Apocalypse Now Now (35 page)

‘Always fun, isn’t he?’ Ronin says. ‘Let’s go kill him.’

We turn back into the corridor and gunfire thuds into the walls around us. We run further down the corridor. I consult the schematic. ‘This way,’ I shout, pointing to a door to our left.

The ship’s kitchen is deserted. Either the kitchen staff fled when they heard gunfire or proper nutrition wasn’t high on Mirth’s priorities. We’re edging our way through the stainless-steel galley when the door on the other side swings open.

Two canine-like Gogs snuffle through the doors. They have grey scaly reptilian skin and thick matted manes of black hair. Corded muscles ripple in their necks as they fix their pink eyes on us and bare twin rows of vicious teeth. Nice lizard doggies.

Sue and Ronin open fire at the same time, sending a barrage of bullets thumping into them. One jumps snarling onto the stainless-steel countertop, sending pots skittering across the floor.

Rafe regards the dog with a look of mild amusement on his face. I grab his arm and hold onto it, just in case he tries to walk across and pet it. The dog stalks across the countertop toward us.

I grab Rafe and Esmé and pull them out of the door as Katinka swoops up to the ceiling. I’ve just found the real Esmé and there’s no way I’m going to let her get eaten by a canine lizard.

Rafe looks at me with a smile. ‘Don’t do anything stupid,’ I say. ‘Seriously, Rafe, just stay here. We’ll wait until they deal with those things. Just this once be smart.’ He gives me a serious look and nods. ‘Good,’ I say. With amazing agility he wrenches his arm from my grasp and trots off down the corridor. ‘Rafe!’ I shout. Swearing, I put my arm protectively around Esmé and follow him.

He is walking through the corridors calmly but quickly, looking around as if he is a tourist late to meet his tour bus. We round a corner and watch as Rafe ambles toward a wooden door. He stops at it, turns to look at me with the knowing-eye, and then opens it and steps inside.

‘I don’t know if we should go in there,’ Esmé says, holding my arm.

‘We shouldn’t,’ I say with a sigh. ‘But we have to.’

Mirth is sitting drinking tea at a breakfast table. His grey hair is pulled back in a ponytail with a red satin scrunchie and he’s wearing a T-shirt that says ‘Information Wants To Be Free’. The cabin is large and stately with high book-filled shelves and an aquarium filled with colourful fish. One of the walls is made of thick glass and looks out onto the Maelstrom.

‘Baxter!’ he says. ‘Right on time.’ He motions to an empty chair at the table. ‘Please, have a seat.’

‘Baxter,’ Esmé says. I touch her arm. Rafe stands next to her and grabs her hand. He smiles idiotically at me.

‘Asshole,’ I whisper.

I walk over to the table and sit down. Mirth pours me a cup of tea. The orangey scent of Earl Grey wafts up from the cup.

‘And how are the delusions coming along?’ he says warmly.

‘I keep having these violent thoughts about cutting you up into little pieces,’ I say.

‘Classic projection,’ he says. ‘I think it has to do with your mother. Anyway, it’s lovely to see you again. Family is so important, don’t you think?’

I watch his face. He’s unlike anybody I’ve ever had to manipulate, cajole, extort or persuade. I can see the mind behind his eyes whirring like a thousand microprocessors crunching numbers, facts, probabilities and contingencies. I feel like Kasparov facing Deep Blue. He’s already played me more than I could possibly imagine. My whole life has been a set-up, carefully planned and executed so that I could become exactly what he wants.

He hands me the tea. I take a sip. ‘I’d like to ask some questions,’ I say.

He nods. ‘I think that’s fair. What would you like to know? I’d love to impart some great-great-grandfatherly wisdom.’

‘Esmé’s kidnapping,’ I say. ‘Why did you do that? Why not just approach me and offer me money or power?’

He sighs and shrugs. ‘It was my only choice. The Octopus exoskeleton has the potential for time travel and, unlike the Mantis, requires a very simple method to operate it. Blood, you see, is the key.’

‘The Mountain Killer,’ I say.

He puts his hand to his heart. ‘Guilty as charged. Blood allowed me to use the power of the Octopus to set up a situation where someone capable of piloting the Mantis exoskeleton would eventually be produced. I needed to know for sure that your gift was awakened. When you began to show signs of attachment to the girl I decided to use that as a test. One you passed with flying colours, I might add.’

‘So what now?’ I say.

‘You work for me,’ he says. ‘Think of it as an internship. You operate the Mantis and I’ll help you to develop your gift. I know you’re interested in power. With my help you can build the biggest corporation the world has ever seen.’

