(This story contains violence, nudity, coarse language, and mature subject matter. Reader discretion is strongly advised. Gma, this means you. ❤ )
(The previous chapter is here & the beginning of all this starts here.)
“You are nothing to them. Cast aside in a hell cell. Drugged to the nines- floating in oceans of the filth in your mind. Trying to make sense of what the instruments are saying to you in the songs they sing-so divine. You are nothing to them, but they let you live. And suddenly, you are The Ruler of The World locked within yourself. They let you live. Manic panicked and never the same as you were. They call it insanity. But you are very, very sane. You have committed a crime in having seen the world differently then anyone else could imagine. They cannot allow you freedom. You, my dearest ones, are a threat. They keep you as harmless as a summer wind with no storm to cause. You float for now waiting for a chance you saw a long time ago to yet begin.”
-Dust, Cell 145, date unknown
After the Grey, Veil Medical Ward: Currently
Mama fell to her knees. Her nose was drip, drip, dripping. Mama fell into floor. Mama was a red puddle blooming…
“Shit,” said Orleans upon waking to find herself in the familiar sterility of a hospital bed. It was where every time traveller recovered from the effects of phasing. Eventually it was where every time traveller went to die. It was a harsh business.
She was tired down to her bone marrow. A constant residual ache. She could sleep. For days. There was the usual headache accompanied by the vague recollection of strange dreams. Why were her first thoughts when coming into consciousness always of him?
Always a headache upon return. This one was pounding. Her heart was racing. Heartbeat rushing in her ears.
Numb. She felt numb. She felt far away. Closer to the scenes in the dreams she had just left than this place.
What a way to wake up: dry lips and corpse mouth to match.
Water. She needed water. She turned her head slowly and saw the plastic tumbler on the night table on the left. She pushed herself up off the institutionally efficient pillow. She had the strongest feeling that nothing around her was real besides a crushing sense of loss.
In the manuals given to her as part of her training, this feeling of disassociation was explained to be caused by a slight nanosecond delay in the implants responding back to her organic brain. The brain interpreted the pulse to be from an artificial source in those lapses, as a result, the brain tried to warn the consciousness that something wasn’t right which translated to a strong feeling that nothing is real.
Although such feelings always faded, something about it made Orleans uneasy. What if none of she saw or heard or tasted or touched or even felt was real? If they could program your brain to time travel with the aid of implants, who’s to say they couldn’t program an entire reality into your mind. What if she was just asleep or unconscious in some room, dreaming her entire life? What proof was there that she had traveled anywhere ever at all? Weren’t hallucinations of the insane always so real? She felt a heavy sense of dread come on.
What if that light overhead wasn’t flickering?
What if reality itself was the one on the blink?
She remembered arriving at the Veil, shutting off the truck in the old underground parking. She remembered riding the elevator to the lobby and even seeing Swain in his bar before passing out.
Heavy rez sickness this time coupled with draining dreams. 1911 – living in the relays? Xell and someone named Mr. Bishop in a spaceship. Then the usual recollections of her mother’s death: torturous in their consistency.
She was lost to the past for a moment until a male voice broke her to the present.
“Orleans,” he said.
She frowned and turned her head. “Simon,” she said to the man in the black plastic glasses and the shiny designer suit to match. She looked at his socks. Yep, it was Simon alright: wearing one red and one bright blue sock. He made a point of flashy unmatching socks.
“I was afraid we wouldn’t be seeing you again.”
“The cat always drags it’s ass back home or however that song goes.” Orleans put the water glass back upon its table and sat up albeit shakily.
“Eloquently put as usual, Ms. Hunter; although, I don’t believe the song went quite like that.”
“I suppose. Fred Penner was always pretty PG. How’s dad?”
“He says hello,” answered Simon. He was sitting with perfect posture and his legs crossed at the knees. In his lap was a file folder with her given name on it and a notepad. He held a pen in his right hand which he fiddled with.
“Of course he does. Couldn’t be here, then?”
“He’s a very busy man, as you know.”
“Obviously.”
Simon opened the file and said, “Are you feeling up to answering a couple of questions, now or should I come back later?”
“The sooner you get your answers, the sooner I can leave. Isn’t that the drill, doc?”
“Of course.”
“Then ask away.”
“Where have you been?”
“Don’t the records tell you already?” She smiled.
