There was no “I.”
“I” was an illusion, evanescent, a null spot at the eye of the hurricane, an emptiness that drew its reality from the storm swirling around it.
There was want. A surge of need, pain and pleasure welded together, craving, and the sweet excruciation of denial, giving way, finally, inevitably, to satisfaction.
There were no stories and no faces, but then I saw his face, amber eyes flashing, spiraling silver making his flesh shimmer in the light, lips curled, knowing.
Lips.
I reached out. I wanted. I needed.
“Sweet dreams, I take it?” he said, catching my wrist just as my fingers grazed his cheek.
I was awake.
3. DAMAGE
I yanked my hand away. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I should be asking you that,” Jude shot back. “I just wanted to see if you were in here—no one asked you to molest me.”
I sat up, trying to shake off the effects of the dreamer. After, everything felt hollow. Shadows flickered in corners, like the dream was lurking out there somewhere, waiting to reclaim me.
“As you can see, I’m here,” I snapped. “Now you can get out.”
Jude smiled and perched on the edge of my bed. I hopped to my feet, keeping the bed between us.
“If you really hate me as much as you like to pretend, why move in with me?” he asked.
“You and twenty other mechs,” I pointed out. “It’s not like we’re playing house.”
“We’re playing something.” He shook his head. “At least you are.”
“That’s exactly your problem. You think this is all just a game.”
Something flashed across his face, gone too quickly for me to interpret. “If I thought you were stupid enough to believe that, you wouldn’t be here. Or at least, I wouldn’t be here with you.”
“So being stupid is the key to getting you out of here? I could give it a try.”
He stood up and headed for the door. “Don’t start shaving IQ points on my account. There was just something I thought you’d want to see.”
“I’m sure it can wait.”
“Not quite an it,” Jude said. “More like a he.”
“I’ve had enough new people today,” I said, wondering how much time had passed, if Seth and Quinn were still down at the pool together. Wondering whether the dreamer had somehow known what I was thinking—or was I only thinking it now because of the dreamer?
“Not quite new either,” Jude said. “But if it makes you feel better, I doubt he’d want to see you either.”
“Who?”
“Auden.”
The vidroom wasn’t off-limits to the randoms, not exactly, but it was known who belonged there and who didn’t. When Jude and I arrived, Riley was sitting on one of the two red couches, stiffly upright and awkward with the usual black cloud hovering over him. It made a certain perverse sense that he and Jude claimed some kind of no-holds-barred, for-richer, for-poorer, in-sickness-and-in-health, not-even-death-did-part-them friendship: One never bothered to speak for himself, while the other couldn’t shut up.
Quinn and Ani were sprawled on the other couch, Quinn’s hand casually resting on Ani’s knee as if to say, This is mine.
When I feel like it, that is.
I wondered if she’d told Ani about Seth, or invited her to join in. I doubted it.
If you’re planning to live forever, monogamy is an impractical standard, Jude liked to say. How convenient for him.
“Where is he?” I peered around the room as if he’d be hiding behind the furniture.
“He who?” Jude asked.
“You know who.”
He didn’t say anything.
“Auden.” I’d barely spoken his name since it happened.
“Did I say he was here?” Jude gave me the wide-eyed innocent act.
I wanted to punch him.
“I’m out of here.”
“Wait.” Jude’s smile vanished. “You really do need to see this.” He nodded at Riley. “Play it back.”
Each wall of the vidroom was covered with a ViM screen, flickering with a constant stream of images that the Virtual Machine interface yanked from the network. Most defaulted to random, but one wall was programmed to pull up any vid that mentioned the words “mech-head,” “download,” “Frankenstein,” or “skinner.”
It seemed important to know who was talking about us.
Usually it meant a haphazard collage of muted video: Faither protests, fame-whore newbie mechs selling whatever was left of their souls for a shot on a vidlife, the latest ruling on what we could do, where we could go, what we could own, how human we were. The usual. But when Riley swept his finger across the console, the jumble of images gave way to one large, familiar face, paler than I remembered, his dark eyes like black voids in his flesh.
“It posted about half an hour ago,” Jude said. “While you were… sleeping. The ‘Honored’ Rai Savona has found his calling.” His mouth twisted around the word “honored.” Understandable. I could have thought of a few choice adjectives that would have better suited the sanctimonious nutjob. “Honored” was the one he’d chosen for himself.
Savona was standing at a podium, and when the camera panned back, it was clear he’d assembled an audience of hundreds to hear whatever it was he had to say. “Honored friends,” he began, smiling out at the crowd. “Today marks both an ending and a bright beginning as I say farewell to the cause I have served willingly for the last ten years and turn the page to a shining future. As of this morning I am stepping down as the leader of the Faith Party.” Mumbles percolated in the crowd. “It’s with great sadness that I leave behind such a loving community—”
“I’d be sad too if I got fired,” Quinn muttered.
“But I’m unable to turn a deaf ear to my true calling—”
“Obsession,” Jude spit out.
“Which is why I’m pleased to announce to you the formation of the Brotherhood of Man. Providing social services to the needy, a place of peace and solace for lost souls, and dedicated, above all, to defending the unique glory of God’s creation over those who seek to encroach upon it.”
Jude scowled. “Translation: Even my crazy Faither friends aren’t crazy enough to declare war on download tech, so I’m going it alone. Because I’m going to prove I’m the biggest crackbrain of all, if it’s the last thing I do.”
It wasn’t a surprise; in fact, now that it had happened, it seemed inevitable. After the religious wars a few decades ago, the whole God thing became a serious fashion don’t. Some people just couldn’t let it go—but that didn’t mean they were spoiling for a fight. The Middle East was a crater and Italy was toxic; the world was running out of places to blow up. Smart move for the Faithers to ditch Savona once he started waving his pitchfork.
“We will destroy the technology robbing our nation’s youth of their very lives and souls, deceiving heartsick parents across the country with the illusion that their departed children have come back to them, seducing the whole and healthy into throwing away everything, and for what? A false promise of immortality! Hell on Earth, trapped forever in the purgatory of iron and steel.”
In person, Savona’s stare was magnetic. I’d found it impossible to turn away even when he was telling me I shouldn’t—and by his standards didn’t—exist. But the advantage of watching him on-screen was that we could turn him off. “Tell me again why we’re watching this crap?”
Jude frowned. “Wait for it.”