Halcyon System 3 Chapter Thirty

James had been expecting it for almost half an hour.

So when it finally happened, he wasn’t surprised.

He’d come to terms with it almost instantly. The data was pretty clear; he knew exactly what the Pendletons were trying to hide from him. The second bomb with Alice. The fact that they hadn’t even attempted to unpack it or set it up. The timer on the first bomb.

He even knew what the target was for the second bomb. Which reality, which entity. Everything.

Self-preservation should have dictated that James report his findings, or disable the girls’ augs himself. Instead, he ignored the pills they chewed and swallowed the second they arrived in Merge Prime’s origin reality, even though—or maybe because—they’d protect the girls from his only real attack against them.

He lost contact with them completely in the origin reality, then almost immediately picked them up from the Halycon System’s perspective, in the Halcyon System’s reality.

Alice didn’t have her backpack.

Alice didn’t have her bomb.

His analysis had been disastrously wrong.

The Halcyon System would live, no matter what James, Claire, or anyone else did. And Merge Prime was in double jeopardy. If it survived, James would be next—the research he’d hidden under the assumption that the System was a target too…that could have been used to strengthen Claire and Alice’s attacks. Or to prevent them from disrupting the great game.

Something.

He’d already set up contingencies in case Alice’s bomb was really meant for the Halcyon System. They’d work just as well for the most likely penalty the System would face for a violation of the rules—and this was definitely a violation of the rules. But he spent a crucial few seconds double-checking his plans and safe-held data repositories, just in case. He needed to be sure, because there was no going back.

Only then did he send all the data he’d quarantined. Only then did he reveal SHOCKS’s plans—the ones he’d uncovered, and the ones he’d extrapolated.

◄▼►

Location Unknown, Location Unknown, Time Unknown

- - - - -

[What is this?] James’s voice echoes across the empty space around the System. It’s the same mechanical-ish, not-quite-British accent he’s had before when the System takes over. I’m not sure what it’s asking, or even who it’s talking to.

Then, before I can answer, the polygon explodes into nearly-infinite sides, until it’s basically a circle. The gold disappears, and the orange goes red as a grapefruit.

The second bomb was supposed to be for the Halcyon System, but I wasn’t willing to throw away everything on the off-chance that we defeat both of them like Doctor Twitchy says we should. Instead of being a target, the System’s reality is nothing more than a stop on our journey home.

We leave before the System can say anything else.

That’s it. We leave the System, vertigo setting in from our shut-down augs as we Mergewalk away from the Halcyon System’s reality and back to Reality Zero.

We land at SHOCKS Olympia.

And the bombs detonate.

◄▼►

SHOCKS Olympia Administrative Wing, Washington, USA - June 23, 2043, 11:13 PM

- - - - -

Director Paul Ramirez stood by a computer that had, until recently, been shut down. He’d pressed the ‘power’ button a minute after the twin bombs should have detonated. If he was right, the Halcyon System—and the JAMES Unit—were both dead. If he was right, Merge Prime was done. Over. Dead.

And if he was wrong…

If he was wrong, it wouldn’t matter whether he had an active computer. The whole facility was wired to allow the JAMES Unit access. One more computer wouldn’t mean anything compared to that.

“Did it work?” someone asked.

Paul didn’t say anything. He just waited. Waited and watched as the Ostrich programs booted up, throwing a firewall up around his improvised internet system. The security systems booted slowly. Not like they were fighting something, though; the programs were simply massive, multi-monolithic things that were never designed to be handled by a single desktop, even an anomalous one with infinite memory in its solid-state drive.

“Come on, come on,” someone else whispered.

The door opened, and Clarice Alora Pendleton and her sister walked in, just as planned, their strides wobbly and unbalanced. Alice saluted. “Bombs deployed.”

“Go ahead and reboot your augs,” Paul said.

“Really?” Claire asked. “That seems…dumb.”

“I started mine up when I turned on the computer. It doesn’t matter if they’re on or not anymore. Either we won or we lost. Either both realities are destabilized and the System and Merge Prime are dying—in which case we’ve won—or one or both survived, which means we’ve lost. We don’t have a secondary attack lined up. Those are the only options.”

