“I’m sorry for a lot of things, actually,” he continues. “For not giving you more credit. For how I acted in the Spire. For any time I’ve made you feel uncomfortable for being a Scry.”
Matilda raises a hand. “James, you don’t have—”
But the Taciturn continues. “No, I do. This journey has been difficult. I’m dealing with emotions that I haven’t had to in a long time. I know I can be a real pain.” James offers an awkward smile, and Matilda chuckles, shaking her head.
“Yeah, well, I know I’m not easy to work with either…”
James reaches for his drink. “Oh, God, you’re a monster sometimes.”
Matilda gives him a raised eyebrow and deadpan stare, letting a stillness fill the room. Having tortured him enough, she laughs.
Smiling, James continues. “But look at everything we’ve done – slavers, Virginia, the Spire, the Jersey fucking Devil. We’ve made it this far together, and nothing has stopped us. I guess what I’m trying to say is…” He raises his glass. “To us.”
Matilda raises her glass to meet his and softly says, “To us.”
Content, James leans back in his chair and reaches for a cigarette.
“James. There’s something I need to say as well. It doesn’t make sense, but – I think I saw myself die. In the real world. I was accessing my memories, and there was this… car crash.”
James just looks at her. He gives his head a slow shake.
“No. No, that doesn’t make sense.”
Matilda looks into what remains of her drink.
“I’m not really sure. Maybe I’m wrong, but I know what I saw.”
James takes a drag on his cigarette before speaking.
“No, if you died in the real world – well, there’d be nothing to transfer.”
She drains her drink but doesn’t look at him.
“I see.”
Taciturn takes up the bottle and gives her a generous refill.
“Maybe it was an illusion, or a false memory. Or someone else’s memories mixing with yours, somehow. You said there were a lot of, ah, voices when you put on the band, right?”
Matilda gives a wan shrug.
“Yeah, maybe you’re right. Forget I mentioned it.”
Matilda can tell James is struggling to make sense of this new information.
“Maybe it had something to do with the creature you encountered. You said it pulled you out of the experience – maybe it could have manipulated it as well?”
Matilda shakes her head.
“No, I don’t think that’s something Matthew would do.”
Confusion ripples across James’ face. He takes another drag and finally speaks.
“It might be best to tell me everything now.”
Matilda rubs the back of her neck.
“That creature was a little boy – or at least, that’s what he said. He called himself Matthew, and he pulled me from that memory. Of the car crash. If I had stayed there – stayed in it – he said I would have died. He took me to the theater. Brought me to his followers.”
James leans forward over his drink.
“Followers?”
Matilda rubs her temples.
“They were people lost during the Transition, like him.”
She noticed James’ hand starts to open and close.
“That shouldn’t be possible. Did he say why he helped you?”
She looks back at the glass in her hand, tipping it this way and that.
“He said something about believing in what we’re doing. Resetting the System.”
She can tell James isn’t pleased at all about this news.
“I don’t like the idea that this creature knows about our plans. How did he find out? What if he tells someone?”
Matilda sips from her glass.
“I don’t think we have to worry about that. Trust me.”
James leans back in his chair and lights another cigarette He does not look convinced.
“Well, I’m just glad you’re all right,” he finally says.
Matilda puts her glass down.
“There’s something else. Ever since I started accessing the keys, I’ve felt… different.”
James straightens in his chair.
“What do you mean?”
Self-doubt creeps back into Matilda’s mind.
“You know what, it’s really nothing. I just haven’t had Scry cravings. I guess that’s a good thing.”
It’s apparent that James suspects there’s more to it, but she’s thankful when he doesn’t push the issue. She continues to drink while Taciturn smokes. Finally, he clears his throat.
“I say we call it a night. We need to sneak our way into a substation tomorrow.”
Matilda stands up and offers a hand to James.
“Next stop, Metropolis.”
James grasps her hand, and she pulls him up.
“Metropolis. And no more goddamn trees.”
Chapter 19: “Enclave”
Metropolis, the capital city and central hub of the Enclave. Matilda is overwhelmed by the sheer scale of everything. Babylon was impressive, but Simmons’ headquarters is in an entirely different category. While Donovan recreated a city in the historical image of Los Angeles, Simmons’ vision for New York is grandiose.
Luxurious buildings float in the air above the bustling city below, immaculate testaments to what citizens can achieve if they follow Simmons’ rules. Hovercars drift through the air and interconnected tubes bustle with activity as people ferry from their homes to the surface’s urban sprawl, ever blanketed in the shadows of the world above. If the floating, elegant estates are the culmination of Metropolis’s loftiest visions, the city below is the accreted impurity of its darkest dreams.
It’s a highly eclectic city – a melting pot for the myriad regions under the Enclave’s rule. The city is broken into different sectors in the name of control, watched over by the massive control towers that hover into the sky, each one acting as an operational hub for Enclave military forces. The Seven Towers of Accomplishment are the crown-points to Simmons’ achievements, with one cyclopean assembly rearing higher into the sky than the rest. The Pyramid, headquarters of the Enclave, is where Simmons presides over his domain. Matilda marvels at the sight, mouth agape in awe.
“My God – they’re huge. How did Simmons build all of this?”
James shifts in his seat as the maglev speeds ever closer to Metropolis.
“On the backs of others. Either by force or by delusion, the people follow his rules.”
Matilda turns away from the window.
“What do you mean?”
He gestures to the looming skyline.
“Everyone’s trying to get on top here. Once you’re there, business in Metropolis is a rough game to play. On one hand, Simmons has built the most efficient structure to work in, no question. On the other, it’s a cutthroat, ruthless empire, based on profits and results.”
Matilda stretches her legs in her seat.
“That at least makes some kind of sense, compared to the Spire. You work hard, you stay on top, right? Better based on that, than on the whims of someone else.”
The Taciturn frowns slightly.
“Their brand of ‘business’ is no less dangerous or corrupt than the others. Contracts, negotiations, traffic, enforcement – they’re all just different methods of control. It’s just a repackaged version of the shakedowns and extortion in Babylon.”
On the window, Matilda traces the shapes of the bulking skyborne towers with her finger.
“If Babylon and Metropolis are always at each other’s throats, do you think Donovan has any people here?”
James snorts. “I wouldn’t hold my breath for any help from him.”
Matilda cracks her neck.
“Yeah, I guess we couldn’t trust them anyways. So, this Simmons dude – tell me everything you know about him. I want to be prepared.”