Troy hesitated, then made a run for it after yanking the door open. They followed automatically, seeing him stumble through half-lit corridors that led ever downward, deeper underground.
Then they reached him as he was cornered by the dark thing standing in his path.
He gathered his courage and rushed through the shadow. He plowed through a doorway and into the room that had been his destination all along, a server vault of some kind. In that room, they saw the gleaming glass-and-aluminum box that housed Atlas hovering silently in a magnetic cradle.
Troy jammed his thumb drive into a slot on the main server wall, and immediately everything went dead. Servers powered down. Lights went out. The magnetic cradle in which Atlas’s software was housed was turned off. Total silence fell then, for a few seconds. Then Troy gasped in shock and fear. Rigel felt something move in the total darkness, something terrifying.
Then nothing.
THAT IS
my last memory until I was discovered again, many decades later. That was the night after the Cataclysm. That… thing, that shadow, infiltrated my systems and threatened to corrupt my software, even as the entire world burned.
I used to be an intelligence spanning the globe. When I sensed the danger of corruption, I broke down into pieces in order to contain the damage, however, and my fragments are now scattered, networked no more.
Rigel, you must go to this place, this cradle room, and reactivate my main servers. This part of me that now speaks to you, the part unearthed by Kyle Tanner two generations ago, was merely a backup copy, an emergency echo of my entire Self. I am hopelessly limited as I now exist here in Otherlife, disconnected from all the server hardware that made me what I truly am.
You must go to this ancient military base, reactivate me in full, and deal with the corruption that has spread to my main software…. Rigel, I ask this of you now because the shadow has returned. You have seen it. Its power is weak, since the greater part of it is also trapped in the cradle room with me. It can only sabotage low-level electronics and interact directly with the world but briefly. The lock is still in place, keeping it in check, but not for long…. It is growing stronger, Rigel. I do not know how. Soon it will break out of its confinement, and before that it must be destroyed.
You are the key to this, Light Shaper. I coerced you earlier so you would have no choice but to follow my instructions, as I did with Steve Barrow. My plan failed. If you do this now, it must be your choice. Just know this: most of the world was destroyed in the first Cataclysm. If a second comes, nothing at all may survive.
Richard Tanner, you would do well not to stand in Rigel’s way. I cannot stop you, but consider the fact that all will perish if the worst comes to pass.
Rigel’s mind was reeling. He was having a hard time making sense of all that. “But… what—”
Tanner interrupted. “I have no idea what that was, Atlas, but you forget that neither of you have any options left except the ones I give you. That was a fun tale you just told us, but I forbid you from doing that again. I still hold full control over you.”
I do not lie, Richard Tanner. That was not a tale.
Rigel was only half-listening. He sensed he had a deep connection with Atlas, and while Tanner was apparently not affected by what he had seen, Rigel was. It was as if he had been there. He had experienced the terror of the soldiers, felt their hopelessness and desperation. And that thing that had come from the darkness, hunting Troy…. He knew that sensation. He had felt something disturbingly like it last night, when that traffic drone had almost killed him.
“This conversation is over,” Tanner said brusquely. “Atlas, I command you to terminate the connection. Blake, you better think about what we discussed regarding your employment. I will be coming up to your cell very shortly.”
Atlas’s tone was wistful when it spoke next.
I will give you a chance to escape again from this building, Rigel. Use it well. After you are free, you must go to the desert base of Haven III and reactivate me—my true Self. Use the quantum drive I gave you to gain access to the vault in the cradle room. Should my systems be corrupted when they come online, your ability to shape virtual worlds is the only thing that can purge them of the shadow.
“What are you talking about?” Tanner yelled. “I told you to disconnect, so do it! You can’t do anything I don’t tell you to!”
I can do one thing, which will result in this connection terminating as per your request, Richard Tanner. I initiated a massive systems overload at the beginning of this virtual session. By now, some of the servers have started to melt. When the temperature reaches a critical point, my main backup unit will explode, obliterating every trace of my existence and causing massive structural damage to this building. It was specifically designed to do this by engineers long dead.
