Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 64357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
His words are stupid, arrogant, and above all, cruel. These men like to call the Artifice terrible, but they are capable of so much worse. The Artifice never does anything to be evil or to cause suffering on purpose. But these men, they concocted a plan that would only ever end in tragedy.
“You destroyed someone more honorable and valuable than you could ever be.”
“We needed your wife, because we need your obedience. Nobody else needs to die, except if you decide to make that necessary.”
“What do you need me to do?”
“Oh, it’s very simple. And it’s something that should have been done a very long time ago.”
“Tell me.”
“Go to the Artifice,” he says, spreading his hands wide in a sort of perverse invitation. “And turn it off.”
The notion of turning the Artifice off strikes me as ridiculous as turning off the sun. “That can’t be done.”
“Of course it can be. It just needs someone the thing trusts, as well as someone who has advanced military training and can be relied upon to get past the thing’s defenses.”
Calling it the thing is dehumanizing. The Artifice isn’t a person, but it has earned personhood a thousand times over. Lance is reveling in this disrespect.
“I want to see my bride.”
“You will see her when you are done.”
“I want to ensure she is alive, so I don’t do this task for no reason.”
“Oh, there is a reason,” Lance laughs. “You are going to free humanity, Arthur. You are going to…”
“Shut up,” I snap. “I don’t need your braindead rebel philosophy spouted at me. I’ve put my sword through people blathering the same nonsense you are thousands of times.”
“Yes, you are a killer, aren’t you,” he says. “One who feels so very offended that someone he cared about was killed in her turn. You’re a hypocrite, Arthur.”
“Where is Mila?”
“She is safe, though she will not be for much longer if you keep wasting my time,” Lance growls, his mood and visage darkening. This is the problem with going up against old friends. I know precisely what he is capable of, and that falls into two categories: anything and everything.
He won’t let me see my bride before I do his bidding, and he will absolutely kill her without remorse if I do not do what he wants.
“Fine,” I growl. “I will travel to the Artifice, and I will cut the power sources.”
“There will be traps, you know that. There will be shielding and guards. But you may be able to leverage your hero status to get close enough to avoid most of those defenses. That’s what we are counting on, anyway.”
What they are counting on is me being prepared to do this regardless of whether or not it is possible to actually do it. They don’t care if I die, as long as I die trying to do what they want me to do.
Lance throws a radio walkie-talkie at me. “Let me know when it is done.”
Mila
“He won’t do it.”
“Shut up.”
“He won’t do it. He loves the Artifice more than anything.”
“Shut her up!” Lance looks around for someone who wants to deal with me. This place is full of very uneasy unfaithful men and women who are now part of something they wish they weren’t. Arthur always described the rebels as being reckless, wild people. I think they’re addicts who have no idea what to do with themselves when they’re not high on Soma.
“Touch me, and the consequences will be far-reaching,” I say. “What you’ve done so far is already unspeakably stupid.”
I have been crying almost without stopping since they killed Lydia. I have never seen violence before. I never knew what it looked, sounded, or smelled like when a man pushes a steel blade through the body of a woman. Lydia fought them off for long minutes before she went down. She killed three. But in the end, she could not save me, and I could not save myself.
“He’s not going to rescue you,” Lance says. “He’s going to either die in the attempt to turn off the Artifice, or I’m going to kill him, and then you. Or perhaps you, then him. I haven’t decided which will be worse for him, being forced to watch you die in front of him, or dying in front of you, knowing he cannot protect you from me. It’s a real head-scratcher.”
“What is your problem?” I screw up my face. I know he wants me to be scared, but I have complete faith in Arthur.
“My problem, right now, is that you won’t shut up.”
I fall silent, but not because I want to make him happy. I’ve just run out of things to say. He’s a brutal, stupid man. I know he’s more intelligent than the others who are following him, but he is not smart enough to realize that what he is trying to do will never work. Even I know that the Artifice won’t just be turned off.