Subjectivity: Chapter Twelve

Sonya sat before the cement hearth, her narrow hands extended toward the large fire that burned brightly before her. She was wrapped in a thick, wool blanket and found herself begrudged to admit that her three day stint of dehydration and starvation had left her weaker than before. Having failed to convince Joshua Ehrhardt to spar with her, she was left to sit and warm her frail body with her gaze perpetually moving from the flickering flames to the winter wasteland outside in vain hopes of seeing her comrade, Ludwig. The Ehrhardt family had admitted that they had not run into the man, though Sonya had seen little of the elder lady, Elsa Ehrhardt, who had shut herself in the study and was, according to her son, ‘reading many classic novels.’ The excuse did not fool Sonya in the slightest, for she empathised with the old woman’s pride: she did not wish to appear weak in front of others, and had retreated into solitude to mourn the perversion of her husband’s memory from President Laevan’s most recent declarations. An ember crackled in the fire before her, and she jumped slightly, before her mind fell to a new topic: Subjects. What did she think of them? For the auburn haired Russian, they had not been a topic of importance in her life, but at the same time, bore them no ill will. “They’re spoiled rotten, that’s for sure. Raised in that castle of a compound…” Sonya rolled her eyes at the thought; Subjects lived in the lap of luxury as children, for NELO was equipped with some of the most advanced forms of technology in all areas of life.

“Mulling over Subjects, eh? I didn’t expect you to pay them that much attention.” A familiar voice sounded behind her, and she once more jumped at the surprise and subsequently cursed herself for being caught off guard by both an ember and a person. The man who had arrived took a seat on the worn leather couch next to her, and looked to Sonya for a moment. The young woman would admit that, for his age, Joshua Ehrhardt was a handsome man, and having seen pictures of his father from his youth many years ago, she presumed pleasant genes ran in their line, though she only snorted derisively at the man, finding his likeness only bothersome at the current moment. “I visited NELO quite a few times when my father was President. We used to live in California before he was killed, you see. I don’t know if mother mentioned it previously, but she and I, along with my kids, moved out here to Siberia for safety. Laevan knew we would press the inquiry, and once we did, my son came home in a military police cruiser. The guy told me that, had my son been anyone else, he would have most assuredly been left alone.” The man’s gaze narrowed in anger as he recalled his son’s life being threatened, though relaxed after a long moment. “Anyways, you’re too young to remember this, but back in 2132, so just a few years before you came along, there was another NELO. Teachers don’t teach this in grade school because it’s generally taboo to talk about, but NELO One as scholars call it now, the earlier one, was destroyed by The Awakening, you see. The ‘parents’ of the Subjects, along with their executive at the time, Doran Laevan, were absolutely distraught.”

The man chuckled lightly at Sonya’s incredulous stare. “Yes I know, hard to believe. Anyways, Laevan helped lead NELO, but he and his then fiancé, Natalie Bellerose, one of the parents, as they liked to be called, of these Subjects, were on TV at the scene. Somehow, The Awakening had bought missiles and had leveled the place. As Laevan goes on about how terrible of a crime was made that day, Doctor Bellerose turns to the rubble and collapses to her knees and begins to sob.” The man sighed, his eyes closed for a long moment. “Laevan can say what he wants now, but that woman was an absolute wreck. She just cried and cried. It was really heartbreaking to see.” Once more, the man stopped in his story and ran a hand through dirty blond hair. “Now Laevan says the woman’s making monsters for some evil purpose, but we know better. It’s all a lie. I met Doctor Bellerose, and she was a fine woman who loved her children more than anything else in the world.” Joshua Ehrhardt rose from his seated position and swung a fist through the air to the side. “It’s all gone so damned wrong! Now he’s spitting on father’s memory by undoing everything he worked so hard on. NELO Two’s going to be leveled and there’s nothing we can do. We just hide in the whipping boy state of the Union like cowards.”  His words seemed to strike a chord of agreement with Sonya who merely nodded once, still lost in the story she had never heard before. “NELO One wasn’t nearly as big as NELO Two is today. The death toll would be astronomical. And yet he’ll get away with it the way things are going now. The Union civilians are in a panic over stopping The Awakening from bombing them after the incident in Beijing. And the rest of the world just watches on.”

Sonya rose to her feet at his words, discarding the thick blanket that once draped her form and locked her stormy gaze with the man’s before him. She broke her stare after a long moment before making her way to the large window at the far side of the room and stared out into the blizzard that raged on. She could not see more than fifteen feet away, but she almost felt as though she could see Ludwig for a moment. “We need to find Ludwig. I have a plan, but it won’t work on my own.”  The man who had for so long spoken fell quiet in confusion, and upon a lack of response, Sonya spared a glance over her shoulder. “We’ll go to NELO and warn them. It won’t stop Laevan, but it’s a start. If we can save the people he wants to kill, it’ll discredit him. If we go with the military, no one will think anything of two soldiers being gung-ho to mete out the enemy.” Her words only seemed to worry the other man, though if he was to voice his concerns, he decided otherwise, and merely fell silent. Her gaze once more focused on the wintry whiteness that was the outdoors and frowned. She had barely survived for three days, and the amount of time she had already spent recovering her own strength was time where Ludwig could be losing his own. A frown grew heavy upon her face and her grey gaze narrowed in frustration. “In either case… We need to find Ludwig.” She nodded once, “We have to.” Once more, her words confused her counterpart in the room, though Joshua remained quiet and merely stood a distance away, worry gnawing at both of their minds for entirely different reasons. With that, she moved toward the exit of the living room, toward the entry of the house: “I’m going to go look for him.”

