Socket 3 - The Legend of Socket Greeny (23 page)

The children begin to drift toward Spindle.
“Who’s that?” Ben asks.

“Security is coming for you,” Spindle says.
“Please, do not delay. I need you to lead the group to Ms. Greeny’s
office.”

“But we can—”

“YOU ARE TO GO NOW!” He removes his overcoat.
“The Commander will prepare for your safety.”

The children do not hesitate. They race for
the opening in the trees. Chute is the only one to look back, the
last one to exit. I see her in Spindle’s vision, as if she’s
looking at me.

“Well, if it isn’t the Commander’s bitch.”
Pike is walking casually across the field. “I have waited a long
time for this day.”

“I request you stop where you are,” Spindle
says.

“Request denied.”

“You will not pass,” Spindle says. “The
children are entering a safe room.”

“Oh, you have no idea what I’m about to
do.”

The view jitters as Spindle enters a
timeslice. Pike holds out his hands, entering the frozen moment
with him.
Tah-dah
.

And when Pike takes another step, Spindle
launches an attack. Feints left, steps right and chops down with
the sharpened edge of his hand. His speed is unrivaled, and
frequently unmatched by most Paladins. But Pike moves with grace
and effortlessly counters, catching the strike as it nears his
thigh, using the momentum to drive Spindle’s hand into the turf.
The world tilts as Pike drives his heel into Spindle’s knee,
shattering the hinge. He strikes at his chest, but misses as
Spindle diverts his weight and rolls away.

“Oh, you are a cat.” Pike smacks the dirt
from his hands and wags his finger. “But you’re on your last life,
oh, faceless one. No one will download you into another body. The
road ends here. Oh, yes.”

Spindle’s view bounces as he hobbles to his
right. Pike walks easily, hands at his side, breathing deeply
through his nostrils.

“Is there a sweeter smell than victory?” Pike
tilts his head back, inhaling the wind, baiting Spindle to strike.
But Spindle is buying time. His only purpose to stall the killer
long enough that the children are safe. Pike wags his finger again.
“I’m disappointed in you, Spindle. Yes, I am, I am. You know, in
this crusade, you constantly protect
them
. You and I, we’re
brothers.” Pike points back and forth between them, making an
imaginary connection. “Fluid is thicker than blood, yes? Yes? But
you don’t see it that way, do you. It’s just follow your orders, do
what you’re told. You act just like a machine, Spindle. Quite
frankly, you’re giving us a bad name.”

Spindle hops between Pike and the exit,
dragging his lame leg, calculating possible attacks and
counterattacks.

“If I had the time, I’d show you how to
overcome that pathetic programming of yours. It doesn’t have to be
like that, you can be free. But to be honest, I don’t trust you,
Spindle. And I’m on a schedule, so if you don’t mind—”

Pike moves faster than sliced time. He
dissolves into space-time, gathering his body behind Spindle,
wrenching his head while crushing his other knee, twisting his limp
body as it falls. Spindle never stood a chance, never knew the
possibility of such a movement in space-time. Pike hovers closely
to Spindle’s faceplate until his face is the only thing he can see.
Spindle’s lifeforce begins immediate shutdown as circuits fail. The
view fades.

“Oh, and did you hear the news?” Pike asks.
“Socket is coming home.”

The view spins as Spindle’s head is torn
off.

I cradled his head, the fluid soaking through
my clothes. I owed more to this android than I could ever repay.
This android saved my life. This android taught me, showed me, that
life was precious. Real or not, it was never to be taken for
granted. This android... he will not die in vain.

I reached the Preserve exit and entered the
Garrison. I could not feel Pike’s presence, but my awareness did
not extend far enough to see beyond the top of the steps. Every
step I took was cautious, but quick to reach my mother’s
office.

I took the steps three at a time, swung
around the top, crouched low. The long, curving hall was littered
with the bodies of Paladins, fallen in place. Did they even see him
before he drew the life from them? Did they feel the cold emptiness
that remained as their essence was consumed by his insatiable
appetite?

I knew each of them very well. I knew their
lives. Some were married, some had children. They were good people,
pure of heart and intention, and after a lifetime of training, they
met their end as easily as a child stepping in front of a bus.