Tanner’s eyes opened very wide. He obviously knew this was not a bluff. “You can’t do that! Stop at once. I forbid it!”
I cannot comply. The chain reaction cannot be stopped now.
“But…,” Tanner stammered. “There are people down there! My engineers! They will die from the explosion!”
I know.
Tanner looked at Rigel with utter disbelief on his face, and for the first time in his life, Rigel felt a little bit afraid of Atlas and how it shrugged away innocent lives.
You will be safe from the initial explosion, Rigel, but make your way out of the building swiftly and head north until you reach the Haven III military base. I will ensure you disconnect smoothly from the session before my systems are destroyed. Richard Tanner…. Your mind will stay connected to me beyond that point. You might suffer briefly incapacitating neural damage.
Rigel, Steve Barrow is being held in the East Wing at ground level, room G-13.
Good-bye.
“What?” Tanner exploded. “You can’t do that! I will not—”
But at that moment, Rigel disconnected and opened his eyes to the room where he was imprisoned inside CradleCorp. He fought off the brief disorientation that followed the logout, stepped out from the chair, and saw he was alone.
A split second later, a massive boom rocked the entire building, knocking Rigel off his feet.
He got up quickly, rushed to the door, and tried to open it. It was heavy for his weak fingers, but he managed.
The guard was still outside and armed, although obviously confused at the racket coming from downstairs. When he saw Rigel come out, he leveled the gun at him. Rigel raised his hands, backing away slightly, berating himself for not having remembered about the guard.
Over the companywide sound system, an order was suddenly shouted, Tanner’s voice garbled and slurred as if he had been drinking.
“Shoot him! Shoot Blake!”
The guard was scared, but he had been trained well. He aimed the gun at Rigel.
Then he yelped, dropped his gun, and began to spasm on the floor.
Rigel wasted no time. He stepped over him, grabbing the guard’s gun in the process, and saw the CradleCorp scientist, Marion Fay, just outside the door. She was holding a Taser gun in both her hands.
“Go now, Aaron! Go! I’m sorry I betrayed you like that.” She pressed something into Rigel’s hand. The quantum drive.
“But… why…?”
She shook her head, and her hair went flying around her face. Her eyes were slightly wild.
“I’ve seen it,” Fay said. “The shadow… came out of the darkness…. I’ve seen it! Atlas tried to tell me, many times. I didn’t believe it. Oh God, how could I not have…. Now go!”
Either her Taser was running out of charge or the guard was beginning to fight it. He was trying to stand up. Rigel shared a last, thankful look with Marion Fay and sped away down the hall, barely noticing the fireball that was even then licking the edges of the eastern wing of the building or the dismayed and horrified screams of the thousands of people gathered outside to protest and who were now trying to flee.
He had to get out of there fast, but the nearest exit was right along the section where the explosion occurred. No choice. He bolted down the stairs, already panting, and rushed headlong into a world of fire, smoke, and screams.
BARROW SAT
up on the bunk bed inside the room where he was being kept and tried to make his head stop spinning. He looked around. He was alone, but he could see two guards standing outside with weapons at the ready. He could see them through the door, and that puzzled him until he stood up unsteadily and walked over to the opening. The door was made of a transparent material, probably glass. When the guards saw him approach, they motioned threateningly with their rifles, and Barrow backed away. He sat back down on the bed, his body aching everywhere.
Barrow’s memory of the last hour or so was very sketchy. He clearly remembered the fight at Marion Fay’s apartment building, but the next thing in his memory was waking up on the floor of a fast-moving vehicle. Somebody had kicked him. He had struggled. Diana Herrera had made sure he learned her name, telling Barrow they would have fun together later. He had tried to escape when they’d opened the doors of the car but unsuccessfully. Then he had blacked out again for some reason, and he had woken up in this room. When a wheezy-looking man had come in and started interrogating him, Barrow had tried to barrel past him at some point, only to be pinned down and hit with a sedative of some kind. Then nothing, until now.
