“Other than being unsightly?”
“Says the woman wearing heels as long as a handspan.”
“These are considered very fashionable,” she said. “And it enrages my inner feminist to no end to wear them alongside a dress like this.” She was grinning widely.
“You are an unusual woman.”
“It does strange things to you to realize that the conservative establishment is forcing you to be a progressive liberal fighter for universal rights.” She started climbing up the steps beside me. “I had to buck that, but didn’t know what to become instead. The only thing I could come up with—something truly difficult—was to become a complete anarchist. They built a perfect world for me, so I had to burn it down.”
“Destruction isn’t difficult.”
She grinned savagely. “It is if you’re fighting against what the Wode wants. That’s the only way to be a real warrior, the only way to find a true challenge. Defying them.”
I grunted, agreeing with that.
“So anyway,” she said. “What was that writing on the tablecloth all about?”
“You saw that, did you?”
“Of course I did. Thought you were hiding a vial of poison at first. But it was just words.”
“It was a message,” I said as we reached the next floor. “From my nemesis.”
“Nemesis?” she said, amused. “What is this, middle school?”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“A place for children.”
I said nothing, leaning against the stairwell railing for a moment.
“Seriously,” Sophie said. “How does one go about getting a nemesis? Undefeated dragon back home or something?”
“It’s another Liveborn.”
“Oh, of course. You realize that you’re just playing into what the Wode wants, right? Dueling with other Liveborn to keep you both distracted.”
“Maybe,” I admitted. “It seemed that way at first, only . . . I don’t think Melhi is acting like they anticipated.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s a long story.”
“And we appear to have a lot of steps left if you intend to get to the top.”
I sighed, then started up the next flight. “I first met Melhi in a Border State . . .”
I first met Melhi in a Border State, though I can’t even be sure it was him I talked to.
I rode into the State with a full legion, some fifty thousand strong. Border States were new to me back then, and I hadn’t wanted to take any chances.
I made the trip on a small hovering platform, only about five paces wide. The platform had a raised front and side, like a large chariot—but without the wheels or horse. There was just enough room for Shale and Besk to accompany me.
My advance guard had already secured a position on the edge of the large valley that made up the bulk of the Border State. I turned as we arrived, looking back down the wide path through the forest. We’d set foot upon that road in the jungles of Evasti in my State. After about half an hour of traveling on the enchanted road, the trees had started to change to these pines and aspens. Eventually, the road spat us out here.
“So we’ve left our world,” I said, wearing my shining gold breastplate and helm. “Why can I still see the Aurora?”
I’d watched it through the clouds the entire duration of our trip, anticipating with dread the moment when it would fade away. It hadn’t. Yes, it looked strangely distant here—shimmering in its majestic way over the tops of those mountains beyond the trees. But I could see it, and Lancesight determined I could still feel its pulses, though they were softer here.
“This is fascinating, Your Majesty,” Besk said. He had a large tome open in front of him, pages pinned down to prevent fluttering in the wind of our flight. “This State is not a full world. It is just this valley, which is surrounded by a forest. At the edges of that forest, the State simply . . . fades away. If anyone travels in that direction, they will be lost in fog and then appear on the opposite side of the valley!”
Shale grunted. “Then the only exits are . . .”
“Yes, the path we took,” Besk said, then pointed. “And an additional two like it, leading to the States of other Liveborn. One cannot traverse the enchanted pathways in or out without the aid of a Liveborn, and only Simulated Entities live naturally in this State. It exists solely for us to visit.”
“Or to conquer,” I said, and mentally instructed my platform to rise upward.
It ascended dramatically, zipping into the sky high above my army, though two dozen like it—manned by my best archers—followed to provide protection. From beneath, each flying chariot looked alike; armies trying to bring me down would be confused at which one held me.
From this vantage, I could see the fog that Besk had mentioned, consuming the wood behind us before stretching to the mountains, which appeared to simply be scenery. I wondered if one could reach them while in flight.
Despite ending in those woods, there was territory in this State, quite a bit of it. I could barely make out the edge of the fog ring on the other side of the forest. If necessary, I could array an army in here and hold the position, blocking the other two exits with my forces. We could undoubtedly use the State’s nature to our advantage; if I needed to get troops to the other side of a battlefield in a hurry, I could send them backward through the fog.
It actually seemed too perfect. That I should discover places like this now, once the entire world was mine, itched at me. Like a pain in my spine that could not be banished. I had thought I was done, but if there were many such Border States, then I had a great deal more to conquer.
I swooped the platform back down toward the front of my army. The natives of this Border State were equipped with primitive weapons—spears and wooden shields. They had dark violet skin. I glanced at Besk.
“Our early scouts indicate that the skin tone comes from eating great quantities of a spice produced by local trees,” Besk said. “The spice makes these people superior warriors, able to fight tirelessly for many hours and recover from otherwise deadly wounds. In addition, they appear to have access to a strange metal mined from somewhere in this valley that they will not speak of. Those spears will slice through steel as if it were butter, Your Majesty.”
