Limbo (The Last Humans Book 2) (6 page)

Grace looks like he slapped her. Her eyes glint with moisture.

Surprisingly, I feel bad for her. She must be so overwhelmed over getting into trouble with us. Also, seeing her upset makes me angrier, even if what Owen said isn’t exactly undeserved. I guess I just don’t like seeing anyone get bullied. I suppress my emotions, reminding myself that we’re a shout away from the Guards.

“How was your dinner, Slowen?” Liam asks, using a nickname for Owen that never caught on.

“You mean the stuff you left me?” Owen replies without hesitation. “It wasn’t so bad, compared to yours. Speaking of which, did you eat everything I left you, Theo, or did you guys have to split it?”

Without fully understanding what I’m doing, I get up.

Owen gives me an uncaring look and says, “Do you want to dance with me? You should wait till all this is over—”

“If you don’t shut the fuck up, your new nickname will be Swollen,” I say, my teeth grinding painfully in my effort to rein in my anger.

Liam gets up and stands behind me.

Grace gives me a horrified look.

Belatedly, I realize I said the F-word in front of her. My Quietude is a guarantee now, even if the Guards brought us here on benign business.

Owen looks ecstatic, as he also understands this fact.

Seething, I ball my hands into fists. He provoked me on purpose, on Birth Day of all days. Maybe I was wrong about him possessing a code.

The anticipation of losing all that Birth Day fun feeds my fury, and I step toward Owen. If I’m going to miss out on Birth Day anyway, I might as well get satisfaction of a different kind.

There’s a glimmer of fear in Owen’s eyes.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, and Liam says, “Dude, what the hell are you doing?”

I exhale.

He’s right.

Was I about to hit Owen?

What the hell is going on with me?

The door opens.

A helmeted head peeks out, and a female voice says, “Theo, please join us.”

I
unclench
my fists before the female Guard can see them. Taking a calming breath, I walk toward the door.

I can’t help but notice she’s the first Guard, and a rare Adult, to call me ‘Theo’ instead of ‘Theodore.’ Another oddity, albeit a smaller one.

“Sit there,” says the male Guard, nodding toward one of the Dean’s guest chairs.

He takes the Dean’s chair and the female Guard sits to the side, on another guest chair.

This little exchange sets a record for the longest conversation I’ve ever had with a Guard. Of course, I don’t mention that, knowing full well that speaking will likely get me into more trouble.

“I need you to do as I tell you,” says the male Guard, his voice icy. “If you do, you’ll be out of here quickly.”

“Please,” the female Guard adds in a softer tone. “I can imagine how much you want to get back to Birth Day.”

It might be my imagination, but did she turn her helmet toward her colleague in a show of disapproval? Why would she do that? Are they playing ‘good cop, bad cop,’ like in the ancient movies?

“I’ll do as you tell me,” I say as evenly as I can. Then, with a little bitterness, I add, “It’s not like I have a choice.”

“Good,” says the male Guard. “Put your hand to your chest.”

“Huh?” I look into his mirrored helmet, but all I see is the spherically distorted reflection of my own puzzled face.

“Like this,” the female guard says, placing her arm across her chest.

“Stop stalling,” the male voice says sternly.

I cautiously raise my hand to my chest, and the female Guard nods in approval.

“Say, ‘I consent to the Lens of Truth and swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth,’” the male Guard says.

“What?” I look from one Guard to the other.

The male Guard drums his fingers on the desk. “Do you
want
a Quietude?”

I vigorously shake my head.

“Then say, ‘I consent to the Lens of Truth.’”

“I consent to the Lens of Truth,” I say, but in a small act of defiance, I do my best to sound as unenthusiastic as I can.

“And swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth,” he prompts.

“And swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth,” I repeat robotically.

A peculiar sensation washes over me. It feels as though a phase of Oneness suddenly emerged inside my consciousness, except I feel incorporeal. During Oneness, I feel connected to imaginary, faraway galaxies and stars, but now, it’s as if I’m no longer inhabiting my body… as if I’m some kind of ancient spirit.

“State your name,” comes a voice.

From where I’m ‘floating,’ I can’t tell which Guard asked me the question. Then suddenly, back in my body, my mouth moves without my volition. It says, “Theodore.”

From my perch outside my body, I find it more than odd that my mouth can speak without me willing it. And why did it use such a formal version of my name?

