Fix (25 page)

S
omeone pried
Paul's eyelids open, flashed a light in his eyes. He struggled, found his arms strapped to a cot.

“Calm down, Daddy.” Aliyah pressed her palm to his chest. “It's OK.”

He was blindfolded. Something bad had happened, but… his memories squirmed away. All he could concentrate on was how worried Aliyah sounded, her exhaustion.

He took a breath, and that breath swelled to fill his thought process. His lungs expanded without incident, his ribs a passing ache. How long had he been out? But his stomach growled, and that noise snatched his attention away. On his next inhale, he felt the needle in his chest flex.

Magiquell. They'd drugged him.

“You'll start remembering soon,” said a familiar voice. Her words triggered flashbacks to a burning airfield. “And when you do–”

“Shut your pie-hole, kid,” Valentine said, curt and dangerous. “We want him calmed down. You're not helping.”

“
You
tried to calm him down by playing nicey-nicey. You had that shot.” Ruth. That was Ruth. She slid his blindfold off; the drugs made her freckled cheeks dazzling as constellations.

She held up a syringe filled with clear fluid. “This is methohexital. It knocks people out. This IV's hooked up to your heart. Try anything,
anything
, and I will knock you into a permanent coma.”

“Ruth!” Aliyah said. “Don't make him scared, you'll ruin the test.”

Test?

“…Aliyah?” His throat was gummy, clogged shut. How long
had
he been out?

She handed him a glass of water; the cool plastic felt amazing in his hand. But why would his daughter put him on euclidosuppressants? He closed his eyes, summoned memories–

“
Aliyah Rebecca Tsabo-Dawson!” he'd yelled, preparing to wipe the ridge clean.
“
This is not negotiable!
”

He tore his gaze away from Aliyah's face, noticing her black SMASH uniform. Her lithe body had bulked up to a bodybuilder's physique. When she cupped his cheek, she moved with a Unimancers' mechanical grace.

They'd brainwashed her to die for their cause. He watched her eyes jitter as she tuned into the collective, saw her fight off a frown as their loathing flickered across her face.

“Aliyah. That's not you. Don't let them–”

“That's the test, Daddy. Because we don't have time to argue. Look.”

She pointed at a handmade wooden table, sitting in the RV office they'd gathered in; the drugs compelled Paul to follow her motion.

On the table was a box, draped in thick cheesecloth. Next to the box sat a bulky satellite phone, its lights flashing green.

“Can he hear me?” The voice from the speaker buzzed, a tenuous connection – but that thick Yiddish accent was unmistakable.

“…Kit?” Paul asked.

“
Uncle
Kit,” Aliyah confirmed, relieved. “I called his retirement home.”

“
Bubbeleh!
” he cried. “I suppose I shouldn't be this glad to hear your voice, given where you are. My goddaughter, she doesn't give me details, but she says it's quite serious. Have they kidnapped her?”

“They have, Kit.” Tears welled up; he missed his old friend, but they couldn't drag a seventy-four year-old man around the country with them, dodging SMASH patrols. So Paul had purchased a spot in a swanky assisted living community, and Kit had been content to declare himself Paul's consigliere. Though these days, he'd seemed happy to nap in the Florida sunlight. “The Unimancers, they've brainwashed her into suicide, they–”

“
Stop
.”

Paul flinched at Aliyah's sternness – but Valentine nodded soberly. Ruth stood with her thumb on the methohexital syringe.

“This is the test, Daddy.”

She whipped the cheesecloth off reverently, revealing a large pink box.

DUNKIN' DONUTS, it said.

“Donutmancy,” Paul whispered.

“Do you trust Uncle Kit's judgement?” she asked.

“Implicitly.”

Kit harrumphed proudly.

Aliyah sat down next to the two dozen donuts. “Then here's how it's going to go, Daddy. You know Uncle Kit believes he can read a man's temperament through his choice of donuts. You've trusted his judgment before.”