“They’d make excellent subjects, Kai,” Shale said, looking over the arrayed natives, who had hunkered down in a battle formation—looking completely dwarfed by my own army, and in awe of my flying platforms. “Your generals have been complaining about needing more elites. And that metal . . .” I could sense the hunger in his voice. “We can’t rely on enchanted swords forever, as you yourself have said. Recharging the Aurorastone is a complete waste of your time.”
“There are non-martial applications of at least gaining favorable trade with this valley, Your Majesty,” Besk said. “I believe your scientists are quite excited by the discovery of that spice. The healing capacity it affords could save thousands of lives.”
“Yeah,” Shale said, “if you want to turn every kid with a broken leg into a supersoldier.” He rubbed his chin. “Actually, that might not be a bad—”
“The spice requires many applications before those abilities manifest, Shale,” Besk said.
“So you’re saying I’m going to have to break a lot of legs, eh?”
I mostly ignored their banter, though I was pleased to see it. Shale had been timid around Besk lately. Instead, I turned my attention to the leaders of the natives, three women holding spears, their faces painted white and red. I entered Lancesight and drew on the Aurora. The energy was sluggish, the waves of heat less warm than normal, but my magic still worked. I set a small invisible bubble around our chariot as we swung down to hover before the leaders. It would reflect all attacks, and would alter sounds passing through it so that . . .
“Greetings,” said one of the women. I understood the words in my own tongue, the Lanced shield acting as a translator.
“You will address him as Your Ma
jesty,” Shale said.
“He is not our lord,” the woman said. “His show of force is grand, yes, but if he thinks to seize this valley by strength of arm, he will see just how weak his reach can be.”
“Surely,” Besk said, “you can see the advantages of an alliance with us! Your warriors, though proud, cannot help but look in awe upon our flying machines. Rest assured that Emperor Kairominas could conquer you if he wished. But why force his hand? Certainly we can come to an accommodation.”
As they spoke, I realized I knew what the leaders were going to say. Not because I could read their minds, but because something about this situation seemed obvious. The hidden valley, with roads to different States, whispered the purpose of this place to me.
“You should know that—” the chief began.
“Where is he?”
“Who?”
“The other Liveborn,” I said. “You were going to tell us you have met another like me. Is he still here?”
Shale and Besk looked at me as if I were mad, but the native woman was not surprised by my request.
“The Wode,” I said to my companions. “They let us discover this place. They created it to border multiple States and contain a precious resource we would all desire. Victory here will not come from persuading these people, but from defeating the other Liveborn.” I looked to the woman. “That’s what you were going to propose, wasn’t it? You’ve seen our glories, and you know you cannot avoid being conquered. All you can do is decide which Liveborn to serve.”
“We will choose,” the woman said, sounding dissatisfied. “Prove yourself against the others and gain our allegiance. We will call you our king then, outsider, and not before.”
It was her Concept, obviously. The hardy yet pragmatic chief. She had seen the truth of these invasions. Undoubtedly, if I won her loyalty, she would prove a lasting and powerful ally. In order to accomplish that, I would have to do something I’d never done before. Defeat another Liveborn.
I found myself thrilled by the notion. At this point, my realm had known peace for twenty years. I was hungry for something new, a challenge my State couldn’t present.
Another Liveborn. Another emperor, like myself. This would be a foe unlike any I had ever crossed.
“I repeat my question,” I told the woman. “Is he still here?”
“Yes.”
I grew excited. “Where?”
“In our village. You will have to come in our company if you wish to meet the emissary.”
“That’s not—” Shale began.
“We’ll do it,” I said, already climbing down from the chariot.
Shale was not pleased—and neither was Besk, whom I required to stay behind with the armies to take command if something went wrong. I was not worried. So long as I had the Aurora at my back, I was worth an army unto myself.
The chief, who said her name was Let-mere, led us past a wooden palisade into a village of huts and stone hovels. The people there had skin a much fainter shade of violet; presumably the spice of warriors was mostly reserved for the upper class. I knew without asking that they’d spent generations fighting against other tribes in this State, mastering the arts of war, believing their valley was the sum of all existence.
I joined the honor guard of natives and walked directly into their village, where the creature I would come to know as Melhi waited.
I stopped at the top of the stairwell.
“And?” Sophie asked, climbing the last few steps behind me.
We’d reached a door I hoped led to the rooftop, but it was locked by a chain. I entered Lancesight and drew upon the Aurora to—
No I didn’t. Damn it. Two centuries of having the power of creation at my fingertips was going to be difficult to reprogram.
“Here,” Sophie said, pulling something from her handbag as I left Lancesight. A very small handgun. “Plug your ears, emperor man.”
