And the Righteous Shall Punish

Chapter 4

4

Kaiya gave the soldier her address on a promise that he would tell her anything he could discover. She would have preferred the Network were still working so he could just call her, but sacrifices had to be made. Perhaps he would discover nothing and she would be spared another interaction… but then what was she really hoping for?

The Life Plus clinic beckoned. Projected people – walking advertisements – milled about the courtyard, speaking to anyone who would listen. Another trick of the Extensive Vision Creator technology – she’d never seen anything like it before. Kaiya walked through the motley assortment of tables and chairs, listening to conversations about blood prices, the risk involved in biotech derivatives, and the dissolution of a marriage. That conversation could surely have been held somewhere other than a public courtyard. The man sitting at the table was obviously fine with everyone nearby knowing about his wife’s infidelity. At least he was safe in front of the holoscreen. Who knows what havoc would have been wreaked were she there in person? For some reason she sounded far angrier than her husband. Perhaps this was fate punishing him for collaboration.

Kaiya looked around. There were no stairs and, it seemed, no lifts, until she noticed the near-translucent single-person tubes positioned throughout the courtyard. A well-dressed businesswoman talking to a floating projection of a head stepped into one of the lifts and motioned for it to close. Had she not been watching closely, Kaiya would never have even known the woman had been there. Moments later the same lift appeared, a grey blur streaking down to the ground, and a slick-haired man stepped out holding a briefcase.

Of course the northeast quadrant had new lifts. Another benefit of their collaboration. Her mother would have brimmed with excitement at the prospect of trialling them. The first had been built in Akheron in the early years of the war. Just the news of it had set her mother off, jabbering on about principles of propulsion and implications for space exploration.

Kaiya stared around, trying to figure out which lift was for which business. There didn’t seem to be any easily discernible marker, yet everyone knew exactly which one to use. She approached one. It was a wonder that more people didn’t walk right into them. She stood by and waited for something to happen, then glanced around to watch what everyone else was doing. She made an opening gesture with her hand, and an archway into the lift appeared. Or, rather, melted away, revealing its glowing, opaque insides. Etched black lettering announced LevDev Enterprises. An inconvenient method of discerning ownership, she thought.

She strolled around underneath the Life Plus building, peering into lifts until she found the right one. She stepped inside and turned, searching for the command module. It didn’t exist. Perhaps it was on the door. Kaiya made the same motion she had watched others make, and the arch disappeared, replaced with the exact same texture as the rest of the tube. Kaiya had only half-processed the feeling of entrapment when the world blurred momentarily and the archway reappeared. She stepped out into the atrium of the Life Plus clinic and looked back to see that the lift had already vanished. A translucent cylinder remained.

“Welcome to Life Plus.” A woman about her age appeared, somewhat misty with a bluish tinge. “How can I help you today?”

Kaiya stared around at the grandiose atrium, considering her response. “I was wondering what this place is.”

The projection nodded and altered her unceasing smile to a slightly different formation. “We are Life Plus, your partner in lifestyle design. We offer services both to heal the mind and unleash the heart.”

“You mean Rapture?”

“Rapture is our flagship product, for those who are dedicated to living a life of unlimited bliss. We have a second service, though, for those who prefer to experience the secrets of their deepest desires.” The projection’s smile changed again, though the eyes never seemed to. “May I interest you in a complimentary sample?”

Kaiya looked out through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the pedestrians below. “Sure.”

The projection led her past smiling clerks at the atrium’s desk, each one looking up in the same manner just before she reached them. Kaiya arrived at a small, concrete room with a plain wooden door. The project motioned an invitation to enter. Kaiya hesitated.

The only light in the room came from that which the doorway permitted. No windows adorned the walls, no lights nor glowstone. From the little Kaiya could see, the floor and walls had been painted or rendered black. She stalled at the door, wary of the room, until the opposite wall began to glow. It was a colossal Vision Caster, except… not.

“Please, take a seat.” The projection motioned to a single reclining chair in the centre of the room, much like the pictures she had seen of first class pod carriages. Kaiya entered the room, taking her time to examine the Vision Caster that was not a Vision Caster. It seemed to act in a very similar way, the contents swirling about inside, preparing to create some new experience for the viewer, but Kaiya had not seen a number of the patterns before, nor had she ever seen the white, silvery glow. Vision Casters were universally dark.

Kaiya suspected this was the Extensive Vision Creator that controlled the projections milling about in the courtyard. She sank into the chair and let out a whisper of comfort. Behind her the door closed with a click. She didn’t know who had closed it, nor did she care. The chair seemed to mould itself around her body, filling her with a deep warmth and overwhelming desire to fall asleep.