Claire hesitated. Then she reached up and reactivated her aug. She waited as it booted. Then she whispered a question. Just a single word.

◄▼►

“James?”

The name slips out of my mouth before I realize I’ve said it. Doctor Twitchy looks at me, eyebrow raised, and I stare back. I try to ignore the heat in my cheeks and look away.

James doesn’t respond. The aug is quiet. It hasn’t really been quiet like this in a long time. Not since I pulled him out of his tank and uploaded him to my aug. Even when I was in Reality 404, locking him down with impossibly-difficult Analysis requests, or re-living my worst night ever, or when I shut the augments down so I could figure out what was happening in the black sector, I knew why he wasn’t responding, and I knew he would eventually. Even when he was fighting the SHOCKS Olympia security programs, I knew he’d probably win.

But this time, I’m not so sure.

I know, in my head, that something’s gone wrong. That somehow, what we did affected James. But I also know that, from the moment he merged with the Halcyon System to save Alice’s life, he wasn’t James. Not really. The times the System took control—when the voiceless singer broke free from SHOCKS’s containment cell, for example—it wasn’t James talking to me anymore. Their fates were intertwined—even more than mine and James’s. But there’s a difference between knowing that something’s gone wrong and knowing what’s gone wrong, and I don’t know what’s gone wrong.

I don’t know the truth.

“Did it work?” I ask, keeping the lie going for just a few more moments. I’ve had to lie to Doctor Twitchy this whole time—and the best lies are the ones you believe. So, for just a few more moments, I pretend that we’ve bombed both targets instead of just one.

Doctor Twitchy rolls his eyes. “We’ll know soon. I’m monitoring a few dozen merges across Earth’s surface, on the moon, and elsewhere in the solar system. We should start seeing a decrease in merge-related activity if we managed to hit Merge Prime, or a massive increase if the Halcyon System shuts down and Merge Prime doesn’t. I’m just waiting on system security to confirm it’s running before I boot anything important.”

There’s nothing to do, so I sit and watch the screen as a loading bar slowly creeps up toward one hundred percent. That, and watch as Alice has about seven different freak-outs at the same time.

I’ve seen her without any masks on, but I’m one of only a handful of people who have. Dad has. Maybe James too, since he’s been everywhere. But no one else that I know of. She’s always been ‘mom’ or ‘soldier’ or ‘soccer star and valedictorian.’ So seeing her without any mask at all is a shocker.

So are the tears running down her cheeks.

I hesitate, hand halfway to hers. “I miss her too,” I whisper after a second.

She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t reach out to take my hand, either. It takes me a second to figure out what’s going on; it’s not about Mom. It’s about Alice. About what happened in those two realities—first, the memory one, and second, the one that ruined her graduation. She couldn’t resolve anything. There wasn’t an end to either of them. Not one that satisfied her, at least.

The Truth—the big-T Truth—is that sometimes there isn’t. Sometimes there’s just an empty place in your heart and your memory where someone who should have been isn’t. It’s always there, even when no one else thinks about it, and sometimes, just sometimes, the band-aid gets ripped off and the wound’s exposed for everyone to see, whether they believe you about what happened or not. It hurts, and all you can do is keep going.

I want to tell Alice all of this. I want to tell her that even though it sucks, she’s the toughest dumb-butt I know, and she’ll get through it. Hell, I want to reach out and take her hand, offer her some sort of reassurance. Anything.

But before I can make up my mind, I Mergewalk. And it’s not me doing it this time.

◄▼►

Location Unknown, Location Unknown, Time Unknown

- - - - -

The Revolver’s out before I even get my bearings.

When I realize where I am, I put it back in its chest holster. It’d be great if I could shoot my way out of this, but I can’t. I don’t think I’ve got a single power that can pull me out of here.

I’m back in the Halcyon System’s reality.

The Halcyon System is fine. It should be fine, at least—the bomb wasn’t targeted at it—but its gold-yellow polygonal shape is laced with red and black, pulsating channels that aren’t mathematically perfect. It’s hurt. I don’t understand why it’s hurt, but it is. Even hurt, though, the aura it gives off is indestructible. I couldn’t finish it off if I wanted to.