Joshua closed the distance between the two of them and grasped her by the wrist like she was a rebellious child who needed scolding. “Just a minute!” Wrenching her hand free, she glared at him coldly. “I’m not saying we don’t go look for him, but on foot you’d just get lost and die from exposure. This isn’t the dark ages and we don’t need to go killing ourselves in some childish quest for being reunited.” His words were quick and he gave Sonya no quarter to defend her actions and instead grabbed her by the wrist and began to pull her toward a door that she had not passed through before. The door was swung open inward by the scruffy Ehrhardt before the Russian woman was ushered down a steep set of steps. Darkness was all about her, though Sonya was quite used to the darkness from her days of hunting and kept her footing sure. The room was abruptly illuminated as she reached the bottom step and in the basement of the squat bunker house was a seemingly odd sight. Large, old desks created an ‘L’ in the centre of the basement and upon them many projected monitors were displayed. Upon the monitors one found shaky video being portrayed. The point of view was so low that the majority of the camera’s view was obscured by snow, and Sonya silently mused that they must have had some sort of low to the ground autonomous system to observe their surroundings. Moreover, what appeared to be tracking equipment was set up in opened metal trunks and in the far corner, a locked cased with what looked to be weapons of some sort held within. Joshua descended the steps quickly after her, his suddenly fatigued gaze placed upon the projections that floated in the air. “Joshua Ehrhardt. Password: blood dove.” At his cryptic words, six more screens appeared and Sonya’s eyes widened at what she saw.

Portrayed before them were what she assumed were live feeds from the Union training camp Seventeen in various places, and she hurried toward them. “We’ve acquired this feed through sympathisers to my father’s death and those who, simply put, hate what the new Pacific Union is doing to Russia, you see. As for these cameras,” the man motioned to those set up low to the ground and almost skittering across like rodents, “They’re disguised as squirrels, mice, hares, anything you’d not look twice at in the Siberian wilderness.” She looked to her counterpart who was already busily entering data into one of the screens embedded into the top of the desk which he stood at. Upon the projected monitor before her, Sonya saw the various drills being performed in the central square at the behest of a few drilling sergeants. The Russian woman scanned those being drilled closely, and found great relief in not seeing Ludwig among them. Returning her attention to the other screens she found that many of the mobile cameras were, according to the super-imposed map upon the screens, performing a detailed sweep. “Ever since you told us about your missing friend, I’ve had my little critters run around Siberia to find him. It’s a big territory, obviously, so it’s going to take a while, but he couldn’t have gotten very far, so we’re keeping our sweep to around seventy-five kilometers around the house. So far we’ve covered about half of what we want to cover in our initial scan with some of the others who finish early retracing their steps.”

Sonya nodded thoughtfully, finding the intense operation incredibly intriguing. “Thank you, truly.” She spoke quietly, finding her gratitude foreign and making her sound like a mewling child, though she ignored her pretenses and charged forth in her thought. Indecision wracked her mind as she spoke of parts of her mind she had not wished to make known: “It’s not that I like Ludwig or anything, don’t get me wrong.” Joshua looked up, a dark eyebrow quirked inquisitively as he ceased whatever he was typing to listen to her. “Just, when you drive for seventy hours or whatever to get to this shithole and your only company is one weird Estonian, you get used to their company.” She looked to one of the other screens wherein the display flashed momentarily with the words ‘Hare 43’ and ‘Low Battery,’ though she focused on the snowy landscape before her and watched the camera’s eye bound up and down repetitively with the animatronic hare’s gait. “I never would have spoken to him if he hadn’t spoken to me. I didn’t want to go to Seventeen, obviously, so I wasn’t really up for chit chat. But he just pressed on.” She shrugged once, “He’s a good guy. He doesn’t deserve to die in the snow. He killed that guy because he had to; I’m sure the drilling instructor would have done him in had he not.” Joshua merely nodded, though Sonya had already returned her attention to the screens, her face feeling uncomfortably warm as she admitted to admiring Ludwig for his personality.

