necessary. The theory is a wonderful vision. In practice, however, she finds herself paralyzed by even more mounting questions. Matilda starts to speak, falters, balls her fists, and finally unloads on him:
“All your flowery words aside, there’s no way we can trust you. You tried to have me killed. You’re okay with slavery. You, you’re just—”
James jumps in as well, trying to reacquire some of the conversation’s momentum from Donovan.
“She’s right. There’s no way we can be sure you’re going to reboot the System into something better.”
Donavon extends his hand, revealing the card one more time.
“You’re right. That’s why you two will.”
James and Matilda are momentarily stunned into silence. Before either can speak, Donovan plunges onward: “To prove that my intentions are sincere, I’ll entrust my key to you both. If you somehow make it all the way, you’ll have the power. You. Not me.”
Matilda watches the two men stare each other down. She can feel the energy from the sphere increase in pitch slightly. James speaks first, and his words carry across the room.
“What did you see in the debugger, Donovan? The System never gives a complete answer.”
Donovan extends a hand toward the sphere. “You wouldn’t believe me. Let’s just say, I’m confident in us winning.”
James’ hand opens and closes. Clenches and unclenches. “You mean you winning.”
Donovan smiles. The expression is unnerving, captivating, joyless. “As you said, James, ‘Let’s not waste time with semantics.’ Are you in or out?”
Donovan grins even more eagerly.
The Taciturn turns to the Scry and nods at her dog tag.
“It’s your necklace, Matilda. Your call. What do you want to do?”
The whirring sound from the orb increases in pitch again. Matilda looks back and forth between the two men and grips the tag tightly. She can’t remember anything before Homestead, and the emptiness gnaws at her every day – and will only continue to do so if she abandons her path now. Where would she go – back to Homestead, to live as a monster? If her dog tag can give her access to the Triangle, maybe the answers she seeks are there.
With James’ face turned toward her, Matilda notices a weariness around and under his eyes that she’s never seen before. If she’s going to do this, she wants to continue with him. He can be a bit dry and boring, but he’s trustworthy. And he’s a large part of the reason she’s standing in Donovan’s Tower right now. Not to mention he’s a lead engineer.
Matilda shoots him a beaming smile almost before she’s aware she’s doing it.
“I’m just trying to figure out who I am, and it sounds like this Triangle place might have some answers. If you’re asking me to save the world too, I think I can lend a hand.”
Sighing, James reaches out to take the key from Donovan, but the Babylonian leader quickly withdraws his hand.
“Now, you don’t think I’m foolish enough to give it to you right now, do you? Get to the Triangle with the other three keys, and I’ll transfer mine to you there. Can’t have you simply giving this to one of the others out of spite.”
Matilda stares into the orb, trying to catch a glimpse of anything – some sign of what Donovan might have seen. The orb’s glow intensifies, but she sees nothing.
“Where do we start?” she asks.
Donovan smirks, and Matilda knows he’s closed yet another deal – and acquired yet another anomaly. She hopes the exchange is worth it.
Chapter 11: “Neverland”
Matilda wakes to her seat jostling slightly. With bleary eyes, she groggily regards the empty passenger cabin of the high-speed connection plane that Donovan booked for them in Babylon. Taciturn sleeps in the seat next to her, his California attire now replaced by an unassuming blue suit, white button up shirt, and brown dress shoes.
“Would you care for a beverage?” a voice asks.
Matilda is surprised to see an actual human, not a program. She assumes working in the high-speed connection lines is a privileged position – especially considering the horrors she has witnessed on the ground.
“Um… sure, I guess. Can I get a gin and tonic, please? Also, how long until we land?”
The attendant hands her a clear plastic cup containing her beverage.
“There were some connectivity issues over the Utah Wastelands, but we’ll be arriving at the Virginian Neverland Airport in about an hour.”
Matilda sips the beverage and appreciates how strong the attendant made it.
“Oh, okay. Thanks.”
She looks out the window at the simple routine simulating the sky and clouds. Her memories are hardly more coherent than the scattered blue and white patterns cycling outside the window. Her mind tries to nail down pivotal moments, definitive images, from her past, but nothing concrete forms – the pictures are dim, the colors drained. It’s like reading a comic book under the covers with a flashlight whose batteries are dying.
“That, and most of the pages are blank,” she mutters to herself.
Matilda takes another, even more appreciative gulp of her drink. The Triangle, she thinks, nodding as if to an astute point raised by someone else entirely. If the Triangle holds the key to her memories, she’s eager to get started. But she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous – scared even of what she might find.