“Yes.” More than once, Kit had talked Paul out of a disastrous opinion by critiquing his cruller.

“So
I'll
choose a donut.
You'll
tell Uncle Kit what I'm going through. If I choose the donut Uncle Kit thinks best represents a healthy state of mind for me, then I'm me. I'm not some brainwashed zombie, I'm not some Stockholm Syndrome case, I am your daughter and you treat me as such.”

“And if you choose a different donut?”

“Then I'm brainwashed. You can take me away.”

Despite the drugs, Paul was making plans. He shouldn't be talking to Unimancers, he should be destroying them. His mind fizzed with ways to neutralize the methohexital, fantasizing about the look on Ruth's face when he wrecked her plans…

He shook Aliyah's hand.

Ruth whispered to Valentine. “I know
she
believes in it. But… come on, this is ridiculous. Can the old man read someone's state of mind by
donuts
?”

“That old guy's canny as fuck,” Valentine replied. “I think he uses donuts to distract people from the way he can cold read people.”

“
My old guy ears are not so deaf!
” Kit cried. “And I will have no one doubt the sacred donut in this hour of trial! For this is a serious moment, my friends. We ask whether Aliyah has been brainwashed, or whether she simply seeks independence, as all children do. Aliyah, my beautiful goddaughter, knowing I cherish your liberation from all forms of tyranny, I ask you: reach into the box and choose what you think would taste best.”

Aliyah trailed her fingers along the donuts. Paul had no idea how they'd hauled Dunkin' Donuts out this far into Europe, but fresh oil dotted the box's bottom. Had they cooked them here?

He held his breath as Aliyah touched each donut: classic glazed, iced Boston Kremes, powdered jelly donuts, a maple log, a cakelike old-fashioned, a Chocolate Kreme with a curlicue of frosting poking out one end. They'd even put a tiny container of Munchkins in.

Aliyah silently held up a cinnamon doughnut.

“Now. Paul, my best friend, knowing I have always held your best interests at heart, I ask you: tell me what your daughter looks like.”

Paul felt a chill. “…You two didn't choose a donut in advance to fool me, did you?”

Kit clucked his tongue. “Not if they held me at gunpoint, bubbeleh. Your family's my family.”

Paul remembered how Kit had offered Paul a job when he'd needed to quit the NYPD, how Kit had rushed over the night Imani had asked for a divorce, how Kit had tried his damndest to understand Paul's magical problems even though he'd loathed 'mancers until his best friend had become one.

Kit was the only person whose judgment he trusted implicitly.

Aliyah had chosen well.

“Aliyah, she's… wearing a Unimancer outfit.”

He made a soft
chuh
noise, like a pitcher waving off a catcher's suggestion. “That much I know, Paul. They
have
told me some of the circumstances. Dig deeper.”

Paul swallowed. “She's tied back her hair.”
The hair he could never get Aliyah to comb back
. “She's bulked up. Her skin's tan.”
They'd fought with Aliyah to get outside more, but she'd always holed up with her Nintendo DS
. “She…”

He leaned in to examine Aliyah's face, fighting through the drugs to elucidate
how
his daughter looked different. As he pulled himself over the cot, she stepped back, tension spreading across her face, terrified Daddy might ground her–

Ruth squeezed her hand.

Relaxation flooded across her as they interlaced fingers. She gave a nervous little laugh –
I'm being silly, aren't I?
– and Ruth's blank face stayed blank, but some reassurance flowed between them.

“She has friends. She's smiling.” Paul's heart broke a little. “She hasn't smiled like that since… since before the fire.”

“Military training will do that,” Kit mused. “You form bonds. She's young, though. Hitting the crush era. Any romances?”

Ruth glowered, daring Paul to say something negative.

“I think so.” Aliyah blushed. “Yes,” he corrected.

“Anything else?”

Paul wanted to catalogue the differences – the way she stood at attention, the way her gaze skittered away from him like he was an embarrassment, her lack of…

“She's got no videogames on her. No Nintendo, no phone.” That, really, was all Kit needed to know. “That's all.”