“Oh to be young again…” The male Ehrhardt chuckled lightly and received a withering glare from Sonya, though he ignored it. The man turned his attention back to the console before him which was also placed within the surface of the desk he stood at and typed a few things in before standing upright once more. “I’ve set the system that it will respond to you. You can watch the critters do their work if it helps pass the time. There’s some exercise equipment in the other room, so if any of them find anything out of the ordinary, the system will sound an alarm and you can come and check on it.” As she opened her mouth to speak, Sonya was silenced as Joshua answered her question: “I’m going to go see if I can’t convince my mother to quit sulking and then pick up my kids from our neighbour’s place. It’s about twenty kilometers away, so I’ll be a while in this weather.” With that, he paced over to her side and patted her roughly on the shoulder before continuing on his way up the stairs. “Make sure to eat something!” The man called down as he ascended the steep wooden steps which creaked under his weight. Sonya was left in silence and so she merely pulled up a dusty office chair and observed the screens before her. The basement was cool and dark, and she found it reminiscent of her brother’s room, which had been in the basement of their own house in Polyarny. He had often complained that it smelt of mould, though if such complaints had been true, he would have surely grown ill many years ago. Discarding the thought, she focused her attention upon the screen which periodically flashed ‘low battery.’

~*~

It was three hours before Sonya heard any indication from the monitoring system in the other room, and when the alarm sounded, what she assumed was a treadmill which produced eerily life like running conditions seemed to respond angrily to her interrupted thought process and she was hurled into the treacherous path carved into its malleable being. Catching herself with her right elbow and left hand, she tossed herself onto the cement ground next to the treadmill and swore at it, angered that it had jarred her so badly. Sonya pushed herself to a hurried stand and charged out of the small room to find the alarm continually sounding every five seconds until she clumsily pressed a few buttons on one of the screens in the desktop to silence it. One of the many monitors was highlighted and flashed, and so with a quick swipe of her finger, she brought the projected image before herself and enlarged it. The camera had ceased its incessant bounding and focused upon a still figure sprawled onto the snow. Clearly a male, the man’s chest almost did not rise at all with every weak breath he took. Black hair was dirty and matted with debris from bushes and the like. His right hand was covered by snow, however his left was exposed and the fingertips had grown blue with frostbite. Anger grew in Sonya’s heart as she saw the sight: it was not Ludwig’s predictable idiocy that had put him in this situation, it was the Union. He had protected himself from being killed and was being frozen to death for it. Anger turned to fury as she felt her hands clench into fists at her sides before bringing one high into the air and down onto the surface of the desk while she shouted vulgarly. “Joshua! Get down here!” She called up, finding her request to sound almost like a demand.

Silence followed her beckoning, and she recalled that the man had informed her that he was out picking up his children. Frustration churned in her mind as she contemplated what she should do: the wisest course of action was to speak with Elsa, but from what she had heard, the elderly woman would have no visits and Sonya did not wish to anger the woman whose grieving heart was once more rent open with the perversion of her late husband’s works. She looked to the control panel which flashed with periodic updates from the screens floating before her and opened one of the interfaces therein. A floating projection appeared directly before her in place of the focused camera pointed at the near still form of Ludwig Von Strauss. With a few deft finger taps on the ephemeral surface she spoke the commands to herself as she fumbled through the confusing operating system: “Systems, tracking… Transfer to device…” After she had successfully transferred Ludwig’s location she realised that, for there to be a transfer to a device, there must be a device that would lead her to the tracking rodent. Her gaze shifted around, though she found nothing, and instead hurriedly pulled the drawers of the old desk open, only to find the hardware that supported the projections and the operating system she had just used. “Where the hell is it?!” She cursed angrily, and with a huff delivered a firm kick to the desk, only to feel pangs of pain in her exposed toes from the ill-thought activity of kicking a desk. “I don’t have time for this, damnit!” She exclaimed as she rose once more and turned to one of the other desks and opened more drawers, however still found nothing.

“The tracking thing is in daddy’s cabinet.” A meek voice sounded from behind Sonya, and the auburn haired woman turned abruptly to find a small girl, no older than seven years old standing at the base of the staircase. The young girl had fair hair that tumbled messily around her shoulders and back, and she was adorned in a thick burgundy parka that looked to be too large for her, for it dragged on the ground. Sonya surmised that the child must have been one of Joshua’s, for the young Russian woman could not think of any other reason there would be children in the Ehrhardt’s hideout from the Union. “Daddy says we’re not supposed to go in there, though…” The child looked away as though she was going to be punished for admitting the cage was a taboo object in the bunker-like house. Sparing the child no words, Sonya broke her gaze from the nervous child and made her way to the weapons locker and gripped the handle and pulled at the door, though found that it was locked shut. Wrenching at it, the metal structure shuddered in resistance, however the door did not open and Sonya huffed, her mind set on concealing her frustration in front of the small child. However the same child walked up to her side and placed a small hand on Sonya’s wrist and spoke shyly once more: “Here, I’ll do it.” Hesitantly, the fiery tempered woman removed her hand and the young Ehrhardt placed her own hand on the handle and spoke aloud: “Alyssa Ehrhardt, password…” The young child who revealed her named to be Alyssa flushed darkly, “Password: Valley girl.” Sonya smirked at the password, though remained silent.

