CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Alex and Charles found Roy pacing in the empty white. He hurried over to the new arrivals, and announced, “World select, Life After People, United States of America.” A portal appeared a few feet down from the trio and Roy moved to its entrance. “Come on. People have been popping in and out all morning. Asians mostly. I’m assuming we don’t want me recognized.” Looking to Alex, he frowned. “And we know everyone from the Far East will recognize Alex.”
Alex nodded, well aware of the fame he generated in the Eastern Hemisphere. He remembered learning of the peculiarity Japan’s populace bestowed on celebrities. They embraced them on a scale that dwarfed American idolization. Many Japanese considered Alex a living deity. His endorsement practically guaranteed a product’s success. Multitudes of packaged foods, clothes, cosmetics, and even toiletries bore his name. Signing licensing agreements often consumed an entire day. He also dominated their entertainment, owning partial rights to a dozen animated series; a new video game every couple of months; action figures; his name in a hundred lyrics—to try and compress it all would cause his head to spin off.
Roy dipped into the portal without waiting. After a cursory glance around, Alex followed.
Life After People, United States of America, planted a client in one of six major cities with a random amount of time having lapsed since people suddenly vanished: one minute, one year, ten years, or a century. They modeled the world after a popular show from 2011 and to Alex’s chagrin, many clients spent their entire vacations here.
The trio stood at the famous crossroad junction in the center of Time Square, in New York city. Judging from the stellar conditions of the roads, buildings, abandoned vehicles, and the still functioning electronic billboards, he figured people had disappeared one minute ago.
Goosebumps prickled Alex’s arms. This intersection held fame for its activity. Human activity. Lacking that, it felt like a massive tomb. Knowing a corneal mass ejection, global pandemic, onslaught of hyper inflation—or scarier and more likely—something unpredictable, could create this void, tensed his body.
He felt confident Roy chose this world deliberately, for anyone they ran into would be a real person, and therefore, someone to avoid. Looking over the barren landscape, he flinched as a flock of sparrows took flight and receded down the street. Alex appreciated they hadn’t been thrust into this world a hundred years from now. The vehicles would have been covered by moss, roads overgrown with grass, buildings in disarray, and animals would control the city, adding more strangeness to the already morbid environment, and upcoming subject matter.
Theirs was to be a conversation about death, the soul, and a machine that harnessed one from the other.
“There,” Roy said. Without awaiting a reply, he marched toward a glass door with a green logo stenciled on its front.
Alex supposed an abandoned Starbucks might be the perfect locale for discussing the downfall of humankind.
The interior smelled of freshly brewed coffee. An eleven dollar choice steamed by the register. Loose bills littered the floor, as if the recently enacted rapture had arrived at the very moment a customer went to pay for his morning boost.
Moving behind the counter, Alex selected a cinnamon scone and his mouth watered. Strangely enough, glutton eating generated much interest in the Lobby. Around a hundred, highly-visited worlds catered to that stigmatized desire.
“We have one hour,” Roy reminded them.
Alex nodded to the display rack as he bit into the warm scone, asking if either man wanted something. Charles asked for black coffee. Alex obliged and then joined the small table.
“Well, Alex,” Charles said as he blew on his steaming cup of joe. “We’re here to help you. How about we start with you filling us in?”
The suave-looking Charles, whose image would fit perfect on any cigarette billboard from the nineteen-fifties, had no resemblance to the elderly man hampered by the virus he entered with. Shaking those thoughts aside, Alex brought them up to speed. He started with the petty arrogance Agent Andrews displayed at their first meeting in Eridu and the many rumors he had heard over the year’s about the man’s obsessions with him personally. Then, about Roy’s death; the raid; Rosa’s internal struggles; and Tara’s plans to limit future recurrences with a screening procedure.
During the lengthy apprising, Roy poured himself a coffee and refilled Charles’ cup.
Finished with the past, they outlined a cursory plan to best contain this—Health and Wellness, give Tara control. With all in agreement, Alex checked the clock; they’d consumed the entire hour. He should have scheduled two, maybe three hours, so they could have ended with some recreation.
With minutes left, Alex trudged behind the counter, found the hazelnut flavored coffee and filled his cup, wondering what he’d like to say as a farewell. As the scented drink drizzled out, he noticed Roy and Charles leaning in close, whispering conspiratorial. Though childish, their rare private moments always stung. He understood the two men had known each other much longer than they’d known Alex; they were entitled to their privacy.
Furthermore, when Alex considered it, he knew their conferences rarely involved him. If they did, they shared nothing hurtful. The three of them had a true friendship built on knowledge of each other’s personalities forged in hundreds of lands, but still…
As Alex reached for a blueberry muffin, Roy burst into laughter. The normally uplifting sound froze the muffin inches from its tray. What could Roy find humorous about all he had heard? While recounting the events, Alex had endured moments of feeling ill. He had continually wiped his palms and breathed deeply to steady his anxiety.
Even with the anticipated success of their initial outline, they would always fear that phone call from somewhere in the world, saying someone had died in an access chair. Roy had casually dismissed all signs of concern. His confidence in Broumgard’s ability to screen everyone had reassured Alex, but not to the point where humor became appropriate.
Lifting the muffin, sipping his hazelnut, he observed his friend’s unabashed grin with growing discomfort.
Rejoining them, Alex asked, “What’s so funny?”
