Experiment With Destiny (22 page)

“What do you mean…?”

He didn’t get the chance to complete his question.

Shards of plastic exploded from the wall beside them as a bolt of white energy fizzed past his head.

“Get them!” came the shout from within the chamber.

Fergus spun to face the danger, his laser gun now throbbing with power as it charged up. A mutant emerged from the glow of the chamber, its armour a different class to that of those he’d already encountered. Fergus jabbed the trigger, aiming instinctively, and the blast caught the creature full in the face. He saw its shocked features implode before it fell to the floor and skidded briefly toward them, carried forward by momentum. Another took its place and he fired again, this time slicing through the armour and splitting open the mutant’s torso, spilling its foul guts across the floor. A third and then a fourth beast hurled themselves toward him…one at a time, so he had sufficient opportunity to aim and fire. Strange that, he mused, not entirely lost in the heat of the battle.

The skirmish was a blur of movement, heat and deafening sound…then it was all over.

Fergus waited, gun still poised, glancing over his shoulder to check she was still standing. In the frozen moments he considered the fallen bodies through the smoke of his weapon. Too easy…too quick…and he had felt too detached from the action – unsettled by what she’d said – and the usual thrill had been missed.

“Well done my hero!” She sauntered up behind him and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his face down to meet hers. He sensed the insincerity in her voice and in her movements…like a poor actor with a poor script. He pulled away from the kiss and broke free of her grip.

“Stop it!” he hissed. “There’s a problem here! It’s not happening the way it should…something went wrong…at the start…when it was loading…when I was…” She frowned, her youthful complexion wrinkling with puzzlement. He searched her eyes. “It just doesn’t feel right…you…this place…the fight…” He turned his back on her and marched into the heart of the chamber.

It was like something from the set of a cheap science fiction TV show. He raised the gun and fired randomly. Panels exploded and fell to the floor, blinking instrumentation crashed and splintered within puffs of smoke and the central illuminated column, from which the glow originated, topped to the floor with a dull thud. Fergus grimaced and fired again and again, until he was surrounded by smoke and the red glow had faded to a mere suggestion. Then he strode into the midst of the debris and began kicking at it with his heavy boots.

It cracked and splintered easily…like plywood props. There was nothing to it…this room of pretty lights and fake gadgets…a façade.

“It’s not real!” he screamed into the chaos. “It’s all a mockery!”

Suddenly he was running…they were running.

They were racing away from the chamber, along the tunnels of shadows and flickering lights. The façade forgotten, Fergus knew it was critical to get out…to get her out…before the fortress erupted. He knew, was certain, the damage he’d inflicted to the central controls had been enough. His mission was all but accomplished…if they made it to the other side!

He’d rescued the damsel in distress, killed the bad guys, destroyed the fortress and now came the final lap…the sprint to the finish…and he could hold her, sink himself into her warm, grateful body and climax…the money shot! In his mind’s eye he could see the digital countdown, timing him out as he made good their escape…second by second. He felt the rush of excitement and raw energy…the thrill of the race and the anticipation of reward.

He was vaguely aware of music…a soundtrack? Pounding sequenced bass lines wrapped themselves around the punching kick of synthesised drums…setting this scene alive with tension. They turned left, then right…blasts ripped through the floors and walls they had just passed. He could see a doorway up ahead…he summoned all his strength and, grabbing her by the hand, tugged her forward toward it. A golden light flooded through, piercing the darkness of the sinister fortress.

As they reached the opening, Fergus sensed movement in the shadows to one side. A mutant separated itself from the darkness and impaled itself against the light, blocking their escape. Without thinking, he lifted the gun and fired. The beam struck its target. There was a crackle of energy as blue and white light wrestled with the shape that eclipsed their goal…but instead of falling dead to the floor, the shape began to transform before their eyes.

Fergus and the maiden stumbled to a halt, appalled as the grotesque flesh and armour melted into blackness and the creatures savage features collapsed in on themselves. The light was almost entirely eclipsed…no more than a shimmering rim encircling the blackness and burning eyes they could now see in their path. Fergus felt the wind howling around them. The music, gone.

“Who are you?” he screamed in rage. The fortress was about to erupt in searing flame, seconds remained on the clock counting down. “Get out of our way!” He glanced back to see his maiden, his prize, captured like a photograph against the darkness of the tunnel…motionless and two-dimensional, her mouth open in a soundless scream, her eyes cold and lifeless. He looked away.