“That won’t do anything,” I said, but plugged my ears, remembering how loud the weapons had been earlier in the night. “Handguns are rewritten to fire only paint—”
A near-deafening blast from the handgun interrupted me. Since I hadn’t taken direct command of them this time, my mental boosts kicked in at the sudden explosion. I got to watch in slowed speed as the chain shattered. Sophie’s handgun was definitely not shooting out balls of paint.
“Those things aren’t supposed to work here,” I said, uncovering my ears as she put the handgun away.
“I’m good at doing things I’m not supposed to,” she said, then kicked the door open.
There’s no way she kicked that so solidly with those heels, I thought to Besk. She’s got a hack; either she has a force multiplier on her legs, or those shoes are an illusion.
No reply.
Besk?
The mental link was silent. When was the last time I’d heard him?
That seemed ominous. Should I run?
Don’t be foolish, I thought to myself. I’d survived for centuries without Besk looking over my shoulder. That said, I was a little more wary as I stepped onto the rooftop.
It was raining, but just a fine mist. “So,” Sophie said, walking across the roof. “Where you come from, is climbing steps considered a romantic date?”
“The roof is someplace we’re not supposed to be,” I said, joining her at the side of the rooftop, where a ledge prevented us from accidentally falling off. “I figured you’d like that.”
“We can’t go places we’re not supposed to be,” she said. “Each State, every digital inch of them, was made for us.” She hesitated. “But I doubt the Wode expected this of us, so I’m satisfied. Even if that hike up here was annoying.”
“You’re not winded,” I said. “You have physical boosts.”
She just smiled.
I took a deep breath of the wet air. How long had it been since I’d been outside in the rain? I always had force bubbles around me to protect from the weather.
“Maybe they shouldn’t tell us,” I said. “About our realities being simulations.”
“Don’t be dense. Ignorance wouldn’t be better.”
“I don’t know . . .”
“You should be angry about the lies, the falsehoods.”
“Why?” I asked. “They tell us the truth when we come of age, and everything they do is to make our lives better.”
“We’re like rats in cages,” she snapped, leaning down on the rail and looking out over the dark city, full of twinkling lights in the misting rain. “It’s a beautiful cage, but still a cage.”
“Perhaps,” I said, leaning down beside her. “But I can’t find it in me to be angry at the Wode. Without this system, you and I probably wouldn’t exist. Earth couldn’t possibly support such a high population otherwise. We live good lives. Every man is a hero, every woman a leader. It just . . .”
“Feels washed out?” she asked. “Like we’ve been living in a movie?”
I didn’t know what a movie was, but I nodded anyway. “Surely some of it has to be real though, Sophie. My achievements, my learning. Even within the false framework, I’ve accomplished things, saved lives.”
“Fake lives.”
“People. I protected them. Heroism is real.”
“Heroism? You can’t die, emperor man. What is there to be heroic about? They throw some little paper figures into the water, and you dive after them, proud that you’ve rescued a few when the Wode could make a billion more literally with the snap of their fingers—or even resurrect the ones that died. As for your ‘accomplishments,’ I assume they’ve dangled something in front of you, a special skill only you can learn and progress at?”
“We call it Lancing,” I admitted. “You’d call it magic. I’ve been searching for its deepest secrets.”
“For me, the carrot was the nature of the States themselves,” she said, heedless of how the rain was ruining her makeup and hair. “I wanted to know the truth of reality. That drove me to study, to learn. The more I did, the more I realized how deep their
illusion went. They used even that against me, giving me more information bit by bit. To keep me interested, curious. They try so hard to make our lives seem meaningful.”
“Difficult to blame them for something like that.”
“It’s not like their lives are enviable either,” she said. “The Wode. They’re just caretakers. They eat bland soup every day and sit at terminals.” She tapped the railing. “I said that you should be angry. So should I. But to be honest, it’s hard for me to get mad at anything these days.”
“And that’s why . . .”
“Why I just do whatever I want,” she said. “I invent conflicts, spark wars. Latch on to anything that makes me feel. I had high hopes for hating you tonight, since the compatibility projections said we’d never get along.”
“Were they right?”
“No, unfortunately.”
“Unfortunately?”
“Like I said, conflict is fun.”
“I can punch you, if you’d prefer.”
We stood in silence, and I realized something. There was a good reason I hadn’t gone out in the rain recently. It was cold, and it was uncomfortable. I’d left my jacket and hat behind. Perhaps they would have helped.
“This is stupid,” I said. “I need to get this over with and go back to my people.”
“Ah yes. So typical.”
“Which means . . . ?”
“You fit the archetype,” Sophie said. “Here we’ve been having a deep conversation about the meaningless nature of our lives—yet you still want to rush back and be king.”
“I am what I am.”
“Which is what they’ve made you. You have your own Concept, as sure as any Simulated Entity. ”
“I’m real,” I snapped. “And I’m not going to simply abandon my kingdom because I’m having an existential crisis.”
“I suppose that is noble,” she said. “Manufactured nobility, brand name with a little copyright symbol in the corner, but still a cousin to the real thing.” She reached up behind her with both hands and undid the zipper on her dress.