Legacy (The Biodome Chronicles) (39 page)

Hanley’s laugh tapered off and he asked, “Do you want to know what she said to you?”

He did, but refused to beg his dad for anything.

“Ah, your pride prevents it.” His dad chuckled again. “I’ll tell you anyway. She said you have her heart as a token of her affection and to guard it well.”

“Leave. Me. Alone.”

“Well, I am happy they are alive,” Hanley continued. “It gives me hope.”

Fillion groaned. His dad was still bent on talking to him. Resigned to his lot, he let out a long sigh. He accepted the distraction, and said, “I didn’t think God needed hope. I guess you’re a mere mortal after all.”

“Are you ever going to listen and learn?”

“Nope. I’m a lost cause. But please, carry on as if we both care.”

“Sarcasm will not get you far in New Eden.”

“Yeah, I’m aware. But right now, I’m not in New Eden.”

“They have embodied the culture completely, haven’t they? The mannerisms, dress, even acting like a noble class. Their accents are beautiful. They did it. They actually did it.”

“Before you go off on your mad-scientist, self-praise session even more, let’s get something straight. The second generation are real people. You’ve created them to think and behave a certain way, and then you expect them to integrate with our culture? The result will be a psychological blue screen of death for an entire social group. How do you plan on surviving that media attack?”

“I knew you would be the right person to lead New Eden Township. I have plans to start other businesses, and you’ll become the perfect majority owner for New Eden Biospherics & Lab.”

“Flattery is not the same as answering the damn question.”

“If you stopped long enough to think about it, you would realize the answer. Apply the energy you pour into your attitude and backtalk, and perhaps you might understand.”

Fillion stilled and placed his arms over his head to block out even more of the light. What was his dad suggesting? His mind began rebooting after his crush-driven fatal exception error, and ideas and scenarios began to demand attention.

Clearing his throat, Hanley continued, “I am unsure how Leaf will survive this world, especially as he no longer exists. Time to begin damage control. The media cannot know his real name, or neither he nor I will come out of this exchange alive.”

“Hanley, he never said he was leaving. Willow did. I was waiting for him to confirm or deny that information.”

Fillion lifted his head to see his dad once more, rolling his eyes in annoyance before returning his forehead to the cool metal. He really needed a cold shower. Turning his head slightly, he watched his dad out of the corner of his eye, wary of what Hanley suggested earlier.

“We’ll find out tomorrow. Until then, I have to assume a worst-case scenario.” Hanley looked around the room for a bit before asking another question. “Do you think Leaf really knew he was The Aether before you dropped the bomb?”

“Yes. Why else would they have the Scroll?”

“Telling Leaf that he is The Aether will not force me to write him back into The Legacy, by the way.”

Fillion sat up and grabbed his Coke, walking over to the door with a sudden need to move, and then asked in a cold voice, “How did Leaf get your death card?”

“What makes you think it’s mine?” Hanley gave him a look as if the very thought was preposterous.

“It’s mounted on the wall in your office.”

“You knew he had the card. I’m not sure how, but you manipulated the conversation so that he would show you. Very clever, son. Also, when talking to Willow, you said you had to change the password. Did you hack into Messenger Pigeon?” Hanley threw him a sideways glance, the steel in his eyes hardening while a calculating small smile stretched on his face. “Oh, well done. You must have spoken with Willow privately through Messenger Pigeon and covered your tracks. Your characterization is actually really good, you know. The Dungeon Master was enjoyable to watch.”

“God, is there something wrong with your ability to answer simple questions?” Fillion took a sip of his Coke, leaning up against the door, and tucked a thumb into one of his pockets. “Well?”

“It doesn’t matter how I answer. You’ve already determined I am the bad guy.” Hanley gave him a serious look, placing his hands out in a gesture of surrender.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes at his dad’s additional attempt at deflection, grasping at straws, Fillion settled for an annoyed sigh instead. Running a hand through his shortened hair, he thought for a moment, seeing if there was another angle.

