The Fourth Sage (The Circularity Saga) (18 page)

"Okay."

"Aries. Listen to me. You'll get the urge to take a breath and it'll feel like you'll pass out if you don't. Just don't. The rest is making it to the other side..."

There is a pause, during which he looks at her.

"I never had a daughter," he says. "Never thought of having children. But... when I saw you come in on your first day with your shiny hard hat and that small notepad in your hand, ready to write down your instructions, I knew... I knew... What I'm trying to say is, don't breathe in, okay?"

"I won't. I promise."

"Okay. Let's do this."

They both take a few breaths. Aries watches Ty and adjusts her breathing so it’s in line with his. Then he drops down and his head disappears underwater.

* * *

She didn't think it would be that dark. The residual light only illuminates a couple of feet before her. Aries sees the blurred outline of Ty's arm and head in front of her. He seems to gesture for her to follow. The swimming part isn't the problem. She gets the gist of it after the second time she pushes her arms downward. What she hadn't realized before she’d gone under was how much oxygen she would have… or wouldn't have.

After three strokes she reaches the bottom of the cylinder. The opening into the pipe is nothing more than a slightly darker circle within the darkness. She feels Ty's hand more than she sees it. He grabs her arm, pulls her toward him, and pushes her into the pipe. It's tight. Where she could see at least a dark outline of her surroundings before, there is now only blackness. Her back scrapes along the pipe, slowing her down. She can't move her arms too easily and she can feel Ty trying to push her forward.

To direct her mind toward something to focus on she tries to think of Born-of-Night, but her thoughts are too erratic. They jump from utter panic to listening to her pounding heart and trying not to imagine herself inside a pipe filled with water. And below that is the other thought, the one she won't allow to come near. It is the thought of what will happen if the hatch on the other side won't open. What if it's stuck, welded shut, or simply not there anymore?

Her lungs begin to revolt when they are halfway through the pipe. The lack of oxygen creates a powerful reflex to open her mouth and breathe in. But she can't. She won't. She promised Ty, promised to stay strong, to not give in. But all her thoughts begin to turn around their own axis as they are being pulled toward the strong vortex of panic that takes hold of her. At the end of the pipe, she simply runs out of time. The last thought she has, before her mouth opens and she swallows water, is of her lungs exploding, her heart stopping and her dying without ever taking another breath.

     
She doesn’t know that she’s out of the pipe, that Ty pushes her into the small holding tank, that his hand holds her arm and that he pulls her up to the small air pocket. She doesn't smell the staleness of it, doesn't see the hatch above their heads. She doesn't hear Ty calling her name when he sees she's not breathing. She's not aware of him pulling her out of the hatch and placing her gently on the floor of the small utility room. Neither does she feel his mouth on hers when he tries to revive her. She doesn't sense the rhythm of his hands as they push on her chest and she doesn't feel the warm tears that fall onto her face from his. She feels none of it.

Chapter 10 — In Between

"Will you spend your life with me—where the light turns to shadow,

where the children of twilight are born?"

[—
The Midlands
]

"I don't feel good."

"You'll be okay. It's just a fever."

"And I can't breathe."

"It's just a cold, sweetie. You'll be back on your feet in no time. No time at all."

"How do you know?

"I just know."

"But what if I'm going to die?"

"You're not going to die. I'll make sure of it."

"How?"

"Because I'm your mother. And I can do things others can't do. I'm very, very powerful."

"Can you make it go away?"

"Yes. It might take a couple of days, during which you can rest, and I'll be right here next to your bed. And you'll feel better in no time."

"You're going to be here?"

"I'm not going anywhere, sweetie."

"What about Daddy?"

"He'll be here too."

"I'm glad you're here."

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm not going anywhere. I'm not going anywhere... not going anywhere... going anywhere—"

"Mommy? Are you there? Mom? Mom, where are you—?"

The elevator cabin crashes into the ground. Aries's scream is swallowed up by the dust the impact generates. It enters her nose and mouth, clogs up her airways until she is unable to breathe. Why is it so dark?

"Mom?"

The thought echoes, dissipates, and then comes back, only to slip away again. Aries feels cold stone under her feet when she stands. Out of the darkness that surrounds her, a shape appears in the distance—a golden silhouette against the dark background; a triangle with a circle inside. A three-dimensional shape is centered within the circle. The geometrical form slowly comes closer. The shape in the center reminds her of something she can't grasp. Fan blades, maybe. Yes. Like the ones in the primary air duct, only not as rudimentary and utilitarian. The blades are translucent, as if made of finely woven strings of individual threads. She can't make out the material.

As it comes closer, Aries realizes that the shape doesn't move toward her but rather she walks toward it. The sand under her feet extends in all directions. The golden light the object emits illuminates the surrounding area. Two immense, curved pillars enclose the object from either side, leaving a large opening on top. The pillars seem to be part of the rock, as if chiseled out of an existing structure of granite. There are markings on its sides, hieroglyphs in a language she does not recognize.

