Agents of the Demiurge (14 page)

“My vote wasn't about you,” Elza said, back
still to him. “The monotony of existence hurts, Hess. It's a
physical pain. You've been like a drug. You take away the worst of
it and fill me with happy feelings. But in the final sum, I don't
know when the Creator will give us another chance to quit. I had to
take the opportunity when it was offered.”

“How can this not be about me? About us? We
have hardly been apart save for the odd century. Rejecting your
life is rejecting us.”

“No,” Elza said. “This is about opening your
eyes in the morning and wishing you still slept. About facing the
dawn of a new world and wishing the Creator hadn't bothered. You
know what I'm feeling. When you were Zack Vernon . . . .”

“Zack was not me!”

“Really?” Elza turned back to face him. “Why
wouldn't
Zack
let me bury Kerzon alive? Why did
Zack
marry a woman out of pity? Why would
Zack
donate a fortune
to an orphanage? Why did
Zack
try to trade his life for
Lacey's? I see one hell of a resemblance, no matter what you
say.”

“Zack remembered nothing. The moment I came
back to myself, I wanted to live as much as ever.”

“For a time, you were Zack Vernon. You wanted
to die so bad you manipulated a man into putting a piece of lead
through your brain. That was with five years of memories. Try to
imagine feeling that way with a hundred thousand plus years of
monotonous existence under your belt.”

San cleared her throat loudly. “Hey, awkward
conversationalists, you've got an audience. Besides, I thought we
were at DEFCON one, charging into battle with swords drawn and all
that. The domestic drama can wait until after we take care of
business.”

Elza fixed Hess with a steady gaze. “We can
discuss this later.”

“As soon as I get back,” he said.

“Just put a pin in it until then.” And Elza
was off, bouncing around the garage as if their conversation hadn't
happened.

San stood shoulder to shoulder with him and
dipped her head in his direction. “Look, hon, we both know
relationships aren't my thing, but it's obvious even to me that you
need to forget about the voting disagreement of Iteration one four
five. The decision isn't going to go the way you want. Sucks, I
know. I'd be pissed if I wasn't getting my way. But try to be
practical about things for a minute. We're getting our memories
wiped after this world ends. That's how things are playing out. Do
you really want your last days to be like this? Why don't you just
pretend things are okey dokey until the clock runs out? You'll be
happier. Elza'll be happier. Everyone's a winner.”

Hess glanced down at San. “I'm not ready to
give up.”

“I think you're unique in that regard.”

When Jerome and Drake revived with
imprecations on their lips, Hess jumped into the role of leader,
deflecting their complaints and directing their energies into
loading
Demiurge’s Dick
into the waiting SUV and attaching
the two trailers, each loaded with two ATV's, to pickup trucks.

Hess checked every piece of equipment was in
place and informed his team that because they didn't have time to
drop off the getaway car, they would need to use escape plan B –
use the motorcycles stashed outside of Church property. While
conducting a last minute pep talk, Elza broke into their circle to
interrupt him.

“Change of plans,” she announced. “Moving
Demiurge’s Dick
got it dangerously excited. Which is much
worse than it sounds, though probably not in the way any of you
expect.”

San cocked her head the way she did before a
punchline. “Patronize much?”

“Our nuke is going to go off
prematurely.”

“Should've called it by it's name that time,”
San said.

Elza pointed over her shoulder with a thumb.
“If one of the sub-critical masses goes early, we're not talking
megatons of explosive power. We're talking run-of-the-mill car
bomb. That's one disturbing aspect of the problem. The other is
that even if I get the weapon into position without a criticality
accident, the firing of the explosive charges will likely cause a
premature reaction. I can still try to set it off, but you cannot
rely upon this weapon. You need to change your plans.”

San leaned close to Jerome and whispered loud
enough for everyone to hear, “She missed like ten perfect
opportunities to deploy the ridiculously childish name right
there.”

