Darkman

Ezmerel awoke in darkness. Something felt out of place, somehow the world had changed. He was in his bed. He sat up and swung his feet to the floor. Movement felt strange, awkward, as if his skin were tenser and his body denser than before. He turned on the light and looked in the mirror, shocked by his reflection. It was him, but there was something unfamiliar, the light in his eyes, the set of his brow. As he glared at himself his forgotten life began swirling in his thoughts, the subconscious remembrance inspired by Dr. Vonnegut was rising up to his conscious mind. He realized the absence of fear and guilt, he felt the strength with which they were replaced. But the anger still burned. His thoughts turned to the Empire, he looked at his bandaged hands, thought of his parents, his wife, his life. His anger rose but he kept it in check, he could control it now, give it focus. He could sense how close he was to revenge, freedom, and he was no longer afraid to claim them.

He looked deep into his reflection’s eyes and said, “I’m going to make you proud, Father,” then headed for the living room.

Sheila and Dr. Vonnegut were on the couch, talking quietly. They looked up at Ezmerel as he entered and smiled at him.

“How are you feeling, Ezmerel?” Dr. Vonnegut asked.

“Great,” Ezmerel replied, surprising himself.

“Wonderful, wonderful,” Dr. Vonnegut said, taking him by the arm and leading him to the couch. He sat Ezmerel between Sheila and himself, and they each put a hand on Ezmerel’s shoulder. “I think you’re ready, my boy,” he whispered excitedly.

“I feel ready for anything,” Ezmerel said, the conviction in his voice excited him, “but I still don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“No matter, no matter,” Dr. Vonnegut laughed, “those are just details, Ezmerel. Sheila can fill you in on the rest of that, but you are certainly ready.” He moved to the door and pulled the lever as he spoke. “Tomorrow, Ezmerel, you will be free from the horrors of your life,” he declared before disappearing into the night.

“Such a strange man,” Ezmerel said. “How can he know I’m ready if he hasn’t told me what I’m to do?”

“Dr. Vonnegut knows more than we can imagine,” Sheila replied. Her tone was sullen, she spoke from somewhere far away.

“Are you all right?” Ezmerel asked.

“Fine,” Sheila said, smiling with noticeable effort, “I’m fine.”

“So what are you supposed to tell me?” Ezmerel asked.

Sheila stood with a groan and paced the living room a few times before speaking. “Ok. Ezmerel, tomorrow at work you are going to enter a sequence of numbers different than the one they give you.”

“That’s suicide!” Ezmerel interrupted.

“Let me finish and you’ll understand,” Sheila said. “When Dr. Vonnegut took the chip out of your neck he replaced it with another.”

“What?” Ezmerel exclaimed. “Why?”

“Will you just listen?” Sheila pleaded. “I didn’t ask to be the one to explain this to you.

“He took the chip out of your neck and replaced it with one of his own. It transmits the homing frequency the Empire used on your probation chip, they can still track your movement, but they do not have audio surveillance. Apparently, it is a common problem with their probation chips, so they will not think anything odd of yours not working after all this time. Dr. Vonnegut told me they have already reactivated your chip, and if he had not replaced the tracking device they would have come for you by now. It is the replacement chip that is keeping you alive, and that is not it’s only purpose. While you were sleeping Dr. Vonnegut programmed your chip with the number sequence you are to enter into your terminal tomorrow. It will not activate the alarms because it will be recognized as a valid sequence. It will become the new encryption code for the Empire’s communications just like every other sequence you have entered before, but this time the Einstein will be able to read it. The Empire’s systems will be exposed and the Einstein will bring them crashing down.” She stopped pacing and knelt before Ezmerel, her breathing was labored as if she had forgotten to breathe. “Ezmerel, you are going to save the world,” she whispered.

“How do I access the sequence in the chip?” Ezmerel asked, furrowing his brow. It seemed ridiculous, but after the last few days and his sudden reawakening he was unshakable, nothing could have surprised him now.

Sheila was amazed by his calm. “He says it will come to you when you need it. All you have to do is start typing. But you have to make it look good, keep flipping the pages as if you are working from the as usual. It will take your full shift to enter the code, and if it is not entered in full it will not work. The system will fall back on the previous day’s sequence and all will be lost. You only have one chance at this, Ezmerel. Are you sure you’re ready?”

“I didn’t know it before tonight,” Ezmerel said, “but I’ve been waiting for this moment my whole life. Of course, I’m ready.”