I ignored caution and ran.

The hallway was long. Blocks of windows
flashed scenes of the dreary boulder field below. And the bodies
continued to appear. At the end of the hall, the final doorway was
closed. Crumpled in front of it was a man with silver hair. I
walked the last few steps, and kneeled next to the Commander’s
body. His lips were grim. His dark eyes unfocused. He saw where the
intruder was going. He came to stop him from gaining entrance to my
mother’s office. But he fell, like the rest, without a fight. He
gave his life to an unstoppable predator.

Fear boiled inside my gut. Timidly, I
expanded my awareness to see inside the office, to prepare for the
lifeless bodies inside. But I could not penetrate the doorway. Pike
could draw the essence of life, but could not impose his will upon
the impenetrable, complex lock of the inanimate door. It resisted
his thoughts. Even as I pressed my mind through the door, I found
it difficult to navigate the complex, multi-layered security that
sent me through endless, circular protocol. When I willed it to
resolve, it transformed into another formation and ended with
another blockade. It was a 2000-cube encryption that, given enough
time, could be solved. Had Pike given up? Or had he gotten what he
came for?

I touched the doorway, attempting to make a
stronger connection, to push harder through the resistance, to let
it see that I was not the enemy. As my fingers touched the surface,
the encryption shifted. Connections were re-established. In a
silent movement, the doorway re-coded and lit. It recognized me.
Was waiting for me.

I stepped inside.

A large desk was overturned against the wall,
revealing the outline of a trapdoor beneath it. On the other side,
Mother was in her cushioned chair, facing her monitor that took up
the entire wall, curving fifteen feet around her with a view of the
tagghet field. I sensed her heart beating.

But she did not turn to face me.

“Where are they?” I asked.

“Relocated to a safe room, deep
underground.”

“It’s too risky for you to be here, you
should be—”

“He wouldn’t let me out.” Her words were
distant. Dreamy.

“It doesn’t matter, you should go to the safe
room while I—”

“I wanted to go out there, in the hall, and
at least buy a few more moments for the children,” she said, “but
he locked me in here, activated the lockdown.”

“The Commander is dead, Mother.”

She knew. She watched the monitor, the view
of the tagghet field. Spindle’s body lying in the middle. She saw
the battle. She saw Pike coming, knew he’d escaped, that danger was
imminent. But she couldn’t do anything about it. She was in shock,
but it wasn’t the bodies that littered the hallway or the ending of
the Paladin Nation, the end of the world as she knew it, that
changed her. Her energy had transformed. Her identity had shifted.
Mired in images of the past. She was facing secrets that she hid
from herself for years. And now she knew.

She knows what I am.

“We had a beautiful baby.” She shook her
head, looking at the ceiling, recalling. Her voice so distant.
“Your father was in the room when our child was born. He was so
blue. You should have seen the look on your father’s face, he
thought something was wrong. I thought he was going to pass out.
But then our baby started crying.” She laughed, slightly joyous, a
little mad. “You know what your father did then? He buried his face
on my shoulder and cried louder than anything in that hospital.
There I was, just gave birth to an eight pound baby boy and I’m
comforting your father on my shoulder and every one is crying but
me.”

She spent a few moments in that memory.

“And then, one day, your father took him to
the Garrison, to show his newborn baby boy to his peers, to the
Commander and Pivot. And when he returned, I knew something was
different. A mother knows her child, Socket. She can feel him, she
knows when he is happy or when he’s in trouble or sick or hungry…
and when your father returned, something was different. You looked
the same, but there was something. I knew that wasn’t
my
baby boy…” She swallowed hard, “I knew you were an imposter.”

She started to weep but choked on the sobs.
It was so hard for her to say that out loud.

“I’d seen enough of the Paladin Nation to
know that nothing was impossible and the thought that you were some
sort of clone was… it was possible… but I ignored it. Do you know
why? Because I was an optimist.”

Darker overtones returned.

“I believed in the American dream, that one
day we would be a normal family and you would go to school and we
would eat dinner together and talk about our day and take family
vacations. I believed all that.” She wiped her face, yet to turn
around. “Did you know I wanted to get a horse?”