Roy sipped his coffee to temper his smile.
Charles cleared his throat as he stared at the clock behind Alex.
Following his gaze, and if his memory served him correctly, they had only minutes left until load-out. They had covered the pressing issues, but none of the dozen grand questions. Socializing under immense pressure might be natural to them; his discomfort lingered.
“I get it,” Alex said. “You guys are making future plans to meet in a while?”
The men locked eyes.
Roy frowned.
Charles looked disheartened.
Alex’s stomach clinched. He eased onto the nearest stool. The thought of them making plans without him hurt, but he didn’t feel being excluded motivated his subconscious to instill this level of unease. “Are you guys scheduling an adventure for next week or something?”
Neither man replied, or turned from him.
“That’s cool, just don’t forget I want to be in on the one after that.” His body flushed. Because of the Health and Wellness standards, this would be Charles’ final trip. Perhaps he could pull some strings…
Roy set his cup down, sounding a hollow bang. “Look, Alex--”
“No, no,” Charles interrupted. “It’s my mess, I’ll try and clean it up.” Clearing his throat, he addressed Alex. “You sprang this entire conundrum on me yesterday afternoon.” He shook his head. “The stress put me to sleep minutes after you left, then kept me awake all night. With more time, I promise you I would have arranged something better.” A beat. “I care about you.”
“We both do,” Roy added.
Charles shared a look with Roy and then squared his shoulders to Alex. “We are your friends and would never do anything to cause you problems.”
Alex bit into the top of his muffin, thinking people only said that to soften a blow.
“I feel foolish,” Charles continued. “I didn’t think things through.”
“What things?” Alex asked. A full mouth helped hide the crack in his voice.
Charles shook his head. “Alex, back at your place, when I went in the restroom, it wasn’t because I had a cold—I was a nervous wreck.” Swallowing hard, he glanced at Roy, who, with a look of dire seriousness, nodded for Charles to continue.
“When I went into the head, I ingested an entire bottle of Nembutals, about twenty Oxycodone, and a handful of amphetamines.”
Alex’s mouth turned into a cement mixer, churning the gritty blueberry muffin into clay. He tried to swallow, to ask what Charles meant exactly, but the substances met with the forming lump, clogged his gullet.
“According to the research I conducted last night,” Charles added somberly as he exhaled, “my heart stopped beating about twenty minutes ago. I am truly sorry, Alex. I really am.”
“We both are,” Roy jumped in. “You have to see it from our perspective. You don’t yet know the fear of closing your eyes each night and praying with all you have that they will open the following morning. Of being weighted with the memories of all the great people you’ve outlived. There’s no horror like it.”
“And then this comes along,” Charles added. “Roy and myself built so much together, yet the one sentiment we always shared: it wasn’t enough. We needed more time. Can you see that? Can you understand our position?”
Alex pictured havoc at Legion. Despite Charles’ advice, Glen would have checked on them, per his instructions. When he found a fresh corpse, he’d call nine-one-one, and the ensuing chaos would shake the world, remove Alex’s ability to deny his violation.
“This is the greatest thing that could have ever happened,” Roy said.
Alex was too stunned to disagree, too shocked to reach over the table and strangle the inconsiderate men across from him.
“We wish you all the luck in the world in keeping a lid on this,” Roy said. “We truly do, and meant everything we discussed. Follow that plan. It will work.”
“And I apologize so profusely for complicating matters,” Charles added, “but…” he looked down and toyed with his coffee cup.
Alex realized he’d been shaking his head ever so slightly in the negative, and couldn’t stop. This wasn’t an inconvenience, it was blowing the lid off their plans.
Alex wouldn’t survive. A hundred Tara’s couldn’t contain this. Rosa probably swayed around in the access room, going to town with a sledgehammer.
“We know this puts you in a bind,” Roy said, “but can you at least say something? Say that you understand?”
“Understand?” Alex heard himself say as if from a distance. “I understand I’m about to wake to the worst day of my life. That you two put the Lobby’s existence in jeopardy, perhaps my freedom, for your own pleasure.”
Both men frowned, their shoulders sagged.
“I understand that if they manage to shut down every back-up marcoserver, you’ll probably blink out of existence.”
“I’m on borrowed time,” Roy whispered.
“If this gets out,” Charles said, “turn it into a humanitarian thing to keep the power on, like they’re killing us-“
“Stop,” Alex said. He swooned from the implications. A tiny part of him wished he could stay in here forever, but then that thought disgusted him.
All three men faced the clock. Alex would be logging out at any moment.
Probably heading to jail shortly after.
He wondered briefly if someone out there sold lobotomies?
“Alex.” Roy placed a hand on his friend’s arm. “Think about what this means for the world. Contain it if you can, but I say, let it free. Tell everyone. Join us.”
Join them? Crush Rosa? Abandon his responsibilities? The notion startled him. Turned his stomach. He could never be that selfish.
Leaning back, Roy said, “Either way, it’s no longer my concern. I’m out of that bullshit rat race and I can’t stress to you how good that feels. All I want to say is, I love you as a person and I hope very much to see you again.”
Charles uttered something Alex didn’t catch. A tingling coursed through his body. A familiar lightness swept over him as he looked from young face to young face and saw concern. He heard himself say he understood or maybe he cursed them, he couldn’t be sure. His world went cloudy as his consciousness transported him from this nightmare to a probable living Hell.