“Huh.” Kit sounded mildly surprised. “All right: military training, romance, blossoming confidence, leaving her childhood behind. She's always loved the sweet gooiness; now she's transitioning to something savory. Not completely there yet, but months of training would turn an éclair into a sugar-shock. An Aliyah in her right mind would choose…”

Paul cursed at Kit's dramatic pause. Even now, Kit couldn't resist showing off.

“The cinnamon donut.”

Ruth went to high-five Aliyah. Aliyah met her clap sadly, without looking away from her father.

She's won the right to walk away from me
, Paul thought.
To get herself killed in whatever damn fool conflict she desires
.

“All right.” Paul slumped back on the cot. “You're yourself. And you're a Unimancer. But you're still my daughter, Aliyah, and I have the right to–”

“The test isn't over, Daddy.”

Paul sat up again. “What do you mean?”

Valentine stepped forward, a surgeon delivering bad news. “You questioned whether Aliyah's in her right mind. But after the way you fought us, well…” She glanced down at the donuts. “Time for you to choose.”

“You gotta be kidding me. You're asking if
I'm
sane?”

“Remember Rainbird?” Valentine asked. “I remember that fiery maniac hoisting a goddamned house into the sky, ready to incinerate a squadron of cops – and you.
You
. Even though it
would
have been easier to leave no witnesses, we fought that fucker because you thought every life mattered. You even thought
Rainbird's
life mattered, and that guy was a pimple on humanity's dick.”

“
I
haven't changed!” He almost leapt to his feet; Ruth brandished the methohexital. “
Circumstances
have!”

“Paul,” Kit said. “I can't always trust the news, but they say you blew up a nursing home. Aliyah says you – maybe it's murder, maybe it's not, I can't say what warfare is. But…” Kit exhaled a long, staticky sigh. “The Paul I knew didn't take shortcuts with people's lives.”

“This is ridiculous. Where's Imani? She's my wife, she should–”

“Mom's negotiating with the President to ensure we don't have to
execute
you!” Aliyah shook with stress. “Everything you're doing, Dad – it doesn't seem like you. Can you blame us for holding an intervention?”

“I don't
need
an intervention!”

“Do you trust Uncle Kit?”

“You know I do.”

“Then choose a donut. See if you're the man he thinks you are.”

“Fine.” He was hungry anyway. His drugged gaze bounced between the glazeds' sugary crusts and the coconuts' soft furry coating.

“Remember, he hasn't had solid food in two weeks.” Valentine watched him like he was about to clip the wrong wire on a bomb.

“Oh, my sweet hot Boston Kreme mess, I have factored that in.” Kit's voice was tense. So tense.

This was stupid. Paul was hungry, and needed something to clear his head. He grabbed the Vanilla Kreme, feeling its dough indent beneath his fingers, a solid blob of frosting coated in powdered sugar. He bit in deep.

Valentine gasped. Aliyah rushed forward, crooking her neck to verify his choice. Ruth turned away sourly, as if his choice had confirmed what she'd known all along.

“He chose the cruller, right?” Kit pled.

The sweetness curdled in his mouth. Paul remembered laughing at Kit's rants on the reckless abandonment of the Vanilla Kreme personality, serene in the knowledge he'd never eat something so messy.

He brushed his fingertips across his chest, numbly wiping off powdered sugar streaks. He had an IV line in, for Christ's sake, he'd gotten his bandages sticky. Filling his empty stomach with sugared lard would give him a head rush on top of the anti-'mancer drugs. Yet he hadn't thought it through, he'd been so eager to finish this stupid test that he…

He'd taken shortcuts.

So why were there bodies?

Maimed bodies in the missile's crater.

Burning bodies on the runway.

Hundreds of Unimancers, each unique as Aliyah, killed by his hand…

The donut dropped from Paul's fingers as he realized that yes, yes, he was
very
much out of control.