“How old are you, Theodore?” a voice asks.

“I turned twenty-four today,” I say again without meaning to.

“Ask him something he would
want
to lie about,” a voice says. “Let’s make sure the compulsion really works.”

“Okay,” says what I have to assume is the other voice. “Bring up his neural scan.”

My mouth stays shut this time. They didn’t ask me a question.

“Have you done anything inappropriate today, Theodore?” a voice asks. “If not today, then how about yesterday?”

“I felt inappropriate sensations as I watched Grace do yoga,” my mouth says. I’m appalled. I want to jump back into my body and stop my stupid mouth from saying these things, but I can’t get back, no matter how much I yearn for control. As though to spite me, my mouth continues. “Additionally, I played a prank on Owen. We filled his room with Food bars.”
No
, I mentally scream at my mouth, but I can feel it isn’t done yet. Despite my titanic effort to silence it, my mouth opens and utters, “Finally, I used the F-word a few minutes ago.”

At least my mouth didn’t reveal that I nearly attacked Owen. I guess it doesn’t consider ‘nearly doing something’ as ‘actually doing something.’

The voices confer in hushed tones. All I hear is, “His neural activity is extremely bizarre, but the Lens is clearly working.”

“What happened to Mason, Theodore?” a voice asks. “Do you know who Mason is?”

“I don’t understand those two questions,” my mouth says. “Are you talking about the people who worked with stones? People from History Lecture? Or do you mean the secret society?”

“Did you make the Council Forget a meeting?” a voice asks.

“I don’t understand this question either,” my mouth says. “What council? What meeting?”

“Why is your neural scan so erratic?” a voice asks.

“I don’t know,” my mouth replies.

For what feels like an hour, the voice asks more of these meaningless questions. My mouth pretty much always answers, ‘No,’ interspersed with the occasional, ‘I don’t know.’

“Do you understand what has happened?” a voice finally asks.

“No,” my mouth says.

My consciousness rushes back into my body, and I instantly feel in control of my mouth and other faculties, except it’s too late. I already told them about the yoga incident and the prank, not to mention my use of vulgarity.

I’m screwed.

I look from one Guard to the other. Given their reflective helmets, it’s impossible to tell how upset or disappointed they are.

I look to the side.

There’s a large Screen with neural activity on display.

Given one of the questions I was asked, it doesn’t take a big leap to figure out that it’s my scan we’re looking at.

Examining my brain scans has been a sort of hobby of mine over the years. What I see here looks nothing like the scans I’ve seen before. The image sends a chill down my spine. Is all this abnormal activity a side effect of something they did to me?

The female Guard gets up, distracting me from my thoughts.

“Follow me,” she says, her voice oddly comforting.

She heads for the door, and I get up and follow, my feet dragging as though my shoes are filled with lead.

When I enter the waiting room, Liam, Grace, and Owen look at me questioningly. I give them a shrug and make my face into as confused an expression as I can. I don’t know what to tell them. Nothing that happened inside the Dean’s office makes sense. Of course, even if I had anything to say, it wouldn’t be safe to say it in front of the Guard.

The female Guard passes through the room, gestures for the door to open, and makes sure I exit ahead of her. She then joins me in the corridor and meticulously gestures to lock the door behind us, as though Liam and the others are crazy enough to run away under these circumstances.

Leading me down the long corridor, she brings me to a room I’ve never seen. Judging by its lofty size and a couple of comfortable couches in the middle, this is some kind of administrative lounge area.

“Stay here,” the female Guard says. “Once we’re done questioning the others, you can go back to the festivities. It shouldn’t take longer than an hour.”

As soon as she closes the door behind her, I begin to pace.

Nothing makes sense.

Why did she say I’d be going back to the festivities? I confessed to enough wrongdoings to be in Quietude for a long time. Why would they let that slide?

These thoughts bring me back to a deeper mystery: Why
did
I answer those questions without wanting to? And what was the purpose of those questions?

On a whim, as I circle the room, I make a door-opening gesture. I’m certain the Guard locked the door behind her, but it’s not like I have anything else to do.

To my shock, the door opens.

I step across the threshold, but the strangest thing happens.

Part of me—at least I think that’s what it is—says in a voice that’s not my own, “Don’t leave, Theo.”

This voice in my head is extremely weird for several reasons, not the least of which is that it sounds feminine.