Sonya’s initial concerns of a child having access to a weapons lockup were abated for, when Alyssa pulled on the handle, instead of the entire door opening, only the centre section of door opened from seams that she had not seen in the door before. In a narrow cubby sat what appeared to be a sort of device that one equipped to their wrist. Procuring the device, the Russian woman equipped it to her wrist and from its matte black surface appeared a floating screen no larger than six inches wide by four inches tall. On its screen was a detailed map of the valley they were in and what looked to be about fifty kilometers to the west was a small red dot that glowed brightly periodically. “… Thank you, Alyssa.” Sonya spoke after a long pause before closing the locker once more. The girl offered her a bright smile though, had she intended to speak, her elder counterpart had unintentionally cut her off: “My name is Sonya, by the way. Sonya Volkov. Your father found me close to death in the valley.” Sonya winced inwardly at her horrid conversational skills with a child, finding her topic change of her near death rescue to be both a topic unsuited for a child and an embarrassing moment of weakness on her own part. However the child before her seemed neither surprised or amused and merely nodded once. “I’m sorry, Alyssa. I need to get to going. I finally found my friend and he needs help.” With that, she stepped around the small child and with hurried strides had begun to ascend the steep stairs. Rust coloured hair trailing after her in a tightly bound ponytail, the young woman heard the light footsteps of another and realised that the child was following her. An unpleasant reality at best, Sonya was well aware that she would have to leave the child at the house for it was simply too unsafe to bring them with her. Moreover, she worried that Alyssa might slow her down, though her fears were abated as she made her way onto the main level.

Standing at the far end of the hall at the main door was Joshua Ehrhardt garbed in a thick parka that was covered so thoroughly in snow its black fabric was nearly lost to the whiteness. Noting the device strapped to her wrist, the scraggily bearded man frowned and looked to his daughter who had quickly followed Sonya up the stairs. “Lyssa…” The man grumbled, however turned his attention more thoroughly to their house guest; “I know you want to go out there and find him, but you will not go alone. You’re just some kid from Murmansk; you’ll die out there.” Sonya felt anger once more build up in her person as she was put down as though she was a rebellious child. She began walking toward the man, deciding that he might be better persuaded, however paused as the man seemed to calm from his own personal irritations: “Look, you have the tracker. We’ll go together and get your friend.” With that, the man, having stopped trying to pat the snow off his coat and moved to one of the closets nearby and from it tossed a parka in Sonya’s direction which she caught out of the air. “Get that on. It’s one of those new fabrics, poly-something or other. It’ll keep you nice and warm while we go skipping through the snow.” His snide tone only received a small smirk from her Russian counterpart, due to her affinity of the rather upfront man. Adorned in the heavy jacket, Sonya moved to the exit where Joshua had laid out a pair of unceremoniously looking pair of boots which she slipped on. The entire ensemble was incredibly warm, however it felt strange and foreign. Shifting uncomfortable, her older counterpart smirked wryly and spoke in an overtly dry tone: “Feels strange, doesn’t it? I don’t know why we needed all these new polymers, but they certainly do help in this frozen wasteland.”

Following centuries of reckless non-renewable resource exploitation, environmental upheaval had been felt most heavily in the mid to latter twenty-first century wherein many animals that had once been a staple of Western culture were seen to be almost wiped out from disease and sickness. Many scientists of the era believed that such was a precursor to the Barren, however such a connection had never been drawn. Due the lack of sheep, healthy cotton and many other fabric creating resources, artificial fabrics were invested heavily in and from them came advancements in means of keeping in the heat or in more tropical locations, allowing perspiration to be removed easily. Such fabrics were expensive, however, and so many of poorer regions of the world were forced to recycle old fabrics in an endeavour to conserve fiscal assets to pay for more important necessities. As Sonya laced up the foreign feeling boots she now wore which glimmered with a coppery shine in their tan colouration, the door to the bunker-house was opened and a flurry of snow and cold assaulted her now covered form. True to their expectations, the artificial fabrics kept her completely warm, save her exposed face. Following her older counterpart, Sonya and Joshua exited the house. The slamming of the heavy metal door behind her was lost to the Russian woman’s ears as the howling of the blizzard temporarily deafened her. All around her was whiteness of light snow which fell without repose. With one step forward out of the protection that was the overhanging concrete above her, the snow fell in earnest upon her.

Joshua Ehrhardt spoke aloud, though his words were lost to the howling wind, and after a moment of seeing naught but a perplexed expression upon her pale face, the man merely motioned for her to follow. As he turned, he procured from his collar a scarf which he pulled up around his nose and his gait saw the snow rise to below his knees. Sonya too followed and found her pace slowed greatly by the rolling drifts of snow. Though she could see naught but fifty feet before her, all that was visible was rolling banks of snow, some which she suspected to be up to her waist. The sky’s tumultuous whiteness wavered in and out of existence before her in the blanketing, frozen precipitation and the young woman found herself having quite a difficult time following her counterpart as the wind buffeted her relentlessly. His dark figure was cast obtrusively against the blinding whiteness all around her, and as she struggled through the snow her convictions wavered and she considered turning around and waiting for the storm to subside. However her mind snapped to the memory of Ludwig’s near still form half buried in the snow with frostbitten fingers and weak breathing. Anger took her as she recalled his frailty and she hurried her pace. As she did so, she removed her hand from her pocket and activated the tracker she had placed on her wrist before. The small projected screen became bright and clear in the poor weather and with a quick thought she oriented herself properly before shouting to her storm braving counterpart: “Joshua! He’s this way!” She pointed in a slight deviation of his path. The man, though not hearing her words, nodded and heeded her directions.

