To the Last Syllable of Recorded Time - Part XI

To the Last Syllable of Recorded Time - Part XI

     Niko woke from a fitful sleep to the greenish light of the predawn sky, which filtered through the curtains along with the intense scent of flowers after dew. The morning air was crisp, awakening all senses; in this charmed moment, suspended as it was between night and day, it was hard to believe that this world, her whole life, was only the creation of a malfunctioning alien artifact. And that it was about to be destroyed by the same power that had created it, leaving no trace behind.
     If she didn't manage to do something about it.
     Niko had no illusions that the Circle would allow the artifact to be used -- especially if she was the one to ask it of them. She, the strange human child that continually reminded them of their failure, had been a nuisance to them ever since Ariel had taken her under her wing. She didn't expect them to believe her now, not when it was so easy to continue believing in their safe view of the world instead, until it was too late.
     Her consequent decision after Ariel's revelations, the only useful result of an otherwise disastrous night, didn't leave room for animosity, petty or otherwise. It just left her feeling numb inside, as if her capability for emotion had been erased.
     She didn't feel guilty, not even ridiculous, as she left the house barefooted and silent, the greenish grey of her cloak rendering her almost invisible in the misty light of an oncoming dawn.

     There were no guards. The ancient labyrinth was devoid of life, as it had been for hundreds of years. And somewhere in the tangle of corridors and mind traps the artifact was waiting, as were hundreds of illusions with the same appearance. It was a good place to hide something one didn't want to find again -- Niko doubted that the Circle had expected to enter these caves again after they had buried the alien portal behind the equally alien illusion traps that went all the way back to the time of the sorcerers.
     She wondered how mad she was for expecting to make it to the artifact alive, were it not for the beckoning, insistent voices in her mind, the illusions that now intruded upon her thoughts even in the bright light of day. They had started to overlay each other, indicating that the alien device wouldn't be able to handle many more before irreparably damaging the space-time frame in which the competing timelines were grounded.
     The voices faded in and out of temporal focus, drowning out the flat sound of her steps on the quartz floor and jerking her back to the reality of her surroundings. The fine dust covering the translucent azure floor was old, the silence complete except for the insistent droning in her mind. And the traps had to be nearby, soulless entites waiting for prey. Nevertheless she went on, taking step after halting step, all senses alert, nerves stretched to the point of snapping.
     Blurry and distorted, her reflection stared back at her from the smooth surfaces of walls and floor, reminding her that her mind could be equally distorted, equally unstable. Who was she to decide the fate of civilizations on the basis of mere dreams? Was she seeing reality through the mirror of her own distorted thinking, or was she the only stable element in a world gone mad?
     "You are mad, you know." Dazed but strangely accepting that the corridor was no longer empty, Niko raised her bent head to the icy blue eyes that watched her with such detachment. Zach. Dressed in atypical, austere black, his stark beauty suddenly apparent in a way she hadn't been aware of before... She felt her fingers clench and unclench, the pull of him as she stepped gradually closer.
     His eyes sparked, hypnotizingly blue; had they been so beautiful -- or so cold -- before? She couldn't remember, which was strange, because she rembered all sorts of things these days, and not all of the memories were hers, the eyes through which she glanced not always hers. Nothing was truly hers anymore, not her life, not her mind... why should her reason be?
     "Indeed." Did his lips move, or was the cool whisper of his voice only in her thoughts? She couldn't tell. "Face it, Niko -- it is you against the world, and you foolishly assumed the world was wrong." He smiled humorlessly at her, his huge frame oppressively close. She felt small and insignificant again, a frail, anxious child, confronted for the first time with the overwhelming voice of REASON. Even tattooed upon his forehead, that one word couldn't have screamed louder than his stance did, and she wouldn't have felt more foolish.
     A small voice in the back of her mind whispered of illusion traps, of composure, of years of schooling for battles that took place with one's own self rather than more palpable enemies.
     But another voice said, calmly "You're hallucinating. Is there a better proof that your mind is defective, in need of guidance?" His voice was deep, mesmerizing, tantalizing. Why had she never noticed before? He was so attractive, a tower of strength amidst the dusty beauty of millenia. And he was close and powerful, ready to envelop her in security, warmth.
     Silence.
     She bit her lip, clamping down on confusion and shame. "Why? Why do you make the voices stop? Why do you make the pain in my head go away?"