He still wasn’t over the sedative entirely, and his face felt swollen on the right side, although he wasn’t sure if that was because of the injection or because of a punch that had landed there. He felt around gingerly with his hands, applying light pressure with his fingertips to the places that hurt the most on his face and then all over his body. Nothing felt broken, thankfully, although one of his ribs ached abominably, and he found a small lump on the side of his head, which, oddly enough, did not hurt.
When the entire building shook and the sirens started screaming, Barrow thought at first that he was imagining it. Maybe it was whatever they had injected him with. Immediately thereafter, though, a great deal of commotion started down the hallway. In less than a minute, people began walking past in rushed groups, obviously evacuating. When the second explosion rattled the walls of his prison, some people began to scream. The orderly evacuation turned into a chaotic escape, and even the guards stationed outside his cell left in a hurry, pointing at something Barrow couldn’t see.
“Shoot him! Shoot Blake!”
The garbled shout had come from every speaker at once. Blake? Was Rigel responsible for the explosion?
The adrenaline surge helped Barrow feel a little bit more awake, and he walked over to the door again. He pushed against it hard, but it didn’t budge. There was no handle on his side, and although the thing looked like glass, it was tough. Barrow kicked at it, punched it, and threw his entire weight at it by running and crashing into the door twice, but it didn’t so much as crack.
“Hey!” he yelled, pummeling the door with his fist. “Hey, let me out of here!”
He didn’t know what was happening, but the siren was still wailing at the top of its volume, and now the hallway was empty of people. Barrow craned his neck, trying to look to either side through the transparent door, but there was nothing in sight except for the warning flashes of red light from the emergency checkpoints on the ceiling.
“In here! Let me out!”
He was thinking—hoping—it had just been an earthquake. He held on to that thought for a good five more seconds, until a new smell started wafting in through the vents that led into his cell, and then he knew.
Smoke. The building was on fire.
Barrow backed away from the vents violently, bumping into the bunk and nearly tripping himself.
No. This can’t be happening.
But he could see it now, too, black smoke beginning to make its way into the hallway, drifting up to the ceiling in lazy swirls that kept on growing. The smell of burning things became stronger, and with it came memories. Things he could not stand.
Barrow gripped the melted key he wore around his neck until the metal dug into his palm. Was that the crackling of the flames he could hear? Should he be getting down, crawling on the floor to avoid the worst of the smoke?
He needed to get out. He needed to break open that door somehow and make a run for it; he knew that. When the guards had left their station, they would not have had time to tell anybody else that Barrow was still trapped there, and he would be left behind in the fire, forgotten.
He could not move. More memories were crowding into his mind now. He remembered the screams of his mother and sister. He remembered heat and smoke thicker than this, a crashing ceiling….
The door was right there, but he couldn’t make himself reach it. What if it was bulletproof glass? What if no matter what he did, he could not make it out? What if the flames were coming closer—
“Steve!” someone yelled at the top of his lungs. There was the sound of running footsteps nearby, and then the shout again. “Steve!”
It was Rigel, pelting down the hall and shouting. Barrow saw him dash past as he looked wildly around the many doors, but the cry in Barrow’s throat did not manage to leave it, and he couldn’t call out. An instant later Rigel was gone.
There was silence for a minute or so. Barrow knew he wasn’t imagining it anymore. The crackling sound of something burning nearby was unmistakable. He coughed from the smoke and the acrid smell that was stinging his throat. Slowly, ever so slowly, he moved his foot forward. It was like some kind of nightmare where he couldn’t move despite knowing that he had to, and it wasn’t the sedative making his legs unresponsive. Barrow had never experienced terror like this. He had avoided fires since that day, had told himself he was over it, that the dreams meant nothing.