Sonya felt her skin grow moist with sweat and it was then that the peculiar fabric of her clothing took effect: the sweatshirt she had been given seemed grow cold and as if through some sort of magic her sweat was simply removed from her person, though the shirt itself did not feel damp. Renewed from her realisation that she did not have to worry about contracting hypothermia from her sweat freezing on her skin, she charged forward with renewed vigor and surpassed Joshua, the man shooting her a surprised stare before merely following her. The cold wings stung at her exposed face and, having seen her counterpart perform a similar action, reached into her upturned collar and procured a concealed scarf and drew it around her face. Her breath condensed against her face and felt wet and uncomfortable, though once more the strange fibres simply removed the moisture in mere seconds. However her gallant gait through the snow was slowed greatly as the drifts grew higher and more difficult to tell apart and so the two found themselves stopped and instead moving around the abruptly chest high snow piles. Looking down to the device fixed to her wrist, she tapped it and the screen was once more projected. From the map thereon, she discerned that she and Joshua were a kilometer way from Ludwig, however she could tell that, after their already length trek, they were both flagging in strength. Her breath was already coming out in ragged rasps, however she soon realised that such was the product of having to trek through such deep snow. Joshua too walked with a slump, his breath coming out in frosty clouds quickly. “He’s close! We need to keep going!” She called back to him. The elder man nodded firmly, his gaze determined.

Renewed, the two pushed forward through the banks of snow, though fatigue gnawed at them relentlessly with every step. Around them the spindly forest that Sonya had passed out in had appeared and now, as opposed to the few inches of snow she had found when she had been deposited there, three feet of snow had been consistently deposited. Breaking her gaze with the wintry wasteland, Sonya looked to the projection on the tracking device. The red dot that was the fake rodent which marked Ludwig’s location blinked almost madly as they grew ever closer. “Fifteen meters…” She mumbled to herself, ever following the path laid out for her. “Five meters…” She glanced nervously around, however saw no sight of her compatriot. Despair and worry crawled into the corners of her mind and she felt her resolve begin to crumble. “One meter…” She looked around more hurriedly, having stopped in her stride, Joshua fell in step and looked around, confused. “I don’t see him, Joshua!” She shouted over the howling winds. The snow had grown to her waist around the base of the tree she now stood before. The American man whose dirty blond hair had been messily pushed backward from sweat motioned to a strange lump in the snow where what appeared to be a shrub had grown tall enough to be seen above the thick snow. Her eyes widened in shock as she realised that the shrub that she had initially thought to be such was in fact no such thing; it was black hair sitting upright. Sonya scrambled forward and felt her right foot catch on what felt like a thick root and fell face first into the snow. Anger boiled in her veins: she had no time for tripping, she had to find Ludwig. Gripping the vein roughly, she felt something off; something that felt like a pant leg.

Sonya scrambled to her feet and hurried to what she had realised was no root and no shrub. She dove her hands into the snowy bank and wrenched from it a heavy object. The snow toppled off the object like a crystalline waterfall and in her grasp was a pale Ludwig, his head tipped backward. She shook him, her panic finally taking over as she shouted in his face: “Ludwig! Ludwig!” However no response came, and as she shook him to and fro, his limp head fell forward. Dragging him under the tree where the snow build up was less intense, she laid him down and placed two fingers on his neck. Sonya felt her heart sink as her fingers met the still vein. There was no pulse. Ludwig Von Strauss lay dead before her. “There’s no pulse!” She looked to the man, dread laden clearly in her voice, she looked around, wishing desperately to find something to help them though much to her dismay she found nothing. “Joshua! Help him, please! I won’t let him die from that fucking Union!” She slammed her fist against the tree she had found him slumped against. The elder Ehrhardt who had fallen to a knee next to her shook his head, silently indicating there was nothing he could do. “If we had a defibrillator…” However she knew neither of them had thought to bring such an item and felt her head slump, her gaze falling to her clenched hands. For all his kindnesses, his friendly nature, she could never even spare him one single word of praise, of gratitude for making her stay at the Training Camp bearable. “Fuck!” She swore aloud, throwing her fist once more against the tree where she heard the device on her wrist collide loudly.