“What have you done to her?” he faced the entity blocking his escape, feeling the sinister chill of its presence…or maybe that was the howling wind? “What do you want with me?” He wondered if this was Uberoth…the man who had visited her cell and delivered his poem to her. “Who are you?” His frail voice echoed in the void like hollow laughter.

Suddenly, the world lit up with fire…the brightest, fiercest explosion of light he’d ever seen…yet silent. He saw the rubble and dust erupt around him, like some ancient choking volcano spewing its prison into the sky. The fortress was gone. She was gone.

Fergus was alone with the ghastly apparition.

“I am you,” it hissed like a scythe of ice. “You are me. Together…we control our destiny!” Its voice spiralled away into lifeless space.

“I am the transcendental mirror man!”

The sky tumbled and fell, ripped away to reveal blackness and stars…the very edge of the universe.

“I hold the image…I hold the sign.”

The twinkling lights faded. He saw the moon, dripping blood red against the velvet of eternal night…twin moons bleeding to death.

“I am the transcendental mirror man…let me write for you…”

The eyes, blood red eyes, the only light that remained, ensnared him.

“…a requiem!”

Fergus groaned. Everything shook.

He saw nothing more.

* * *

XII

FERGUS saw her in a dream. He could no longer be sure if he dreamed for real, or if the dream was part of the programme. She drifted toward him on the silent sea, her white dress billowing against the hidden deep that swelled beneath the waves. He had rescued her, and she had been beside him, running from the inferno. Now, she was out of reach…distant.

              “Do you want to end this game, user?” The coloured lights that suddenly appeared played with her golden hair. She was more beautiful than he remembered. Perhaps this was her true form…her real incarnation…but what was real?

             
“Why does your voice sound…hollow…computer generated?” he asked.

             
“You created me…surely you know?” Her face was expressionless, like her tone. “Now do you want to continue…or end the game?”

             
“I didn’t create you. You’re part of the programme…you…” You don’t exist, he thought, you’re the figment of some teenage nerdy computer geek’s over-sexed imagination. “What’s happened to you? You’re meant to be a princess…I was rescuing you…when…” He was struggling to stay within the narrative of the game, but it was too soon to end it now. He wanted his prize…

             
“You created me…and now you have destroyed me!” Her body whirled through the air, the lights melding into one and catching her feminine form, highlighting the rows of binary code that formed her thighs, her hips, her stomach and her breasts.

             
“I did nothing!” he insisted, reaching up to touch her. “I chose the option that would let me have you…make love to you…my prize for rescuing you! Ashera…” But she was vanishing, her digits unravelling into the air.

             
“No, user…you control the programme. You make the changes. I am only your fantasy.”

              He awoke among the scattered debris. It still smouldered, sending acrid trails of smoke skyward. Fergus was alone. There was no sign of the maiden, or the ghostly image in billowing white. He clutched a nearby block of stone and pulled himself to his feet. It was then he noticed his strange, or rather too familiar, apparel. In place of his body armour were jeans, trainers, a sweatshirt and long coat. There was a scarf around his neck. He’d seen these clothes before but couldn’t place where.

             
He stood amid the wreckage of the fortress and surveyed the charred landscape. Nothing living between him and the nearby forest that seemed untouched by flame. He was here for a reason, but he couldn’t remember what it was. There was a purpose…something he had to do…if only he could remember…

             
There was a woman. He remembered that.

             
She’d left him.

             
Perhaps she’d walked into the forest. He peered across at the distant wall of trees. Their ashen boughs were heavy with needles and cones and a wintry wind shook their tops against the bleak grey sky, but he could see no movement. Fergus sensed complete isolation; a backdrop of emptiness. Is it me…or is the land wounded? He asked himself. His feet began to shuffle against the charcoal floor and he began to make his way to the forest. If anything lived, it would be there. He needed answers. They were here…somewhere…maybe in his head? He’d fallen…had a bump to the skull?

             
He began to search his mind. It was a library of books, row-upon-row of dusty, leather-bound volumes with indecipherable writing in gold inlay on their covers. They contained the wisdom of generations…but how did he know that? He imagined himself reaching up to the top shelf of the nearest stand and lifting off the largest volume he could find, opening it in his hands. Perhaps this would give him a clue as to his purpose here…

             
The pages were blank.