     He smiled again, this time indulgently. "You want the pain to go away," he whispered. "You are a creature of impulse, Niko, and yet you long for order. You are unstable and frail and Ariel couldn't do much about that -- that is why your mind snapped in the end. But now --", he stroked her hair gently, protectively. "now I am here. I am your anchor, I am the reason you've lost. I'll protect you. And you want me, don't you?"
     Her lips trembled. She trembled under the ice of his gaze, the heat of his palm on her cheek. She didn't, not really --
     "Don't lie to me." A command, in that stern tone that made it impossible not to comply.
     Did she? Gods, he made her knees weak only by standing there, big and sure and just a little bit put out with her. He was in command, and she wanted to trust him, this man she'd never even met. The man she knew only from another life, from fractured dreams. She wanted him to touch her, and she wanted to touch that cold marble perfection of his in return, see if she could warm him, soften him. The heat unfurling in her stomach told her she longed for seductive stability, for simple answers, for unlimited strength -- everything he stood for. Did she want him to cradle her close, to hold her, to --
     "No! I wanted Shane. I didn't want you -- never you!" The face of his wife was a sudden burn behind her eyes, a flaming reminder of her betrayal -- towards him, towards Shane, towards Eliza. How could she think about him that way, devour him with her eyes, even now? She didn't long for him, she couldn't. But he tried to make her, promising safety, a guarantee of rightness. The truth.
     "You want wildness?" he mocked. "The unexpected?" His hands were sudden manacles around her wrists as he flung her against the wall and hovered above her, his eyes pools of molten jade. His lips were bare inches away from hers, his breath hot against her mouth, his words a feral snarl.
     "The thrill of playing with the predator? You can have that..." He was even bigger now, unruly locks of fair hair brushing against his forehead in the rhythm of his breath. And she was painfully aware of him -- the heat in her stomach had turned into fire.
     Shane -- dangerous, wild, unpredictable Shane. She craved him, even craved the danger, the thrill of being prey. The light broke on fangs, glinting, hot breath now against her cheek, a feathering of touch down her throat -- her slim, unprotected throat. But he didn't bite down, as she half expected him to. Only his body pressed against hers, branding her. Could caresses be so violent, or so powerful?
     "I am the reason." It was a murmur against her skin, and he smiled over it -- she felt his lips curve slowly, cruelly. "You're not only mad, you are selfish. You dream of me, you want me, you need me. You are willing to destroy your world, your friends, everything you are, just to get me."
     She shook her head as she felt the tears gather, the denial on her lips. He was wrong -- she wanted to save her world -- all worlds, because everyone else was too shortsighted, and blind and...
     "Sane?" He grinned. "Face it, Niko, you are living in dreams -- even now. And you don't have the power to stop... because you like it. You like being a hero, and you like having me here. You like suffering for the sake of a worthy cause..."
     The tears fell. Was it the way he rubbed his cheek against hers, the way he played with her, the way he showed her just how much she wanted him, only to throw it back in her face moments later?
     It was unbearably hot, the sight of his lightly parted lips, the curve of his mouth as he touched it to her cheek, sipping up the salty drops. He was cruel, and sweet, and as potent as any drug.
     And he was not real.
     Still she sobbed as she pushed him away, hit him with a strength she hadn't known she posessed. Blasted his mind with her own -- his cruel, treacherous, inorganic mind.
     All along the wall, a series of small devices gave up in a rain of sparks. And the screaming in her head started again, more insistent now without the blockage provided by the traps. She stumbled further, picking her way through the real labyrinth, where her destination screeched at her with a force that threatened to split her head apart. It was not beautiful, it was not exciting, and it was not sweet. It promised nothing.
     It was real.
     As every painful step forward brought her closer to her goal, closer to the visions, closer to the voices that overlaid each other in her head, increasing in volume and number, familiar tones filtered through the cacophony of sounds.
     ...disturbing news. Someone has entered the outer chamber... Levteris' dark voice succumbed to a discordant jumble of answers before it again raised in pitch.
     You all heard Ariel. She is willing to sacrifice our safety to the delusions of her human pupil, whom we have sheltered, raised, and who now wants to destroy the home we gave her... we cannot allow it...
     Niko almost sobbed again, stumbling blindly forward. It was hard not to listen to the voices as they clamored for attention, and the artifact was so very close now, screaming, filling her head with countless visions of present and future moments. She felt unbalanced, her mind aflame with pain, belief weakening in the light of the Circle's accusing demands.
