Experiment With Destiny (21 page)

             
Princess Ashera had not yet seen him. He studied her through the dripping black iron bars of the tiny hatch in the heavy wooden door to her dank cell. She was small, fragile and beautiful. Her delicate feet were bare against the filthy flagstones, her slender fingers pressed together in supplication to her red lips. The smoothness of her feminine shoulders and the swell of her breasts rose elegantly from the weathered material of her gown. She seemed to be crouching, hardly daring to touch either wall or floor. It was hardly surprising. The walls appeared to ooze with the same foul fluid that trickled down the bars through which he peered and the flagstones were scattered with the rotting debris of uneaten meals. She would be so glad to see him.

             
“Pssssst!” She looked up, her eyes startled in the half-light. Fergus smiled at her. “I’ve come to get you out of here!” he hissed through the narrow hatch, careful not to make contact with the bars. There was no discernible reaction. Princess Ashera was clearly in shock. Fergus sighed. “No time to waste. Keep well back from the door!”

             
He aimed the laser. It hissed and crackled as its bright beam burned along the narrow gap between the wall and the door, severing the bolts that secured it in place. When he was sure they had all been cut he reached out and tugged at the bars for all he was worth. It swung open with an archaic groan and yielded its captive. He held out his hands to her, expecting her to leap up and rush to greet her brave rescuer with all the passionate gratitude of her programming.

             
Instead, she remained cowed and crouched against the filth of her cell, staring up at him with no hint of welcome or relief. “Come! There’s not much time. We must go!” he urged, trying to suppress the irritation in his voice. Why was the programme behaving like this? Suddenly she smiled. Not a warm, reassuring smile, but the hollow twisted grin of an asylum inmate.

             
“I have a poem for you,” she spoke softly, matter-of-factly, her voice betraying nothing of the exotic faraway accent he had expected.

             
“Not now! There’s no time!” he insisted urgently and stepped toward her, reaching down and clasping her hand to pull her away from this foul prison. Fergus should stick to the format even if she did not!

             
“There’s always time. Time is merely the fabric of our world. It can be stretched and shrunk to suit. This poem is important, you must hear…”

             
At that moment the lanterns, mounted at long intervals along the corridor to the cell, flickered and died, the shadows in between them gobbling up the fragile light they offered. In the darkness he felt her hand slip from his grasp…felt himself tumbling backward into the corridor…heard the door groan again as it slammed firmly closed, the bolts he had just sheared clicking impossibly into place again. Then he sensed the chilling wind against his face. He was falling into a lightless abyss.

* * *

Our computerised children slumber,

No electric smile on their interface.

No laughter…no tears…no anger.

Their sun is cold and white,

White, as neutral as their dormant minds,

White, as the death of all we made.

Our forests are empty and silent.

A silence as lonely as the raped earth,

A silence has hollow as our childhood dreams.

Our streets and highways are safe…at last…

Obsolete as the poisoned skies our fathers breathed,

Obsolete as the poisoned seas our fathers sailed.

Everything lies broken.

Cobwebs of lifeless steel.

Catacombs of concrete.

Wheel within wheel.

A pyre of shattered dreams light the fall,

A shroud of endless silence covers all.

Imprisoned in our final cage,

White elephant has lost its rage.

             
The woman’s voice faded to the hush of the breeze. Fergus was lying on his king-size bed, his naked body dripping with sweat. His mother peered down at him, he remembered her face, contours of familiarity…though still hazy.

             
“Mum?” His voice sounded weak.

             
She smiled and stroked his brow, her bright red lips parted slowly and, after what seemed an age, he heard her voice.

             
“We found you in that thing…” she gestured toward the tank. “You were hyperventilating! We had to pull you out.” He caress soothed him. “It was frightening, Fergus, like you were living a nightmare…not playing a game. I’m sure that can’t be right…can’t be good for you…if it does that!”

             
He shook his head, feeling woozy. “No, mum. It wasn’t the game, or the tank. It was the drugs…I won’t do the drugs again with it, I swear! Freaked me right out!”

             
“Drugs!” She looked horrified. “Drugs?”

             
Fergus lifted his head from the pillow. It felt heavy, as though he was suffering with the giddy onset of flu. “I’m sorry mum! Don’t tell dad. Please!” He took her hand and squeezed it tightly. “I’ll never take them again. I’ve learned my lesson. Just don’t tell him! Please…I promise!”

             
She sighed and lifted her eyes. He followed her gaze, back across the room to the VR Tank. A frosty chill swept his body…there was something floating in its milky green liquid. “Mum!” His voice was trembling. “What is that? What have you…”

             
It moved, sending ripples across the surface of the tank. Fergus stared in horror. Whatever it was, it was alive. As he focused on the shape he began to discern its arms, legs and head. It was human…and it was naked. There was something horribly familiar about that body. As he felt panic rising in his chest, the recognition dawning, the figure began to thrash about wildly, waves of gloopy liquid splashing over the rim of the tank. The VR mask slipped away from its face and sank to the floor of the tank. It was struggling for oxygen…its face twisting and contorting in terror…his face…recognition. Fergus was drowning!

Fergus ripped off the VR Mask…or thought he did.

He was suddenly back in the prison cell with the princess. She leapt to her feet with glee, threw her arms around him and kissed him – as he’d originally anticipated the game to progress. As he tasted her lips and the sweetness of her warm breath, he searched the far reaches of his vision, the panic in his chest subsiding as he could see no sign of reality…his room…the VR Tank…his mother. Everything was pixellated cyberspace for as far as his eyes could see.

“Did you like my poem?” she asked, breaking her embrace.