She closed her eyes and heard the gentle lapping of wavelets against sand, the progeny of those waves that crashed further out in the beach. Seagulls flew about, talking amongst themselves, the same salty breeze that buoyed them tickling her face. She opened her eyes and stretched out in the sand, licking the salt off her lips and staring at the cloudless blue sky. She couldn’t remember how long she’d been there – perhaps forever? – but she was there for a purpose, if only she could remember what that had been.

As far as she could tell the beach was private. Her tent was pitched near a little freshwater stream where the sand met the bush, though had she pitched it two hours or two years ago? Her only certainty was that the tent belonged to her, and that’s all that mattered. She lay in the sand for an indeterminate length of time – she really couldn’t tell – soaking in the warmth without ever feeling hot. The breeze cooled her, yet never so much that her skin rallied against it. If life were to end in that moment, the transition to oblivion would be as the softest satin carried through air, drifting in nonchalant abandon.

Kormac would return soon. Kaiya couldn’t remember the time – did the sun ever move? – but it felt right that he would be by her side again, as had been the narrative of their eternal existence. She blinked and laughed as Kormac traced a finger down her side, achieving what the breeze could not. Kormac’s touch sent her skin to a state of alertness, almost rebelling, yet just coping with the arousal and allowing its continuation. She curled her fingers through his short, sea-matted hair and pulled his mouth down to hers. They had always been connected in this embrace since time immemorial, if time had ever existed. Such a thought struck her as absurd, that constancy could be measured, as though one could divide permanence into anything other than more permanence. She closed her eyes and succumbed to the power of her and Kormac’s desire, cheered by the restless waves and unchanging solar countenance.

When she opened her eyes again, she smiled at the swaying stalks of lavender, everlasting place of rest. Nothing existed but this hillock, nor had nor would ever. The sunlight danced through Kormac’s hair, grown long from the eternity they had spent together here in the hills and meadows of purple stretching to the distant mountains that formed a ring around their sacred abode. The lavender tickled some ancient memory, or perhaps something that resided in her imagination, as if there had once been, perhaps, a field like this in some other universe.

Kaiya breathed in the scent of rich earth underneath her bed of grass. Kormac picked out stalks of lavender for a bouquet, the plants swaying as if calling for his touch, desirous of the great and only honour of pleasing their god’s whimsy. New stalks grew as the lucky ones were picked, and soon he had fashioned a bouquet such that fields would rejoice at this harvest of the chosen.

Kormac released a stalk of the lavender into the air, where it floated along, never higher nor lower, worshipped by the waving of its siblings beneath. The floating lavender rearranged itself, growing wings of delicate purple swirl, transforming itself into the epitome of its purpose. The butterfly fluttered its fragile wings for the first time, and the breeze swelled to welcome a new member to the pantheon of the chosen. Soon Kormac had thrown his entire selection into the air, and butterflies lilted about, farewelling their as yet unchosen siblings. The hillock whispered a song unknowable, sketching its flimsy melody somewhere just beyond the comprehension of Kaiya’s ear. The butterflies surrounded her, colouring the sunlight to hues of violet and the occasional smattering of gold. She stretched out in the grass, exalting her perfection, and the butterflies cocooned her, preparing to pick a chosen one for transformation.

She laughed, a cacophony of echoes responding in joy. The juts of jagged beauty gave birth to slivers of silvery harmonics bouncing around the glittering cavern. A smidgeon of snow blew in from the moonlit mountainside, settling on her hair and wings. She walked out onto the narrow ledge and surveyed the limitless expanse of mountaintops, the moon occupying its sempiternal quarter of the sky. Beneath her an expanse of darkness consumed the moon’s glow. Since existence had begun she had never flown down farther than she could see, yet she knew there would never be an end if she did so.

The firmament flickered, and Kaiya felt a twinge of unremembered familiarity, a feeling that she had forgotten something. She gazed into the abyss, where a crack had opened and silvery stars trickled out, filling her eyes and mind with memory. Horror sank into her stomach, and she grasped at the fading world around her, as if its tatters could provide better nourishment than whatever she had forgotten.

Kaiya writhed in her seat, mouth open in a voiceless scream. Sensation returned with no thought to haste, and she rubbed at her wet cheeks, the remnants of her immortality lingering on the edges of consciousness and centre of her desire. The projection stood in front of her, smile as constant as a machine. An older lady, real, had joined them, holding a glass of water, which she offered to Kaiya. She refused it.