“Wait…” Joshua spoke aloud, an idea evidently coming to mind. “Open the tracker! It’s got a battery in it; we can use the wires inside to shock his heart back into action!” The man placed his hand on Ludwig’s forehead. “He’s not cold yet, so he must’ve just recently died, just as we were coming up, I bet.” Sonya grinned widely and nodded, tearing the device from her wrist with such vigor that the strap was torn asunder at the clasp. The screen, already cracked, made for an ideal means of opening the device. Discarding one of her gloves, Sonya dug her fingernails into the crack and widened it with a painful stabbing of polymer into the sensitive flesh under her fingernail. She winced audibly at the feeling, though pressed on and peeled back the polymer screen and tossed it aside. The exposed mechanisms consisted of a coiled fiber optic cable and a motherboard, something which Joshua seemed to find fortunate. “The cable: it’s a magnetic coil, some sort of artificial copper they made into an optic cable – it doesn’t matter. Uncoil it, then remove the motherboard. The battery will be underneath.” Joshua instructed quickly, to which Sonya obliged. Taking the cable from one end, she uncoiled it with one quick motion and passed it to Joshua who snapped it in two. The young Russian woman’s hands felt numb and blood oozed from her fingertip, though she irritably wiped it off on her jacket before once more painfully digging her fingernail under the corner of the motherboard. With one smooth motion, she snapped the inch by inch board off and tossed it aside. As her counterpart had assumed, a flat battery, no larger than a centimeter by two centimeters sat, which she carefully removed and handed to Joshua.

The man whose child had given her the ability to find the device nodded and spoke again: “Alright. Put your glove on and hold the battery.” Doing as instructed, Sonya slipped on her silvery glove and took the battery. Her hand shook with her nerves firing erratically from worry. Taking a long steadying breath, she held the battery between her thumb and forefinger over Ludwig’s fallen chest. Her elder fellow pressed the two ends of the now broken optic cable under her gloved finger against the sides of the battery and took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s hope this thing has enough power left… It’s stronger than it looks. I used one of these to start a fire when the power went out a week ago.” He commented passively, though the story fell on deaf ears. She merely nodded and with that, Joshua tore Ludwig’s thin shirt open, and his chest, pale and scarred, lay bare. Taking the ends of the cable, he pressed them to the young man’s chest. An electric tingle surged through her insulating gloves as the current abruptly ran through one cable, into Ludwig’s chest, through the other cable, and back around. The German named Estonian himself convulsed upward, however remained still. “Clear!” Joshua instinctively called out and repeated the process. Once more Sonya’s hands felt numb with the electricity that pulsed through them from the powerful, if tiny, battery. Ludwig surged upward, though once more fell still. More angered, Joshua called out again: “Clear, damn you!” and pressed the cables in with such force that their jagged ends pierced his skin and drew blood. The charge pulsed through her hands with such force that Sonya dropped the battery, however the circuit was completed and Ludwig’s body jerked up once more.

A tense pause fell over the two of them as they looked at the body expectantly. Sonya so badly yearned for him to sit up and give a subpar explanation as to why he was so still beforehand, though he did not rise and remained still. Sonya watched her breath frost and disappear before her as the silence wore on, silently willing Ludwig to rise. A hot and irritated feeling wrenched at her heart as she looked over his still corpse: ‘The idiot! Why didn’t he stay in a cave? He would’ve been safer!’ Her mind raced as he continued to lay still, desperately trying to come up with an alternative to revive him. Though he fell still once more, and Sonya felt fury build up in her. “Wake up and stop being a drama queen, damn it!” She swore angrily and delivered a frustrated punch to Ludwig’s chest, the heat of the current having heated his chest. However she retracted her hand abruptly as the still corpse below her coughed violently. Sonya fell backward into a seated position, surprise laden in her face. Ludwig’s hands shakily rose to his exposed chest as it rose and fell erratically. Joshua merely sat knelt there, peering at the younger man cryptically, as though he was about to fall back, dead. “You asshole…” Sonya smirked wryly as Ludwig sat up with the older man’s aid and stared at her, his eyes wide. “You brainless asshole…” She repeated.

~*~

Subject One could feel the tension in the air as he looked over those amassed below. Civilians, soldiers, politicians, businessmen, indeed people from all walks of life had gathered in the dilapidated lobby. Those gathered shuffled around awkwardly with hushed whispers being traded back and forth. Many sent wary gazes toward him, though the unsightly man ignored them, his crimson gaze bearing down on all from his vantage point at the top of the long staircase. The evening air streamed in weakly from holes in the stone ceiling which although once arched magnificently, now hung unevenly and threatened collapse with every passing rumbling outside. He studied those below critically: many were bloodied, others bandaged, and all covered in dust and debris. The sight brought an almost surreal amusement to his strange mind as he considered how easy his task had been made through their sorry standings. The stairs before him, once a shining marble covered with a bright red carpet, were chipped and many had crumbled from the onslaught that his benefactor had initiated. For the capital building of Laevious had been ‘liberated’ in the words of the Union force commander following the extraction of sympathisers and Subjects. Those who stood before him were a large portion of the population which had survived the ruthless bombings and their miserable, tired gazes were indicative of their spiritual fatigue.