A
liyah sat
by her father's cot, holding his hand. He hadn't spoken since Uncle Kit had convinced him he wasn't acting like himself: just one quiet “My God” before he'd laid down.

He squeezed her hand periodically, gaining strength from her presence. He'd turned towards the wall, which the collective's body language experts informed her meant he was too shamed to face her. Periodically he'd twitch, as if awakening from a nightmare: the collective's psychologists concluded Paul Tsabo was trying to reconcile his brutal murders with what he perceived as his moral core.

Aliyah appreciated the help, but she could have figured that out on her own.

Aunt Valentine sat across from her, eating the remaining donuts. She also remained silent. When she'd helped knock Daddy out, Aliyah had hoped maybe they could be friends again.

But no. Aunt Valentine had dropped into wordless observation, gathering information. She'd done that back at Payne's Institute, too. Back when she'd been the first to realize Payne was their enemy.

It hurt to think she now considered Aliyah a potential enemy.

Everyone across in the camp lit up, complimented that Aliyah's sense of self and the Unimancers had merged. Tonya, scrubbing dishes in the mess tent, sent Aliyah a cheerful suggestion not to worry what some rogue 'mancer thought. Rajesh, standing on a chill rocky outcropping as he monitored the broach, reminded her that her father's chaotic nature was what happened when you didn't have calmer minds to turn to. And Max, out shoveling the horse shit, sent gentle reminders that Paul Tsabo was their enemy.

He's not a bad man
. She wished she could stop thinking that. Whenever she did, the collective convulsively flooded her with the terror of a hundred and fifty 'mancers as the missile hit.

So much hatred for her father. It was hard to love her dad when they showed her how it felt to burn to death in a crashed helicopter…

She opened up doors in her head.

Aliyah had come to visualize the Unimancers' memories as rooms in a vast mansion – you could open doors to step into someone's recollections. Some doors were sticky, indicating they weren't comfortable with you peering inside, and still others were locked and you had to ask them for the key, and some were barricaded behind trashheaps.

Before Daddy had arrived, Ruth could lure her away to new experiences. They'd step through a doorway and drop into a parachutemancer's best jump.

Sometimes they pried open sticky doors to look at the sex-thoughts, getting all turned on watching porn until Mom-construct started a lecture on viral transmission rates.

But ever since the battle, Aliyah had become her father's ambassador, flinging her doors open wide to share her memories of Daddy protecting his daughter from a cruel world.

She stayed up late, distributing her memories of Daddy hugging her before he tucked her in, of his crooked smile whenever he discovered some new and beautiful 'mancy, the speeches he'd given to make the world a safer place.

They flipped through her mind looking for the times he'd used his bureaucromancy, as if they might extract broach-sealing lessons from her head. She felt their desperate hope: if they could figure out how to fix the broach without Paul Tsabo, then they could execute him.

She wished Daddy would talk to them the way he used to talk to her. He made magic seem beautiful when he spoke.
He's not a bad man
!

Maybe he wasn't
, Ruth allowed.

Though Ruth changed diapers on the Bastogne orphans, Aliyah was never far from her thoughts.

Aliyah went breathless with hope.
You think he's a good man?

He might have been
, Ruth said.
You've shown me how he cared for you. He's a little myopic when it comes to you, but I think he means well.

Her acknowledgment made Aliyah thrum with elation; Ruth knew her better than anyone else, if she convinced Ruth she could convince the collective…

But I think the worst thing a person can do to someone is to overlook how they've changed
, Ruth finished.

Aliyah tensed, looking down at her father. He looked back, lost as a newborn puppy, baffled why she'd clutched his hand so hard.

You're hurting him
, Ruth observed.
But he's not letting go
.

Aliyah saw bruises blossoming.

He'll never let you go
. Ruth suffused Aliyah with sadness.
Whenever he looks at you he sees the little girl he almost lost in a fire – and he's always going to try to rescue you. He thinks he hates SMASH, but he's just looking for someone to blame. He can't understand how keeping you safe will destroy you
.

