When I woke up, the first thing I thought was that I was late for an appointment. Failing to promptly pick up or drop off a package resulted in docked pay or possibly even a temporary reduction of your water quota, and if it happened more than once, termination of employment. In our freemocracy, termination of employment is itself terminated by Population Control. I had to get that package on time.
I sat up. In front of me behind a thin, metal desk sat a familiar woman. Two drones – hoses, laser tubes and all – stood at attention nearby. I blinked a few times, but they didn't go away.
The Iron Lady turned to one of the drones. “Go and tell Justice Murasaki that Mr. Gyges is coming to.”
“Oh no,” I moaned to myself and brought a hand to my forehead. There had been a golden ring on it once, but now it was unadorned. I stared at it for a moment uncertainly.
“Oh yes,” replied the Iron Lady even as she started to shuffle through the papers and photos of an open, leather-bound dossier on the table in front of her.
The ring was gone. Maybe that's why I'm here, I thought darkly as I looked the room over. The Company. Xiling must have fished the ring off my hand while I was out cold. He certainly must know it's not the real thing. I sighed heavily. They'll never believe me that it's been destroyed. I didn't know what was in store for me, but I began to prepare myself for the worst.
“I believe we had an agreement, Mr. Gyges.” It was the officious tones of the Iron Lady. She was still perusing my file and taking her time at it. “An agreement you did not keep.”
“What agreement?”
She looked up and affixed me with those iron, grey eyes. “There is still the matter of the microchip. You were supposed to make yourself available for further questioning.”
I frowned. “Microchip? But you got it back!”
“Yes, so it would seem.” The Iron Lady returned to my file. “Still, procedures are procedures. They are meant to be carried out from start to finish and not disregarded simply because you may think it's convenient.”
I didn't know what to say.
“Circumstances have, of course, changed. We can close the book on this incident. Don't you think?” And at that, she pulled a PA out of her pocket, thumbed at it for a few moments, and slipped it deftly back inside. Folding her hands neatly in front of her on top of my file, she leaned forward and stared at me sternly. “It would seem,” she said, “that you cannot stay out of trouble. First there's this dreadful business with the microchip, and now you've gone and stolen a ring.”
“You've got that, too,” I pointed out, showing her my hand.
“Oh, no,” the Iron Lady replied, shaking her head. “The President has it.”
“The President?” I frowned. But it suddenly made sense. The Dutchman works for Judas. I'm sure it was the first thing he did once they captured me. “What am I doing here then?”
“The President has given you over to us for safe keeping.”
“But you work for the Supreme Court.”
“Why do you insist on stating the obvious, Mr. Gyges?”
“Wasn't there a civil war while I was gone?”
“Oh, that!” The Iron Lady closed the dossier, lifted it up, and banged one end on the table a few times. “It seems the President and the Chief Justice have found it expedient to cooperate. At least, when it comes to you.” She shook her head. “You ought to have listened to my advice, Mr. Gyges. You were a promising young employee. You should have stayed out of trouble. There's always enough food and water and oxygen for people like that. We were going to give you a second chance, you know. But there's no sense in that now. Is there?”
They strapped me into a wheelchair, stuffed a hard, plastic ball in my mouth, and wheeled me out the front entrance, right below the familiar logo of the two arrowheads, one embedded in the other and joined at the tip. The Iron Lady supervised it all. They loaded me into an armored truck and drove off through the city. Six drones were in there with me, sitting on little benches running along the side and saying nothing. It was clearly Washington, although from what I could tell through the tiny windows cut into the back of the truck, large parts of it had been reduced to ruin. I caught glimpses of people standing in the streets, sifting dejectedly through the rubble.
I had never been through the front entrance of the White House before. There wasn't much to see, although I was jolted about a great deal as we slowed down and speeded up again. When the back of the truck finally opened, I found that we were inside some kind of cargo hold. Large crates and containers were stacked in jagged rows of shelving off to the side, sloppily barcoded, towering upwards towards the lofty ceiling. Some rusted fork lifts fitted with electronic readers were parked haphazardly in the intervening space. Two of the drones pushed me towards the opening and dropped me almost a meter to the ground while the rest piled out. The Iron Lady, wearing a long, grey, leather jacket, emerged from the front passenger door and was greeted by soldiers in the National Guard. They exchanged a few brief words before she reached out and confirmed delivery by pressing her thumb against the face of one of their PA's.
