Meliora - Extricate - 53

[lady_mab]

Lysander Stavros

In the semi-darkness of Kaito’s kitchenette, illuminated by tired lights, and two chemical drug compounds floating in the air between us, Rain lifts his hand into the silent air.

One by one, we all turn to look at him. All twenty remaining Informants.

When he speaks, his voice is clear, determined, despite the dark rings under his eyes. His glasses can only hide so much. “Why are we going to let ALICE keep pushing us around?” His gaze pierces each of us in turn, but no one rises to the bait so he forges on. “There’s a fifth of us left. We’ve watched people forget, be forgotten, and in the end, we still don’t know how much we will remember.” With a tap of his finger, the screen of his tablet shifts to the portable projector.

An email joins the chemical compounds and my eyes immediately jump to the TO: field.

The Lady & The Ghost.

He’s going to send all of this information to Ayn.

It shouldn’t be my problem. I told her so, and she let me know that she doesn’t want me interfering. But I can’t help the gut reaction, the growl that rises up in my chest.

I use my grip on the back of one of the chairs to propel myself forward. “Don’t you dare--” I start, but it’s too late.

With another tap, the email is sent.

Ayn, in all her naive revolutionary mindset, will want to take action.

I attempt to close the distance between us with a lunge, hoping that somehow if I grab the tablet, I can take back the email.

“Nothing can be done about it now!” Rain yelps, dancing out of the way. The sudden movement causes the images floating in the middle of the room to oscillate wildly, casting highlights and shadows across the walls and the upturned faces. “She’s brought us this far.”

Words fail me. I don’t know how to explain to him just how wrong he is. That she’s just a girl who thinks she knows better, that she’s just like the rest of us -- except maybe with greater delusions of grandeur.

I don’t know how to explain that I know who the anonymous Lady is.

Everyone, except for Kaito and myself, only know who she is by title alone. The name that appears again and again to call out ALICE on their bullshit. Putting a name and a face to the idea will ruin their illusion that she is someone they can rely on.

But perhaps that is exactly what they need.

Kaito speaks up before I get the chance. “We are weak because we’ve been divided for too long,” he says, and I know his words are pointed at me. I want to smack him, to smack everyone to try and put some sense into their heads. “It’s a game, and we’ve been divided into teams. So the best solution is to band together as one. All of us. One united force against another.”

Our gazes meet across the room and he challenges me with a raised eyebrow. “That’s how battles are won, right?”

Fuck you, I very nearly say.

The words are there, on the tip of my tongue, but instead only an angry wheeze of breath makes it past my lips.

“We’ll do it,” one of the Informants says after a pause. “If you think it’ll work, we’ll do it.”

It. A revolution. They don’t even know the words that they’re supposed to use. They don’t know what they’re doing, and honestly, it’s too late to learn.

Ayn will get her rebellion.

I don't even know what she wants from it -- why she's doing it. It's a very noble thing to say that you're doing something for the good of the people, but if history has proven anything, it's that no one ever does anything for the good of the people. And those that do get crushed.

I'm afraid that she's going to be crushed beneath the heel of ALICE.

My phone is in my hands before I even fully realize what I'm doing.

Kaito shoots me a look, brow quirked. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to tell her to ignore it."

The expression that comes over his face lends to that urge to snap at him. The look that he thinks I don't know what I'm doing. "Lys, let her do her own thing. You trust her, don't you?"

"I don't trust the people around her," I finally say, which isn't the answer he's looking for, and we both know it. "I just want to make sure she knows everything."

Kaito makes a small sound, and I can't tell if he's frustrated or giving up. He's already sent me a worried text about Ayn and her team -- I don't think he knows something that I don't, but I don't doubt that he understands my hesitation.

Rain tilts his head to the side, not even bothering to hide the fact he's listening in to our conversation. "Her? You mean the Lady?"

"She's not--" I start, but snap my mouth shut. I don't have to explain myself, and I certainly don't have to explain Ayn to anyone else. He wouldn't know who she was beyond being in Jonas' team, anyway. "I'm going."

There's a chorus of confused shouts, though I lose track of who is talking to whom. I push out the private door of Kaito's apartment and step onto the street. My fingers pull up Ayn's number before I even can reach the corner.

No one comes after me, and I'm thankful for that.

The phone rings three times before it clicks. "Lysander? What is it?" There's a chorus of noise in the background -- not a club, or a cafe. I hear counting, footsteps, and realize that she must be at the studio.

