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Double-Blind CH121
🕑 Added 2022-07-07 23:31:56 +0000 UTCRegion 14 was simultaneously spectacular and minimalistic. The entrance to the—no, my—apartment complex looked more like the entrance to a high-end hotel or downtown bank building. The buildings nearby were dozens of stories tall, and save for the occasionally recognizable logo, it was impossible to tell if they were now-defunct office buildings or residential.
The timer ticked down from five minutes.
“And you’re sure we shouldn’t bother with an announcement?” I asked.
“What if one of the buildings comes down?” Kinsley added nervously.
Sara shrugged. Despite her casual air, the tip of her foot tapped rapidly against the cement. “So far, nothing like that has happened. Everyone’s aware that rapid changes may occur. They saw what happened to region 15.”
“What happened with region 15?” I asked, more than a little annoyed with how much I’d missed in a single day.
“It was grim.” Tyler sighed. “The civilians tore each other to pieces, and they still barely filled the receptacle in time. Then things got… weird. Really weird. Surprised the girl—“ Sara elbowed Tyler. He rubbed his side, giving Kinsley a sheepish look. “—Guild Leader didn’t fill you in.”
I glared at Kinsley, who suddenly appeared completely invested in something on the other side of the street. It was obvious that Kinsley wasn’t just being practical, she wanted to live here. She’d been pushing for it since I’d awakened. “I’m sure she had her reasons. How weird are we talking?”
“I’ll show you.” Sara stepped out into the street, and pointed down it with her one good arm. The reflective glass of a nearby building was blocking my view. I wheeled myself down the ramp for a better look.
I breathed out in a hiss.
Up to a certain point, it was like any other downtown street. Cars parked next to meters, a food truck, and people going about their daily lives. There were far more vendors than was common for this part of town, their stalls strangely medieval looking in a way that didn’t really match the setting. People were wearing armor and robes in the open now, which gave the strange feeling that we were adjacent to some sort of massive fantasy convention.
Around a dozen blocks away, it stopped. The midday light ceased as deep shadows overtook what I assumed to be region 15, as if the sun itself had abandoned it. There were silhouettes barely visible at this distance, tiny specks of people—or things shaped like people, milling about.
“What the hell?” I muttered.
“We don’t know.” Sara said, still transfixed on the darkness. “From what we’ve seen, none of the surviving civilians are under visible duress. But they don’t seem interested in leaving their region or even talking.”
“A few of ours were on the scene.” Tyler said regretfully. “But… most walked away at the peak of the violence. Watching something like what happened there and being unable to do anything—well, you can see how that’d be difficult. Can’t say that I blame them.”
“Most?”
A shadow flitted over Tyler’s face. “Yes. Owen. A boy not much older than you. Our only surviving member from region 15. He had family in there.”
“Past tense.”
“Yes.” Tyler confirmed. “He stayed until the end. Supposedly, the last thing he heard before the lights went out was a voice.”
“The overseer? Or something else.”
“Different voice. No one’s heard from the Overseer yet,” Sara said.
“According to his report, there was a gap of time between when the receptacle was filled and the… result. Probably whoever owned the region making their decision. The voice announced, “the prophet has been chosen.” Blackout hit immediately after.” Tyler finished.
“Great. Not foreboding at all.” I wanted to go look. Investigate. But that wasn’t going to happen while I was still stuck in this chair.
“We sent a scout.” Sara chewed her lip. “She was supposed to check in.”
“Let me guess,” I said drolly, “You haven’t heard from her.”
“Still giving her some time,” Tyler said, “She’s good at what she does. Might just be waiting for a good time to come up for air.”
“Of the twenty regions, 15 and 6 are the biggest question marks.” Kinsley finally joined the conversation, though she wouldn’t meet my eye. “Dungeons are popping up all over 5, but the monsters are contained. Region 13 seems to be doubling down on being some sort of trading and crafting hub. And the others are still either figuring it out, or being cagey about what they have.”
“Region 3?” I asked, my voice cold. It wasn’t so much that they were poaching lux. As desperate as the event was, some degree of strife and conflict was understandable, even justifiable. It was that they continued to do so even after their receptacle was filled.
And, you know, the whole killing Users for cores thing didn’t really work in their favor either.
“Totally isolationist. Hostile to anyone not local to the region. Which means we have no idea what they have or don’t have.”
Fantastic. Even if I decided to throw this all away and go home, I’d still have a problem neighbor.
I eyed something else. A construction crew at the end of the street and several open-backed trucks. “Are they putting up a barrier? What if 15 sees that as an act of aggression?”
“A lot of the regions are throwing up walls and checkpoints.” Kinsley confirmed. “What we’re doing is nothing out of the ordinary. Region 5’s the big exception. They seem to want Users to come there in droves. As many as they can get. They’re charging for dungeon entry, but not nearly as much as they could be. Still figuring out the angle.”