“Nice attempt at payback, by the way,” Hanley said. “Except, you thought it mattered to me if they knew that their life was real or part of a game. Of course it’s a game—the first generation knew that, teaching it to their children.”

“You missed the point. They didn’t know their history.”

“I didn’t miss the point. I’m telling you it doesn’t matter,” Hanley said slowly and Fillion paused trying to understand the hidden message. Why wouldn’t it matter? His dad approached him a few days ago, sharing that he didn’t know what to do with that generation in New Eden. Was that a gimmick? Something was up, but he was determined to have his original question answered. He walked away from the door and sauntered over to the office chair and fell back, his tired body crashing against the leather as he landed heavily.

“OK, fine, it doesn’t matter. Now, is the death card yours?” He took another sip of his Coke, placing the can on the desk.

“It was the one assigned to my character, yes. Did I place it on Joel Watson? No.”

“Why is your card in New Eden?”

“How should I know? Obviously an Element took it from me.”

An Element? Fillion paused for a moment, and then asked, “They held onto a card for over twenty-five years?” He shook his head. “Did you forget to look both ways before you crossed the road to piss someone off?”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Hanley said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Fillion was ready to tell his dad exactly how he felt about the irony in that particular statement when Hanley launched back in.

“You are asking the wrong question. A Gamemaster doesn’t ask the obvious. He ponders the hidden.” Hanley walked over and stood in front of him. “It will be interesting to see how the community responds to this situation. If they were a colony on Mars, how would they deal with an offense against The Code? Will they report a murder or take care of the business themselves? So far, there is no report, so I can’t act on anything. The only report I have is a death certificate stating that Joel Watson died of a heart attack.”

Fillion’s eye widened. “These are real people. Joel Watson really died. I’m not interested in your boring history lesson on the art of gaming. God, you talk about these people like they’re works of fiction, images in your head popping out and playing right before your eyes. You’re sick!” He stood up and began walking toward the door again, too angry to continue any further conversation with his dad.

Hanley began walking after him and then froze, quickly turning on his Cranium, gaining Fillion’s attention. His dad let down the privacy screen and allowed him to read the typed message.

The Aether is alive and ready for duty.

“What’s your master plan now, especially because Leaf is no longer in The Legacy? I know a guy who knows a guy who can create a new identity for the Watson family,” Fillion said flatly.

“Are you offering your services, criminal? You have a business up and running?”

“Like I’d tell you,” he spat. “Anything I do would be for Leaf, Willow, and Laurel. Not you.”

“The little one is alive, too?”

Fillion didn’t answer, instead taking another nonchalant sip of his Coke.

Hanely’s face remained passive, and then he said, “Let’s wait and see if he is the exchange tomorrow.”

Fillion reached the door, and waited for Hanley to give security clearance, too tired to continue this conversation. “I need to get some sleep.”

“Your shift isn’t over,” Hanley said dryly, following close behind him.

“I quit.” Fillion cast his dad an angry look.

“You can’t quit, I already fired you. You were just on two-week notice.”

“Do you plan on overriding and erasing the video feed, Hanley?” Fillion said, eyebrows raised. “Or would you like me to take care of it?” He waved his can of Coke in front of his dad’s face.

“Definitely not. I’ve got it.”

Hanley placed his thumb on the reader and the door clicked open. Fillion turned to leave, and walked through the door when he heard his dad call his name. Turning around, he looked at him wearily while holding the heavy metal door ajar.

“Where did Leaf and Willow get the notion to call you Dungeon Master? Do they think you are a type of Gamemaster for New Eden?”

“Who cares,” Fillion muttered, turning around.

“I do. I’m curious what they think of the first stranger they met, and perhaps strangers in general. Was Dungeon Master your idea or theirs?” Hanley asked conversationally.

“I’ll file my complete report when I’m done participating in your experimental game for ninety days. Until then, patience Grasshopper,” Fillion said with a cocky smile. Finally, he had a morsel of power against his dad.

