Mohesha frowned. “Are you sure?”
Tyrel raised his hand. “If he says they do not know, they do not know.” In the projection from Terra Nova, Mohesha narrowed her eyes, but didn’t push the point.
“Sidney, if you could please look into—”
Tyrel was interrupted by a high-priority broadcast. In an alternate display an image of Jimmy Scadden appeared.
“To our friends and allies, we apologize for the disruption in communications. We would like to reassure our partners that everything is in order and under control.” The viewpoint panned back to reveal the Boardroom of Cognix Corporation at the apex of Atopia. Conspicuously absent was Commander Strong, but Kesselring was there, smiling vacantly. “We discovered internal spies working with Terra Nova, and had to suspend operations pending an investigation.”
“I am happy to report that we have apprehended the suspects.” The viewpoint zoomed in on Jimmy’s face. “With the removal of Commander Strong, Mr. Kesselring and the rest of the Board have placed me in direct command of Allied forces. Operations against Terra Nova and its agents will resume.”
Sid’s splinter network watched the Allied platforms powering up their weapons systems in the southern Atlantic. Jimmy’s broadcast continued on in the background.
His heart sank. What had happened to Nancy?
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are going to have to speak at a later date,” said Tyrel.
“Shouldn’t we get underground?” Willy asked Sid, leaning over to put a hand on his shoulder.
“Not quite yet.” He looked at Willy and squinted.
“Why?”
Sid frowned at Willy. Why was it that Jimmy was still so intent on finding Willy? By now he must have known that Sid and his friends had gotten the information from him. And Mohesha just asked the same thing. Were they missing something? Sid had extracted all the data available, but maybe he should look at it again.
“What?” Willy was getting uncomfortable with Sid still staring at him. “You’re freaking me out a little.”
“Would it be all right if I checked your body again, see if we missed anything?”
Willy shrugged. “I guess.”
Brigitte giggled. “I’ve already been over every inch.”
Sid smiled. “With your permission of course.”
“Of course,” Brigitte replied.
Alarms sounded.
24
Olympia Onassis awoke with a start. It had been months since she had seen anyone else as she wandered alone across the world, trapped within the Atopian pssi-system she installed in her brain. Her mind had unglued, terror and despair replacing the anger and unhappiness that filled her life before. She traveled the world—on the turbofan transport network, on the passenger cannons—but everywhere, the world she created was empty of people.
Eventually she came home, to the little house in Brooklyn where she grew up. Her mother still lived there, or at least, she did in the real world. Olympia wasn’t sure what world she was in, but whatever it was, it gave her some small comfort to know she might be in the same space as her mother. Each night she would get into the small single bed of her childhood, still in the same room overlooking the oak tree in the Schmidt’s house next door.
And each morning she would awake alone in the world.
This morning, though, something woke her up. A noise. There it was again. Not just a noise, but a human voice singing. Olympia pulled off her bedcovers, her heart in her throat. Of course she’d heard human voices in her lonely travels—in recorded films, old newsworld broadcasts that she spent most of her days watching—but this voice sounded like her mother.
Pulling open the door to her room, she almost fell to her knees.
“Olympia?” said her mother, recoiling slightly, holding a basket of laundry. “What are you doing here?” She frowned. “Where have you been? I stopped at your place and found your cat. He looked like he was starving so I—”
But before she could finish the sentence, Olympia jumped and hugged her. Her mother dropped the laundry and, ever so slowly, reached around to hug her daughter back. “Are you okay?”
“I love you,” gasped Olympia. She felt something brush her leg. Looking down, she found her cat, Mr. Tweedles, staring up at her and purring. “Mr. Tweedles!” Olympia leaned down and picked him up, squeezing him into the hug with her mother.
Her mother stopped protesting and hugged her back.
Opening her eyes, Olympia looked out the large bay windows on the front of the house. Through her tears she could see someone on the front lawn, looking at the house. A young man seemed to be staring at her, and he looked familiar.
Cindy strong woke up with tears in her eyes, still dreaming of her proxxid children. She had wanted to let them go, yearned to release them, but felt compelled to stay, felt the need to stay by their sides as they aged and died before her eyes. It felt like being trapped in a dream. She wanted to get back to her husband, Commander Rick Strong, but always she had been drawn back in, the needs of the proxxids outweighing her own.
She found herself staring at a ceiling, lying on her back. With some effort, she lifted herself up onto her elbows. Looking around, she blinked. It was her apartment, the one she shared with her husband. Her mind had been ripped from the endless replay of the small cottage on Martha’s Vineyard where she lived with her proxxid children.
Where was her husband? Why was she lying in a stasis pod? What happened?
“Rick?” she whispered, her throat dry, and then again and louder, “Rick?!”
“Jimmy’s taken him.”
Cindy turned her head. Sitting on her couch was Bob.
“Or something has taken him,” Bob continued, his expression grim. “I need your help.”
“What are you doing?” roared James, still towering over Jimmy.
“Letting them go,” Jimmy replied.
All around them, the palace crumbled. Cobwebs of cracks ran through the marble walls as they disintegrated, chunks of plaster falling from above. The creatures ran away, the purple curtains bursting into flames, pouring billowing black smoke into the frescoed ceilings.
In the middle of it all stood Bob, staring at Jimmy and James as they fought.
“We need them,” screamed James, “they feed us.”
“I think that they”—Jimmy held up his hands—“feed you.”
He ripped his hands down, and in the same motion, the walls of the palace came away, tearing its reality to shreds. In its place appeared a world from Jimmy’s inVerse, a synthetic-space projection of a different palace, a Spanish palace. The three of them were now standing in the middle of an open courtyard under a deep blue sky, surrounded by a three-story terracotta palazzo. The walls were decorated with intricate murals inlaid with tiny blue, white, and gold tiles. A baby played between potted ferns next to a pool filled with colorful koi fish. A fountain bubbled water into the pond, while dragonflies buzzed at the water’s edge.
“How much of this is a lie?” Jimmy demanded, facing James.
The baby by the pool was Jimmy, and his mother walked over to pick him up. She walked back to the table where she was sitting together with Jimmy’s father and another couple, guests of her parents. They were having coffee. Jimmy’s mother sat him down on her lap and gripped him tight. “Who’s my little stinker?” she growled into his face, shaking him.
The exchange could have been affectionate, but in this rendering Jimmy’s mother looked threatening, gripping Jimmy too tight, her eyes menacing.