“Sit on the couch,” the voice says. “You might feel disoriented as I restore your memory.”

I have no idea who the voice belongs to or what it’s trying to tell me, but sitting sounds like the best idea I’ve had in a long time. I walk over to a couch and sit down.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the door close.

A strange avalanche of sensations floods my head. I feel a horrible sense of vertigo and a sudden need to lie down.

As soon as my head touches the cushion, drowsiness overwhelms me.

I close my eyes, and my awareness goes away.

I
open my eyes
.

Did I just wake up?

Looking around the room, I find it too large to be the one Liam and I share.

Then it hits me: this is the Administrative building.

I remember what happened.

I remember
everything
that happened.

I also realize I’m no longer alone in the room.

A familiar pixie-haired woman is sitting next to me on the couch.

“Phoe,” I exclaim, sitting up. “I’m back.”

“Don’t talk out loud,” she says and gives me a worried smile.

I examine my memories.

As far as I can tell, they’re all back. Then again, I didn’t think I was missing any information a minute ago, when I was missing
everything.

I recall Phoe and everything that happened from the very first day she spoke to me. I remember Mason from when we were little kids to his demise. I also recall, in detail, what it felt like to
not
remember these things. It’s like that ‘on the tip of your tongue’ sensation. After you
do
recall the trivial detail that eluded your brain, you can’t believe you blanked on something so basic. Except in my case, this happened with hordes of important facts.

I also realize how much easier my life was when I didn’t remember these things. How much happier I was in my ignorance.

Phoe’s fears about my split identity weren’t exactly valid. Yes, a more innocent Theo existed for a time, but he isn’t dead. He’s part of me, the Theo who’s more complete but wishes he wasn’t. I internalize everything he experienced the way I imagine drunk ancients internalized all the crazy things they did while intoxicated.

“This really isn’t a good time to philosophize about the question of identity,” Phoe says in an urgent whisper and moves closer to me. “We need to talk, right after I do this.”

Before I understand what’s happening, her lips are on mine.

I return the kiss. Somehow, the physical closeness clears the remaining grogginess from my mind. I remember doing this with her, the day before yesterday. Only it feels different right now. More primal.

The kiss continues, and she moves closer to me on the couch. She’s so close that her soft chest brushes against my upper arm.

I feel a stirring.

It’s familiar.

It’s what happened yesterday when I was watching Grace, only this sensation is many times stronger.

Phoe pulls away, her eyes narrowed into slits.

“I still can’t believe
that
happened.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “I can’t believe you were lusting after Grace.”

“Phoe,” I think and stare into her eyes. “Are you actually jealous? You know I didn’t remember—”

“Bah.” Her lips twist. “Why should I be? After all, I’m literally a heartless AI. Why would you think it’s wrong to be attracted to someone else?”

“Phoe, I wasn’t myself.” I put my hand on hers, feeling the warmth of her skin. “More importantly, I don’t
want
Grace.” I think this with emphasis, doing my best not to blush at the extreme taboo of this topic. “If I did…” I inhale, unsure how to proceed. “If I decided to want anyone
in that way
, there’s no doubt in my mind it would be
you
.” As I subvocalize it, it occurs to me that this is how I really feel and that I was hiding this truth from myself.

Phoe looks uncertain, so I squeeze her hand and say mentally, “If you need my permission to scan my mind to prove I’m telling you the truth, go ahead.”

She gives me an unreadable look. Then, as suddenly as before, she kisses me, almost as though trying to catch me off-guard.

Not missing a beat, I kiss her back.

As we explore each other’s mouths, the kiss becomes an outlet for something else. Nervousness and tension leave my body, and a meditation-like trance comes over me as I focus on the way her lips affect me. My breathing becomes shallow, and I put my hand on her lower back, feeling the delicate curve of her spine.

“Look, Theo,” Phoe says, reluctantly pulling away. “I know I started this, but we really ought to stop. If they watch the recording of this room, they might wonder why you’re moving your lips and tongue like a crazy person. It’s an especially bad idea given that the neural scan they saw was a hot mess.”

Her words work as effectively as a cold shower.

“Did you open the door for me a moment ago?” I subvocalize, changing the subject. “And if so, why did you stop me from leaving?”

“No, I didn’t open that door.” She gives me a wide grin. “That was all you.”