     Please... Please stop. I can't take it, can't...
     Truly blind to her surroundings now she stumbled again, and fell, hands instinctively outstretched -- the feel of metal beneath her hands was a surprise, as was the object that toppled with her to the ground from its quartz support. And it was not as much the feeling of metal as rather the illusion of it, as her fingers rubbed questingly along the smooth shape, gently.
     No friction. Just the barest illusion of it, created by her own brain in an attempt to divert the threatening nausea. Conviction surged back, grounding her. Her mind was the one asset she could trust, when perception failed. Automatically, Ariel's voice chimed in with an often repeated lesson. It triggered no fury -- the pain left no room for that. It merely allowed a thread of distant sadness.
     If everything else fails, you can only follow your beliefs. Throughout history, following one's beliefs has led to monumental errors, but also to the best human spirit had to give. When you believe, follow it through to the end. Sometimes, it is your only chance.
     Lying on the cold ground, clutching a three-dimensional projection to her chest, Niko listened to the faint murmur of voices as the temporal threads wound themselves around her mind, whispering. Coming closer.
     ...I agree, it is an atrocity. But there is something called self-preservation, and we have a duty to our people. To ourselves. If it means destroying a mind--a human mind at that-- a mind so full of violence that it cannot bear the peaceful beauty of this civilization, so be it.
     Niko could recognize the voices now, singled out as they were from the background static of more distant events in time. ...no precedent... We have principles, after all... The voices of the Circle, rising in a disgusted counterpoint to Levteris' dark baritone.
     ...can't allow ourselves to hide behind principles when decisions are to be made. You understood that once, and we all made a great sacrifice that day. The time has come to do it again. If the people of Xanadu are to live, one must succumb to madness.
     Worlds floated around Niko, gravitated toward her, like so many threads she wound around an imaginary spindle. She was centre and observer at the same time, the silvery filament of the causal origin bright and tight around her finger, splitting away from the others. The artifact hummed gently as it began to rearrange the fabric of probable time-spaces, telepathic warnings going off from it with the force of tidal waves. Alerting the still hesitating Circle.
     The ensuing panic was instant and powerful. Twelve pairs of eyes darted desperate glances towards majestic walls that no longer offered any protection -- to symbols of power and manipulation that had lost sense in a world gone mad. Twelve minds wavered on the brink of a fear so overwhelming that it bordered on insanity, erasing everything but the desperate need to survive. Brushing aside principles and pity and the thin layer of civilization.
     Twelve voices screamed We agree! at the same moment they plunged into the mental battle. Once unanimity was reached, the Circle had always turned to the common goal without delay. Niko groaned as the telepathic power of the twelve slammed, united, into her feeble shield. Under her palms, the artifact vibrated, tuning itself to her brain patterns, offering alternatives and expecting directions.
     An image of herself appeared in her mind, bloodied and bruised. In a cell? Shane was there, cold fury in his eyes. But his arms were gentle as he cradled her, soothing away the pain from countless cuts, warming her aching flesh. The original thread glittered with unrestrained might in the void of her mind, but it had to be worked carefully to reset the change. She continued to part the shimmering fabric from the others, to carefully activate the mechanism that would restore balance.
     Meanwhile, the flow of power from the Circle was battering against her shield, seeping in through tiny cracks in her concentration. Her mind was on fire in countless places, and the intruders were amplifying the blaze until her forehead wanted to split apart. Yet still she focused the remaining tatters of her shredded sanity on the object in her arms, clinging to the silvery thread that represented an entire universe of hope for humanity.
     And slowly it unraveled -- only moments and it would be free, activating the collapse, restoring each universe to its own quantum reality. Her mind screaming in agony, she worked, rational thought slowly melting away under the assault, as her mind was being shredded to pieces. Insanity whirled, sickening and grey, swallowing thoughts and leaving instincts.
     Ariel...
     Niko's grip tightened on the alien device as she activated the final sequence with a last effort from a melting mind. It fell from her hands with a simulated clatter as the fever sucked her in for the last time, shattering her spirit with a finality that came too late to stop what she had begun.
     With a final flash of light, the curtain between worlds fell shut.

To the Last Syllable of Recorded Time - Part XI

From Betamountain.org