Fillion was about to walk away, then paused. “I’m curious about something,” he said. “Why did mom and Joel break off their engagement?”

“Who told you about that?” Hanley asked with rounded eyes.

“What happened?” Fillion placed one of his shoes in the path of the door along the frame to keep it from locking, before walking over to his dad with his arms crossed. “Either you tell me or I’ll find out through other means. So be honest
. I’ll figure it out.”

“Yes, Della and Joel were engaged. They had been for a few years, and then Della’s brother died in a
n accident while mountain climbing with Joel. Joel never forgave himself for Dylan’s death, and he called off the engagement.” Hanley stretched his jaw, his nervous tick alerting Fillion, and he felt a chill climb up his back.

“Why did she marry you?”

“We loved each other, why else? I’m not a villain, despite your ideas and your claims. I don’t make women marry me against their will.” Hanley shook his head, moving out of the way as Fillion walked past him. “See you in the morning, son. Great work.”

He refused to give his dad the satisfaction of a response. Eyes straight ahead, Fillion breezed past him and into the hallway, grabbing his shoe along the way.

He walked into his room a few minutes later, and picked up a guitar a scientist at N.E.T. was allowing him to borrow through the morning. He was too worked up to sleep just yet. His mind was actively processing all the new information and feelings.

In eight hours he would enter New Eden and face his past and his future. Strumming his sister’s favorite song in the dark, Fillion closed his eyes. The music washed over him, and he felt his muscles relax. He changed songs, one he enjoyed by CyberBlack, picking the main riff. Clearing his voice, he sang quietly to the shadows.

He was still in an exposed place, trying hard to put away the image of Willow giving him her heart. Nobody had ever given him a token of their affection before—well, not sincerely at least—and it terrified him. She was so innocent, and so different compared to all the girls he knew. This truth made him feel protective, and he rolled his eyes at his corny and cliché thoughts. “God, I’m so lame,” he whispered to the darkness.

Nevertheless, his pulse pounded audibly in his ears, blocking out the sounds of the guitar. Their situation was impossible, doomed from the start. And yet, he wanted to break his rule, engaging with feminine disaster rather than just flirting with it. Self-control was definitely in order. As his dad said, he needed to keep his head on straight.

It was time to shift his attention and redirect his thoughts. His first active duty as an imprisoned soldier was to get to the bottom of why death certificates were issued from New Eden for the Watson children six years ago, one year after The Elements stopped attending communication meetings with Hanley and John, and two years after Claire had died.

He placed the guitar back in the hard case, took his shirt off, and then jumped onto the bed, landing on his back. The makeover team would arrive in five hours. With a shaky breath, Fillion placed his hands behind his head, and stared at the blackened ceiling until he fell asleep
.

***

I have made a discovery since living out here and it’s that you never appreciate things like showers until you have to do the following:

#1 find a wash basin of some kind that you can bend your head into.

#2 make sure you have enough water (again this might be hard if you have no well, if this is the case follow my suggestions for getting water on the last post)

#3 heat some water (again this might be hard, also you might want to watch the temps a bit closer than with dishes or clothes) I am sure you don’t want the “OH MY GOD IT’S HOT” water.

#4 if you have long hair (anything past your shoulders) grab a partner as it is a team effort.

#5 pour your water into the basin

#6 pour COLD water into the basin as I’m sure it is too hot

#7 bend over the basin getting as much of your hair into the water as you can

#8 have your partner pour water over our head (watch the temps as hot for your scalp is different than hot for your hands)

#9 take hair out of water

#10 soap up hair (note you will be dripping water)

#11 put hair back in basin

#12 again have your partner pour water over your head

#13 Ring out water

Repeat for conditioner or dry

—
Rivenfae Wolf, “How to wash your hair on the homestead (sans shower),”
Wolf Woods
, November 10, 2010 *

***