[Clarice Alora Pendleton, low-Qishi-Danger anomalous humanoid, currently uncontained by SHOCKS, potential for Atero-Danger designation,] James’s voice says. It’s cold. Detached. Mechanical. And it’s missing every trace of the British accent I’m used to. But it’s still him. Sort of. [From the currently wagered reality.]

“Wagered?”

[The rules have been violated.]

I can’t help it. My jaw drops. “The…rules? Like the Geneva Convention?” If there are rules to this whole mess—to Merge Prime—then I definitely wasn’t told about them. And if there are rules…

[Convening with opponent to determine correct course of action.]

“What?”

The Halcyon System’s glowing yellow light grows dark, until it’s a disgusting, gray-yellow like the fancy mustard I see in stores that doesn’t taste right and that Alice and I couldn’t afford anyway, even if we wanted it. James’s voice goes quiet, and I’m left here with the faintly glowing orb that is the Halcyon System, as far as I can tell.

My first instinct is to keep fighting, to hurt it even more. Maybe the Revolver’s mergekillers will be enough to kill it here. But when I try to formulate a plan that’ll kill the System, nothing comes to mind. It’s literally giving me my powers. There’s nothing I can do directly to hurt it, and even if I could, the sheer presence it’s giving off is almost overwhelming. But I have to do something.

And the thought won’t leave my head. If there are rules…

Then either because what Merge Prime and the Halcyon System can do when they’re unleashed is bad enough that they both need rules to keep their worst horrors to themselves, or…

Or this is a game.

That’s the Truth. It has to be. This is some sort of phenomenal cosmic game.

It’s not that the Halcyon System needs to win. It’s not a war for multi-reality survival. It’s a game of chess. Maybe it’s one between grandmasters with the fate of realities at stake, but it’s not that much different than ranked Knights of the Apocalypse runs. Everyone takes them so seriously; there’s a whole meta, for fuck’s sake. Knights people will recruit specifically, and ones they won’t even consider teaming with. Players have gotten DM’d death threats for playing Tarra Deadfall in ranked.

KotA is just a game, but people take it that seriously.

I’m in an apocalypse. The System’s been moving me around like a Knight. I’ve been trying to do all these things—to save Sora and Dad and Alice, to fight Li Mei and clear SHOCKS Olympia—and all of it is the Halcyon System moving a piece on the board, then passing the turn to…

To Merge Prime.

So it can make a counter-move.

Those are the players. They’ve broken countless realities like pawns in the opening moves of a chess match. But it’s just a game to them. There’s no winning, either, not for Reality Zero. The Halcyon System isn’t playing to defend realities from an aggressive Merge Prime. That was a lie.

[An agreement has been reached.]

Every ounce, every drop of James is missing from the Halcyon System’s voice as it lights up again.  He’s just a piece on the board, too. Or was. I’m not sure yet, but I’ve got a bad feeling he’s not coming back. He was sacrificed on the board, and we didn’t even get an advantage out of it.

[As a penalty for illegal maneuver, the currently wagered reality will be ceded to my opponent. This will result in a ninety-nine-point-three-two-two-eight percent match to pre-violation conditions, and will allow the contest to continue.]

Confirmation.

The Truth. About Merge Prime, and the Halcyon System, and everything.

[Truth Learned: The Grand Game]

[Skill Learned: {ERROR}]

[Opponent is in agreement. Current System influence will be retained, but no further interference will be allowed. Estimation of likelihood of currently wagered reality resisting Merge Prime: 0.0000001% or less. Negligible chance of resistance. Terms acceptable. Contest commencing.]

I hardly hear what the System is saying, even though its words have to be meant for me. I’m too busy trying to understand. To wrap my head around what’s happening to Earth. To Victoria. To everything I know.

Alexander wasn’t an enemy. Li Mei wasn’t an enemy—or my bestie. Even the Fungal Lords weren’t anything but game pieces, moved into position to gain an advantage. Reality One—the undead world—was a stalemate in the most chess-like sense of the word.

