Eden's Jester (8 page)

In the midst of the barren brown landscape, thin lines of civilized cement emerged from the horizon and met to form a cross. At that cross was a cluster of clean, modern buildings that pulsed with bright light and loud music. A large well-lit canopy stretched high above several rows of diesel and gasoline pumps, designed to service all types of vehicles. The main building sported a huge TV-screen-like sign that was better suited to Times Square than the nearby Vegas strip. The scenes on the sign alternated between international news, commercials, and movie trailers. Stock ticker symbols floated along the bottom providing a non-stop stream of financial information.
 

I watched the screen as I waited for the right truck to arrive. I was surprised to see that the commercials were international: Chinese, Japanese, Dutch, Korean, Mexican, and American.
 

I surveyed the dark outlines of the mountains in the distance. There were no lights to indicate houses or businesses or populations. The whole area was quite remote in every sense. I wondered how many Chinese tourists came this way. I started to get the creepy feeling that Rod Serling would step out from behind a gas pump at any moment and ruin my night.

It was about three in the morning when an unusually large convoy arrived and proceeded to refuel. Several platoons of grim-looking soldiers deployed around the convoy. Their black nylon tactical gear creaked as they took up positions around the trucks, daring anyone to approach.
 

I could see the glow of lights in the distance, revealing the convoy’s advance and rear guards, situated a half mile up and down the road respectively. Perfect. This one would be heading straight for the base. That meant that the fuse in my little pebble didn’t need to delay long. I reached inside the webbing that encased the pebble and started the reaction that would eventually burst the cords I’d created and make a significant ruckus.
 

I like ruckuses.
 

Normally, getting the pebble into one of the trucks would be a simple matter of slipping into the ethereal plane, approaching the truck’s ethereal shadow, and popping back into the prime material plane inside the truck. However, I had never tried to move a live matter-bomb across the planes, and I didn’t know what the effects of doing so would be. So I had to resort to the old-fashioned way.
 

I entered the station and pretended to look for something to eat. Several of the soldiers were inside getting supplies and paying for the fuel. As nonchalantly as possible, I bumped into one and slipped the grenade into his pocket.
 

“Adios, amigo,” I muttered.

The soldier turned to face me. Black bars on his uniform indicated he was an officer. Blond hair, cropped short, couldn’t conceal the top half of a deep scar running from the crown of his head down the side of his jaw. Another began on the opposite side of his face and painted a ragged trail down his neck, disappearing under his uniform. His dusty blue eyes were calm, but quickly took in every detail as he assessed a new threat. I could see that he had measured the room and all its occupants in less than a second.
 

“What was that?” he asked.

“Uh, I said excuse me, amigo.”

He studied my face, suspicious, but practicality prevailed. The soldier seemed used to action, but apparently didn’t believe in domestic threats.

“No problem,” he said, and walked back to the convoy.
 

No one was alarmed by a guy shopping in the middle of the desert with no visible means of transportation.

A few minutes later, I returned to Washington. There was no better place to be seen at the time of the crime than in His Bigness’s foyer. The door opened as I approached. Rolic filled the doorway. I had no appointment with Melanthios, so he would have to do.
 

“Hello, Rolic. Where’s your better half?”

“Apolik is not here, Elson. Do you need him?”

“Like a sexually transmitted disease. No thank you.”
 

Rolic and I got along okay. Apolik and I mixed like oil and vinegar. He was the oil.
 

“I’m surprised to see you here alone. What’s with that?”

Rolic signed. “Elson, do you ever tire of asking questions that you know I won’t answer?”

We stared at each other. I flinched first.
 

“Yeah, I get it. Keep the new guy in the dark. No problem,” I said.
 

Rolic’s face didn’t budge. He didn’t consider me the new guy on his team. He barely considered me at all.
 

“Anyway, I need some information. Can we talk in a more secure place?”

He hesitated. Rolic understood my traditional antagonistic disposition toward Law, but knew that I was working on his side for the time being.
 

“Okay, Elson. Let’s go into the study. It’s empty.”
 

He led me into the building and down a series of hallways until we arrived at a dark blue door.
 

Inside the study the walls were lined with books. We sat at a solitary, simple table made of cherry. It was beautiful workmanship. The lines were simple and the proportions pleased the eye. Rolic pulled a second chair up to the table and I sat in the one that was already there. He leaned forward and waited.

I needed to begin wasting time. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
 

“No.”

“Really, Rolic. It just occurred to me that in all the years I’ve known you as Mr. Big’s enforcer, I’ve never known what Discipline you practice.”

“Do I look like someone who enjoys small talk, Elson?”

Indeed. He did not. “No. You look like a thug. That’s what makes me ask. I’ve never heard of the Thug Discipline. Or would the term be ‘Thuggary’?”

He sat back and folded his arms. For a second, I didn’t think he was going to answer. “Life,” he said.

“What, you mean Biology?”

“No, Life.”

“Wisdom? Like how to live life?” I asked.

“No. Life.” He looked at me as if I should understand. I didn’t.

“I don’t get it,” I said.

He unfolded his arms and leaned his elbows on the desk. His eyes gleamed and, at the same time, look somewhat distant.
 

“The Discipline of Biology works to create new species and to evolve existing life forms. But those are all a union of the material body with an immaterial soul. You and I, however, have no such union naturally. We make an artificial one to engage the material world. Our form of life is not tied to a body. The Discipline of Life is concerned with the soul.”

Now,
that
was interesting. I never suspected Rolic of such noble purpose, let alone the existence of such a Discipline.
 

