Meliora - Extricate - 23

[lady_mab]

Jun Zhou

Uncle Bao gave me directions on how to find our way to the abandoned tunnels.

I can tell Zoné has questions. He buzzes with them, hovering half a pace behind as I lead the way over the tracks. He doesn’t ask, and so I don’t offer any answers.

In the end, we don’t really need Uncle Bao’s directions.

There is a portion of the wall blown out, rubble scattered across the tracks. I pick my way through the brick and chunks of cement, peering into the darkness beyond.

“Well this is pretty creepy,” Zoné says. His voice reverberates off the tunnel. “I don’t really know where we are in the city, but I’m pretty sure there aren’t often holes in the walls.”

“From what Uncle Bao implied, this is new. It must be ALICE.” I had been looking for a service door. If I squint, I can sort of pick out the outline of one a few meters away. The lights in the tunnels are a dull, weak yellow that barely illuminate an arm’s length from the wall.

Zoné makes a sound, and I can’t tell if he is annoyed by something or if it’s just a general sound of agreement. He still doesn’t ask me a question.

I tilt my head to the side, closing my eyes to listen to the darkness. After a moment, parsing through the soft, impatient shuffling of Zoné, I can hear distant chatter echoing through the old tunnels. “There are people down that way.”

“Good people or bad people?”

“I cannot say. I just hear noise.”

Zoné hops through the rubble before turning around to lend me a hand. He helps hold me steady as I pick my way over the large chunks.

I keep a hold of his hand as we walk, so that we don’t lose track of each other. And because I’m a little bit scared.

I don’t like this sudden change in operation from the Program Manager’s team. I understand Zoné’s earlier reluctance, to want to just stay behind even if it was mandatory. Easy for him to say. He’s found what he’s looking for.

My question is still far too broad.

As we walk, it slowly becomes obvious that we are approaching a source of light. The chattering I heard becomes more concrete and shifts into clearer words and distinct voices. Mere moments later, we step into a broad, high-ceilinged space. Cavern isn’t quite the word I’m looking for, even though the walls are natural stone and there are new lights strung up.

A good number of people clump into the center of the room, milling around in various states of costume. I wonder if Glen’s team is here. We haven’t met them yet, but the impression I get is that he’d rather keep it that way.

Zoné clamps onto the hood of my jacket so that I can’t get too far without him. His wide, pale eyes cast anxiously around the room. I watch as they jerk to a halt and widen a fraction. Immediately, a shutter drops down behind them. His normal curiosity and eagerness is gone, replaced by something cold.

I stand up on my tip-toes, trying my best to see around the crowd to find what he found. It doesn’t take long to spot Ayn’s bright red hair. Beside her, leaning down a degree to probably hear her better, is Zoné’s brother.

I wait for him to react.

When he doesn’t, I make an effort. “Do you want to--”

“No,” he says, cutting me off with the sharp syllable. He takes my hand and guides me away, putting distance between us and them -- between himself and the person he doesn’t want to face.

I don’t know enough of his situation to force him to work through those issues. I either have to wait, or accept the fact that Zoné might never feel like he is ready to deal with his brother. I can’t push him until he is ready.

When we’re a safe distance away, he releases my arm and rubs his face with both hands. He doesn’t apologize, and I don’t ask if he’s okay.

Because maybe I’m a little frustrated with him and his inability to tackle the issue, if only to save himself from future grief.

“Jun,” Zoné says suddenly, and I jump at the sound of my name. “About your uncle--”

I look at him sharply, but before I can respond, a boom shatters the muffled chatter of the room. The lights flash a bright, brilliant white.

I blink against the onslaught of spots in my vision. There’s a general sound of surprise and a ripple of movement through the crowd as a second sound echoes. The lights pulse in time.

“Tolling bells,” I mutter, though it is hard to hear myself over the noise.

I breathe in on one stroke of the clock, out on the next. Why did ALICE bring us here?

What does Zoné want to know about Uncle Bao?

To be fair, there’s a lot of things he could ask. About how Uncle Bao knows about the old tunnels. About how he doesn’t question me going out at 10:30 on a school night. About how he mentioned ‘Meliora’.

I had seen the way Zoné and Glen tensed during my conversation with Uncle Bao. Even if they couldn’t understand it, one word stood out: Meliora.

I’ve been keeping Uncle Bao updated of the little progress I’ve made, though sometimes he has to ask me to explain myself. Sometimes he forgets the promise he made me take.

Zoné gives me a look as the twelfth and final gong fades, and the lights settle once more. I return the look.

If he doesn’t want to talk about his brother, then I don’t know why I’d have to talk about my uncle.

They’re two different things, but they’re both our secrets to keep.

Before either of us get the chance to push the other, a flash of light appears out of the corner of my eyes. I flinch back as a stage suddenly appears -- crisp, clean, fake.

The crowd swings about to face the stage, and Zoné and I are buffeted by the bodies.

I reach for him as someone gets between us, and his fingers snag my sleeve. Enough of a grip to pull himself back to my side.

We’re too close to the stage for my comfort. Partly, because I have to crane my head back to see the entirety of the woman as she strides calmly into place at the center. Partly because the soft, electric hum reminds me of a bee hovering too close.