His safety killed me
, Aliyah thought. She'd never had anything to live for before she'd become a Unimancer. Now, she might die, but she'd do it saving someone.

Protecting people from trauma gave her life meaning. It gave her strength.

The same strength that had driven her father to save her.

He taught me the virtue of sacrifice
, she thought.
He just… can't understand how I'd need it, too
.

That's the way of parents
, Ruth thought. She was tucking in a five year-old, who asked for a goodnight story. Though Ruth wasn't exactly the motherly type, she knew a few bedtime tales.

Instead, Ruth paused, as if to demonstrate something–

Is it nightie-night time, Ruthie-my-love? I see you need to know about
bedtime stories
. I have a handy list of educational tales! Would you like to hear the Roly-Poly Elephant, or the Spider With Seven Legs, or…

The Mom-construct was effervescent, knowledgeable… and oblivious that Ruth didn't need her help.

Yeah
, Aliyah thought, kissing her father's hand by way of apology.
Parents don't notice us changing
.

Not just parents
.

There was an edge to Ruth's voice that caught Aliyah's attention.

Kids don't notice their parents changing, either
.

Ruth handed the five year-old to Sunil, who liked kids better anyway. Aliyah allowed Ruth to lead her into a place she'd never seen – an isolated ward in the Unimancer collective. An isolated wing that smelled like old diapers. She pried open sticky doors, accessing memories other Unimancers would prefer to forget–

And wandered into memories of middle-aged men and women watching their parents change.

We never realized Momma was concealing her bad vision until she wrecked her car…

Daddy was fine as a fiddle until we caught him on the phone, giving his life's savings away to a preacher who promised Jesus would wash away his sins…

We thought Momma was getting along fine after her third divorce until we heard her making up false gossip so someone would pay attention to her…

Aliyah tried to flee. Ruth stopped her.

Your daddy wants to keep you as a six year-old forever. That's one harm. But you can do all sorts of damage by pretending someone's competent…

Ruth
. Aliyah tried to be sharp, but she couldn't hide her uncertainty from her girlfriend.
You can't say Daddy isn't…

I'm saying maybe he can't be trusted with 'mancy anymore
.

Aliyah protested. Ruth silenced her with memories of her father threatening to unleash that Thing upon the world.

What do you want me to do, Ruth?
she asked.

You know what I want to do
. That was the hard barrier between them; Ruth wanted Paul Tsabo dead.

I'm
not
killing him
.

Fine. Keep him in a coma. But the man
–

Attention, folks
. The general's majestic command cut effortlessly through their argument.

Thousands of people mentally stood to attention. The general wasn't a Unimancer – but if he spoke to one Unimancer, all would listen. He too had dedicated his life to holding back the broach. His sage diplomatic advice had kept SMASH operational while nations rose and fell.

When Kanakia suggested a course of action, the collective listened.

Please bring Mr Tsabo to my office. And stay tuned; Ms Tsabo-Dawson and I have hammered out an agreement with the President
.

A flicker of worry shot through the collective. Negotiomancers noted the Unimancers had been excluded from the discussion. Linguimancers pulled apart his words to find them peremptory, almost orders.

Do you know anything, Aliyah?
Hundreds knocked on her mansion-door, asking to sift through memories of her mother. She turned them away. She needed to focus on getting Daddy to Kanakia.

Why was Aunt Valentine sitting there instead of helping Daddy up? Then she remembered: they weren't tuned in.

“Dad.” She nudged him; he whirled around, shocked. His euclidosuppressants made new stimuli adrenaline-inducing. “General Kanakia wants to see you.”

“Yes.” He sucked in a deep breath, preparing for his execution. “Yes, he would.”

As Aliyah brought him his artificial foot, she wondered what she'd do if Kanakia ordered Daddy's death. Kanakia had that power – which would give the President an instant popularity boost for killing the man who'd ruined Morehead.