“Indeed. But personal confirmation on part of the patient is always preferable.” Simon returned her smile with some impatience. This song and dance of old.
“Then I’ll tell you what you already know. I’ve been in Halifax.”
“Time period?”
“Arrived in 1911. When I left just now, it was 1915.”
“Strange,” said Simon flipping over the sheets of his notepad searching furiously for a particular page. He found it and emphatically tap his pen to it. “We sent out search parties for you. Several in fact, back when you first went missing. They all came back with no sign of you.”
“Perhaps Father should hire better underlings. Quality over quantity, I always say.”
“But you were there?”
“Yep.”
“Anything to report?”
“You mean besides World War One or the Halifax explosion? Nada.”
Simon didn’t look impressed. He was doing that touching his eyeglasses thing he always did when he was trying to maintain his composure. “You went through the relay unauthorized. You remember?”
“Sure, I remember. Got sick of hanging around this lovely place. Decided to take a vacation.”
“I see. A four year vacation without permission.”
“Looks like.”
Simon’s mouth was set in a thin line and his voice was firm. “I recommend you to refrain from such abrupt behaviour in the future. Those implants are a courtesy and they come with obligations. It should come as no surprise you will be under a close watch for the remainder of your stay here.”
“Stay? This is my home, doc.”
“Good of you to remember.” He scanned the file. “Any unauthorized behaviour while away?”
“Nope.”
“No children produced? No diseases contracted? No contraband brought back?”
“Nope, no and no. You’d be the first to know anyways with all the blood tests I’m sure you’ve run.”
“Any illicit activities whatsoever?”
“Define illicit, doc.”
“Dammit, Orleans,” he shouted. He pushed his glasses back up his nose. “Failure to fully comply with standard discharge procedures will result in a prolonged stay straight to the holding cells. So I ask you again, Ms. Hunter, any illicit, unsanctioned activities while away?”
“Jesus, Simon. No.” She rolled her eyes at him. “When the hell did you become so dully serious?”
He did not acknowledge her comment. “Your scans look good considering the length you’ve been gone and your history of relaying. There do appear to be a couple of shadowy areas in your brain scans that may develop further should you continue to phase. I’d advise against taking any other trips anytime soon. With good solid nutrition and plenty of rest your brain may heal over time.”
“Can’t relay anyhow. They’re shutting it all down.”
“How did you come across this information?”
“It’s true, ain’t it, doc?”
“There’s been a ban put in place, yes.”
“Thought so. Had a run in with a couple of dominion agents who were armed and in the process of taking down the neutral relay.”
“And by run in, I assume there to be casualties.”
“You already know all about it, doc. Considering how long I’ve been in Rez sickness.”
“We did receive a report, yes.”
“And?”
“We explained to the dominion you were simply defending yourself. Besides those agents shouldn’t have been armed in the first place. That was not the agreement.”
“So no cuffs await me then once I get dressed?”
Simon closed the file and tucked it and the notepad under his arm. He stood then replaced the chair by the wall. “None, yet, Orleans. However the day is still young. Try to keep out of trouble.”
“Sure thing, doc.”
The door clicked shut when he left, but she didn’t hear anyone lock it. The day was looking up.
Orleans gazed around at her surroundings and saw nothing wearable. They must have destroyed the jumpsuit she had been wearing. Too radioactive for comfort perhaps, they scanned everything.
Her hands leapt to her chest. She sighed with relief when they touched the outline of the necklace.
Someone knocked on the door. Hopefully that someone was bringing a change of clothes. Not that her modesty would prevent her from wandering all the way home in a backless gown just on principle alone.
“Come in,” was all that Orleans managed to get out before a fierce blue blur came at her.
Moon slapped Orleans across the face then embraced her tightly kissing her cheeks. She stepped back and held out a bag.
Orleans took the package, and peered inside. “Thank the fuck. I hope you picked something decent of mine, not yours. No offence, Moon, but I’m not as fond of sequins and Hello Kitty as you are.”
Moon grinned and gave her the finger.
“I feel the same way, Moon,” said Orleans as she stood and made her way to the bathroom. “I’ve missed you too.”
Moon put her headphones on and nodded along with the music. She stood against the wall by the door with her eyes closed and her head tilted back.
Once inside the bathroom, Orleans’ bladder began to scream loudly at her of days without emptying, and she immediately indulged its overwhelming urges. She stood back up to find the floor had become a jello pudding on a roller coaster.