Mary Ann, the receptionist at the ALICE building and apparently our spokesperson for tonight, smooths her hands over her skirt and smiles out at the crowd.

Due to our proximity, I feel like she spares a glance directly at us from down her nose.

People are packed in too tight. They wanted to move closer to the stage when it appeared, though I would very much like to get away. I don’t want to touch the stage made out of lights and pixels.

“Greetings, everyone. You might remember me as the receptionist at the ALICE building from when you took your tour there. I am here to speak to you on behalf of the Program Manager, Patrick Mercer."

I jerk back into Zoné’s chest as I spot the suited men standing on either side of the stage. There’s the mountain of a man, and the tired man. Tired man taps at his mobile, and it takes a moment to pick out the phones whispering faint ‘Welcomes’.

Mary Ann smiles down at us and waits until the wave of check-ins finishes sweeping the crowd. “I hope you have all enjoyed the events leading up to today. If you are here now, it means that you are not only a cut above the rest, but well on your way to completing the game. Have you learned new things about Eminence since we have started?”

I have learned that it is small and private, though it doesn’t advertise itself that way. It has always been seen as an icon of the New World, even back in Beijing. When I told people I where I was going, they told me I was lucky to be going to such a wonderful city.

I wonder what they would say now.

Someone in the back of the crowd shouts something that I can’t hear, though the uneasy laughter that follows does make its way forward.

Mary Ann’s gaze picks out the speaker, blythe smile still in place. “I’m sorry you think so. Even though your Informant has worked so hard to get you to this point, you cast it all aside by not even coming up with some sort of theory?”

I scramble to put together the locations that we have been to think of any sort of relevance that they might have to the purpose of this game.

To find out the truth of this city.

Zoné rubs the back of his head, but doesn’t seem to be putting any thought into this.

Another voice calls out, this one a little more audible. “What clues have you given us so far? It’s a little unfair, don’t you think?”

More and more people take up the cry. It swells into a chorus of frustration and anger that is almost palpable in this enclosed space.

This, too, I think is a clue.

Mary Ann waits patiently, though I do notice one finger tapping against the back of her other hand. The only visible sign of agitation. “You might not be thinking you are learning a lot, then. But we, on the other hand, have learned plenty.” She spreads her hands before her, inviting us in.

We flinch back instead.

“We have learned that despite your very vocal protests, you have earned a spot here in this room right now.” Her gaze goes distant, and the lights reflecting in her eyes make them sparkle like little stars. I wonder what she sees that we cannot. “Any team that did not make it has been disqualified. You just need to take the time to put together all that you have learned.”

I want to sit down with Zoné and Lysander, and Uncle Bao and Glen. To talk this through, to hear their opinions on what we have experienced so far. It is hard to gather information on a city when I feel like I am the only one looking for it.

Her words are once again met with dissent, louder this time as people warm up to the idea that they’re not the only ones feeling frustrated. It’s easier to act out in a crowd. “I would like to remind all of you that just because you have made it this far, it does not mean that you are exempt from any further events that require your participation. We do monitor each check in, in order to prevent cheating. We are playing fair, and we want to know that you are as well.”

ALICE’s definition of cheating is broad. I have told my uncle about the game, but that does not involve him showing up to check in points with me and Zoné. How would they know?

Mary Ann’s eyes focus on someone in the middle of the crowd, and she allows a small frown to address the corners of her mouth before pushing on. “I am sure you are aware, but teams that have performed exceptionally well thus far will be earning challenges that will offer a better understanding.”

Zoné and I exchange a brief, worried look as a voice to the left shouts, “So much for playing fair! That’s giving people an advantage.”

While I know that she isn’t looking directly at us, that her view must be filtered through a camera hidden about, it is uncanny how she looks like she is picking out each individual speaker from the crowd. “Then shouldn’t it just mean that you must work harder to catch our attention? This is a challenge to find out which of you is worthy of learning the whole truth, or did you seem to forget that?” Her own frustration rises to meet that of the people she speaks to. I wonder who will boil over first.

“You might have forgotten that not all of us have the same resources!”

We lucked out because Lysander met with Jonas. We were able to help Glen help his team because of this. In the end, any team’s success is based upon who their Informant knows.

“Are you suggesting that we make a challenge for truth an even playing field? I said we would play fair if you do, but you are misinterpreting my words. To be fair to each team, we must adjust our standards.” She holds out her hands, weighing one option over the other. “Fair for one is not fair for another, but we are not giving one specific pair an advantage. A simple task versus a more challenging one is subjective."

The same, frustrated speaker calls out again. “Then just tell us the same thing why don’t you?”

“I am telling you the same thing now.”

“But why not give us all the same challenges?”

If she was any less professional, I imagine she would have laughed at that statement. As it is, her mouth pulls into a humorless grin. “I hardly think that is a wise choice. If you are a team that struggled to make it here, how would you feel pitted against a team that had no problems? You take to the field at a disadvantage if the Program Manager was to send you a challenge against a far superior team.”