The closer Aries comes, the more she realizes the object's massive proportions. It must be at least twenty stories high and as wide. And now she can see that the three-dimensional blades in its center are not made of any material but rather of thousands of individual strings of light. The blades begin to pulsate slightly, accompanied by a low humming. At first it sounds as if the humming is generated by human voices, but as it increases in volume Aries realizes that it’s generated by the object itself.

The blades in the center begin to rotate around their own axis, held by an invisible force within the circle. Then the circle itself begins to turn, slowly at first, but increasing in speed with each revolution. And then, the triangular shape on the outside begins to spin, its corners reaching far into the space.

The sheer power of it all causes Aries to stagger backward. The light inside the center increases with its speed, illuminating the ruins of what must have been a city, abandoned a long time ago. In the distance, far behind the object, large pillars reach up toward an invisible ceiling. The light of the fan blades forms intricate patterns that flow into each other. As the speed of the blades increases, the patterns slowly disappear, giving way to a single beam of white light.

The light engulfs Aries completely, blinding her to her surroundings. She opens her arms, welcomes it, floats in its embrace, feels her mind extend into it, surrendering to its pull. The humming sound dissipates until there is silence. She feels completely weightless, as if floating downward inside a high dome.

A cry cuts into the silence. Then another, and yet another.

Shhh, no. Don't disturb me now, she thinks. I'm floating. It's so... beautiful—

The cry is loud and piercing. Relentless. Demanding her attention. The pull from the light is so strong, she wants to give in, let it take her, carry her, envelop her.

Aries Free-Born,
a distant voice seems to say.
Come with me.

Leave me be,
she thinks.
Not now.

There is only now. Not later. Just now. There is no time. You must come with me.

Who are you?
she thinks, as she floats toward the light.

Or all is lost.

I just want to sleep.

But you can't! Please! Come with me.

She remembers something. A dark, circular shaft dropping into nothingness. The memory is being pushed away each time the pressure on her chest increases.

I don't want to. Please let me go!

Aries looks into the light, sees it for what it is, feels its gentle pull toward her, its welcoming radiance urging her to join it. For a split second she senses the weight of her choice. Then, slowly, she turns away from the light and toward the darkness behind her. The pressure in her chest increases suddenly. There's no air.

Stop it! I can't breathe if you do that!
she thinks. But the other, the one on the outside, doesn't react. The rhythmic pounding continues.

It hurts me!
she screams, even though no sound escapes her mouth. Something sharp pierces her back with each push.
Let me
go! she wants to say, but she can't speak.

The blurry outline above her moves rhythmically, its hands pushing into her chest. His face comes closer every once in a while. He says something that she can't hear. His lips form words. One word. A name. And then she hears it as it echoes in the small room she's in. The water in her stomach shoots out and for a moment she can't see anything. Then she is being pulled onto her side. Pain engulfs her. Her lungs scream inside her body. The man smiles and cries and laughs all at once. Then the breath comes and Aries Egan is back among the living.

* * *

//Pulled from Mainframe**S-0t9nn_nf44. Recording 1_49931_4887 1 A.R.C//

- How can this happen?

- We're not sure. Waiting for—

- How can this possibly happen?

- We don't have the full—

- Three units and two kill drones.

- Yes. I'm afraid so.

- Three units and two kill drones and you don't know where they are?

- That... seems to be the case.

- That seems to be the case? A fifteen-year-old girl and a seventy-one-year-old man and you let them slip through your fingers?

- My apologies.

- They were there and then... they were not there... anymore? That's what your report says.

- Yes.

- Find them. And activate the androids.

- Yes, sir.

- Find them now!

S-0t9nn_nf44. //End of Recording// 1 49931 4887 1 A.R.C

Chapter 11 — Samuel

"The children sing, the children sing, around the oaken tree

They jump and skip and leap, as free as free can be."

[—Unknown]

"You're okay. You're okay. You're gonna be fine, shhh."

Ty sits, his back against the wall, holding Aries's head. She is curled up next to him, and once in a while a shiver goes through her. Other than her soft weeping noises the room is quiet. After Ty had revived her and when Aries's body started shaking so violently he thought she’d had a seizure, he held down her shoulders and legs while repeating over and over again how terribly sorry he was for what he had done to her—that he should never have shown her the entrance, never put her in harm's way like that. He talked so much that Aries eventually lifted her arm and touched his face with her palm to make him stop.

"How long was I dead?"

Ty doesn't react at first, probably too deeply submerged in his own thoughts. Or maybe she spoke too quietly for him to hear.

"Ty, how long was I dead?"

"Two minutes, more or less. How do you feel?"

"Better. I think. As long as I don't have to go near water ever again."

"Deal."

"We should go."

"You need to rest."

"I can rest later." The thought of getting up and moving around seems utterly impossible at the moment. And yet, there is an urgency she feels, a presence within her that propels her to move, to push on, despite her wish to lay here.