“Please,” the projection said. “This will assist your brain as it readjusts.” The real woman offered the glass again. Kaiya drank the water – at least, it looked like water – and began to feel the reality of life return, grounding her in an experience far inferior to the now-dwindling memories. She put the glass down, unfinished, her mind rallying against the return, scrambling to hold onto the memory of perfection. Better to remember it and live in a shadow than lose the shadow of the experience. Even as the thought of holding on materialised, she forgot what it was she wanted to hold on to. She was left with the knowledge, somewhere deep inside, that a better time had existed. The answer was there. Only Life Plus could offer a way back.

The real woman took the glass of water and left the room. The projection sat in her own chair now – where it had come from, Kaiya didn’t know – and gazed at her, smile unbroken. Kaiya wiped away a few final tears and stared past the projection at the EVC, which she loved and hated at the same time. Whatever had just happened, she couldn’t remember, but she knew that it had been wonderful, and she had to have it again. Even the thought of leaving the chair filled her with desolation, let alone the room, then the clinic, then the quarter, and back to the drudgery of existence. “Was that Rapture?”

“Not quite,” said the projection. “You could call it a kind of Rapture, but this is our basic treatment at Life Plus, for those who are not yet ready to undertake a full surgical solution.”

“Am I supposed to forget?”

“Yes. Unfortunately only the full surgical solution – true Rapture – provides the capacity to enjoy our treatment throughout the entirety of your life.”

“Exactly like that? I don’t even remember what happened…”

“No. Our basic treatment uses a similar process to Rapture, but in a much more concentrated manner. The intensity of the experience is unsustainable. We developed it on the way to developing Rapture, so it has been available for much longer. We believe that everyone should benefit from our research into purifying the human experience.”

Kaiya pushed herself up in the seat and stared at the EVC. “What do you mean purifying the human experience? What does it do?”

“Our basic treatment unlocks the innate creative potential within every person, and brings it to the surface. It analyses your most secret desires and allows you to experience them in a state of pure bliss. Given the intensity of that experience, we have strict limits on its usage. A patient may only access our basic treatment once a week. The full Rapture, however…”

The projection leaned in close, making the hairs on Kaiya’s arms stand tall.

“The full Rapture is a complete surgical treatment. We analyse your brain in a more detailed and thorough manner than the basic treatment, and devise a plan to expunge every moment that has caused you harm. It is a complete purification. Life with nothing but beauty, unadulterated by memories that stand in the way of you and your ongoing joy.”

“How much is it? Rapture?”

She had already known the price would be prohibitive, but the projection’s answer still deflated her. She pushed down her disappointment and maintained composure, a pretence of careful consideration. The projection gave a spiel about benefits and pre-payment options, as well as reduced costs for subscribers to regular basic treatment. The price of the basic treatment lifted her spirits, and Kaiya promised to consider her options, making calculations for how often she could afford it.

Already a longing grew inside her.

Kaiya ambled through the streets in the easternmost section of northwest quadrant. The cosy, vibrantly-coloured terrace houses oozed charm, ornate balconies poking out at irregular heights and intervals, plants hanging down from all sorts of nooks and crannies. The old concrete sidewalks had faded with age. Years ago – so her mother said – the residents had protested replacing the concrete with glowstone. Even the change to road tiles had been controversial, apparently, though the desire to drive comfortably won out in the end. Old, black-bodied lampposts with curved, hanging lights straddled the street. Even they weren’t equally spaced. Nothing matched.

It made sense that Amelia came from a place like this.

Kaiya entered a quiet, one-way street, glancing at two teenagers making out on an old bench. They looked far too happy for her liking. She knocked on Amelia’s front door and waited, listening to the hum of a balcony conversation further down the street, and the chattering of birds in a nearby tree. Its branches intruded upon balconies on both sides. The residents obviously weren’t bothered by it. She wouldn’t have minded a few leaves poking through her own window.

“Kaiya!”

Amelia flung the door open and pulled Kaiya into a deep embrace. “You’re alive!”

Kaiya returned the gesture with a lesser degree of enthusiasm. “Of course I’m alive.”

“What do you mean, ‘of course?’” Amelia drew back with a look of concern. “I had no idea. You disappeared.”

“I didn’t disappear,” she countered, and looked away. “I just stopped hosting.”

“And never saw me again or told me why.” Amelia’s tone indicated there was no real anger behind her words.

“Well, I’m here now.”