I could see that there were other armored trucks. Apparently, we had driven through the city in a convoy. Familiar people were being unloaded from the backs, also gagged and strapped into wheelchairs of their own. Maya and Jennifer were difficult to recognize, but there was no mistaking Icarus' wild, curly hair. His glasses had been knocked off and were sitting uselessly in his lap.
After that, they slipped a cover over my head. Someone took hold of the handles of my chair and began to wheel me roughly forward. I had no sense of direction and anyway I hadn't even recognized the starting point, so it was impossible to tell where we were going or how we were getting there. All I know is that I was jolted about a great deal. Eventually we must have reached our destination, because the wheelchair stopped moving.
“When do we start on the north-south axis?” My heart dropped into my stomach when I heard that voice.
“We've got crews clearing the rubble now,” came the dry, nasal reply. “There aren't any more buildings standing along the northern half into the Grand Plaza. But we'll have to carry out some demolitions in this part of the city, here.”
“And the east-west axis?”
“Already started,” came the smug response.
A low, pensive grumble sounded somewhere up ahead of me. “Always see the positive in a situation, Vassily. That damn war nearabout done us in, no two ways about it. But all's well that ends well. At least, that's what my mamma used to say. I always hated the way this city was laid out. Now half of it is rubble. Maybe there is a God after all.”
“Marble and stone are expensive building materials. I don't see where you're planning on getting them.”
“Is that what's crawled up your colon? Well rest assured, we'll have plenty of the right kind of rock on hand when the time comes to start stacking them on top of one another. Steiner is over there now, showing those damned camel-lovers who's boss. Thought they'd flex some muscle while we was on hard times. Slaughtered a hundred thousand of our kind in a single day after we pulled our forces out for the war. And not those sissy European types, either! Tax collectors, representatives from the combines, the Dutchman's agents – defenseless women and children! Well, now we're back.”
The voice paused before rumbling on reflectively, “It's been seventy-five years since Murroughs retook Constantinople. Seventy-five years we've been waging endless war in the desert. And we've never in all that time been able to pacify those damned Territories! Now I've got Steiner over there. I wish I had a Munib! Put the fear of Jezebel into them is what he'd do. If I'd have given him free reign, we wouldn't have heard a peep out of those towelheads for generations. But Steiner will have to do.”
“What's that got to do with marble?”
“Huh? Plenty! Turns out they got lots of old buildings, stuff from ancient times. Museums.”
“What stuff?”
“Laws knows! Anyhoo, it ain't important. Steiner's got orders to take it all down, piece by piece, and ship it on over. When do we start on the Grand Plaza?”
“We've already started paving over the mall.”
“Good work, Vassily. Everything is falling into place.”
“Who's in the wheelchair?”
“Wheelchair?” There was a moment of silence. “Damn drones never talk, do they?” snapped the voice with a sudden ferocity.
The hood was yanked from my face. I could see again. For a moment I blinked uncomfortably, acclimating to the sudden light.
I was in a long, windowless, grandiose hall I had never seen before. The walls were of paneled wood, the floor of speckled marble. Laid out neatly on a low table in front of me, occupying the bulk of the floor space, was the sprawling architectural model of an unfamiliar city. But this was not just any city. It was a monumental city. Fantastic buildings with open galleries lined a huge, paved square near the center. One of them was topped by an impossibly large dome. Two broad boulevards flanked by parks intersected there. Leading away was a vast network of streets and avenues, each one as straight as an arrow, the intersections marked by triumphal arches and tall pillars. Somewhere to the east was a stadium, and on the other side of the city was a district of skyscrapers, tall, arrogant monuments to Vassily's insatiable greed. The buildings were all grand, they were all magnificent, but there was something ugly and repugnant in the scale. It was clear to me that people would not live here. They would come to be awed against their will, tiny little things, mere specks hopelessly swallowed up by the towering structures and the doorways that stretched two stories and windows that yawned thirstily like the mouths of great, empty caverns.
Samuel Judas Epstein, President of the United States, Lord of the Americas and lots of other things besides, squatted near the ground at the other end, glowering at me dangerously between red, bushy eyebrows. Two goons in black suits and sunglasses lounged nearby.
