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Chapter 298. The Director
🕑 Added 2022-09-23 23:40:00 +0000 UTCHoliday isn’t waiting for us when we awaken this time. I can just barely make out his form on the viewing platform, where he and other Hall of Ascension practitioners speak with a handful of competitors.
I sense Red’s distress immediately. His body is shuddering very subtly; even with Beginning, I wouldn’t notice unless I was looking for it. My vital vision reveals an inner turmoil, his vitality surging ferociously through his chest and limbs.
His eyes are wide and he just sits there, breathing slowly.
He’s not doing well, is he? I ask Maria
The last round was more intense than the others, Maria acknowledges. How are you doing?
Are you worried for me? I ask, taken aback. None of that was real. I’m used to terrible situations that feel real but aren’t.
I suppose you would be, she replies. You should do something about Red, though. Perhaps consider what you would’ve liked to do to decompress in the loop.
I consider for a moment, an idea coming to mind. “Red?” I ask.
His eyes snap to me. “Yes?”
I get up from my seat and levitate myself into the air. I probe Holiday’s mind, almost like knocking on the door of his mental defenses.
“Ancient Black, I see you’ve finished another round. Are you coming up?” he thinks.
“I’m leaving for a few minutes to take a walk,” I tell him.
“Don’t dally too much or you may lose your spot in the next round. You were one of the last of your group to finish.” I ignore the warning. Red might want to win, but he won’t perform well in future rounds if he’s keyed up.
Red follows me without asking any questions as I head into the mountains. When I arrive at the veil vulnerability where I went to record myself for Achemiss, I cleave the sky and step through. The initial surroundings are like I remember them–bleak. Sand and more sand, crunchy with salt.
Red collapses onto the sand and spreads out his arms and legs wide. He groans and says, “I just want to sleep. Can I sleep here?”
I seize his body with my affinity and float him into the air.
“Is this necessary?” he murmurs, protesting weakly, his eyes closed.
He trails sand particles as I hover the two of us across a large dune. On the other side I behold the green sea, its massive waves chopping into far off cliffs, leaving frothy white imprints. Sea foam gathers at the shore among clumps of weeds.
“Let me rest,” Red grumbles.
“We’re taking a walk,” I inform him. I rotate him so he’s oriented vertically, then give him a little shake when he still refuses to move.
He opens one eye sleepily. The other snaps open as he processes the dramatic scene before us. His rampant energy begins to settle.
Crossing my arms, I lower myself onto the sand. I use Suncloud’s ring to store my shoes, revealing my bare feet to the gritty, grayish-brown sand. I drop my hold on Red and he nearly stumbles, but he keeps his balance and follows me closer to the water line.
“Have you ever seen a sea so green?” I ask him.
“Probably,” he says. “There are so many planes in Eternity. It’s hard to remember everything I’ve seen.”
I nod slowly. “It’s not really the scene that makes the memory, but your frame of mind. Your intention.” I pause. “Red, will you be able to warn me if anyone else comes to the plane? I just need a second of warning.”
“I can do that much.”
Ian, it’s not really–
I ignore Maria’s protest and drain the energy causing her transformation. She reverts back to her humanoid form, landing adroitly on the sand. I feel like a sail at sea when all the wind has fled, but I force myself to continue my steps without showing discomfort. I don’t want her to feel guilty.
Erring on the side of extreme caution, I manifest a mask of dark Death energy around Maria’s face to conceal it from view. “I can sense any living things, as can you with your fatesight, while Red can sense any minds.” I smile beneath the darkness. “And if any devices are present to record our activities, they won’t see your visage.”
She opens her mouth to offer a rebuttal but closes it after a moment. “Fine. But not for long.”
No one will recognize your face aside from Holiday, I mentally tell her. I’m being careful. Don’t be so self-sacrificing–I know you prefer to have your real body back.
“Welcome back,” Red says, inclining his head toward Maria.
Her smile is dazzling. “Thank you, Ascendent Red.”
As we walk, I rub my wrists, realizing that they’ve grown stiff from constantly wearing the bracers. Red tugs his shoes off, joining me in squishing my toes into the sand.
“I don’t think I’ll ever forget this sea,” Maria says softly.
Red raises an eyebrow. “Is it that incredible?”
“Incredible doesn’t mean memorable,” she points out, eyes darting to me. “You’ve seen the memories that lie in people’s innermost psyche, the memories that shape our souls.” Even though it isn’t phrased as a question, it feels like a prompt.
“I have, and I agree with you that they aren’t always particularly noteworthy moments. Sometimes the memories that define us are just… casual moments, the kind we don’t think of in the moment. But they’re stubborn, sticking with us.”
Maria’s footsteps are light, barely sinking into the sand. “What kind are those usually?”
I pause. “It’s nothing too surprising. Moments we wish we could redo, or at least live again. First times and last times. Twists and turning points. But sometimes they’re moments that mean nothing. They just are, and they matter for reasons I cannot fathom.”
“Your analysis is lacking, Ancient Black,” Maria says coyly. “We remember because we fear.”
I scowl. “No.”
“She’s right.” Red sighs as he stares at the water, the green surf tickling his feet. “Somewhat. Fear is a strong emotion, which is why it’s effective. But boiling everything down to fear is a gross generalization. Personally, I don’t think anything can compare to sadness borne from tragedy. It doesn’t matter if it’s real or staged; our brains can’t distinguish.”
