Great White Throne (4 page)

I FELT HELPLESS as Don led me away from Naomi. She was on her own, in pain. “Don’t you want to be there when your son is born?” I asked.

“No.” Don kept his eyes ahead and didn’t slow.
 

“But it’s your child.”

“Not completely, not yet. He has some of my enhancements. He will be ready to receive my spirit. Until I give him that, others can handle the birth.”
 

I shook my head, failing to understand. “If the boy matters so much to you, how could you miss this? At least let me join them. Naomi needs me.”

“You overestimate your importance.”

Robots lined the walls beside us like sentries. Knowing, watching lights blinked in their eyes. Once or twice, I thought I glimpsed swirls of black forms sweeping past, like steam rising off the metallic creatures. There was nowhere to run. I started to break out in a clammy sweat.

“Metal and spirit.” Don eyed the line of machines to his left. “These are my finest creations.” He turned and motioned to my body with a look of contempt. “I never liked these human forms. Why would I care to watch one of their disgusting entrances on earth? Puny and wrinkled. Haven’t you ever wondered why my enemy made you start so weak?”

I didn’t have a good answer. I wiped beads of sweat from my forehead. We turned a corner. More robots, more shadows.
 

“Oh, bodies are capable of great fun,” Don continued. “I love meddling with their desires and pains, their chemicals and libidos. But otherwise this flesh is too … too animal. He afflicted you poor creatures with such a flawed container.”

“We can’t exist without our bodies.”

“Ha!” Don laughed. “You of all people know better. Maybe you can’t exist without a body on this earth, but your soul still exists when the body dies. I’m offering humanity something my enemy never would, if he even could. He would make your soul subject to him. I’ll allow
you
to control your soul’s eternity.”

His words didn’t make sense, but were terrifying all the same. At least he was talking, maybe revealing hints. I tried for more. “Aren’t we always subject to something? What about our bodies’ needs?”

“Not in Babylon. There your desires have free reign, and they pass to your clone when your current body dies.”

“I don’t have a clone.”

“So you think.” Don smiled, keeping up his steady pace. “We’ll let the androids do the work of keeping bodies alive. I’ll put an end to the enemy’s business of new souls. My son will be the last human born on earth.”

My jaw clenched.
He’s a cold-blooded killer.
 

Don stopped in front of a door. He held his arms out wide and shrugged. “What’s the point of your life? My enemy wants to control your purpose. I’ll free you to have whatever you want.”

It had to be a lie. I breathed in, out, seeking calm. “But only in a world you created.”

“Exactly!” He draped his arm over my shoulder. “My world and our world, Eli.” He turned with me to face the door, which slid open soundlessly. He pressed his hand to my back and urged me forward. “Go ahead, see what I offer.”

I stepped inside and lost my breath. The room was like my own room in New York, only better. It had the same layout. My blanket and sheets were on the bed. The shelves held my trophies and other trinkets that were one of a kind. He’d moved my entire home.

“You took all this?” I stammered.

“I give you what you want. I hope you don’t mind the changes.”

The ceilings were twice as high as those in New York, and four massive chandeliers of crystal and gold dipped low and bathed the room in golden light. The floors were a rich ancient wood. The windows must have been twenty feet high, on two sides of the room.
 

I rubbed my temples, as if trying to confirm this was real, that I wasn’t somehow in Babylon.
 

“How?” I asked.

“Mr. Cristo visited one week ago,” said a familiar voice behind me. I turned, my mouth falling open. It looked just like my family’s butler, in his same tuxedo and cloak of calm. “He told me how you wouldn’t be returning to New York for a while, but that you would want your things.”

“Bruce?”

He nodded. “Good to see you, Master Goldsmith.”

“Why are you here?” I peered into his eyes. Was he a robot? A clone? He looked fine, exactly as I remembered him.

“Mr. Cristo invited me,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Of course, I wouldn’t have left my duties, but he assured me you would come here.” He paused. “Is this acceptable to you?”

“No—I mean, I guess so.”

“You look tired, Master Goldsmith.” Bruce gave me his knowing look. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“He’s had a long day,” Don said. “Why don’t you get some rest, Eli? I’ll send for you once the baby is born.”

“Okay.” I was his prisoner, but at least I’d get a moment away from him.

He walked out and didn’t look back.
 

After I was sure he was gone, I stepped warily into the room. Two familiar chairs were by a window. Before, they’d been in the parlor in New York. I’d sat in one of them for a week, mourning my father’s death. It seemed like an appropriate place to sit again.

I sat down and gazed outside over rocky hills. I preferred the view over Central Park. I closed my eyes, trying to collect myself. I wanted more than anything to be with Naomi.

“Sorry to disturb you,” Bruce said. “Are you hungry, thirsty?”
 

I opened my eyes and shook my head. “This is all hard to believe.”

“I agree, Master Goldsmith. Mr. Cristo’s generosity knows no bounds.”

“Generosity?”

Bruce glanced down at the chair beside mine. “May I?”