“Get that thing out of his mouth!” he ordered. At once he fished a golden ring out his pocket and parked it on the second finger of his left hand.
At once, I could feel thin hands pulling at the straps at the back of my head, and in a few moments, the plastic ball was pulled away, almost taking a few teeth with it.
“Do you like it?” Judas growled at me, gesturing brusquely at the model city.
“No,” I said. “What is it?”
Vassily strode into sight from behind, his thick, black cape trailing after him. “Our new Washington, D.C.!” he proclaimed happily. “The worthy capital of a great Empire!”
“What happened to the old one?”
“The war,” he returned and smiled smugly.
“I thought we had you safely parked on the moon!” Judas suddenly roared at me, standing up.
“You tricked me,” I told him. “I saw the casts on the link.”
Judas' face reddened. “Don't you accuse me of nothing.” The hand with the ring on it sprang out in front of him. “See what I got?” When I didn't answer, he thundered on. “Don't pretend you're not impressed. You're scared shitless.” He mopped his mouth with the hairy back of a hand. I could tell from the look on his face that he had a sudden idea. Holding the hand with the ring up in front of him again, he ordered, “Tell me why you came back.”
I answered immediately. “To make peace with you.”
“Peace?” Judas snorted.
Vassily, now standing at Judas' side, hissed. “You're using the ring on him?”
“He must be telling the truth,” Judas said slowly.
Vassily shrugged. “I never did think he was very smart.”
At that moment, someone entered the room from behind me.
“Hello, Judas.” It was Gessus.
“Hello, Vassily.” That was Bessus.
“Can't you see I'm busy?” Judas snapped.
“I thought Tina – ” began Gessus as the brothers strode into my field of view.
“– conducted all the interrogations,” finished Bessus. The sound of their sandals slapping on the smooth floor seemed extraordinarily loud.
“This one is special,” Vassily told them.
“Who is it?” Gessus asked.
“Can't you tell?”
The twins peered at me. Recognition dawned on their faces. “Senator Gyges!”
“Yes, well, we'll have to do something about that,” muttered Judas under his breath.
“Isn't he in violation – ”
“– of his ostracism?”
“Yes! And he's a traitor besides! Remember how he went stirring up trouble between me and Xiling?”
“Don't be ridiculous. You were quarreling before I even got here,” I said.
“Don't you talk to me like that, son!” Judas growled, beard and eyebrows bristling.
“I'm no threat to you,” I replied calmly. “Neither are my friends. Let us go and live in peace. You'll hear nothing more from us. I promise.”
Judas seemed taken aback.
“Live in peace?” echoed Gessus incredulously.
“Is he serious?” Bessus asked.
Vassily shrugged and swirled his cape about his shoulders.
“I never meant you any harm, Judas.”
At that, Judas's eyebrows skyrocketed. “Don't give me that load of horseshit!” he shouted. A pudgy finger stabbed the air in my direction. “You came here to steal my wife and kill me! Said so yourself!”
“But I didn't.”
“Yes, well, why you didn't follow through is your own business. But it doesn't change the fact!”
It was at that moment I realized that Maya, Jennifer and Icarus weren't present. “Where are my friends?”
“Oh, don't worry,” Judas snarled. “You'll be seeing them soon enough.”
“Stop arguing with him, Judas,” Vassily slurred and glanced at me darkly out the corner of his eye. “He's a convicted criminal.”
“He's not convicted yet!” Gessus pointed out gleefully. He and his brother nodded at each other knowingly.
Judas played thoughtfully with his beard. “Can we have the trial tomorrow?”
“You'll have to ask Tina, won't you?” Vassily told him.
Judas grunted. “It's not Tina I'm worried about.” Speaking up, he snapped his fingers at the twins. “We'll do the legislative session later. Right now I want Sonya.” He grinned at me evilly. “We need to get some snaps made as soon as possible.”
The twins tittered with scarcely contained delight.
I didn't know they kept a dungeon at the bottom of the White House, but they did. The windowless cell they kept me in was damp, cold, and dismal. The walls were made of large blocks of cement. I sat shivering, chained to the wall, and meditated.
I don't know how long I was there before I became aware of scratching noises. They were coming from the enormous, rusted door. When it swung open, of all the people in the world I saw Judas.