“Aunt Valentine, would you…”

She nodded towards Daddy, who quivered from exhaustion after getting to his feet. Between the coma and his sickness, he was almost an invalid.

Aunt Valentine raised her eyebrows. “You want
me
to do it? The out-of-shape donutholic? Not…” She glanced outside, towards the burlier Unimancers who'd be ideal for the task.

“You're the one I trust,” Aliyah said.

Bad idea
, Ruth thought. Aliyah felt Ruth's loathing of any 'mancer who thought they could singlehandedly control their powers. Daddy and Aunt Valentine had peddled that deadly philosophy 'mancers should value freedom over safety…

Aliyah realized: her trust of Valentine was vestigial. Aunt Valentine thought magic was
fun
. Even though Aunt Valentine had watched her boyfriend die at the hands of her own flux, she still peddled this insane idea Aliyah should be
proud
to be a 'mancer…

She loved Aunt Valentine, but Ruth had saved her.

She and Valentine each got under a shoulder, helped Daddy to General Kanakia's office – also a plain RV, hauled here by horses. The Thing peered down through squirming vortexes of eyeballs, crawling around to focus on Paul.

When they got to the office, he waved Valentine and Aliyah away, demanding to walk up the three steps on his own.

Mommy met him at the top, hugged him. That made Aliyah feel better. There was forgiveness in that hug.

Then Mom hugged her, and that hug was… stiff. As it had been since she'd arrived in Bastogne. Not that they'd spent a lot of time together; General Kanakia had explained to Aliyah how he needed her mother's diplomatic skills to repair the damage her father had done to SMASH's political situation. He'd saluted Aliyah when she'd said she understood.

Yet Mom's hugs had remained… cautious. Aliyah had committed to her mother's hugs with her whole body, and Mom had returned her affection with stiff back pats.

She's worried you'll betray her
, the psychomancers concluded.

Well, I
won't
.
Aliyah pushed them away.

“I love you,” Aliyah said.

“I love you too, sweetie.” But Mom was already looking away, towards the other Unimancers. They didn't need to be there – any of them could have broadcast the general's words to the network – but it was considered a great honor to be in physical proximity to the old man.

The general walked down the line of Unimancers, shaking hands. He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his wide nose, peering at Paul.

“Are you being treated well, Mr Tsabo?”

A dull roar of fury from the collective.

He dragged you through the woods in chains

He should be burned like the men
he
burned

Daddy squirmed in his seat, staring down at the shag carpet. “I'm fine.” Then, repeating it more softly, as if he hoped to believe it: “I'm fine.”

The general nodded – not an affirmation, but a willingness to let Paul keep his counsel.

“In any case,” the general continued, “Ms Tsabo-Dawson and I have spent several days in intense negotiations with the UN Security Council. We've come to a preliminary agreement on Mr Tsabo's official status.”

Official status?
Ruth thought, along with a thousand others. Aliyah felt nudged to ask the general out loud. “Official status, sir?”

The general jerked his chin in Imani's direction. “Ms Tsabo-Dawson was quite insistent her husband have a position working with us. She felt the government publicly acknowledging her husband's assistance was the first step in rehabilitating Mr Tsabo's image problem.”

Image
problem?

Aliyah flinched from another barrage of Paul striding through dead Unimancers…

“Wwwwwwwith
alllll
d-Duh!-
due
respect, sir…” Aliyah choked down a hundred angry retorts into one polite response. “Mr Tsabo's – Daddy's – publicity is not the concern here. The fact that he's not in our collective is.”

“He won't be in your collective.”

The hivemind swirled with new debate. But all Aliyah could think about was what Ruth had said:

I'm saying maybe he can't be trusted with 'mancy any more
.

The general swept open his arms in an embrace. “Unimancers, I acknowledge your fine efforts. The broach would have swollen to encompass the Earth three times over without your brave sacrifice. But despite decades of fine work, you have yet to permanently seal a single broach.”

This time three Unimancers spoke. “You want to let a rogue 'mancer–”