I want to say that I don’t think about the power. I want to say that my good side is developed to the point where I laugh at the offer. Where I tell Mirth that no amount of money or power could tempt me.

‘OK,’ I say.

He looks at me curiously. ‘I expected some sort of struggle. Some sort of declaration of nobility.’

‘Listen,’ I say, leaning forward on the table, ‘you created me. You purposefully activated the side of me that gives a shit. You manipulated me into caring so that I would end up the way you wanted me.’

‘Yes …’

‘You’ve done what you’ve needed to do,’ I say, ‘and so have I. I don’t need to keep this farce up any more.’ I turn to look at Esmé. ‘You were right,’ I say. ‘Even if it wasn’t really you speaking. I’m not a good person. I deal porn and I manipulate people. People say that’s abnormal, they say that teenagers shouldn’t be like that. I say that’s bullshit. Why feed us this crap about the world being a noble and heroic place when it’s just not? The world is an ugly, brutal, uncaring place. And the only way you get ahead is to be even more ugly, brutal and uncaring than it.’

Mirth giggles. ‘Quite right,’ he says.

‘I want to see these vehicles,’ I say. ‘I want to see what you’ve fucked my life up for.’

He leads me into a room that holds two sculptures made from burnished brass, copper and glass, every inch carved with strange glyphs and demonic doodles. One is an Octopus, large and sprawling, its tentacles thick golden chains, eyes made from amber holding ancient trapped insects. Its large body is like a heavy copper bell and there’s a thick, viscous aura around it, the air seeming to twist and curl as if it wants to get away from this monstrosity.

‘A vehicle and a prison,’ Mirth says, stroking it with the back of his hand. ‘A remarkable piece of magic. I was impressed by your little speech, but you’ll understand if I take certain precautions.’

He climbs onto one of the tentacles and steps behind the face of the Octopus and into an indentation big enough to fit a person. He slides into place and through the amber I can see him positioning himself as if in a cockpit. ‘Should you attempt to interfere with my plans I’ll kill your brother and girlfriend for the trouble.’

‘Your manipulation of my life was masterful,’ I say. ‘I want to learn from you, not oppose you.’

‘That would be more than I could have ever hoped for. Now please,’ he says, gesturing to the other vehicle. ‘You won’t believe how long I’ve waited for this.’

The Mantis looms up above me like an insectile mech warrior. Its body is long and slender and its claws hang in the air like serrated blades. Close up I can feel a hum in my solar plexus, like you can feel the bass from a seriously pimped-out car stereo.

I climb onto its hind leg, step into its carved-out centre and slide into a person-shaped hollow in the middle. It’s surprisingly comfortable and I can feel the warmth of the metal against my skin. Inside, the whole thing seems to hum. There are levers and pulleys inside but I look for the controller. The mouse. The joystick. Nothing. I pull a lever. One of the legs of the Mantis moves. If the control system is at all logical then the other lever must move the other leg. I pull it. The other leg moves.

‘Comfortable?’ Mirth calls. ‘Then please activate it.’

‘How?’ I say.

‘That’s why you’re here,’ he says impatiently. ‘To tap into the power of a trapped god.’

Sure thing. The power of the Mantis God coming right up. I could probably work out the control system given enough time, but tapping into a god trapped inside? There’s probably not an FAQ or a Wiki for that. I try to slow down my breathing. I look across at Rafe. He smiles and looks back at me with the knowing-eye. It burns into me and I feel my forehead open like a sunflower opening to the sun. Everything splits into little fractals.

‘Holy mother of god,’ I whisper as the world shudders and tears in half. I’m on the floating disc again but the Singer of Souls is nowhere to be seen. Instead Rafe sits cross-legged on the disc and looks up at me.

‘Rafe?’ I say. ‘What’s going on?’

‘I knew that I was a Siener lonngggg before you did, you know?’ he says with a smile. His voice here is rich, deep and melodious,
nothing like the mumbles and grunts he usually communicates with. ‘But you were always such an asshole. You never picked up the hints I was giving you.’

‘I …’ I say. ‘You’re talking. In full sentences.’

He shrugs. ‘It’s easy here. Not so easy when I’m stuck in my body. We’re Sieners and that’s part of why you’ve always hated me. You knew that something impossibly strong held us together and you didn’t want to be linked to me in any way.’

‘I never hated you,’ I say.