“Get a move on,” he said curtly, eyes fixing on everything except me.
“Where are we going?”
“Don't worry about the mule,” he growled. “Just load the wagon.” He turned around and exited.
I thought it was a trick. I would step outside, Judas nowhere to be seen, and then the alarm would go off. They'd have every reason to shoot me. I stepped through the portal anyway.
Judas was still there, gesturing impatiently for me to follow.
“Where are you taking me?” The hallway looked like most basement tunnels, poorly lit and unfinished with wires showing and insulated pipes and metallic supports for the floor above. The doors to more cells lined one side of it. Up ahead, there was a closed, iron cage and a guardpost.
Judas shushed me and started up the hallway. The guardpost was unmanned, and the iron cage turned out to be open.
“You keep this place open just for me?” I asked causticly as we passed through.
Judas stopped and stomped a foot. “Be quiet!” He turned and held up the ring on his finger for me to see. “Or do I have to use this on you?”
“You going to keep threatening me with it?”
“Now you know what it feels like!”
We carried on. After a few twists and turns I lost my sense of direction, but Judas seemed to know exactly where he was going. After about ten minutes, he pushed open a rusty door. An automatic light switched on, revealing stairs.
We climbed. Judas began to breathe heavily, grunting occasionally and muttering to himself, but he never stopped or slowed down. We passed a few small landings with tiny doors. Eventually, he picked one and entered.
I found myself in a lavish closet. A lady's closet, to be exact. It was about the size of someone's living room. One wall was dedicated to shoes. Row upon row of laced boots, high heels, slip-ons and more piled all the way to the ceiling. There must have been a hundred to choose from. Then I noticed the dial and realized there were countless more behind, endless row upon endless row, ready to be rotated in on a whim. Colorful dresses – some lavish, some more subdued, but all of the finest material – lined the opposite wall, to be worn only once before being discarded. The wall behind twinkled brilliantly with the reflected faces of a thousand precious stones. There were necklaces, armbands, clasps, tiaras, bracelets, earrings, ornaments I had no idea what they were for. In the center of the closet stood two tall, dressing mirrors, a pair of mannequins, and some comfortable seats. Embedded in the far wall was an unassuming door, framed by elaborate shelving with bottles on one side and folded bandanas and head scarves on the other. The air smelled of perfume. To my dismay, I recognized the scent.
“Why are we here?” I demanded sourly. Looking around, I had already lost track of where we had entered.
He didn't answer.
Is he drunk? I wondered to myself as he crept up to the door and pressed his ear against it. A moment later he reached for the latch, slowly turned the handle, and cringed at the click when it came. He froze, but there was no reaction from the other side. Pushing it open a crack, he peeked through.
There was someone on the other side. I could hear the sounds of splashing and singing.
Judas gestured for me to approach. I would have refused, but he held the ring up threateningly. As I drew closer he stepped aside and licked his lips. Obviously, he meant for me to take his place.
I looked out into the brilliant white of a royal bathroom. The ceiling was high and vaulted, the floor and walls decorated with mosaics. The sliver of light did not reveal much more, but I could also see between the door and the far wall a sunken, marble bathtub. It was low and round like a pool and seemed to spring directly from the tiles of the floor. The familiar woman inside was lathering herself up.
Jewel.
I drew away angrily. “What is this, some kind of joke?”
Judas blanched and pulled me away from the door. “Keep your voice down or she'll hear!”
“I don't care if she hears, Judas. She's your wife.”
Judas' face bunched up in avarice. For the first time, he looked up at me, genuinely angry. “This is what you wanted, isn't it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“To be here!” he insisted, eyes bugging out of his head at me. “To take my place!”
“No.”
“She's my wife, Marcellus! Mine!”
I looked at him squarely. “You are President of the United States, Judas, and I'm your prisoner. What in the world do you have to prove to me?”
At that moment, the closet door opened. Jewel stood, wrapped in a towel and dripping, framed in the doorway and glared at us.
Judas yelped and cried out, “Honey!”
Cringing in disgust, Jewel slammed the door shut.
Hours later, back in my cell, I had another unwelcome visitor.
“What was that all about?” Jewel asked me, taking a seat perfunctorily at the other end of the cold, metal bench I had for a bed. She did not betray any emotion. Calm and calculated, she seemed as stately as ever. But inside she must have been seething.