He stood up and pulled Sheila to her feet. Her beauty still overwhelmed him. With long-lost strength he lifted her into his arms and carried her to his bed. He wanted to show her just how powerful he felt.

As the sun rose toward the horizon, shading the sky with a spectacular shade of purple, Sheila and Ezmerel laid awake in each other’s arms. They both knew the dangers of the coming day, and they silently fought off fear with their combined warmth.

“You’re shaking,” Ezmerel said, feeling her trembling against him.

She did not respond.

“Sheila,” Ezmerel whispered, as if praying. “Sheila, why did Dr. Vonnegut send you here?”

“Someone needed to stand in for your wife,” she replied.

“Yes, but why you? Why did he send you?”

“He needed someone he could trust, someone that would not question him no matter what happened.”

“Do you trust him that much?”

She sighed and turned away. “There’s something he’s not telling me. It makes me nervous.”

“Why don’t you ask him about it if it bothers you so much?”

She turned back to Ezmerel with tears in her eyes. “He’s my father,” she sobbed, “and I learned long ago never to question him. He can be as ruthless as he is brilliant. I know there is something out of place in all this, but I just do what I’m told.”

Her eyes exploded with tears, instantly soaking her cheeks, and Ezmerel pulled her closer as she wept.

“I guess fathers are just too hard to please,” he said.

The Awakening Bell tolled, bring them out of the half-sleep they slipped into in the first hours of day. Ezmerel rolled quickly out of bed and began to dress. The moment of truth was drawing near and his excitement was uncontainable. Sheila rose groggily and watched his frantic movements.

“Calm down,” she said, “You’re all wound up. You need to relax and act normal, be your usual subdued self. It is going to be a trying day for you.”

“Yes, I suppose,” Ezmerel said as he buttoned his shirt, “but I’m looking forward to it, Sheila. I’m going to save us all. I’m going to make the Empire pay for what they’ve done to all of us. You’ll see, Sheila, I’ll make things right.”

Sheila smiled at him for a moment then reached into the nightstand drawer. “Take this,” she said, and handed him a small, square piece of flexible metal. It looked oddly familiar to Ezmerel. “It’s a dampener,” she explained. “You put it on the back of your neck to block the tracking signal from the chip.”

“Why would I need one of those?” Ezmerel asked. “I thought everything was going to seem normal as long as I enter the correct sequence.”

“It will,” she replied, “but the Einstein will move quickly once the Empire’s defenses are down, and once the Empire notices their systems are failing it won’t take them long to figure out what happened. You shouldn’t have a problem getting out of the Counters Office, but they might be looking for you before you make it home. Take it,” she commanded, forcing it into his hand. Ezmerel eyed the contraption suspiciously. “This isn’t going to be as easy as you think, Ezmerel. You may very well have to fight for your life today. But if you make it home… I believe my father will live up to his word. Just make it home, Ezmerel, and you will be free of the Empire forever.”

Ezmerel kissed her passionately, shoved the dampener in his pocket, and made his way to the door.

Ezmerel fell in line with his fellow citizens for the daily march to work. They seemed strange, faceless sheep of a flock to which he no longer belonged. It saddened him to think of how long he had been one of them, of what would happen to them when the Empire came crashing down around them. He realized how much chaos and despair these people would suffer before things were set right again. There was no telling what the Empire would do to its people when faced with collapse.

Ezmerel filed into the Counters Office along with all the others and took his place at his terminal. He looked at his hands, the tips of his fingers sticking out of the thinly wrapped bandages Sheila had applied during the night. He prayed to a nameless God that his wounded digits would not fail him.

“Cantone,” his Watcher barked over his shoulder, “you sure you’re ready to work?”

Ezmerel did not turn to look at him, he did not want to expose the rage in his eyes. “Of course, sir. I’m more than ready.”

Before the Watcher could respond the Working Bell tolled and the Counters Office exploded with the cacophony of typing. Ezmerel stared at his stack of papers for a moment, suddenly frightened. What was he supposed to do? His fingers did not move, his mind did not fill with numbers, he just sat staring at his sheets. His Watcher cleared his throat and Ezmerel forced himself to action. He looked at his blank screen and started typing. He did not know what keys he hit, he did not know why he hit them, but the light above his terminal remained dark and he allowed his fingers to work without the encumbrance of thought. He paced his page turning with the typist next to him, turning his pages just after him. He let his mind drift. It was the most comfortable he had ever been at a keyboard. When the Quitting Bell rang, Ezmerel quickly turned over his last sheet and stood up. He looked around for a moment, amazed that he had actually succeeded in his treason, and walked calmly out of the Counters Office.