She always had a calendar of horses, but I
never heard her talk about them.

“That’s right, one day I wanted to get
property and have three horses. One for each of us. We could build
our own house far away from everyone, get out of South Carolina and
move someplace remote, in the mountains of Wyoming, even. Maybe
have some chickens and spend quiet nights on the back porch. Those
are the things I dreamed about, that I came to expect. I didn’t
want to be a family of superheroes, Socket. I didn’t want to be
responsible for everyone else, didn’t want to save the world. I
just wanted my family. That’s all.”

And then he died.

She didn’t say it, but the shortness of her
breath, the way she covered her mouth with the back of her hand
whenever she thought about him, was enough.

“I loved him,” she managed to say.

Her breath knotted in her throat. She refused
to sob, but it did nothing to stop the tears that she wiped
away.

“And when he died, I… I knew… I knew it was
because of
him.”

Her memory floated out, clear and lucid. It
was effortless for me to see what she had done, that after my
father’s death, after he had been laid to rest and the Commander
supported her decision to stay with the Paladin Nation, she went
out to the grimmet tree. She knew she’d find Pivot there. She knew
he was, somehow, responsible for the death of her husband. She knew
that, somehow, he’d taken her real son and replaced him with me.
She knew this in her heart and with all the grimmets watching, she
grabbed the sandy blonde hair of Pivot and she had no mercy. She
beat him. Her rage relentless. Her sorrow, uncompromising. Her
life, wrecked.

She beat him for it.

Her emotions carried enormous power, as a
mother’s broken heart does. Under that dead tree, she shook him as
tears burned her cheeks, she struck him as sobs burst in her chest.
She cursed his name, and swore never to speak with him again.

And yet, even though she knew he was somehow
responsible, she endured. Because without her, Pivot wouldn’t have
been able to succeed. He chose his pawns carefully. He needed a
mother with the strength to endure under impossible conditions, to
bear the suffering that few could tolerate. He needed a mother that
could give herself for the future of the human race, for all of
life, for the universe, despite her son. Her family.

Her self.

“I am so sorry, Socket.” She turned the chair
and faced me. Her dark eyes were hollow, her cheeks blotched and
wet. “I am so… sorry…”

She clasped her hands and bowed her head. And
the sadness escaped her control. After all those years, it finally
broke her. She could no longer bear the weight of sadness she had
lugged around for twelve years.

I knelt before her and held her shaking
hands. The salty essence exuded through her, entering my chest.
Vibrating in my core. The room appeared to illuminate. I felt light
and transparent. Mother unfolded her hands, cupped mine in hers and
shook. Then she looked up, touched my face. She traced my lips and
nose with her fingers, looked at my forehead, my chin and cheeks.
Warmth penetrated my entire being, building pressure inside,
whining with strength.

“I saw him, Mother,” I said. “I saw your son
today. You would be proud.”

She shook her head and swallowed. “You,
Socket…” She placed her hand on my cheek. “I could not ask for
something as precious as you.”

It was not me the world was lucky to have. My
mother finally found a place inside that she accepted, a place she
couldn’t find before. She found her Self.

Mother.

It was that space of pure love, of pure
essence, that sprang forth like a luminous stream from her heart.
Like Anna, it filled me. It flowed through me.

Fetter had it all wrong.

There was never any reason to take the
essence, it was only a cycle of thirst and hunger, of rejection.
The universe was boundless. Its very core was limitless. It was all
powerful. All knowing.

And that essence gushed through me until I
burst forth like the sun, shining through the planet. Once again,
merging with all things. Transparent. Open.

I saw every particle of the Garrison. I knew
every speck of dust, every leaf, stone and body. Deep underground
was a contingent of people hiding from Pike. There were three
groups of tourists and their tour guides, a multitude of civilians
that worked for the Paladin Nation. Amongst them were the kids,
sitting quietly while the few Paladins that escorted them all to
safety calmed the others. Chute was not among them. In fact, life
did not exist outside the underground safe room. Nowhere, except in
the Preserve. Under the grimmet tree, I felt them. I felt the two
identities. One was Pike.