“Citizens of Siochana!” He called out with spindly arms raised high into the air. Those gathered ceased their hushed conversation and looked upon him. He felt their wary gazes pierce him and Subject One found himself empowered by it. ‘They will listen to me because they are desperate,’ he thought to himself, a small smirk growing on his drawn face. “Long ago Neo-Palmyra was a symbol of freedom, of commerce! Now it is a befouled monster that makes a mockery of all that true and natural to our Earth!” He lowered his hands, descending a few steps. “We made it so. We decided. We chose.” He flourished a tattooed hand before him which depicted the yin-yang symbol on the back of his palm and pointed out the doors. “This is not the action of man! This is the will of the universe who has grown angered at our hubris!” Once more, his muffled steps sounded as he grew ever closer to the crowd gathered. “We made this island an abomination! We grew monsters upon it and now we feel its mother’s, the universe’s, wrath!” A few hushed whispers sounded and he looked to those who spoke off to the side for a moment and those who had broken his train of thought shied away from his peculiar gaze. “I represent a group who wishes nothing more than a return to what is good and natural!” Taking a few more steps downward, he was now only feet away from the crowd gathered. “Yes, I am he. I am the Awakened. I and my brothers and sisters are The Awakening! They who stand against the Subjects whose existence saw your friends and family die!”

Dubious gazes were cast at him, though Subject One was unconcerned and continued speaking: “Perhaps this was done by the hand of the Union, but it was done in the name of justice! For too long have you feared us, but now it is time we lurk in the shadows no longer! We are not your enemy! The New Evolutionary Leap Organisation and their accursed monsters are: those who wear our skin but speak a demon’s tongue!” His voice echoed off the ruined lobby and from what he saw on the desperate faces before him, the crowd was easily won over. “Indeed! My brothers and I offer you food, clothing, and shelter! We will protect you where NELO has let you die for its own safety!” A few surprised gasps could be heard, and finally Subject One descended to the main floor of the lobby, his fingers grazing a woman’s shoulder who seemed visibly entranced by his touch. “I am called Father, for I protect my family with all that I have! Humanity is my family, and the Pacific Union is my home! And as any good father does, I will provide you with a better life than your monstrous neighbours could ever offer you!” With a snap of his fingers, the true test began. From the main entrance to the town hall, crooked, poorly hung doors swung open inward and from them six figures walked with a twelve foot table that seemed to float along. Small metallic balls rolled underneath the six table legs: two in the centre and two on each end. The crowd eagerly parted for the table whose surface was covered with a black runner, however it was not the adornments of the table that saw them part, it was the food that sat thereon. Piled high was fresh fruit, sandwiches and various drinks. Quickly following the first table was an identical one that also floated above the spherical magnets that kept the table hovering.

The crowd lurched greedily toward the table, however, much to Subject One’s delight, stopped suddenly as he commanded them so: “My family! Wait!” He called out, and the crowd looked to him desperately, so very longing for the plentiful feast that was so tantalisingly laid out before them. “Before you eat, all that I ask is that you pledge yourself to save this great nation, our great Union, so that others might feel the joy you feel now!” He looked to the crowd with a piercing, bloody gaze and raised a thin fist into the air, “Do I have your support?!” From the centre of the crowd and rippling out, cheers and applause roared with excited fury, and the first Subject nodded. “Then eat, my friends! Eat and be strong, for this world is a place of bounty unknown! All you need do is follow your Father! Let me lead you to greener pastures so that you might become better than you ever thought possible!” The cheers rose in intensity to the point of being deafening, however quickly died out as the crowd eagerly took from the table. Much to Subject One’s surprise, there was no panic or violence: all took their turns patiently and ate with glee, many exchanging happy banter. Laughter could be heard and Subject One smiled a small smile. ‘Excellent, these will do well. Laevan, you will have your peace.’ The unhealthy looking man smirked wryly, ‘But it will be on my terms.’

Subject One’s gaze moved about those gathered, however, sat next to the staircase was a young boy with a crimson fabric wrapped around his arm. The seemingly benevolent man moved toward the child who regarded him warily. Extending his arms outward, the elder man smiled and spoke: “Dearest child, you are so thin and appear so weak. Will you not eat? It pains your Father to see you so.” His words were soft and calm, and Subject One fully expected himself to be regarded as the others had regarded him: with trust and faith. However as the ‘Father’ moved toward the boy, he slid backward, his dark brown eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why do you flee, child? I am no demon. I am not a monster given man’s shape. I am no Subject.” His words which almost always inspired amicability only seemed to enrage the boy who shook his head, continually sliding backward and away from him. Much closer to the boy, Subject One realised that the fabric wrapped about his arm was not drenched in blood, as he had initially suspected, but instead the remnant of a crimson shirt of some sort. The child was covered in dust and debris stuck from the curls of his black hair, though if he found his filthiness abhorrent, the child gave no indication of such. Subject One, having cornered the child, fell to a knee and from his linen robes procured an apple he had intended to eat after his speech and offered it to the boy. Once more, the ever silent child shook his head. “What is your name, my child? Why do you hate me, child? Have I not done my utmost to save you? Tell me what I might do to make you happy. It pains me so to see you so bitter.”

