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There’s a knock at the door. Elty Fenstermacher opens it quickly. “Come in,
come on, hurry,” he urges. He tugs his friend inside, then looks around to
see if anyone is watching. They are. He has to smile and wave at a small
group of people gardening against their own abode. The battle may be over,
but the war has only begun, and he doesn’t know who he can trust anymore.
This is a test...a test of his resolve.
“What did you want to show me, Elty?” Streamer asks. Elty can’t remember
what his real name is anymore. Everyone calls him that because he’s the only
one in the group who has a digitized brain. He never needed to escape with
them. He shouldn’t be a part of the rebellion. But he is, and Elty respects
the hell out of him for it.
Elty steps over to the other side of his little lab, and presents the
chamber.
“What is it?” Streamer asks him. “A time machine? Please don’t tell me—”
Elty rolls his eyes. “It’s not a time machine. It’s an equilibrium chamber.
This is what they use on Varkas Reflex to keep their users in spatial
stasis.”
“I don’t understand,” Streamer says. “I went to VR, I never saw this.”
“Well, this is a modified design, and they’ve not always had
equilibrium drives,” Elty explains. “When you’re in this, you’re basically
floating. Every single square millimeter of your body experiences an equal
amount of pressure. They use it because some log in to VR for years at a
time, and that comes with health problems.”
“What are you trying to tell me, that you digitized yourself?” Streamer
questions.
Elty shakes his head. “I don’t care about VR. I don’t even really care about
equilibrium.” He bends down and switches it on. As the power starts running
through, he smiles and looks back up at Streamer. “You hear that? You
feel it? If you disable the privacy field regulator, the equilibrium
stays in the chamber, but the signal jammer escapes. If we install one of
these things in every house, the Teaguardians and Bidans can’t spy on us.
Nor can anyone else, for that matter. It’s there so users can have private
virtual sessions without worrying about someone sneaking in and finding out
what they’re doing. We’re gonna use it to live in peace, which is all
we’ve ever wanted. I’m not happy that we have to settle for Bida, so if
we’re here, let’s make it our own.”
“Hm. That’s interesting,” Streamer notes, but he doesn’t sound enthusiastic.
“I thought you would be more excited,” Elty says. “You’re the one who taught
us how to hide our location on Doma Tertia. I just upped our game.”
“Yeah, and I appreciate that,” Streamer agrees. “I just...the Teaguardians
agreed to leave us alone. What that Delgado chick did for us in Gatewood was
her responsibility, and we’re not at fault for that. We have a good thing
here, Elty. I don’t want us to risk that. I’ve kind of given up my anger.
Our home was destroyed, and honestly, people have bent over backwards to
find a new one for us. This is that, man. Just be happy. Or are you mad
because Shimizu left us, which places you in charge, but we don’t need a
rebel leader anymore, because we’re not rebels anymore?”
“Don’t make me out to be so petty. I’m just trying to help,” Elty contends.
“Something is happening in the sky that they’re not telling us. I’m still
trying to figure out what it is, but in the meantime, I’m gonna do what I
must to protect us, and our way of life. These people aren’t our heroes.
They’re assholes, like everyone else.”
Streamer sighs, and jerks his chin towards the window. “You see those people
out there? They still need leadership. Are you gonna step up, and help them
settle down once and for all, or are you gonna hole up in here, and tinker
with your machines?”
Elty looks through the window. The gardeners are still out there. They’re so
bloody happy, it makes him sick. This is not what they wanted. They wanted a
planet to call their own. They could have come to Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida
right after Proxima Doma fell apart, but they choose to go for something
greater. Now they’ve all given up.
As he’s watching them toil away, totally content, they suddenly disappear.
“Whoa,” Streamer exclaims. “Did you see that?”
“Yes,” Elty replies. “It’s happening.” He rushes into the equilibrium
chamber. Pushing himself down so there’s enough room for the both of them.
“Get in here.”
“Why would I do that?” Streamer questions. “It looks uncomfortable.”
“It is,” Elty yells, “but it’s better than the alternative! Now get in!”
Streamer shakes his head, and misses his chance. The ground shakes. The roof
flies off the house and soars into the sky, taking Streamer up with it. The
whole house follows suit. All around, Elty can see everything fly away from
him as if gravity somehow got turned on its head.
“No!” Elty screams, but it’s futile. In seconds, he’s completely alone on
his back. Not a building, not a tree, not another person in sight. Only sky
and dirt.
Elty lies there in his pod, scared as all hell to stand up. Not only does he
not know what will happen to him if he does, but he doesn’t want to see what
has become of his new home. He takes a few deep breaths, however, and
decides to muster the courage. He’s not going to be afraid. He’s supposed to
be a leader. He stands up and looks around at the devastation. It’s gone.
Everything is gone. He can’t even take one step forward, or he’ll die. He
survived the impossible, but he was the only one. Someone is going to answer
for this. Someone is going to pay. It was probably the Teaguardians again.
Below him is nothing by lava. His equilibrium chamber is floating just above
it. It’s getting so freaking hot here. He’s having trouble breathing. The
noxious gases are just too much. Wait, this is a life support vessel. It has
a self-contained breathing apparatus. He brushes his hand along the sides,
looking for the access panel, finding it at the head. He takes out the mask
and wraps it over his face.
Now Elty can breathe again, but it doesn’t fix the heat. He reaches over to
close the door, but then he remembers that he removed it. He didn’t need the
door itself gone, but it was in the way of him modifying the machine to
expand the scope of the signal jammer. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
He’s gonna die. Is there some kind of communication system? He gets on his
knees and rifles through the emergency panel, but there’s nothing. Because
of course there’s nothing. He synthesized the parts from the original specs,
and the original specs expect you to install it in a room full of these
things, where communication is handled in network. It doesn’t need its own
transmitter.
The crater was a massive tragedy for the planet of Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida,
but not in terms of lives. One was presumed dead after a headcount proved he
missed the emergency teleportation. The second was initially presumed the
same, but he was discovered later after the quarantine was lifted a month
later. The autopsy showed that he roasted alone on a hovering equilibrium
chamber over the lava.