“Yes, please, of course.”

He sat and folded his hands elegantly in his lap. His warm brown eyes showed great energy despite his age. “The last I heard from you,” he began, “you were in Geneva. I watched the events there. I voted for Mr. Cristo, of course.”

“I was there.”

“At
the
United Nations’ headquarters?”

I nodded.

“What an honor! But—” His brow lowered. “Those radical Muslims ruined it. Thank goodness for Mr. Cristo’s drones defending the city. Otherwise who knows how many people might have died from their attack. The news says the Mahdi is still alive.”
 

“I know.”

He studied me curiously. “How did you get out of Geneva? Why didn’t you come home? It has been so very empty.”

“I’d rather not talk about it. Not here.”

Bruce bowed his head. “Of course. My apologies, Master Goldsmith. Would you like me to go now?”

“No, it’s fine … you were going to tell me why Mr. Cristo has been generous.”

“Yes, yes. He visited New York yesterday. You can imagine my surprise when he arrived at our door. He told me you were going to be staying with him for a time. He said you were going to carry on your father’s work.”

“And what work is that?”

“Mr. Cristo didn’t explain. But surely it relates to the UN’s financing. This war is going to cost the world dearly.”

“War?”

“I see you have been disconnected.” An odd eagerness flickered in Bruce’s eyes. “After the Mahdi led the attack in Geneva, Mr. Cristo invited the people to vote again. I was in Babylon at the time, but he reached me there. It was an easy choice. The Mahdi and his people must be eliminated if Mr. Cristo’s vision is to succeed. His drones will first—”

“Wait. You were in Babylon?”

“Of course, Master Goldsmith. Why wouldn’t I be? There has been very little to do with you gone. It is such a beautiful place. I’ve never felt so … carefree.”

“But you’re not in Babylon now.”

“Obviously.” He smiled. “When Mr. Cristo came and told me you’d be here, I had to help coordinate the move. The androids did the work, of course, and they’ll be serving you here. I just couldn’t miss a chance to see you again. You’re the only family I have left,” he sighed, “unless I’m in Babylon, that is. I guess I wanted to say goodbye.”
 

“Don’t go back there, Bruce.”

He laughed, glancing down at his body. “Why would I stay in this old body when I can have my young, strong body back? No, Mr. Cristo is right, he has created a much better way for us.”

“It’s all an illusion. A lie.”

“I’m sorry, Master Goldsmith, but I can’t agree with that. I’ve been there. It’s as true as anything I’ve ever seen. Mr. Cristo will take care of us.”

“
Mr. Cristo
is the devil.”

Bruce lurched to his feet. “You can’t mean that!”
 

“I know it.” I rose and met his hard stare. “I’ve seen him for what he really is.”
 

“Is this about your visions?” he said accusingly. “Your father warned me about those. Have you been taking your medicine?”

My fists started shaking. “What did my father say?”

“He said you were crazy, like your mother.”

“And you?” I asked through gritted teeth.

“I think your father was a wise man.”
 

“Don manipulated him.”

“And who manipulated you, Eli?”
 

I had no answer. He never called me Eli.

“Your mother?” he asked, his voice wavering like my friend Charles’s had months ago. “The woman whose tumor gave her visions? The diseased seer?”

I fought against the urge to shove the man. “Get out.”
 

“What’s wrong, Eli?” He was smirking as he stepped back. Only then did I notice the thread of darkness snaking up his legs.
 

God help him
, I prayed. “What happened to you?”

“I did what I could to help you.”
 

The shadow twisting around him pulsed.
Listen to me
, it whispered, and I replied,
No, no, no!

“Are you okay?” Bruce asked.

“No!” I shouted.
In the name of Jesus Christ, leave him!
The shadow froze, as if sensing my unspoken words. The darkness faded and was gone. He suddenly looked older. “Bruce?”
 

“This is goodbye.” His voice was sad, more like himself, as he backed away.

“Wait, don’t go. What happened?”
 

He stopped in the doorway. “I let Mr. Cristo’s machines clone me. I let him into my precept.” He shook his head. “I should’ve stayed in Babylon. Mr. Cristo is right. His world is pleasant. This world is pain.” He turned to go. “You’ll learn, Eli. You’ll learn.”

“Goodbye, Bruce.” But he was already gone.
 

AFTER BRUCE LEFT, I paced around every inch of the room. I studied the marble floor, the ornate rugs. No sign of shadow. Whatever had touched Bruce was gone. Everyone was gone. I was alone.

The things from home were no comfort. It was all too strange. I went back to the mourning chair. I began to pray. I didn’t know how or what to say, but my feelings raged. Fear. Anger. Loss.
Why would you allow this? Bruce was a good man. WHY?

I didn’t hear anything. There was no dream, no vision, no hope. I was trapped. How could I be any use in the devil’s hands? Maybe it was just a matter of time before I’d have evil infecting me like it did Bruce.
 

No.
I threw the thought away. I prayed harder.