“Me?” I subvocalize so loudly it almost comes out as a whisper. “But how? Did the female Guard—who must be Fiona—not lock it?”

“Yes, it is Fiona, and yes, she locked it all right. You just opened it anyway.”

“How? Only Adults can undo those types of locks.”

Phoe’s eyes are glowing. “And the Elderly.”

“Right,” I think. “What does that have to do with me?” A flash of insight hits me. “Wait a minute. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“When Birth Day started, I modified your age, like I told you I would.” She’s as excited as Liam after a prank. “As far as the back end of all the security systems in Oasis is concerned, you’re now ninety years old.”

I stare at her blankly. The implications are too far-reaching.

“I can open any door the Adults can?”

“Yes, and many, many more.” Phoe’s feet drum on the floor. “For example, the Adults can’t cross the boundary into the Elderly territory, but you can. You can pretty much go anywhere you want, as long as we overcome the minor problem of your youthful looks.”

“Yeah.” I chuckle nervously. “
That
itsy-bitsy problem.”

“I have an idea about that—a plan of sorts,” Phoe says. “If it works, you’ll be able to travel across Oasis without any issues. But before we talk about that, I have to show you something else, something way more urgent.” She looks distant for a fraction of a second. “Crap, they’re coming. We should continue this
after
they lead you out of here.”

“Lead me out?” I think and look at her with barely concealed hope. “Are they letting me go?”

Phoe looks at the door instead of answering.

The door opens.

A Guard is standing there.

“Theodore,” he says.

I get up.

I think this is Jeremiah, though his voice is hard to recognize through the helmet’s distortion. I can tell this isn’t Fiona, because the voice isn’t female and he’s taller than her.

“Follow me,” maybe-Jeremiah says and waves at me.

“He tried to soothe you again,” Phoe whispers as a voice in my head.

“I wish it worked,” I think, feeling my heart racing as I’m forced to walk swiftly to keep up with probably-Jeremiah’s angry gait.

“Looks like they won’t give me a Quietude despite all those things my mouth blabbed on about while I was under the Lens’s compulsion,” I think at Phoe.

“No,” Phoe replies. “They probably don’t care about such trivialities today. They’re focused on the investigation for the Envoy—the investigation I might ‘aid’ very soon. Also, they’ll likely make you Forget you ever saw them, which would make a Quietude odd, since you wouldn’t recall how you got into trouble.”

“Go,” the Guard says when we reach the outdoors. He waves toward the Birth Day celebrations in the distance. “Stay out of trouble.”

I immediately walk away, not needing to be told
this
twice.

Maybe-Jeremiah goes back into the building, presumably to get the others.

“Just as I thought,” Phoe says. “He tried to make you Forget everything that happened. Go somewhere private and do it quickly, unless you want to run into Liam, Grace, or Owen.”

I head for the nearest structure, which happens to be the cuboid Lectures building. Seeing it deserted might be interesting. This idea never came to me on prior Birth Days because there’s always too much other fun stuff to do.

Phoe is silent until I enter the building, walk into a Lectures Hall, and sit.

“Okay,” she says and brings up one of the giant Screens that Instructors sometimes use to put their notes on. “This is that urgent bit of information I mentioned earlier. Just don’t panic.”

I bet the words ‘don’t panic’ are among the most ominous phrases ever uttered, on par with ‘oh no’ and ‘this will only hurt a bit.’

On the Screen, I see the Dean’s room, only it’s just Jeremiah and Fiona there now.

“He’s just a Youth,” Fiona says forcefully. “Despite all the technology in the world, they sometimes have hormonal imbalances. You know what those things can do. Isn’t it why they’re kept separate? As a Youth, I once got my period despite all the preventative measures. My neural scan prior to that was—”

“Stop.” Jeremiah’s white-gloved hand covers his helmeted head as though he’s dodging a thrown object. “Are you trying to make me vomit?”

“It’s just biology,” Fiona says, but Jeremiah raises his hand, palm out, to stop her from speaking.

“I’m not aware of any natural reason his neural scan would look like
that
,” he says, lowering his hand. “He’s a male, so your disgusting little story doesn’t apply. However, I
have
seen scans of Youths and Adults who were deemed insane, and though his is slightly different from those, it’s similar enough that I still insist he be Forgotten, for the good of our society. He’s not violent yet, but that is where this usually leads.”