             
He stood numbed by the shock of finding nothing but page after page of nothingness.

             
With a growing sense of urgency he reached for another, and then another, until he was pulling them randomly from the shelves. Every single volume, whatever size and thickness, contained empty white pages. He stopped.

             
In the stillness of the library, now the clattering of falling books had ceased, he could hear the rapping of wood against wood, a distant banging. He followed the sound, moving quickly between the heavily laden shelves, darting between the towers of vacuous tomes. At the back of his mind, behind the last row of bookshelves, he found a door. It was ajar…and banging raucously in the wind. He felt a growing sense of unease. If the door was open…who had opened it? Had it been left open when someone went out…or came in? Was there someone else inside the library with him? Or had someone else been there…and left? The possibilities began to fill him with alarm.

             
Fergus reached the door and pushed it open…half expecting to see the intruder waiting just beyond it.

             
But there was nothing.

             
A void.

             
A nameless colour he couldn’t recognise that stretched out forever.

             
No beginning and no end.

             
And as he stood on the precipice of eternity he could see something swirling around his head…a cascade of tiny black letters, words and sentences…millions upon millions of them…the writing that should have been on the pages of the books…

             
Fergus began to read them as they crawled like an army of ants through the void.

             
His words…his thoughts…the story of his entire life…slipping away.

              Fergus was at the edge of the forest. The library and the great void with its swirling thoughts had gone. How had he made it here? He had no recollection of walking the distance between the ruined fortress behind him and the wall of trees before him. Perhaps he’d gone into some kind of trance-like state? Maybe he’d been walking on autopilot while his mind explored the conceptual library searching for a reference point, some framework of logic? Was it a conceptual library, where his very existence drifted out through the back door, out of his control, or was that real? He remembered feeling alarm…a sense of horrible foreboding. It was still with him, clinging to him, feeding off him. He was in danger, but he could not tell why.

             
Fergus studied the trees.

             
He was following someone, wasn’t he?

             
A woman?

             
His thoughts were vague and oppressive, like dark, shifting clouds.

             
Yes…a woman.

             
Fergus tried to picture her but she remained out of reach. He sensed he’d been doing something vitally important…and it involved her…but now he couldn’t remember what that was. Perhaps she was in there…in the forest?

             
He walked into the shadows.

             
The leafy canopy swallowed him. In the half light he picked his way between scratching branches, dew-soaked webs and yellowing leaves and pine needles. Fir cones crunched beneath his feet and he could hear the trickling water of a nearby stream. He caught glimpses of incongruous images between the trunks and boughs – a tumble-down red brick cottage, overflowing with trails of ivy; a transparent vidi-phone kiosk, Perspex cracked and graffiti-sprayed; a pale white king-size bed, its silky sheets drawn back to reveal a collection of brittle branches and twigs. They all seemed familiar. Every time he saw something he would change direction and walk toward it, but would lose sight of it within the thickness of the foliage and it would be gone.

             
As he walked on, he could here the sound of the stream changing. Instead of the gentle trickle, it began to sound like the distant wash of waves rushing to greet the shore. Soon he could smell the salty breeze and taste the brine on his lips. The sea was close and he knew he must find it. The sea always had an answer. The sea always soothed him.

             
Daylight was waning as he finally approached the edge of the forest where the trees became smaller, sparser and the thick undergrowth broke and rolled lazily away to meet the first dunes of pale sand. The blue waters rumbled across to dash themselves against the beach and froth away to nothingness. The breeze was sharper here. Fergus gazed out toward the distant headland and the tiny fishing village nestled in its shadow, oil lamps starting to flicker against the encroaching night. He could hear the distant chime of the masts of the fishing boats berthed in the harbour, and the call of the gulls.

              “Beautiful, isn’t it? So peaceful.”

             
Fergus spun around. There, standing just a few feet away, was a man. How long had he been there? Or had he just arrived? Did he come through the forest? Had he been following? There was something strangely familiar…

             
“Who are you?” snapped Fergus.

             
The man simply smiled, then crouched down, turning his attention back to the ocean. “The sea always soothes the troubled soul. Do you remember how you used to look out across the sea and imagine what life was like on the other side? All those seaside holidays spent dreaming of setting sail like little Max in his boat and leaving all your boyhood cares and worries behind, finding a new and exciting life on distant exotic shores...where the wild things are.”