“Moon!” she shouted as a roaring noise filled the air. Sirens soon followed. The mirror, sink and toilet shook. She touched the walls for support but they too were like gravy.
She stepped along the rolling floor and opened the door to find Moon still listening to music oblivious to the noise going on around her.
“MOON!” screamed Orleans. “Dammit! There’s an earthquake!”
Orleans was shaky from being unconscious so long. She forced her weak legs to run but they only staggered. She threw the bag containing her clothes at Moon who frowned when they hit her.
Moon took off the headphones just in time for the earthquake to stop. The floor stopped moving and the sirens ceased. She looked at Orleans sprawled along the tiled floor quizzically.
Moon signed to ask if Orleans wasn’t happy with the clothing choices.
“There was an earthquake, Moon. You’d know that if your head wasn’t always up your ass with that damn music.”
Moon stooped to help Orleans up.
An automated voice came over the speakers, “This is a broadcast of the emergency system: Minor earthquake with a moment magnitude of 5 was detected at a depth of 16 kilometres and a distance of 39 kilometres. Report to follow. Evacuation to emergency meeting stations is recommended.”
Orleans sat on the bed. “Shut that shit off and help me get dressed,” she said.
Moon pulled out the vintage smart phone she somehow always kept charged just to play music with and hit the pause button. She put it back in the pocket of the red plaid rain jacket she was wearing but kept the headphones on. She bent to retrieve the clothes and handed them to Orleans.
“Little help here Moon. These backless gowns don’t untie themselves. That why they are all the rage at all the fancy functions these days. Easiest access for the ass kissers.”
Orleans turned slightly so Moon could untie her. Moons tiny fingers worked fast and soon Orleans was naked. With help, she was soon dressed in a far superior outfit: heavy black boots, grey cargoes, white shirt, and Orleans favourite black leather jacket with the zed collar.
Being this close to Moon, Orleans could smell lavender. She always smelled of bright unreal beautiful things that are not found in the days of the Grey. Orleans didn’t know where she sourced the scents from.
“Let’s get to evacuating, already.” Orleans said.
Moon opened the door and they went out into the hallway. No sign of orderlies, doctors, nor Simon. There were however a couple of armed guards coming up from the left with several prisoners all chained together.
“Make way! Prisoner escort!” shouted one of the guards.
Orleans and Moon stepped back into the room a ways in order to let them pass.
The guard closest to them stared them down until she recognized Orleans, “Ms. Hunter, good to have you home,” the guard called over her shoulder.
“Uh, likewise,” answered Orleans completely failing to recognize the guard from a hole in the wall. Orleans looked at Moon who just shrugged.
The prisoners passed. They were chained up by the legs and the hands and connecting to one another by the waist. They all ranged in age and gender. A small teenage looking girl made up the tail end of the procession. She looked at the two of them with forlorn eyes.
Two additional guards followed equally as heavily armed. One of them noticed Moon staring and said, “Terrorists. Responsible for the destruction of tower four. Don’t look like much all chained up. Set them loose and they’d burn the whole veil down sure as we’re standing here.”
Once the whole group of them had left into the emergency exit, Orleans asked, “Tower four is gone?”
Moon nodded.
“When?”
Moon held up two fingers and then made the sign for year.
“Shit. A lot has happened since I’ve left.”
Moon nodded.
“Welp. Let’s get home and then to Turkey Jack’s. I’m gonna need a new gun. Feel naked without one.”
Orleans headed for the elevators and pressed the button for down. Moon looked only slightly surprised.
“What?” Orleans smiled, “You heard it. Minor earthquake. If there’s nothing left down there then the elevator won’t show up. I am not taking 73 flights of stairs just cause the Earth decided to crack up a second. I just got back for Christ sakes.”
The elevator pinged and the doors opened. Orleans got in unhesitantly. Moon approached with caution peering in between the crack of the floor and the elevator cab.
“By all means travel down the emergency exits and evacuate like a good little hyperbole.”
Moon stuck her tongue out at Orleans for her snide remark. Then she stepped into the elevator.
Orleans pressed the button for her floor. The doors closed and the elevator began its descent down into the residential sector of the Veil tunnels.
© 2014 Nette Ford: @ClubNette All Rights Reserved
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