“But I thought all the Disciplines were made to facilitate the perfection of this world. Life forms like us, we’re not part of this world,” I said.
 

“Aren’t we?” He asked. “Do you really believe, Elson, that everything else--the astral and ethereal planes, the Preceptors, the elementals, and who knows what else--were all put here simply to perfect this
physical
world?”

“Nope. I’ve been saying that for eons—literally—but no one’s listening. Have you ever seen an elemental?”

“I have,” he said with a slightly tired tone and looked away.

“Well, then you know they aren’t concerned with things like Disciplines, Preceptors, and the Designers.” But Rolic’s explanation didn’t really answer my question. “This is even more confusing, though. How does someone from such a Discipline end up an enforcer for His Rigidness?”

He shrugged. “We’re a broken Discipline. There are few of us, and those of us that are don’t really know what to do. Chaos would use our skills to do evil. We all agree on that. So all those of our Discipline are committed to Law. But Law forbids us to affect souls. It is a forbidden domain.”

That sounded like Law. Hide all the best toys.

“Really,” I said with too much interest. “What kind of skills?”
 

Rolic glowered. “Believe me, Elson. You are nearly the last person I’d reveal such things to.”

“Oh, come on, Rolic. Souls are my specialty. Or at least my hobby. Maybe we can trade some recipes. What do you say?”

“Elson, I would erase our knowledge rather than give it to you.” He folded his arms and glowered.

“Well, maybe some other time,” I said. He stared back. “But I can see how those kinds of skills would be useful in your role. Capturing a soul isn’t easy. Holding one is harder. Threatening one is nearly impossible. But it seems to be a little boring, even ignoble, compared to the kinds of work you could be doing.”

He looked uncomfortable, but shrugged it off. “My position enables me to do the most good, all things considered.”

“What about Apolik? Is he in your Discipline?” I asked.

He looked like he had just eaten a bug.
 

“No. Apolik is part of Society.”

“Society? You’re kidding. The guy is as stiff as a cardboard cutout of Richard Nixon.”

“Sometimes our duties require us to investigate relationships. Sometimes we need to understand how certain underworld entities operate and influence what’s happening in the domain. Apolik has connections. He does good work.”

“Huh. Society and Soul. You two make quite the dynamic duo. I bet you hate his guts.” He sat there, eating more bugs. I changed the subject.

“You say your Discipline is broken. That’s a strange phrase. How does a Discipline break, exactly?” I asked.
 

He didn’t say anything. But I sensed he wanted to talk. He just couldn’t talk to me. He didn’t trust me. He had revealed quite a bit, however. I had seen many Disciplines, but I had never seen one that was made up of Engineers from only one side of the Schism. I had never seen a Discipline with “few” members. That only left two questions.
 

“Something happened, didn’t it?” I said. “What was it? Where are the Chaos Engineers of the Life Discipline? What happened to them?”

His eyes hardened. “They’re gone.”
 

Gone? I didn’t like the sound of that. Something had happened, but my chances of learning what that was were slim. I was surprised he was talking at all. That told me something else. Rolic was an unhappy Engineer.

“I see. But that is even more confusing. If all the Chaos Engineers are gone, why do you say you don’t know what to do? Seems to me, without their antics it’d be easier to make a plan and to stick to it.”

He didn’t answer. He just sat there and watched me. Rolic was truly unhappy. He seemed broken himself. He was tough inside, I had known that for a long time, both from experience and observation. But whatever happened had left a mark. If he could have grown facial hair, he would have had a perpetual five o’clock shadow.
 

Finally, he leaned forward and frowned. I could tell he was looking deeply into my soul. Given his Discipline, I felt naked. His eyes widened, then his brow furrowed like a zoologist who was attempting to classify a new species of frog.

“Tell me, Elson, how is it that you are not a member of a Discipline? That’s as strange as my story.”

My natural tendency to dive, dodge, deflect, and deceive stood up, but I told it to sit down. Here was a practitioner of the only Discipline that might be able to answer some questions I had about myself. I decided to take a risk with Rolic.

I shrugged. “How does one become a member? When I awoke, no one mentioned any Discipline and I’ve never felt compelled to join one. No one ever invited me. Though yours sounds kind of fun. Any openings?”

“No,” he scowled. “But you are very skilled in many things, Elson. I know from watching you over the years. How is that? Who teaches you?”

That was information I didn’t need to share, at least not completely.

“I watch and learn. I see what others do and remember. Putting things together is simple once you know where to start.”

He smiled. “Ha. It’s not as easy as that. At least not for most. So you have talent. Too bad. You might have been useful, had you been properly indoctrinated.”

Now he was getting nasty. “Sure. And better yet, why don’t you lobotomize me while you’re at it. You need to think for yourself, Rolic. I’ve got an idea, how about you and me start our own Discipline? We’ll call it the Meddling Discipline. What do you say?”

 
Before I could press him further, he sat upright.

“Melanthios calls. There is a problem,” he said.

Heh heh. I bet I knew what. I followed Rolic from the room and back to Melanthios’s business office. The Man was there with several others I didn’t know. He looked up as we entered.

“Rolic, good.” Then he saw me. “What are you doing here?”

“Just working, boss,” I said. “What’s all the ruckus?”

“Someone has destroyed a nuclear missile base in southern Nevada. It was totally decimated,” he said calmly. But his eyes told the truth. He was worried.

“A missile base? Are you sure?” I asked. Nellis wasn’t a missile base.