Fergus began puzzling about the man’s attire…jeans, sweatshirt, coat, scarf and trainers. The unease crept back like a tingle along his spine. “Finding out what’s on the other side of that big blue ocean…it’s never as exciting or exotic as you imagine…and it spoils the mystery, don’t you think? Much better to go on wondering, imagining, conjuring fantastic worlds of adventure that await…but never to be realised.” Fergus frowned, wondering how this stranger knew about Max and his boat, the wild things, the yearning. “Imagination is always much better than the truth. It’s what keeps us going…us humans…the misguided belief that there’s always something better to be found…so we keep on searching, keep on believing.”

Fergus followed his gaze and stared out to sea. “But if it isn’t real…what’s the point in continuing to believe? What’s the point in…setting sail?”

“Ah!” The man shrugged. “The paradox of life…the crossroads of existence. Welcome to enlightenment, my friend. The question is…acceptance…or denial? Awakening…or delusion? Which is it to be?”

Fergus felt irritated by him, like an itch he couldn’t scratch, though he could not understand why…other than he was spoiling this moment of hard-earned tranquillity. “So, basically, you’re telling me that life is fundamentally…fucked up…a big…steaming…pile of shit…and we can either…live with it…or…pretend otherwise.”

The man chuckled, then reached out and picked up a pebble. “Well…I wouldn’t have put it quite like that…or maybe, on reflection, I would.” He began turning the pebble over in his hand, studying the patterns on its water-polished surface. “It doesn’t really matter, either way.”

“If it’s the truth…no point beating about the bush!” Fergus wanted him to throw the pebble, skim it across the waves like his father, like he’d never been able to despite years of trying. “Might as well face facts.”

“Funny how we all talk in clichés, don’t you think? A common language…to give us a common understanding of our common reality…or unreality. Imagine…if we broke free from the confines of conformity…if we threw off the shackles of social order…what would we discover about ourselves?”

“You’re contradicting yourself now…” Fergus smirked. “You just said there is nothing to discover…there is no meaning…no purpose…no…destiny.”

“Contradiction…paradox…they are one and the same…the very lifeblood of the universe. All things possible…and impossible. God makes man in his own image…man makes God in his. We seek a destiny…our destiny is to seek. We awake to reality…we cease to exist.”

“You’re talking shit now!” Fergus snapped. “Who are you, anyway? What are you doing here?”

“You don’t recognise me then?” The man stopped toying with the pebble and stared intently at Fergus.

“No! Are you going to skim that thing or not?” Fergus was becoming agitated. He remembered a woman, an elusive woman, a mission…a task he’d forgotten, an open door that should be closed…thoughts escaping. “And anyway…Max came back!”

“What?”

“Max came back! He sailed across the sea to where the wild things are…and came back again! He realised he wanted to be with someone who really loved him. But how did you know about Max anyway? How did you…?” The man let the pebble fall to the sand. Fergus felt a wave of disappointment wash over him. “You should have skimmed it across the water!”

“I can’t!” The man stood. “I’ve never been able to…you know that!” He started walking toward Fergus with slow, measured steps. Fergus began backing away. “You want to know who I am? I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you who the fuck I am! I am Fergus McFae…a student at Cardiff University…son of Angus and Teresa McFae. Angus is on the board of Community Monorail Shuttles and he is one mean, wealthy bastard who’d sell his mother for a healthy return on his bottom line! Teresa is a brainless, insipid bimbo socialite who is known for her tireless fundraising for charity. She won a beauty contest when she was 18 but, thanks to the marvels of plastic surgery, looks nothing like she did back then. I am an only child but, despite that, neither my mother nor my father really love me. How can I be so sure? They fucking told me, that’s how! I was an accident…I wasn’t meant to happen…they see me as a burden…a nuisance…a distraction to their search for some kind of fulfilment in their fucked up lives. I don’t have a brother or a sister because they learned from their mistake and Teresa had her ovaries ripped out…Angus saw to that! Just over an hour ago I came home from my lecture, swallowed two capsules of a powerful hallucinogen called Dream Weaver and loaded a new VR fantasy role-play game into my state-of-the-art VR console, got into my VR suit and climbed into my VR tank.”