A weight has settled into Zoné’s expression and his posture. I can’t tell what he is thinking about, but I imagine it has something to do with our abilities as a team. We’ve run into only one other team, though every so often we do cross paths with another.

That team had been his brother’s.

If I were him, I would be comparing our teams. Does that make us better or worse than those around us?

I tap a finger against my chin in thought. On the stage, Mary Ann answers questions with a visibly flagging sense of patience. Perhaps we really could benefit from sitting down as a team to try and figure out what we know. The more people we can get involved in on this, the more information we can find out.

We could start composing a map of what we do know, and hopefully fill in the blanks.

I start to reach for Zoné’s arm, hoping to pull him down so that I could speak into his ear, not wanting to shout and attract Mary Ann’s attention.

A crack of thunder rattles overhead and Mary Ann’s image flickers out of sight. She reappears a second later, eyes wide and mouth opened in surprise. It takes a stuttering heartbeat before people in the middle of the crowd start to scream and push away, clearing a space.

A second crack, and Zoné throws his arm over my head and pushes me down as dirt and pebbles fall from the ceiling. There’s shattering of stone as something hits the far wall, and this time, Mary Ann doesn’t reappear.

Through the tangle of limbs, as Zoné helps guide us to what we hope is safety, I catch a man in a woman in the center of a rapidly widening circle. I can’t make out any details, but I can tell he holds a gun.

I hadn’t even noticed the Mountain Man making his way through the crowd until suddenly he is there at the edge of the circle. He doesn’t even flinch as the gun swings in his direction.

“You can’t just herd us together like cattle!” the man shouts. “How are you going to keep us all contained if we don’t want to be?”

The Mountain Man reaches out and, before I can even process what happens, a third shot rings out as he grabs the gun.

I can’t decide if I want to know what is going on or not, but before I can even get the chance to make up my mind, it is over.

The Mountain Man has them both disabled.

This is when the Tired Man steps in.

The crowd parts before him. His voice is soft, but it carries in the absolute silence of our fear. “Shameful. You would involve the lives and safety of everyone here for something as mundane as shooting a hologram?” He doesn’t even wait for an answer. He doesn’t need one, anyway. “As the Assistant Program Manager, I hereby declare the two of you unfit for participating in the remainder of this game. Your Informant shall be notified via text as soon as you have been taken care of.”

The Mountain Man guides the gunman by the shoulder and drags the woman behind him, both of her hands clamped in one of his.

I remain tucked under Zoné’s arm, trying to will my heart rate to slow.

Mary Ann’s sudden reappearance on the stage makes me jump. She is shaken, startled in a way she didn’t plan for. “M-my apologies, ladies and gentlemen.” She runs her fingers through her hair and struggles to maintain a semblance of order. “You are all free to go for the evening. There are--” Her intake of breath is almost like a gasp. She turns her gaze to her feet, waits a beat.

When she looks back up at us, she looks like someone hit the reset button on her. She smiles, calm and collected. “There are lights to show you to the nearest exit. We ask that you please go straight home. The trains are back in order, and will run as normal.”

Zoné and I watch the other teams start to filter out. We are in the back of the crowd, so it’s no use trying to push our way forward. Easiest best to just wait it out.

Mary Ann calls out to us. “If there is anything to take away from this meeting, it is that we will react to any threats of violence with extreme precision and efficiency.” There is something cold and unfamiliar in her expression, which had felt so open. Her dark eyes roam the retreating crowds before adding, “I do not want to see any more teams disappearing like this.”

Her image freezes, then fades. The lights of the stage fade with it, and after a moment, the strings on the walls fade to a soft yellow to urge us out.

“Zoné,” I say, and he looks down at me. “I told Uncle Bao about the game.”

He hesitates, uncertain how to process this information. “Why?”

I shrug. “He is the one who helped me to decide to sign up. He has lived here for twenty years. He has seen things come and go in this city that he cannot remember.” I shudder as I think about his stories, of being unable to recall simple facts.

He told me that he can’t even remember what his brother, my father, looks like. He told me that he sometimes regrets inviting me to Eminence, because it means that I might have a fate like his.

“Have you found out anything?” Zoné asks, and I am forced to shake my head.

“But I want to talk to everyone about this, at some point. I want to make sure that Glen knows who he can turn to for support.” I press closer to his side, because he is warm and sturdy and it helps calm me down. “The more people we have supplying information, I think the better chance we have at learning.”

He doesn’t reply right away. He doesn’t even move as the room starts to empty, and we are among the last few stragglers. “Why did you sign up for Meliora, Jun?”

I don’t expect this question. And come to think of it, I don’t think I have ever told him. “My uncle and I want to learn the truth of the city. Staying or leaving… I do not think it matters so much to me right now. But I want to learn this for my uncle, and for the others who feel like they are on the outside. I want them to know that they can leave if they would like. Or at least… some kind of explanation for why they cannot.”

Zoné nods slowly and starts to walk towards the exit. “That sounds very noble and selfless.”

“I do not think so.”

He mirrors my earlier shrug. “Your reason for participating is not for yourself, but for ‘the others’ in a grand scheme. I think it’s good.”

I follow a pace behind him, trying to decide if I’m really as selfless in my motives as he thinks I am.

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