"You'll be getting a message soon to the blog email. I want you to ignore it." My free hand is balled into a fist in my jacket pocket. It's been getting warmer out as the year rolls into April, but there is still a bite to the wind when the sun goes down. "Please. Just... ignore it."

I can only imagine the annoyed expression on her face, but the sigh she gives me is painfully familiar. "I thought we've gone over this."

"We have, but it's... It's more than just your safety, Ayn." I pinch the bridge of my nose, blocking out the streetlights and trying to ignore the sound of the pedestrians making their way from one spot to the next -- to catch the train, to catch a bus, to head home after a long day.

She shuffles, and there's a squeak, and then it's a muffled sort of silence on the other end of the line. Her huff of breath isn't quite a sigh. More like she's sitting down or relaxing against something. "Alright, explain how this is different."

I scramble for words, stumbling over a few phrases before I can get the words I need. "We just had a meeting for the remaining Informants. Jonas wasn't there."

"I hardly think that's a call for my personal safety. Jonas rarely does anything as part of a group."

"I know, but... Okay, before the meeting. Kaito texted to ask if there was anything weird -- if you noticed anything off about Jonas."

"More than usual?"

"I guess, yeah."

Ayn snorts out a laugh. "No."

My hands are restless, scrubbing down my face, pulling at my hair, before I finally reach for the e-cigarette. "Lio came across a new drug that he believes to be pumped straight into the air of Eminence. Something that makes it so we can't form short term memories."

She hums in thought and there's a rustle on the other end. "That goes with the fact that the drug ALICE gives us each month has to do with enhancing our memory receptors. That's all well and fascinating, Lysander, but what does this have to do with me as the Lady?"

“People have gone missing, Ayn.” She gives another snort, this one frustrated, and I exhale a sigh on a cloud of smoke. “I mean that people have tried to respond to your rallying cries and they have been punished for it.”

There’s a pause. It grows and grows until I think that maybe the call got disconnected. Finally, a small sound ticks out of her mouth and she says, “Explain.”

I inhale, pulling at the cigarette, waiting for the inevitable calm that followed. “Some of the Informants at the meeting mentioned that they seem to think the blog is cursed. That anyone they know who tried to respond to one of your posts has ended up missing.”

“For how long?”

“Since that first post you made. Someone… One of the Informants I first met, I think. Her friend was there, didn’t say what happened. But between people missing after your call and whatever happened at the Halloween event…” I trail off and pinch the cigarette between my lips. I’m waiting for her response, for her to realize that what she’s doing is more dangerous than she thinks.

It takes another time before she groans, annoyed -- at herself, at this situation, everything. “Thank you for telling me.”

A beat, then I ask, “But?”

I imagine the rueful smile on her face. “But I’m not going to stop.”

“Ayn--”

“Lysander!” Her voice jumps in volume, and I have to pull the phone away at the rush of sound. “That’s not going to change my mind. If enough people act at once, then we will be successful. Yes, there are sacrifices to be made along the way. Yes, I’m prepared to be one of those if it comes down to it.”

I can feel the righteous anger coming through the speaker. She doesn’t even let me get a word in before she carries on.

“This isn’t about me. This isn’t some vanity project. I don’t doubt that anyone in my position would have done the same.”

“There were two hundred other people in the exact same situation, Ayn, and none of them tried to call for a revolution.” Three hundred, if you counted the Informants. Any one of us, and she thinks she just happened to be the first one to respond.

She’s just the one that has lasted the longest.

Her sigh growls through the line. “Then tell them not to pay attention.”

“You can’t honestly expect to do this on your own.”

“If I have to I will. I am not about to stand by and--” Ayn cuts off at the sound of a door opening, and there’s a mumbled conversation. When she comes back, she sounds tired, but determined. “I have to get back to rehearsal. I don’t want to keep having this same conversation with you, Lysander. Thank you, truly, for looking out for me. But I’m not a girl who needs to be saved. You’re confusing me with someone I no longer am.”

It’s true. It’s something that I’ve thought about constantly every time I was with her. That the girl I knew was thirteen and didn’t know any better.

We both grew up. I just had a harder time letting go.

“Alright. Alright. I won’t come rescue you, though.”

“I can save myself,” she says softly, defiantly, before she hangs up.

I allow myself five angry minutes to stand there smoking before storing the cigarette and stalking off in the direction of my apartment.

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