“This is operation time,” Hess said. “We're
not telling jokes anymore. Everything is life and death starting
now. All of you signed up for this, so it's time to make good on
your commitments.

“We are going in now. Elza will take the nuke
to its position as planned. Then she will set about creating an
alternate diversion.” Hess pointed at Drake. “Get your meth.”

Elza frowned. “What do you expect me to do
with it?”

“Taint the city water or something. Stir up
trouble.”

“Even if we had enough to contaminate an
entire city's water supply, it would take too long to help us.”

Hess waved his hand. “You'll think up
something.”

“I always do, don't I?”

He circled a finger over his head and pointed
to the waiting pickup trucks. “Mount up. We're going now.”

At his
insistence, they slept out under the stars that night instead of
seeking shelter at a nearby village. When Beeta made advances
towards him in the night, Mott performed the duties of a lover with
as much passion as he could manage. Apparently, it was enough.

“We are amazing together,” she said.

“Better than normal people.”

“So much better. I think we should keep
walking forever. We can stop at a new village at sunset each day,
eat a free dinner, then leave after breakfast. If everyone we meet
calls us lazy, it still won't matter, because every day we meet new
people. Every day we
are
new people. Don't you think that
will be amazing?”

Mott smiled. “We can do anything we want.
Anything.
”

“That's right. We never have to work. Never
have to hold our tongues. If we don't like someone, we can tell
them their flaws.”

“Or hit them,” Mott said.

“We can slap them right in the face when we
leave in the morning. They won't be able to do anything to us. We
can break every rule.”

“We could kill them.”

Beeta smacked his knee. “Don't tease me. We
are together now. We are going to be free together. You can't tease
me.”

“Of course not.”

She snuggled close to him. “You promised to
answer my questions.”

“With the full truth,” he added.

“Tell me about your sister.”

“I never had a sister. That was just a story
I made up so the people of your village would trust me.”

“You tricked them!” Her tone was halfway
between outrage and awe.

“Wasn't very hard.”

Beeta squeezed him tight. “Tell me about your
mother, then.”

For a moment, he hesitated. “Never had a
mother.”

“Did she die giving birth?”

He reached for his walking stick, then pulled
off the cap to reveal its point. “I was not born. I am not a
creature of blood and bone like your people. Watch.”

The half-moon provided just enough light to
make out the widening of her eyes when he pushed the weapon's point
into a readily accessible surface vein of his arm. Blood flowed
freely. “Touch it,” he commanded.

When she hesitated, Mott seized one of her
hands and forced it into the flow of warm, dark liquid. She stared
at the moisture on her hands, face unreadable.

“Watch it vanish.” Soon enough, it did. One
moment his blood covered her hand and dripped from his arm. The
next moment it did not. There was no wound on his arm. Not even a
scar. As if the injury had never existed.

Beeta touched his healed arm. “How is
this?”

“I will tell you a great secret, Beeta,
because we are companions now.”

“Please tell me.”

“Someone made this world. A magnificent
being. The Creator sent me into the world to watch it. I never had
a mother. When the world was made, I looked the same as I do
today.”

She frowned in thought. “But why?”

“You got to be a bit more specific, Beeta.
Why what?”

“Why make a world?”

“Because It could. Because
something
beats an eternity of
nothing
. Because this world is amazing,
even if the people bore me to tears.”

“Did the Creator make the people, too?”

“If something exists, then the Creator made
it.”

“Even me?”

“Sure.” Though considering the world was over
a hundred years old, the Creator hadn't made Beeta directly. But
the creatures of this world wouldn't care about such fine details.
“Would you believe there was another world before this one? It was
very different. People didn't have villages and rules. Instead
there were tribes and power.

“I don't think I have much influence over the
Creator, but I would love to see the two kinds of worlds mixed
together. Tribes would raid villages. Villages would have to fight
back. And I have no idea what would happen from there. But I'm sure
it would be a lot of fun.”

