He swings his baton through the air, and three more figures float into sight from beyond a holographic wall. It ripples as they pass through, from invisible to visible. The first is a young woman, the second a bruised and bloodied young man, and the third is none other than Drasko himself with one arm in a makeshift sling cut from his own shirt. They glide toward us and slide into place, joining the lineup. Pinned like we are.
"I assume no introductions are in order," our host says with a broad smile. "Drasko and I have been involved in various business ventures for many years. He's my favorite dust supplier because he never holds back, never keeps any of the merchandise for himself. I could always trust Drasko. But I realize now that I didn't really know him. "
He twitches the rod, and Drasko screams, eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back in agony like he's being crushed by the pressure field.
"I already knew he led a double life, working as a pilot for Dome 1 law enforcement, and I had no problem with that as long as it didn't affect his work here in Dome 10. But you see, our friend Erik, whom I've also known for quite some time—these wannabe actors always want a piece of the good life, you know, thinking they might find a current that will carry them upstream, away from the little fish—he has very little tolerance when it comes to pain. And he spilled everything that Drasko has been so good at hiding from me." Our host chuckles. "Everything. Including the fact that Erik's little stunt last night, leading that curfew enforcer on a merry rooftop chase, was not due to any dust high. He's naturally gifted that way, just like our speedy friend here. Nice moves, by the way." He winks at me. "So I'll make you a deal. You explain how I can have my very own superpowers of a very permanent nature, and I'll let most of you live. How's that sound?"
My stomach sinks.
Do you still think these people should be given supernatural gifts? Julia asks.
If it means saving my friends…
I just hope I won't have to lock lips with this guy.
24 Sera22 Years After All-Clear
While the seventeen of them smile like imbeciles with their unfocused eyes staring up at the ceiling, enjoying whatever delights exist in their virtual Promised Land, I get out of my lounge chair and inspect the room, activating every alcove I remember by touching various points along the white walls. By the time I've made a complete circuit, the first few sections that I opened have already begun sliding closed. I go around again, faster this time, making a game of it.
It should be obvious to anyone monitoring us that I've grown bored with VR and become restless. Only a matter of time before someone checks in on me.
Eventually, a section of the wall slides open to reveal a doorway to an outer corridor. A boxy robot with large optical lenses but no other anthropomorphic features rolls in on wide treads. I step in front of it.
"Who's in charge here?" I demand.
Keeping its lenses to itself, the bot reverses and then navigates a course around me. It heads for each of the end tables beside the VR zombies and collects their half-finished drinks and meals, piling them into a spacious receptacle in its midsection. Job complete, it circles back to find me blocking its path again.
"Answers." I fold my arms and glare down at it. "Now."
The door slides open behind me, and I pivot to find—
"It's not a very sophisticated machine," Chancellor Hawthorne says as she steps inside the room. "It couldn't communicate with you verbally even if it wanted to."
Taken aback by her sudden appearance—smiling like a young grandmother and dressed in the same white bodysuit the rest of us are wearing—I stumble back a step. She allows the robot to pass between us. Once the door slides shut, she steps close to me, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially.
"I don't much like them myself. Bots. I've always preferred clones for my security force. I like knowing the personnel protecting me have hearts pumping inside them. That they would bleed for me, if necessary."
"Chancellor…" I blink, having trouble believing my eyes. "What are you doing here?"
She gives me a knowing look. "You heard I was taken someplace safe during the terrorist attacks."
I nod.
She spreads her arms wide as if to encompass the entire underground facility. "This is the safest place on earth, Enforcer Chen. The perfect venue for your Revelation Banquet, don't you think? All we need are the final two members of the Twenty to arrive, and then Dr. Wong will share the details of your glorious Ascension." She takes my hand in both of hers, and they're soft and warm. "I am so excited for you, Sera. What happens next…" Her eyes glisten with joyful tears. "Do you remember books? No, probably not. They were outlawed long before you were born. But this is like a final chapter ending, a book closing—only to be reopened, and much to the reader's surprise, for there to be yet another chapter waiting to be enjoyed. And it's the best chapter in the book, Sera." She nods emphatically, her grip tightening. "Because the best is yet to come—for all of us!"
I politely extricate my hand. "Where's Commander Bishop?"
Her expression falters. The smile is still in place, held there with some effort. "She had to return to Eurasia. Those terrorists will not catch themselves, you know."
"And who's running things while you're away? Who's in charge of the Domes?"
She stares back at me without response.
"Martial law only works for so long, Chancellor. People will start questioning what's going on, and law enforcement won't have answers for them." I nod toward the Seventeen in their chairs, blissfully unaware