“No…” he muttered, glancing around nervously. “…it didn’t fit.” The lanterns still offered their unsteady light, the heavy door was open again and the grubby floor intact. “What happened…to the lights…a moment ago?” He turned his head to face her.

“The lights?” she seemed puzzled.

“They went…did they…go out?”

“No.” She smiled. “No…my light has returned to me…to guide my path away from here!” She held out her hand. Fergus studied her long, elegant – if unwashed – fingers as they reached for his.

“Yes!” He nodded, more sure of himself again. “We’d better get going before we’re discovered! This way!”

He started to lead her out of the cell and back the way he’d come, but she resisted. Not another glitch, he thought.

“No! Not that way! Follow me! There’s a better path…”

He shrugged and followed her along the twisting corridors, trusting her sense of direction…or at least that her programmer had intended him to be led this way…all part of the game. His mind was racing as he ran behind her on autopilot. There were disturbing incongruities, never mind the interruptions. His mission was basic…simple…to escape, steal a stealth-fighter, locate the fortress – all of which he’d managed – then land, find the princess and rescue her…killing as many bad guys on the way in and out as he could manage to boost his score. He remembered crashing – not landing – the changed weather, the fishing village, the voices in the cave…the black spectre! They didn’t fit…like her poem…and falling through the floor back to reality…or something like reality. Perhaps the game programme was more complex than usual? Perhaps it had been created with multiple outcomes and, rather than simple save stages, these were junctions…like train tracks…that offered alternative routes and alternative endings? Perhaps her leading him was just one of many variations…

How long had he been playing, floating in his VR Tank, breathing through the mask? How long had he been under the spell of the Dream Weavers? It was impossible to tell. Time stretched beyond reckoning through the combination of the VR game and the chemical enhancement.

“Why did you have a poem for me?” Fergus asked as they reached a staircase and paused for breath. It felt a little odd that they had not encountered a single mutant since fleeing the cell…perhaps a game cheat short cut activated by agreeing for her to lead?

“The man who came to my cell earlier told me the poem,” she said matter-of-factly. He said I was to recite it to you when you came.” Fergus grabbed her arm.

“What man?” Her blue eyes seemed hurt by his accusatory tone. “Who told you the poem? How did he know I was coming?” He considered this might all be some kind of trick…she could be a decoy…not the real Princess Ashera!

She shook herself free and began climbing the stone steps. “I don’t know! He didn’t say who he was…but he wasn’t one of them…the mutants!”

“What did he look like?” He followed her, trying to rationalise this new twist in the game plot. Maybe the mutants were no more than pawns…a greater, darker power was at work here in the fortress! Uberoth…

“I don’t know…a man…a bit like you…but no armour…we’d better pick up the speed if we’re going to get out of here in time!”

‘In time?’ he thought. What did she mean? How could she know about the game’s time limit? Or was she talking about something else? He called after her, “What do you mean? In time? Did he say that to you as well?” She didn’t answer. Reality…or, rather, unreality was becoming unreliable.

They reached the level above and the staircase opened into a corridor much wider than any he had yet encountered in the fortress. Ahead, a strange crimson glow seemed to edge toward them like fog, swallowing up the flickering lanterns. Fergus sensed they were nearing a critical point in the game…perhaps he should now resume the lead?

As the blood red light became stronger he realised its source was not as natural as the timid flames of the lanterns that had guided them to this place. In the corner of his eye he noticed the texture of the floor and walls changing…the gothic flagstones and brickwork of the floor and walls now interspersed with large plastic panels, out of keeping with this fortress. The corridor opened into a chamber, from which the lurid glow emanated. Princess Ashera, if indeed it was her, stopped and turned to face him.

“Go on then, do your stuff, hero boy!” Fergus detected more than a hint of sarcasm in her tone…programmer humour?

“Don’t you think it’s strange that we haven’t encountered anything since we left your cell?” He cautiously stepped past her, his laser gun outstretched in defiance to any danger that may be lurking within the chamber. “I find that a bit…odd.”

“You scared?” she asked, folding her arms as though impatient for him to get this portion of the game completed.

“No!” he snapped. “It’s just…things aren’t working out like they are supposed to.”

“Life’s like that,” she chuckled. “Tell me about it! I didn’t exactly expect to be locked up in this shit-hole, waiting for you to breeze in like some fucking two-bit gun-slinging cowboy, watch you piss around slaying things in my name and then spread my legs for you in gratitude when the shootin’s done!”

Her words stung. Worse still, they were seriously undermining his enjoyment of the game, programmer humour or not. He turned his back on the danger ahead and lowered the laser pistol. She scowled at him.

“You’re supposed to be a princess! Princess Ashera! Princesses don’t talk like that! Cowboys don’t…”

“What makes you think I’m a princess?” she interrupted him. “You didn’t exactly introduce yourself when you came barging in on me back there, so I didn’t introduce myself either!”

“Look! I…” but Fergus was lost for words. Something seemed to stir in the chamber ahead of them. Having come this far without losing a life he decided he didn’t want to have to re-start or even re-spawn now. “Never mind.” He was about to turn back to face the danger but paused a moment longer, studying her pretty face. “So what is your name? Tell me…in case this all goes horribly wrong!” He smiled.

She held his gaze…then smiled back.

“That’s a first!” she exclaimed. “You’ve never asked my name before!”

He was puzzled…dimly aware of a distant noise, like an electronic bleep, coming from the light source. This ‘maiden’…or princess…had never featured in any of the games he’d previously played so there could be no residual memory of her in his VR-console…and this was the first time he’d played ‘Goginan’…