Ezmerel watched the sun slowly falling against the horizon as he walked home. Sunset was beginning and he stopped for a moment to observe the daily ritual. Surely, he would find the coil this time. He had faced his fears, overcome his weaknesses, realized the power within himself. What more could he do? It must reveal itself to him this time. He watched the sky expectantly.

Piercing screams filled the air, destroying the tranquility of the moment. It was the General Alarm.

They’re coming!.

Ezmerel leaped to action. He pulled the dampener from his pocket and slapped it on the back of his neck. It sent a sharp pain through his skull, he hardly noticed. He had to hide, to get home, to run! He left the streets for the dark, hidden rat maze of alleys that weaved through the city. The fading daylight sunk the narrow alleys in shadow, causing Ezmerel to trip over unseen debris. He crawled under fences, climbed over others. At times the passage grew so narrow he was afraid he would not make it through. Somehow, without thinking or faltering, he moved faster than ever before, his muscles tiring quickly, his body aching, but he did not slow. He fought exhaustion, allowing his anger to take over. He would not fail now. He was too close. The Empire would fall by his hand and he would live to laugh at their demise. He owed himself that much.

Wheezing and panting, soaked with perspiration, the wounds on his hands reopened and oozing, Ezmerel approached the rear of his own home. He pressed himself against the wall and slowly crept toward the front. From the shadows he scanned the street. Deserted. It seemed a lifetime since the General Alarm began blaring, but he managed to beat the Empire to his home. Hopefully his rescuers from the Einstein would do the same. He took his keystone from his pocket and slinked out of the shadows. The street was quiet as he placed the keystone in it’s nook and his door began to open.

“Don’t move!”

Ezmerel’s every muscle tensed at the outburst. Someone was behind him, waiting for him, had him dead to rights. Anger surged through him and he slowly turned.

“How nice to see you again, Ezmerel.”

It was the Inspector from the previous day, the one who had almost ruined everything.

“Amazing that you could type with your thumbs all chewed up like that, Ezmerel,” the Inspector hissed, raising his gun, looking down the sight straight into Ezmerel’s eyes. “I must know, Ezmerel, how did you do it?”

Ezmerel glared at him, unmoved by the presense of the gun. At this one man, the only man standing between him and freedom, Ezmerel focused all the rage that festered in the endless scars of misery burned into him during a lifetime of suffering. His anger was breaking free, rising to the surface. It enraptured him.

“Come, Ezmerel! You must tell me how it was done. Not only breaking the codes, but memorizing an entire sequence and reproducing it flawlessly! I knew you were a subversive, but… that is amazing!”

Ezmerel’s face burned with bloodlust, he smirked mockingly. “It’s like my father used to say - never underestimate an angry man,” he said.

The strength in Ezmerel’s voice disarmed the Inspector for a moment. His arm slackened, the gun lowering slightly. Ezmerel leapt. He grabbed the Inspector’s arm, yanked him toward him, grabbed him by the head, and with a quick jerk sent the man slumping to the ground. Ezmerel stood over the body, confused, disoriented. It happened so quickly, before he knew what he was doing. He was not sure how he managed to kill him, but the sight of the lifeless Inspector broke the final bar of Ezmerel’s prison. A stentorian howl, filled with his remaining anguish, rumbled from his throat, drowning out the General Alarm and sending his neighbors quivering to their beds, horrified by the unthinkable terror lurking so nearby.

There was nothing left. Ezmerel felt weightless, ethereal. All that he was, all that the Empire made him, was gone. The final slivers of Ezmerel Cantone, the son of his father, a freeborn man with the power of free will, were finally alone again within their kingdom, surrounded by a soothing emptyness.

Ezmerel floated up the door into his unlit living room. A shodow stood in the doorway to the kitchen.

“Sheila, I did it,” Ezmerel huffed, voice trembling along with his body. “I did it. The Empire is falling. I made it home. I made it back to you. We can go now. Go back to the Einstein.”

He walked to the door and stared out at the sunset. The sky was streaked with all the shades of pink and orange, giant puffs of cloud burned with supernatural fire.

