Velvet Dogma About 3300 wds (19 page)

"Do you really think that of them?" Andy asked, jerking his head toward the people below.

"How can you not? Their refusal to allow the children to see them proves my idea. They don't want the children to know."
 
Rebecca shook her head savagely. "By hiding the results of a behavior, that behavior continues, then escalates. You should have seen Abraham. He was proud of who he was. He acted like a Day Eater Christ."

"I guess it's a sort of control."
 
Andy shrugged. "If they didn't do it, I don't know how many of these children would follow in their parents' footsteps."

She nodded fiercely. "Like the terrorists of old, if kids got a look at a
blown up body part future
, do you think they'd ever make the same choice their parents did? Don't get me wrong, Andy. I like these people. I like them a lot. I just don't know if what they're doing is right."

"Maybe it's a sign of their desperation."

"That makes it right?"

"I don't think that it's just a matter of right and wrong, Bec. That's too simple. Right and wrong is a point of view. History determines the rights and wrongs of a society and I'm not willing to be that judge. Not now. It's too soon. After all, we're talking small groups trying to bring down a global government. In the case of the former Middle East, we were talking about regional tribes attempting to influence world superpowers. In the case of the Day Eaters," he spread his arm out to encompass the city, "you have all of these people waging a war of ideals against the Global Allocation System. They need an edge and maybe their edge lies in the shadows of secrecy."

"And you said you didn't understand."
 
She shook her head. "I think you understand all too well."

He shrugged. "Velvet Dogma is concerned with the same things. We want to change the world, but only have a few of us willing to go through with it. In truth, we're fools to even try."

"Then why do we do it?" she asked, including herself.

"Because it's our right. Because we
have
to. Because we can't just let global entities govern us blindly."
 
Andy lowered his voice. "Because it's what makes us human."

And that was the truth of it. Need and desperation made psychotic bedfellows. Did she have the faith of her convictions? She had once. Could she regain them? Could she have as much faith in herself as these people did? One thing that she knew about these people was that their faith had been modeled after those of the Old Testament and if ever there was a book to be afraid of it was that one. "Where does that leave us?" she finally asked.

"A situation has arisen," he said hesitantly.

"What? Is there something wrong?"

He stared at her through heavy lids, as if he was deciding to tell her something. Then with a frown and a twitch of the head, he said, "They got Panchet."

Her eyes widened. That little man in the back of the porn store? The inventor of the gravBoards? The man who'd promised to take care of her?

Seeing her work it through her mind, Andy nodded. "By the description, it was the Hei Xin. They want you bad, Bec. They want you
real
bad."

"Is he still alive?"

"I don't know. He's off the grid, something that hasn't happened since the Virus Plagues of 2017."

"We can't let him die, Andy. Too many people have been hurt because of me."
 
She shook her head. "I don't want to add him to the toll of my dead."

"If we return topside you're vulnerable, and frankly, I don't think I can protect you. Down here there's nothing that can hurt you. Even the government stays away, grateful that the Day Eaters remain underground most of the time."

"I don't care. My brother, then Olga and now Panchet. When is it going to stop, Andy?"
 
A hardness began to creep into her voice. "If this is all about Velvet Dogma, then I think it's time we unleashed the damned thing. If it's as big and boogy as you say it is, it's going to leave one hell of a crater on the ID. Let's go topside and do it. Once it's done, then we'll see how badly they still want me."

"If anything's left standing."

"Well, there is that."

"W
e need to see the Ack Ack Deacon," said Andy as they left.

It sounded straight out of the Wizard of Oz.
We're off to see the Deacon
. But the wonderful deacon of
what
? Andy was keeping his voice low and clearly didn't want to talk much about the deacon in front of the Day Eaters. All he'd said was that The Deacon was the opposite of the Day Eaters, and also the same. And he'd said he didn't like riddles. Who was he kidding?

When he'd mentioned his destination to his Day Eater guides, it was clear that they weren't happy to be taking them to the Ack Acks. But theirs was the way of underneath. They knew the secret passages, crevices left over from demolitions, cataracts created by quakes, and old subway tunnels forgotten when cars had taken to the air bridges. In deference to Maria's command to take them where they needed to go, the guides grudgingly complied.

Two hours of silent transit through the warren of paths beneath Los Angles finally brought Rebecca and Andy to an abandoned subway station. The lights of their guides illuminated the concrete platform and the rails leading into the distance. A poster advertising a long forgotten cigarette hung within a Plexiglas frame beside a sign that said West Hollywood. Trash and debris littered the concrete floor. The stairs to the surface had long ago been filled with broken concrete and rebar. The place had the stale smell of something old and forgotten.

Without even a by-your-leave, the Day Eaters slunk back into the shadows, leaving Rebecca and Andy stranded in a halo of light with only a rat to keep them company. They'd left Andy with a tin lantern fueled by a candle. Ignoring the rat, he aimed the light at the walls and searched until he pointed to a sign scrawled on the wall in purple paint: a stylized zero next to a six. "That's their sign."
 
Seeing her confusion, Andy reminded her, "That's binary, Bec."

Binary. Of course. One of the oldest computer languages. The
06
was binary speak for
ack
.
Ack
itself was an old Bell systems convention carried through the early 2000s. Standing for Acknowledge,
ack
was initially used by programmers as the communications code sent from a receiving station to a transmitting station to indicate that it was ready to accept data. It was also used to acknowledge the error-free receipt of transmitted data. Hackers used it as a proxy acknowledgment for friendly pings. Whichever way it was used, that the Ack Acks identified with it said much to their level of computer knowledge as well as their commitment to the traditions of the technology. Without even seeing them, Rebecca knew they were old school to the extreme. She only hoped she'd be able to get along with them.