“I don't know.” I shrugged. “You know your husband better than I do.”
She did not respond immediately. Folding her hands obliquely in her lap, she stared up at the ceiling, contemplating. Finally, she spoke. “You are angry with me, I trust. Yes. You feel that I deceived you.”
“You did deceive me!” I was surprised by the intensity of the reaction. I thought I had put my feelings for her behind me, childish as they were.
“No.” She turned her deep, brown eyes in my direction. “But spying on me while I bathe is certainly not the way to win me back.”
She's an egomaniac just like her husband, I thought to myself. They both live in worlds where all events revolve around themselves. I was tired and worried about other things, and I didn't see how she could help me, so I said rather gruffly, “I don't think you understand. It was Judas' idea. I had no idea where he was taking me and I didn't want to go.”
“Samuel?” Her face darkened. “You begged him to go. To see me one last time.”
I laughed. “Is that what he told you?”
“You foolish boy!” she shouted suddenly and jumped to her feet. I had never seen her so angry. “Do you know what will happen to you tomorrow?”
I shook my head.
“A show trial! Everyone will turn up, and those who don't will see it on the link. And at the end of it, you and your friends will be executed! How does that sound?”
“Pretty much what I expected,” I said disinterestedly.
She cocked her head. “You want to die, Marcellus? Is that it?”
“No.”
“I could help you.”
I laughed again. “No you can't. You're not here to help me. You're here to gloat. You think I'm still infatuated with you. Well I'm not. Actually, I feel sorry for you. You are married to a man who shows you off like a piece of cattle to his friends and foes alike, and you choose stay with him.”
She slapped me hard across the face, glared at me hideously, and slapped me again. “You have no idea, Marcellus Gyges.” She squeezed the words out between clenched teeth. “I made that man President! Margolis was far more capable, but I chose him! He owes this all to me! To me!” The gathering words gained momentum. The eyes flashed like diamonds, sharp and beautiful and perilous all the same. “Sixteen years we've been married, and sixteen years I've kept the wolves at bay – the lions, the snakes! Would he still be President now?”
She guffawed hideously. The stiff, feminine composure was gone. What was in front of me now was a raving animal, foaming at the mouth. “The fool! They'd have done away with him years ago! But he treats his maidservant – what's her name? Betty! – better than his wife. That fucking slut! I should have had her killed! I could have done it, you know. But he kept begging me not to. As if she was worth the cheap dress she crawls around in!” She stared at me wildly.
“Do you know why I came here tonight? To convince you to kill him! But you ruined it, didn't you? You're as much a fool as he is, just younger! We would have been safely rid of them once and for all! You, me, the whole country! And you would have been President! You could have done it! And I would have been at your side! You would have listened to me, wouldn't you?” She stood panting, searching my eyes for understanding.
But I could not understand. The heavy breathing began to subside. She relaxed. After a minute, she looked away and smoothed out her dress as if nothing had happened. “You have no idea what it's like to be me,” she finally said in measured tones and turned away.
“Oh, but I know exactly what it's like,” I responded with energy. My cheeks still stung. “You see, I chose not to be you and a whole lot of other people just like you. I may not be Queen of the Empire, but I'm free.”
“By tomorrow at this time you'll be dead, Marcellus,” she said quietly over her shoulder. “Much good your freedom does you now.”
“But don't you see? You don't understand what freedom is. Freedom is being able to choose your own way and accept the consequences, whatever they are. And I would never choose to be with you. Especially now that I know who you really are. I think I always knew. Death will be a comfort compared to years in a prison with you.”
After she stormed wordlessly out the cell and slammed the door behind her, I searched my emotions. There was no regret. I had come this far, and if this was to be my end, I would accept it. There was calmness inside. There was fear also, fear of death and the unknown, but it was a mere prickle. I could handle it.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I hoped I could handle it just as well when the time came.
When I opened them again, there was daylight. I couldn't see outside, but I knew the sun had risen. There was scratching at the door again. Voices. This time it would not be Judas or Jewel or anyone like that. Soldiers with a wheelchair and a gag, come to ship me off to my trial.
It couldn't be far, I knew, because Judas never left the compound.
This site and all its contents are the result of the tumultuous workings of the mind of one Adam Wasserman.