The silence settles over us. After a few more minutes of walking, Red explains, “What I said in Discardia about ascending was true. By the end, I was so ready to be taken away to a new world, to shed the expectations of the old.”
Don’t say anything, Maria warns me. Give him the space to talk.
Yes, Mother, I reply.
She gives me doe eyes. Kinky.
My nose wrinkles. Disgusting.
She hides a smirk with a hand raised to her mouth.
Red kicks at the water, sending up a spray of droplets. “As you both know, Remorse and Regret are very useful affinities to have for any career, though my Remorse was why I was well known. It’s why I ascended.
“On my world, powerful practitioners often engaged in staged performances. These would take place at a campus of buildings and immaculately constructed settings. A live audience would watch from mobile viewing pods, immersed in the action and plots as they unfolded. The first-person, immersive experience of the pods would be provided to the masses for asynchronous viewing.
“I was a director and used my Remorse–and in a lesser capacity, my Regret–to coordinate all the actors and actresses in my scenes. I helped them to feel the emotions they needed to feel, fed them lines in real time, and ad-libbed things on the fly based on audience reactions.”
He kicks at the water again. “Later in my career, I became powerful enough that it was easier to just control people. I’d have my performers sign over control of their minds in oath-enforced contracts, then use them as veritable puppets to stage productions that you’d just never believe.” He chuckles bitterly. “People trusted that I’d never put them in danger, even if they knew enough to recognize how false that trust was. They were always in danger, but I was lucky enough to have Regret to prevent fatal errors.”
Y’jeni, I don’t think I’d ever be able to do that, I tell Maria. Give up control?
The oaths were probably long and filled with stipulations preventing abuse. Almost certainly the oaths would have prevented Red from rifling through their memories. Also, it’s a bit ironic hearing incredulity from you.
What, because I can hijack people’s flesh and bones? It’s different than taking over their minds.
To an extent, Maria says, sounding unconvinced.
“My successes continued to mount,” Red continues. “Everything was wonderful–on the surface. My productions spanned across the colonized world. By samsara, I had my own micro planet for the most bombastic scenes, the ones where live audiences weren’t permitted for their own safety.
“You’d think that controlling my performers would cause resentment, but the feedback I received was elation–the performers loved experiencing my productions firsthand. In the moment, they became their characters. When it was over, they were left with powerful memories of breathtaking storylines...” He trails off.
“Something like that, at least. Then one day, I commenced my ascension. All I felt was relief.” He turns to me. “How odd it is, to have lived out so many ridiculous tales of violence and carnage, love and betrayal, and for none of it to be real. For none of it to be me.”
“Did you ever act?” Maria asks.
“Usually, I was bunkered under the earth. Remorse and Regret aren’t flashy. I didn’t appear in my own productions except for as an extra.” He squints into the rosy glow of the false sun. “That’s why this is all so strange to me. So familiar, and yet… so strange.” He flexes his fingers. “Discardia has forced me to merge my ascendant life with the one I left behind.”
“You’re doing a good job,” I say, unsure of how to support him. “I wouldn’t believe that this is your first time.”
“Doing what?” he frowns. “I’ve experienced killing through the minds of others. Untrained minds practically screamed at me to listen, to witness tales of violence and hate and jealousy.” He gives me a pointed look. “I’ve experienced your memories, too.”
I think I understand now, Maria thinks. He’s acting out the part of a descendant, crashing to a foreign world and exacting judgment. Slipping into that role is easy. But this is a competition where the victor will be invited to actually do the things we’re experiencing. The role will become reality.
He hadn’t properly thought it through, I realize. But something changed.
The last round was too real.
“You both need to mind your own business and stop worrying about me,” Red interjects, flicking me on the arm.
If I weren’t controlling my facial expression, I’d definitely appear startled. Has he been listening to our conversation without me noticing? “Has anyone ever told you that you’re scary?”
He blinks and places a hand on his chest as though overcome by surprise. “Are you telling me that I’m scary? I’m flattered.”
I can’t stop myself from laughing, even as I wonder how he got through my defenses. I hadn’t relaxed them, and I trust that Maria’s are strong enough that she would have noticed an intrusion.
“In case you were concerned, no, I didn’t hear whatever silent conversation you two were probably having about me. I guessed.”
“I can neither confirm nor deny any such conversation,” Maria says. She clears her throat, an unnecessary gesture given her undead body. “Given everything you’ve told us, how are you feeling about the next round?”
Red’s expression is serious as he considers. “I’m not sure I want to win anymore, but I’ll continue to compete, if only to experience Discardia.”
—
When we return to the valley, Holiday welcomes us with a frantic gesture and flings Ebon Pearl at us, the snake hurtling through the air as we approach the viewing platform.
I blink in surprise and take control of her body before it thuds into my chest, protecting the little snake from harm.
“He told me to bite you,” Ebon Pearl says. “You’re holding up the next round.”
“Are you going to?” I ask, forcing my expression to remain blank, despite my inclination to smile.
Before she can respond, Holiday appears before me in midair, scooping her up and depositing her on his shoulder. He tuts and softly bops her on the nose with his finger, then points back to the viewing platform. “There are nine people waiting for the next round. You’re lucky you came back when you did, or you might have lost your spot.”
Unconcerned, I say, “Rather than wasting time on idle chatter, let us begin.”
Holiday scoffs, then hollers, “Everyone for round four, to the classroom!”