“Sheila, come see this,” Ezmerel said. He turned to find the livingroom lit and almost fell over backwards. It was not Sheila that stood before him.

“Hello, Darling,” Jessica said.

It took Ezmerel a moment to recognize her. She looked the same everyday for the ten years they were together, and now she looked different. She looked… great! She looked younger than the day she showed up at his door with her meager belongings, calling herself his wife. She looked so good that he did not notice the gun she was holding until she raised it, aiming it at his chest.

“Jessica?” Ezmerel whispered. “I thought you were on the Einstein.”

“I was,” she said, “can’t you tell?” She smiled and winked at him, giggling under her breath. “Doesn’t it feel good?” she asked. “Doesn’t it just feel so good to be free?” She laughed jubilantly.

Ezmerel began laughing with her, wondering how she understood what he was feeling, wondering why she kept pointing that gun at him, but unable to contain his excitement.

“Yes!” Ezmerel cried. “It feels even better than I expected, Jessica! We are free!”

“Yes, free,” Jessica replied, her tone suddenly somber, her eyes quickly growing cold. “Not quite yet, I’m afraid, my dear Ezmerel.”

“I suppose not,” Ezmerel said, sticking his head out the door and scanning the street. “Where is our ride to the Einstein? Shouldn’t they be here by now?”

“Ezmerel,” Jessica said, waiting for him to face her, then cocking her gun, “they aren’t coming.”

Ezmerel’s skin froze down to his very bones. The fire that drove him to rebellion, drove him to run, drove him to kill, the fire so recently ignited and already burning so fierce, was extinguished in a single moment.

“What do you mean?” Ezmerel asked, dejected, praying he did not understand.

“It’s too dangerous,” Jessica said. “They would have no chance of coming for us now without the Empire getting hold of them. They didn’t keep their secrets this long just to give them up now. Things are just beginning. The Empire has been breached, it will certainly fall, but for now it is still strong.”

She spoke with a passion Ezmerel had never witnessed in her. His mind let go of the world and wrapped itself around her beautiful voice, her beautiful face.

“You were never meant to see the Einstein again, Ezmerel,” she said.

“But, Dr. Vonnegut told me I would be free,” Ezmerel ventured thoughtlessly.

Jessica smiled again and moved a few steps closer to Ezmerel. “Dr. Vonnegut is a very wise man,” she said, “a man who knows what people want, things they don’t know about themselves, and he is a man of his word.

“He explained it all to me, Ezmerel. You were a broken man, blaming yourself for your miserable life, when all along you knew it was not your fault. It was the Empire’s fault. Dr. Vonnegut knew it, he knew what you wanted most in life, the thing that would make you whole, to have your revenge, revenge upon the Empire, and that is exactly what he gave you.” Her speech grew rapid, as though the words would not come fast enough. Her proportions seemed to change as she swelled with emotion.

“I was broken, too, Ezmerel, and I also blamed myself, but Dr. Vonnegut showed me the truth. I’m a strong woman with a strong mind. Even after all the Empire did to my family, after all they did to steal my identity, I still hung on. I had hope. Until I came to you, Ezmerel.”

She moved a few steps closer to him and he lowered his head with regret. He out ran the Empire, he out ran his emotions – his remorse, his fears, his anger – but he could not out run his sins.

She continued, “Dr. Vonnegut gave you you’re revenge and made you a hero. He also gave you his word that you would never have to worry about the Empire again, and as I said, he is a man of his word. I’m here for my revenge, Ezmerel. I am going to be a hero as well. The Empire will honor me for killing the traitor that destroyed them. Your revenge made you a hero, Ezmerel. Mine will make you a martyr.”

An explosion rattled Ezmerel’s ears. He flew backwards through the air. His head crashed down on the cold, stone door, pointing to the ground, his numb legs splayed on the bloody living room carpet.

The world turned upsidedown. The sunset seemed a fiery sea under a sky of green. It was the the most beautiful sunset he had ever seen. He did not try to move, the sound of the approaching sirens did not find his ears. There was nothing but the sky.

As his sight slowly began to fade, a swirling tornado of light slowly fell to him from the star’s crown – a living finger of the sunset reaching out for him, squirming wildly across the sky. It effortlessly spanned the length of the world to find him. It coiled about him gently, warming his soul, loosening it from his mind.

“The squirming coil,” he said, his breath failing “I found it, father. I understand.”

And he smiled.