Beeta remained silent so long that he thought
she slept when suddenly she spoke again. “But why make anything? I
don't get it.”

“Because creation is more glorious than the
most pleasing song or the most beautiful weaving. You should be
grateful. You would never have existed otherwise. Think about that.
Would you rather not exist?”

She drew in an unsteady breath. “I tried to
make myself die.”

“Don't believe your own lies, Beeta. You like
the attention. Every time you threatened to harm yourself, you got
to be special. You got to have power. People let you stay in from
work. I know the games you play and I know the reasons behind them.
You want to live as much as anyone else.”

“I don't.”

“Really?” He held out his walking stick. “If
you want to end your life so bad, then go ahead and do it. I won't
stop you.”

Beeta took the walking stick and held it to
her arm. Then with a dramatic gesture, she drew the sharp point
across her flesh.

“Doesn't look very deep. Are you sure you're
serious about this?”

She breathed rapidly several times, then
drove the walking stick down into her leg. Mott closed his mouth.
Slowly, she pulled the point free of her thigh. There didn't appear
to be any blood at first, but then a spurt shot free of the
wound.

Mott watched several more pulses escape the
wound. “Do you realize your wounds won't go away like mine
did?”

“I know,” she said. “And my family isn't
around to stop me this time.”

“That's right. They're not here to stop you.
That wound will kill you if it's not treated soon.”

Beeta remained still.

“You have to ask for my help.”

Several minutes passed in silence.

“I'm not the fools of your village, Beeta. I
won't let you manipulate me. If you want to live, you're going to
have to ask me to help you.”

“I just wish I didn't have to hurt my
mother,” she whispered. “Better if I was never born than to hurt
her like this. Your Creator never should have made me.”

“Do not insult the Creator.”

There was no response.

“Beg for your life, Beeta.”

When he felt at her neck, there was still a
faint heartbeat, but the wound on her leg now bled at the barest
trickle. Her eyes blinked and then focused on him.

“Why create a world like this?”

Mott stared at her still form until morning,
then returned to the village. He found Beeta's mother and killed
her in front of the elders with his bare hands. Then he killed the
elders.

The men of the village managed to wrestle him
to the ground and smash his head with rocks before he could do much
more, but he returned to life long before they could put him
beneath the ground. More died. They managed to kill him again. When
he came back to life next, the people of the village were gone,
their homes abandoned.

Cowards, all of them.

Mott burnt down the village, then took his
belongings and walked into the wilderness.
She
had despised
existence itself. That was an important observation. Essential,
even. The Creator needed to know the ugly truth of the pathetic
creatures.

Hess drove the
lead truck with Jerome riding shotgun. Visible in the rear-view
mirror was the truck carrying San and Drake. They went to the
western edge of the Church's property, which was primarily parks,
gardens, and playgrounds separated from the surrounding city by
nothing more imposing than guard rails.

They parked the trucks in a side alley,
strapped rucksacks firmly to themselves, pushed the quads to the
edge of Church property, lifted them one at a time over the guard
rail, then started the engines and drove off through the wooded
nature reserve.

For thirty minutes, Hess led his crew on an
off road adventure, navigating around thickets, through creeks, and
past a dozen other obstacles until they arrived at the chain-link
fence that separated the main campus of the Church from its
park.

There, Hess had them cut their engines and
went forward alone to cut an ATV-sized hole in the fence with a
pair of bolt cutters. Then they waited for Elza's call, using the
tree line as cover.

Drake spent the time muttering to himself.
San practiced drawing her handgun. Jerome peered in every direction
with her large eyes. Hess sat cross-legged on the ground, phone
held in his lap.

It took half an hour for the phone to
ring.

“The nuke is set,” Elza said in greeting.
“Speed dial one on your phone to detonate it. There is no way to
predict how much of a bang we will get from it, so try not to rely
on it too much. As far as distracting the authorities is concerned,
I'm having mixed results.