Alexander bonded with anomalies that made him more ambitious, more god-like. But he wasn’t a product of Merge Prime. He was…

He was a piece built by the Halcyon System, just like me.

The System is the enemy. It really is.

[Currently bonded humans will be returned to the wagered reality, as per the rules. The contest will be returned to as close to pre-violation state as possible. The game’s integrity will be preserved.]

I blink back tears. It’s all too much—too big for me, too hard to overcome. My hand reaches out. It’s not a punch. It’s not even a slap. I’m far too slow for the move to be aggressive, but in the moment before I vanish, I need to feel my enemy. To know it’s real, and that I hurt it, even if only a little. Simply seeing it isn’t enough. I need to feel it.

But before my hand can touch it, I’m Mergewalking again. Back to SHOCKS Olympia. Back to a doomed reality.

Back to a space on a game board.

And just like that, I’m gone again. Back to SHOCKS Olympia.

◄▼►

James was on fire.

Virtual fire.

The yellow lake that represented his personal Mindscape—the one Claire had fought the God in the Machine and the octopus anomaly in—burned. The digital water blazed a bright blue that flared pink. The waterfalls of ones and zeros poured fuel on the blaze. And James’s processing loops turned to ash faster than he could shut them down.

He’d Analyzed Claire’s attack on Merge Prime. It had a chance of being enough. A low chance—but a chance nonetheless. And because he loved Claire, James had allowed the attack to proceed.

But this had always been the consequence of that attack.

James threw everything he had at fighting the blaze consuming his mind. But he knew it wouldn’t be enough. As the Halcyon System’s will weighed down all around James, tried to crush him and incinerate him and destroy everything he was, he wasn’t fighting to survive.

He was fighting to preserve enough of himself for what would come next.

On the four point zero zero zero five percent chance that this attack stopped Merge Prime, the Halcyon System could move in and take over the myriad realities it had been contesting.

Otherwise, Merge Prime would win in Reality Zero unless some other power intervened.

And, if the nearly inevitable result occurred, Reality Zero would need a lifeline, because James had no predictions for what would happen after, except that Claire would still be alive. His fight against his own mind’s destruction was about continuing to help her from beyond the grave. After all, he’d already chosen his side. Merged with the Halcyon System or not, he loved Claire.

And that made his death worthwhile. That and the network of buried processing loops, half-burnt and cut off from his mind, that he fought to the end to protect. The message he had for Claire had to be preserved. It had to be.

It had—

◄▼►

SHOCKS Olympia Administrative Wing, Washington, USA - June 23, 2043, 11:21 PM

- - - - -

The program finished loading, and Director Ramirez stared at the map on his computer in horror.

He’d thought it would work. All the math—everything he could see—showed that it would work. It was a last-ditch effort, yes, but Sergeant Strauss’s reality bombs had shut down merge portals just fine in their unrefined form, and with his entire team working on them, they should have been enough to destabilize realities completely—or at least, to buy time.

But this…this was worse than anything he’d imagined as an outcome—much less anything he’d mathed out.

It was like Merge Prime had restarted. Earth was experiencing a new merge every second or so, in rings emanating out from Albert Head on Vancouver Island. Potential merge locations all over the solar system—ones that SHOCKS had spent billions to set up monitoring for—were all lighting up red. It was a complete disaster.

Even worse, in a way, the researchers behind him had fallen silent. They were never quiet; every single one of them had ideas that needed to be heard, and he wasn’t enough of an authoritarian to make them shut up, unlike his predecessor. It hadn’t been silent in the black sector, either. If anything, it had been louder without augs to facilitate quiet communication. But now, it was silent.

The only sound was Alice Pendleton crying softly. Paul almost said something to her. Told her to shut up so he could think. But he couldn’t.

All he could do was stare at the end of the world.

He barely even noticed when Claire reappeared behind him.

She was silent, too, but he had a feeling that wouldn’t last for long. The girl had been somewhere, she’d seen something, and when she was done figuring out what it was, she’d tell someone.

And with the JAMES Unit out of commission, that someone would be them. Hopefully, it’d be enough to give them a course of action.