“Yes. You are. Come on.” Amelia beckoned and walked inside.

The thrill of rebellious apprehension still ran across Kaiya’s skin as she followed Amelia. Anyone could be watching, not that it mattered anymore. They sat by the square wooden table in the narrow, unassuming kitchen that had played host to so many secrets over the last three years.

“I was worried they’d found you,” Amelia said.

Kaiya shook her head. “I’m too careful for that.”

“I know.” Amelia smiled. “You were my most reliable host. Why did you stop?”

Kaiya stared at the old red teacups that had touched so many secretive lips. “I just… didn’t want to anymore. Sorry.” She bristled at having to feign contrition, though she was sorry to some extent, in a more complex manner of thinking.

Amelia watched with her intelligent, prying eyes. Weighing something in her mind. “Have you seen what people are doing with the collaborators?”

“I wondered if you were involved,” Kaiya said.

Amelia shook her head. “I haven’t been. But I have been paying attention. Following events as best I can with no Network. There’s obviously sentiment around, but it’s poorly directed. Sporadic.” She leaned back. If she had a cup of tea it would have been the moment that she sipped and studied the face of whoever sat opposite, holding back a question or statement that would lead towards a conclusion she had already drawn. “What do you think?”

Kaiya grinned. She knew Amelia’s strategy. “You already know you’re right.”

Amelia gave a show of faux modesty. Where did all that confidence come from? She was only a few years older than her. “I think there’s a space for leadership,” Amelia said. “For people like us.”

“For people like you,” Kaiya said.

“Don’t be silly. I was merely a conduit. You were my brightest node.”

“You’re flattering me. It won’t work.”

They shared a secretive smirk. Amelia knew full well that it worked. Kaiya couldn’t deny that it lifted her spirits.

Amelia chewed her lip. Scheming again. “Why do you think no one ever found me?”

Kaiya shrugged and played along. “Because you’re clever?”

“Now who’s flattering who? Ha. I don’t think that’s it. It’s… expectation. They didn’t expect it could be me. That’s why they never found me. Expectation is everything.”

Kaiya waited for Amelia to pull her thoughts together. The lip chewing indicated there were large gears turning inside that brain.

“I’ve been compiling a list,” she said at last, looking directly at Kaiya. “Of collaborators. People we know worked with the Tarkinians, and people we have reasonable suspicion of. It’s still in the early stage, and difficult without the Network, but I’ve had people out and about. Asking questions.”

“And you want me to help?”

Amelia shook her head. “That’s basic stuff. What I really want to know is… what would a Commissioner expect? Right now. In this context. What would he expect?”

Kaiya allowed the question to sink in. Amelia appeared genuine in her desire to know.

“I don’t know Benjamin as well as my father.”

“I’m sure that’s true,” Amelia said, “but you still know him better than anyone I know or have access to.”

Kaiya considered the question. “Benjamin doesn’t let on much, but I think… I think he expects people to be angry. I think he’s not surprised. But I think that… he knows something. That something’s happening. Something that would distract everyone so maybe they’re not so angry anymore.”

Amelia stared at her.

Kaiya shifted in her seat. “Like… if people started returning.”

“You think that might be what’s happening?”

“I don’t know,” she said quickly. “It’s just… an example. I think he expects that we’ll find something else to think about.”

Amelia leaned back in her chair and chewed her lip again. “But would he expect organisation? Would he expect something planned? Methodical?”

“I don’t know…”

“It’s all about expectation,” Amelia said. “The Tarkinians won Leth because we never expected they could. Bennett and the Tarkinians never found me because they never expected someone like me to be orchestrating the resistance. And now the police… if I’m right, then they expect flareups. Isolated events. Easily contained. But what would they do if we were organised?” Amelia’s eyes lit up the way they had when Kaiya first met her. A blaze of passion that had sucked her straight into the post-Night of Retribution resistance movement. “They know they’ve let the people down. If there’s enough of us together, demanding justice, they’re going to have to ask themselves the question – whose side will they be on now that the Tarkinians are gone? Us, or the collaborators?”

Kaiya’s blood flashed with elation. Amelia was right. More importantly, Amelia understood. With Amelia at the helm, everything would turn out right. Benjamin would be forced to turn Bennett over. He would be forced to allow true justice to take its course, and Leth would at last be rid of the whores and collaborators.

Purified.

She had sought Amelia almost on a whim, as a distraction, but now her purpose was clear.

Kaiya leaned across the table and looked into Amelia’s blazing eyes.

“There’s something you need to know.”