“It’s Jacob, you snake. And you can’t confuse me. You’re evil…” The boy spoke, his voice raspy and dry and barely above a whisper. His words caused the crimson gaze of Subject One to widen in shock before narrowing. “And there it is,” the boy shook his head, clutching his injured arm to his chest. A heavy silence fell over the two as Subject One discarded the apple, letting it roll away wherein another child who had happened by some distance away picked it up and eagerly bit into it. Subject One offered the more amicable child a kind smile who returned the gesture before moving off quickly. “You call Subjects demons… A Subject’s friend, they wrapped my arm so that I wouldn’t bleed to death.” Subject One let forth an exasperated sigh. “NELO sent in lots of trucks full of food. The Union bombed them.” The boy smirked slyly, “You can fool these idiots, but you won’t fool me.” Jacob chuckled wearily, his wounded arm still held tenderly in his own grasp. The boy met Subject One’s angered gaze with one of his own, and the two merely stared at one another. The ancient man knew what must be done, and he silently resolved himself to see it through. “Those two, they came here to help… To help us. But then the terrorists gave them up to the Union. I bet they’re dead.” He spat in Subject One’s face, blood mixed with phlegm painting the old man’s forehead, which he irritably wiped away. “I bet they’re dead.” He repeated, “Because evil people like you told the Red Dawn the town would be safe if they were surrendered.” For such a young child, they had a surprisingly complex vocabulary, and although Subject One was impressed, he knew the child was a prospective poison.

The man leaned back for a moment before slipping a hand into his flowing, simple robes. Procured from his pocket was a slender instrument no thicker than a knitting needle and about as long as a pencil. “You are far too smart for your own wellbeing, child. Had you remained quiet, you might have survived.” The man lurched forward then and delivered the sharp instrument into the Jacob’s chest and pierced his heart smoothly. “Alas, I cannot allow black sheep in my happy flock. I will return to the world to what it must be. And if a billion must die so that nine billion may live, then so be it.” The child’s eyes became wide shock as the instrument pierced his chest and he spasmed for a long moment. “Yes, yes. Be at peace. Your life of suffering is at an end.” Subject One pressed the boy’s head against his shoulder as though he were consoling them before removing the instrument and replacing it in his robes. The boy pushed against him weakly before his panicked eyes grew dull and lifeless. His hands, placed in vain against the bloody eyed man, fell to his sides and a sad breath escaped his lips. Subject One let the boy fall backward into his arms so that he might heft the boy into his arms. The old man rose to his feet with Jacob in his arms, held tight to his chest. Those nearby looked to him, surprise and sadness in their eyes as they noted how still the child was.

“Darkness has felled this innocent boy!” Father called out, and all those gathered fell silent and looked to him. “A seeming mercy, a friend of one of the many demons dressed this boy’s wound. But he poisoned him! Poison most foul! This sweet boy, Jacob, is no more.” Cries of outrage and shock could be heard, though the first Subject silenced them: “Now is not the time for anger, my friends! Let us mourn this boy’s passing! Let this feast be in memory of little Jacob, who so desperately wished for us to be one, to be the family that evil stole from him!” Tears fell from his crimson eyes, a clever trick he had learned long ago, and those gathered around them wiped at their own eyes, many clutched against loved ones at the sorry sight that seemed to move the desperate masses so. “I go to deliver this boy to the earth where he might be reborn into a happier world, a world we will create together!” Father moved forward, the crowd parting for him as he looked over them all, their faces stricken with grief. Evidently, as he had hoped, the boy’s passing had brought to life the many other deaths they had experienced as of late and unseated their mental faculties further. ‘What fools,’ the pale man thought to himself, ‘So easily duped by such nonsense.’ Reaching the entrance of the political building, Subject One exited with the boy still cradled to his person and hurriedly paced into the ruined square. The night had fallen and a wintry chill had set in on the isle. Though it did not bother him, for even the winter of such equatorial islands was little to complain of. “This island is a paradise,” Subject One mused, “Let it be your last vacation, Natalie.” He smirked darkly as he continued on his way.

Crossing the abandoned street, he entered the debris of a few buildings which had toppled into one another before falling out of sight of those who had watched him leave. The smell of burning was strong in the ruins and the man found his footing unsteady. The trek angered him and he contemplated merely stopping where he was, though Subject One endeavoured further into the ruined city block until he could no longer see the town hall. “I will make you loathe the day you made me, Natalie, Doran.” He spoke aloud, his mouth twisted in a wicked grin. With those words, he tossed the boy Jacob’s corpse to the ground where it tumbled before settling against an overturned wardrobe. The boy’s dead gaze stared up at Subject One, though the man did not care and merely turned to return to the town hall. With one gaze over his shoulder, he smirked at the sight. “Such is the fate of those who oppose the Father.” For behind him lay the corpse of an innocent boy who had been tossed aside like refuse, though this Roe Speremus could not seem to care.

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