Andy shown the lantern farther down the tunnel, then gestured for her to follow. They trudged through the darkness, sliding their feet forward to keep from tripping on something unseen on the floor. Eventually the tunnel began to lighten, until finally when they rounded a gentle bend, they found a section of track illuminated in a blinding light.

She and Andy looked at each other. She saw her self-same doubt mirrored in his eyes. Still, he was the first to step towards the light. She stepped close behind him, squeezing his hand tightly. The source of the light was somewhere near the ceiling, but it was so bright they couldn't make it out. Even the walls were a glaring bright white. Finally Andy set the lantern aside. Gripping her hand as tightly as she'd gripped his, he escorted her into the light, where he stopped, then stood straight and invisible. She couldn't see him, but she could feel the skin of his hand. She closed her eyes, but she could still see the light. She squeezed them shut even tighter. Still the light shown through, so painful she bowed her head.

Suddenly a great horn blared, the sound like a physical assault. Rebecca dropped to her knees. Her hands shot up to cover her ears. She felt herself scream but couldn't hear it. Only the ache of her jaw and her gasps for breath told her something was happening.

Blind.

Deaf.

Pain.

Then silence.

Then darkness.

Her body went limp and she slumped to the tracks. Released from the stimuli, all she could do was gasp. Crystal spider webs spun before her eyes. She heard her own breathing, but from a thousand miles away. Her heart raced. Her muscles felt like jelly.

Then a surge of nausea gripped her. She felt seaborne, as wave after wave tumbled her stomach. Her head reeled with the inequity of her senses. Finally Rebecca opened her mouth and vomited, retching over and over until she lay curled in a ball. She shivered, wishing she would die.

Time passed, and with it came the realization that she'd most probably live. Carefully she reached out and felt Andy beside her. What had happened to them? What was next? Fear filled her chest, rushing her heartbeat. She gripped his hand and felt his weak grip in return. At least he was still alive.

She tried to stand but couldn't find the strength. After a full minute she managed to communicate the need to each and every muscle, forcing them to cooperate. She managed at last to sit up before a light snapped on again.

She lacked the power to fully turn towards the light, so she was forced to watch from the corner of her eye. This light was a simple overhead hanging far down the tunnel which produced a pool of white against the dark floor. Two black stick figures were heading towards her. Just as they reached the edge of the light and were about to step into darkness, another light snapped on. One after the other until seventeen lights had snapped on and the pair of black suited men stood before her and Andy.

Rebecca squinted at them. Although the light was as blinding, it still brought tears to her eyes. She wiped a string of drool from her lips and acknowledged them with a wave of her hand, the motion almost sending her crashing to the rails.

"Don't—no more...light."
 
It was the best she could manage.

"You take the woman and I'll bring the man," said the one on the left.

The other nodded as he placed his hands beneath her armpits and heaved her to a standing position. He pulled her forward, helping her through all seventeen pools of lights. She flinched at first, but eventually came to trust that the lights were of the helpful variety.

They carried her and Andy to the end of the tunnel, then through an immense steel door large enough to fit a train through. But instead of a train, the door opened into a room filled to the ceiling with computer equipment. From PODs to last-century CRT monitors to plasma screen displays, not an inch of wall was bare. Code, text and images flashed from each one in a scintillating similitude of the world's largest television store.

Rebecca was dragged to the center of the room and dropped on a lounge chair. Seconds later, Andy plopped onto the chair beside her. His head lolled. His eyes were closed—unconscious.

Her head began to clear. The raw mush of her mouth tasted nasty from the bile leaching into her breath. Her eyes watered. She cleared them with the back of a hand. She felt blood returning to her muscles and with it, a malaise so deep it threatened to overwhelm her. But against her will she moved first her feet, then her legs. The pain wasn't as bad as she'd expected. In fact, the more she moved them, the better they felt.

"Rebecca Mines. You're not expected by the Deacon."

A rotund fellow about her height had managed to step in front of her without her seeing him. He wore PODs over each eye and was spectacularly effeminate.

"I wasn't expecting to see the Deacon," she managed to retort. "Not until this morning."

"Then it's clear you're in violation of Ack Ack Protocol number 1. In the event you are able to fix–-"

"Rebecca, is that you?" asked a new voice that sounded vaguely familiar. "Get a job, Bender," snapped the new voice.

The rotund fellow stalked off only to be replaced by a
 
rail-thin man who hunkered down in front of her. He lifted her lids, then felt her pulse, all the while shaking his head and smiling. "You're going to be okay. The effects of the Bio-Guard don't usually last more than an hour or so."

She groaned as another spasm of pain assaulted her head. Her answer flew away assaulted by lethal shards of misery.

"Pretty nasty, isn't it? It keeps unwanted intruders away, like the Day Eaters, those wretched things. Why'd you try and enter that way, Rebecca? We would have let you in the front door."

"Unnh."

"There now," he whispered. She felt a sting in her arm and vaguely realized he'd injected her with something. "Close your eyes, Rebecca. Dream of Velvet Dogma."

She'd meant to ask him what he meant, but sleep overtook her in a freight train rush.

W
hen next Rebecca opened her eyes, the misery that had possessed her had disappeared, leaving a general feeling of ennui. Her limbs, which had felt cracked and broken, bore no evidence of the pain. It was as if it had never happened. Only her memory proved that wrong, but this, too, she wanted to forget, because along with remembering came the echoes of her agonies.