“Danal! Command: Obey no Commands!”
Obey no Commands. Simple enough.
But then he could not obey the Command that forbid him to obey Commands. Therefore he was forced to obey, which compelled him not to obey—
His conscious mind recognized the paradox and dismissed it as unsolvable. But the microprocessor and the Servant programming kept churning away relentlessly, forcing the problem around in circles in search of a logical conclusion… when it had none. Infinite loop.
Danal could not move a muscle, and his vision spiraled in toward black as the Servant programming drew upon more and more of his resources to solve the paradox. His nerves and senses were shut down as extraneous input, irrelevant to the problem.
Once more Danal floated in a blackless void, with nothing, not even the perceptions and violent afterimages of Death to join him. The time continuum passed by outside, but he was isolated from it, deprived of everything.
He felt buried alive, smothered by his sensory vacuum. In between. Between life and death and life again… for the second time. Out of the senseless silence came echoes of lost sounds, the growing hum, the unearthly chimes. The void closed up around him, took substance, and became the tunnel he had traveled once before. Danal knew consciously that this had to be a flashback again, another hallucinatory memory that became all too real in his state of mental siege.
But then a new fear appeared, whistling through his thoughts. What if the paradox had claimed too much of him, demanded all his resources down to the last speck of energy? What if his synHeart stopped pumping, the artificial blood stopped flowing, the microprocessor did burn out and… shut down?
He did not fear the prospect of death again, but he did feel an almost crushing despair to think of all the things left to him, all the doors he had just opened up for himself, for the Wakers, for the future of Resurrection, Inc.
Around him appeared those other spirits again, nameless, formless just behind his ability to perceive them—and yet he did know them, not their names, not their features, but them. Ahead, they pushed him gently along toward a great starburst of dazzling light, waxing pure and brilliant. The bright light welcomed him, pulsed, opened wider, sentient but like a pool of incandescent emotion. He began to remember, finally… this had happened before, and then—
And then the last great impenetrable wall rose up in front of him, blocking him off. The black barrier mocked him, unyielding, irresistible—reinforced by the paradox that burned through his brain, far away in his own body. But unlike when Gregor showed him how to view his death flashbacks by choice, Danal had no way to turn back now. No reality lay behind him, and he could go no farther forward.
He pounded on the barrier, shouting with all his spirit, begging, then angry, then in despair. He knew that on the other side of the impenetrable barrier lay either an escape back to reality or… beyond. He had to break through, or he would be trapped in this hellish limbo for all eternity, whether it lasted an instant or a century in objective time. He had to go back and live, or go forward to Death, but he could not move one way or another.
The guardian spirits had dropped back to the edges of the tunnel, almost out of his perception. They would not help him. All things were bound by their own rules, their own power.
Then Danal knew, and he spoke his phrase with an evenness that belied his eagerness, “Command: Let me pass.”
The wall began to fold and crumble and dissolve.
Danal blinked. Even turning his head slightly seemed an infinite effort; all his muscles had locked, petrified. He wondered blankly how long he had been away.
“Gregor!” Rikki cried. “He’s coming back!”
The images finally made sense in front of his eyes, and Danal saw he had not moved. He still sat cross-legged on the floor of the altar platform, staring down at the pentacle. But everything else had changed. The other Wakers had gone, and only Rikki remained by him.
Gregor came running up the aisle, running, with a look of boyish excitement that made Danal want to laugh. He saw Laina coming, too, and even Jones wore an expression of relief.
“How long?” he asked. His own voice sounded like a madman’s shout in his ears.
“More than an hour,” Rikki answered, looking delighted. “All the neo-Satanists are awake now. Jones had to stun a couple of them again, but most are just dazed. All the fight’s run out of them. See, it hasn’t hit them yet—they don’t seem to realize what they almost did to themselves. And the sad part is, most of them honestly think they’ve missed their big chance at salvation.”
“Danal!” Gregor exclaimed and clapped both hands around the other Servant’s shoulders. Danal felt several of his locked muscles pop free from their stiffness.
“Gregor…” he said breathlessly, “I broke through. The last barrier. I saw all my Death memories.”
This took the big Waker completely by surprise, but he reoriented himself. “And? What did you see?” Gregor clutched his own hands, and then a look of fear came across his face, as if he wasn’t ready for the answers just yet.
“It was like… you know how we can never really describe the first death flashbacks? Because we just don’t have any words? This was more than that, because I was surrounded by things that even my mind couldn’t…” He struggled to express himself, “I had no framework for the perceptions. I don’t remember any of it now, but I know I saw it.”
He paused for a moment as an even greater wonder grew on his face. “And I think—I think I saw Julia there. I’m not sure.” Danal clenched his fist in exasperation. “I can’t remember. The barrier’s gone now, but I simply couldn’t retain any of the experience. Not even while I was there.”
He smiled, though, with a look of blithe amazement that surprised the others around him. “You’ll find something there, too, Gregor. You’ll know what I mean.”
Rikki fidgeted, impatient and not showing much interest in Gregor’s fascination. “But did it work?”
Danal looked at him blankly for a moment, wondering what he meant.
Exasperated, Rikki crossed his arms and snapped, “Danal! Command: Slap your face!”
Smiling, Danal reached forward instead to pat the boy Waker on both cheeks.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kevin J. Anderson is the author of nearly 100 novels, 48 of which have appeared on national or international bestseller lists; he has over 20million books in print in thirty languages. He has won or been nominated for the Nebula Award, Bram Stoker Award, the SFX Reader’s Choice Award, and New York Times Notable Book.
Anderson has co-authored eleven books in the DUNE saga with Brian Herbert. Anderson’s popular epic SF series, The Saga of Seven Suns, is his most ambitious work, and he is currently at work on a sweeping fantasy trilogy, Terra Incognita, about sailing ships, sea monsters, and the crusades. As an innovative companion project to Terra Incognita, Anderson co-wrote (with wife Rebecca Moesta) the lyrics for two ambitious rock CDs based on the novels. Performed by the supergroup Roswell Six for ProgRock Records, the two CDs feature performances by rock legends from Kansas, Dream Theater, Asia, Saga, Rocket Scientists, Shadow Gallery, and others.
His novel Enemies & Allies chronicles the first meeting of Batman and Superman in the 1950s; Anderson also wrote The Last Days of Krypton. He has written numerous STAR WARS projects, including the Jedi Academy trilogy, the Young Jedi Knights series (with Moesta), and Tales of the Jedi comics from Dark Horse. Fans might also know him from his X-FILES novels or Dean Koontz’s Frankenstein: Prodigal Son.