“Fine. We’ll talk to the Council, and together, we’ll decide.” She cracks her knuckles.

“I don’t see the point in wasting our time with bureaucracy. We have an investigation to conduct and—”

“Have you ever Forgotten someone without formally clearing it with the Council?” Fiona places her hands sharply on her hips. “Because you asking me this makes me wonder—”

“Of course not,” Jeremiah says, a little too quickly and defensively.

“Then I don’t understand the necessity of bypassing proper protocols this time either,” she says, her tone cold and formal.

“Like I said, the reason should be obvious, and time is of the essence,” Jeremiah says. “We learned nothing in regards to our ultimate goal, and instead of needless Council deliberation, as two senior members, surely we can—”

“My vote would be against Forgetting him,” Fiona says, raising her chin. “I will say so at the Council meeting, should we have one. If you want to save time, we can easily agree to dismiss this matter, as we don’t need the Council for that. Otherwise, the whole Council will have to weigh in.”

“Fine.” Jeremiah’s posture is tense. “Theodore can wait. Let’s gather the Instructors and Mason’s more distant acquaintances.”

“Sounds good.” Fiona squares her shoulders. “I’ll get Filomena and George to start. Meanwhile, you let the children go. They’ve missed enough of the festivities because of your impatience, and until and unless we bring his neural scan to the attention of the Council, ‘they’ also includes Theo.”

Jeremiah storms out of the room without saying another word.

The Screen goes blank.

“Shit,” I whisper to Phoe. “Do you think they’ll take it to the Council? And if they do, how do you think they’ll vote?”

“I don’t know,” Phoe says. “Which is why getting me more resources is a matter of priority. With more resources, I should be able to figure out a way to manipulate the Elderly without risking exposure to the Envoy.”

I recall her talking about an idea she had, something to do with a very dubious-sounding Test the Adults take before they become the Elderly. Only then, her excuse for having me take the Test was to help her figure out where we are in the cosmos.

“I’m not denying that knowing our current location in space and time is an important task,” Phoe says, pursing her lips. “But I’m insulted if you’re insinuating your wellbeing is less important to me in any way.”

I realize I hinted at something like that, which is unfair to Phoe. She has literally been a lifesaver. Also, even if she is being a little self-serving when it comes to regaining her mental capacity, how can I blame her, especially after I just experienced Forgetting so intimately? Unsure how to verbalize any of this, I change the subject. “You said you could ‘aid’ in their investigation,” I say. “Can you tell me about
that?
”

“Ah.” She gives me an impish grin. “Remember that Keeper archive?”

“Yes.”

“When Jeremiah showed it to Fiona, he also, without meaning to, led me right to it.” She summons a chair and sits down. “Now I can plant this little pearl in there for him to find.”

The Screen comes to life with a grainy image of a Council meeting.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the Council,” Fiona says in the recording. “Despite your vote, I urge you to reconsider.” Her eyes look sad. “You know I was against Theodore’s Forgetting.” She gives Jeremiah a seething look. “But this new turn of events—the
torture
of a Youth—”

“Questioning,” Jeremiah corrects. “Persuasive questioning.”

“Torture,” Fiona insists. “I find the very idea abhorrent. Why don’t you talk to the Envoy? There are other options when it comes to obtaining information. Perhaps the Lens of—”

“I will not bother the Envoy with this matter,” Jeremiah says, his eyes beaming wrath. “He would want me to present him with answers and results, not problems
for
him
to solve. You choose to ignore the fact that this Youth has resisted Punish, Forgetting, and a slew of other technologies. Why would the Lens of Truth be any different?”

“Because—”

Phoe waves her hand to pause the video, stopping Fiona mid-argument.

“Don’t worry,” Phoe says. “What you just saw is not
it.
Quite the opposite. I will delete this part of the recording so thoroughly, even
I
won’t be able to find an echo of it ever again. I kept it to show
you
, so you’ll understand the context of what’s about to follow in the portion of the video I plan to
use.”

“This recording is from two days ago, right?” I subvocalize. “It’s from that meeting you made them Forget?”

“Yes, it’s from that meeting,” Phoe says. “Fiona really was against them torturing you, as you saw. I recorded this because I wanted to know how they voted. Plus, I had some free time while you were in the IRES game. And now, my recording is about to pay big dividends.”