Rafe laughs. ‘Shut up, Baxter,’ he says. ‘For once I get to talk. I usually just watch you strutting around like an arrogant little rooster, creating your little schemes, playing your little games and generally thinking that you’re the cleverest thing on the goddamn planet.’ I try to talk but he holds up a hand. ‘I said shut up. First of all I want to say screw you for burying Mr Bobble in the garden when I was eight. That was a major dick move.’

Mr Bobble was Rafe’s favourite fluffy toy. He was a little rabbit with one eye and a bow tie. I buried him in the garden to punish Rafe for telling on me. It left him traumatised for months.

‘Second,’ he continues, ‘stop calling me retard. I don’t talk a lot but I understand what you’re saying.’ He waves his hand and the disc disappears and suddenly we’re floating above Table Mountain. ‘My sight is a lot deeper than yours,’ he says. ‘I can create whole worlds inside my head so excuse me if I don’t spend a lot of time spouting mundane bullshit like you do.’ He clicks his fingers and we’re back on the disc.

‘I’ve been really bad to you, haven’t I?’ I say.

‘You’re not the only one. You know that time Karyn Dorman suddenly dumped you?’

‘Yeah …’ I say.

‘I sent her an email from you saying you thought her mom was hot.’

‘Asshole!’ I say.

‘I learnt from the best. I know you’re not going to do what this lunatic wants you to do,’ Rafe says. ‘So what’s your plan?’

‘Unleash a trapped god, I guess,’ I say.

‘I can help you,’ Rafe says and holds out his hands. I take them and the disc begins to spin. Slowly at first and then faster, like we’re on a cosmic merry-go-round. I feel the force from the spinning drilling into me.

Then I see them. Radiant sigils invisible to the naked eye are etched onto the frame of the Mantis. They form a kind of control panel on the inner metal. I reach out my mind and touch one of them. It hums with a deep, subsonic bass. My brain rattles against my skull with the resonance. I touch another one. It’s a higher frequency, but it harmonises perfectly with the bass. It’s an invisible, space–time Casio keyboard. So I do what everybody without any musical talent does when they sit down in front of a keyboard. I play Chopsticks.

Reaching out my mind, I search for the subsonic tones that will make up the simple melody. They rumble and hum internally. The Mantis begins to shift. It moves like it’s doing t’ai chi, coiling and rolling through the ether, space and time rushing off its body like water.

‘Perfect,’ Mirth says from within the Octopus exoskeleton. I reach out my mind wildly to the sigils, like mashing your fingers around on a game controller to try and make your character shoot a fireball. The Mantis lurches like a drunken roller skater but I manage to keep it under control. So far it’s not much of a superweapon.

‘Stop,’ Mirth says. He activates the Octopus and it stands up on its tentacles. With my mind I make the Mantis move toward the Octopus and send a fiery charge of energy at it. Mantis weapons capabilities activated. But the Octopus deflects the blast and rears up, slamming me against the wall with its tentacles. ‘I warned you,’ Mirth says. I look at the sigils on the Mantis. Controlling fire is
great, but where are the missiles? Where’s the photon cannon? A tentacle snakes out and I’m thrown against the wall. I’m trying to get up when I’m lifted into the air. The Octopus wraps the Mantis in its tentacles, snaking them through the cockpit. One wraps around my mouth and nose and stops me from breathing.

‘A small part of me hoped that we would actually work together,’ Mirth says. After a few seconds my lungs begin to explode. I suddenly feel calm. I look at the luminescent sigils and I understand. I understand how the Mantis works. I focus my mind and then let it go. The Mantis and I blink out of existence and take the Octopus with us.

WE’RE IN THE
Cape Town CBD. I stand up between the familiar buildings framed against Table Mountain. I see the three tampon-shaped towers looming above Vredehoek. Next to me the yellow-and-grey trains clatter in and out of the station. Things are almost the same. Almost. The one small difference, which I don’t notice at first but very quickly becomes glaringly obvious, is the logo. The red Octogram logo appears on everything. Billboards on the sides of buildings sport the logo. Octogram pennants outside shops flutter in the wind.

‘You could have chosen anywhere in space and time and you chose a dimension where my plans have already succeeded,’ Mirth says. The Octopus slides toward me, its metallic tentacles rattling against the tarmac. ‘It says something about your deep-seated desires.’

Alternate-reality Capetonians are crowding around us and peering at the exoskeletons quizzically. They probably think it’s some kind of art installation. A bus with a large advertisement plastered on the side drives past me. ‘I don’t think this is quite the reality you’re thinking of,’ I say. I use the Mantis limb to point to the ad on the bus. Mirth turns to see my stern bespectacled face staring back at him. ‘Don’t be a non-playing character,’ it says. ‘Help your Supreme Leader to help you.’