I thought on the information I had and came to a decision. “Get me in a room with Owen.”
“He’s traumatized. Borderline catatonic,” Sara said. “I’m not convinced he has any more useful information than what he’s told us.”
“Maybe. But it can’t hurt. If you make it happen, he’ll talk to me.” I grimaced. “Whatever the next event is, we need to be ready for it. That means strengthening our positions on all fronts. And ensuring that what happened in region 6 isn’t going to spread. Being proactive is the name of the game, from this point onward. If they don't give us enough information to prepare for whatever’s coming, fuck it. We’ll prepare for everything.”
There was an odd reaction, and I realized I’d erred. I looked around, suddenly self-conscious. “It’s… been a rough week. I’ve gotten used to calling shots without any real regard to hierarchy.”
After a pause, Tyler rested a hand on my shoulder. “Kinsley says you’re her primary advisor. And that she owes much of the success of the merchant’s guild to you. And given that your guild not only took a pay cut to help the entire city, but also managed to fortify your region, and save this one?” He shrugged. “I’m prepared to seriously consider any advice you might have.”
The nagging puzzle piece finally fell into place. What I’d been missing this entire time. “There are twenty regions. But at the beginning of the event, the Overseer said only sixteen needed to be fortified.”
“We noticed that too,” Sara said. “As far as we can tell, every region had a receptacle. Haven’t made sense of it yet.”
“I see.” I rested my head on my palm. Whatever the reason for the discrepancy, it wasn’t a mistake on the overseer’s part. Either the system had plans for the four regions that didn’t have to fortify, in which case it was strange that they didn’t just gloss over that in the announcements. Or four of the regions had achieved some sort of clemency before the event began. And it was a total hunch, but I had a strong feeling that wherever the suits resided was probably one of those regions. “Not a fan of the way they’re dividing us. Or the timing.”
“Same here. Hopefully, we’ll know more in a few days.” Tyler said.
My wheelchair jostled as Iris arrived at my side, landing with both feet. Only after did she seem to notice the group that had formed, and her smile lessened somewhat.
”You called?” she signed.
I checked the timer. Less than a minute remained. ”Yup. Something might be happening soon. Figured you'd want to see. Where's Mom and Ellison?”
The double doors behind me wooshed, and I turned to see my mother step out from Iris’s wake. She looked glass-eyed and bleary, as if she’d just woken from a deep sleep.
” He’s not coming.” I asked Iris. More statement than question.
”Haven’t seen him since this morning.” Iris confirmed.
She scrambled carefully up on my lap, eyes almost comically wide as her head swiveled back and forth.
Sister?” I heard Sara whisper to Kinsley. Kinsley murmured an affirmative.
The first thing I noticed was a shift in temperature. It was almost always hot, but this was different. More humid somehow.
A single green sprout emerged from the crack in the sidewalk before me. Dozens more followed suit, thin green fingers scrambling for purchase. There was a resounding crack as the sidewalk itself shattered.
Someone grabbed the handles of my wheelchair and yanked me backwards before it tipped over. When I looked back, something gnarled and brown was emerging from the concrete, widening the hole as it grew.
People avoided the sidewalks and roads as more greenery emerged, wrapping itself around anything nearby, cars, meters, and drains. The unending orchard of trees sprouted gray-blue leaves and golden blossoms as they reached their apex of twenty to thirty feet.
I caught a flash of movement from above and looked up. Behind a nearby skyscraper, a massive trunk, expansive in diameter, extended above the building and up into the clouds.
Iris stared up at it in wonder.
Countless car alarms were going off, all at mixed intervals. Civilians and Users alike had stopped running from the chaos and were gawking at the scene, unsure what to make of it.
“Ho-lee shit.” Tyler said.
“It’s beautiful,” My mother whispered.
“Going to be a bitch to commute.” Sara approached the tree that sprouted from the concrete before us. She poked it once. Then tentatively reached up to a thin, low-hanging branch, testing it. Eventually, she lifted her entire body in a one-handed pull-up, then dropped and landed with a grunt. “It’s strong.”
I blinked. Regardless of how sturdy the tree was, there should have been some movement. But the branch hadn’t budged. Whatever I’d expected—metal deep in the earth, some sort of oil analogue perhaps—it hadn’t been this. Not even close.
“Iris!” My sister dropped from my lap before I could stop her, approaching the tree as Sara had. Sara reached out to grab her, but Iris ducked away, giving the woman an apologetic smile. Before any of us could intervene, Iris touched the tree. Her palm was flush to the wood, her face a mask of concentration.
Ordinator’s Emulation ticked in the back of my mind.
