There was nothing to do but walk to the door, grasp the wooden handle and open it. I didn’t know what to expect, but it sure wasn’t a pair of white slippers awaiting me on the grey doormat. I gingerly slipped my foot into one, and watched it mold itself perfectly to my foot.
Yep, something’s rusted here.
I stepped out onto a paved footpath crossing a small garden in full bloom. As I watched, large yellow-and-black bees buzzed among perfect blossoms. Small hummingbirds flew above me, and the sun caressed my skin. I dared not close my eyes again, but stood still for a long time, basking in it.
Is this heaven?
After a while I took the footpath to a small gate, walked through it into the forest. It wasn’t long before I reached a small clearing, where a young boy was waiting for me, sitting at a wooden table laden with ripe fruit, cheese, bread, and a steaming pot. I recognised him as I walked closer: brown eyes, a shaved head, a small scar on his chin. There was no mistaking it was the child that I grew to imagine and then recognise when I met his projection deep inside the City Within the Mountain. He was now and had for many years been a part of Adam, the mostly dormant Tarakan Sentient Program, and though he could change his appearance at will, for some reason he had chosen the features of the young boy with which he was uploaded.
I sat down on the wooden bench across the table. Wordlessly, Rafik lifted the pot and poured the steaming contents into the cup that was in front of me. I watched the hot liquid filling the cup. When Rafik placed the pot back at the centre of the table, I looked at the cup and said, “I bet you didn’t have to do that.”
I picked up my cup and sniffed the tantalizing aroma. “I bet my cup could have been filled without you lifting or even touching the pot.”
“Sometimes the gesture is as important as the result,” Rafik answered, watching as I took a sip from the teacup. It was the best thing I had ever tasted. The last time we spoke I asked Rafik to appear in adult form, but this time he had chosen to appear as a kid on the verge of adolescence. I wondered why.
“Are we … am I … inside Adam now?” It was an obvious question, but I needed confirmation.
Rafik nodded. “Yes, we extracted you just in time. It wasn’t easy, or ‘a smooth operation,’ as you Salvationists like to say, and we had to do some delicate reconstructions to your consciousness, but here you are.”
I managed to suppress a shudder as I looked around. “Is this all real?”
“You asked me that before, remember?” Rafik answered, watching me nod my assent before adding, “Does it matter?”
I drank more deeply this time. The liquid was too hot and burned my throat. I coughed and spat most of it. It felt real.
When I got my bearings, I set down the cup but Rafik leaned over and poured some more tea, careful not to spill a drop.
“Did we even win?” I looked him in the eye. “We lost many good Trolls in that battle. It would be nice to know it wasn’t in vain.”
“We have control of the main laboratory, yes.” Rafik leaned back in his chair. “And Cain’s Lizard production has been halved. The numbers are now … manageable. In time, the Valley will be cleansed of the hordes and it will be even safer to come back.”
“With some more Puzzlers,” I remarked, noting to myself that his face remained blank. We had entered the City Within the Mountain to find Rafik only to find ourselves caught in the middle of a war between these two strange entities, Adam and Cain. That war had begun with the Catastrophe, and I was just another name in the casualty list.
I took a strange yellow fruit from the basket.
“You have to peel the skin off,” Rafik warned me just as I brought it to my mouth.
“Is it any good?” I asked as my hands broke the tip of the fruit
“You’ll have to try for yourself. I like it.”
He was right. It was very good, especially for something that did not exist.
“What is it called?”
“A banana.”
“Nice.”
I ate the banana but resisted taking another one from the basket. I dropped the peel and saw it land on the ground beside me.
“What now? Happily ever after?”
There was a glint in Rafik’s eyes. “No, I am afraid we are not there yet, but before I explain, let me ask you something. The reconstruction of your mind was—” Rafik made a point of searching for a word he most likely already knew he was going to use “—not easy. Even with Tarakan technology, it was a long, meticulous process, and it could be disorienting. Could you tell me your name?”
“Twinkle Eyes,” I answered almost immediately.
Rafik tilted his head in mock amusement. “What is your real name?”
It was childish, but I wanted to keep at least one thing away from the people, or creature, who had forced me and my friends on a suicide mission. “I think I like the name Twinkle Eyes, if you don’t mind, but wait …” The meaning of his words suddenly hit me with the force of a power hammer. “You said it took you a long time to put me back together again. How long has it been since I died in the laboratory?”
“A little over five years.”
“Oh rust.” I breathed out, my hands grasping the wooden table. “But I don’t remember anything since being torn to pieces … since dying.” I pointed at Rafik, surprised that my finger was not trembling. “You just kept me in a dark cell. That was not what we agreed upon.”
“First of all”—Rafik tapped the table lightly with his finger—“that deal was made under extreme duress.”
“Still. A deal’s a de—”
“We agreed to save and upload you into Adam,” Rafik said, interrupting me for the first time, “but there were no preagreed terms as to the conditions in which we would keep you. This”—he gestured around us—“all this”—he pointed at the food on the table—“costs energy we cannot afford to spend. We kept you alive and stimulated enough not to go insane. But there was no reason for you to be kept conscious.”
“So I might as well have died in the laboratory. A dreamless, bodyless sleep seems awfully close to the universal description of death.”
“Yet here you are, drinking and eating with me in the middle of this beautiful forest.” Rafik took a careful sip from his own cup, blowing gently on the surface before bringing it to his lips.
“This place doesn’t really exist,” I said, leaning back and glancing at the banana peel I had thrown to the ground. It was still there.
“Not in the physical world, true, but there are many advantages for you here.” Rafik began counting them on his fingers. “You will not grow old, or tired, or sick, and you will sleep only when you wish to experience that condition.”
“After what you did to me, I’m not sure I want to close my eyes ever again.”
“There is almost nothing you cannot do here.” Rafik ignored my comment, pointing up. “See that high branch over there?” I looked up. “Try flying up to it.”
I looked back at Rafik. “You mean … I can …?”
Rafik nodded, a soft smile touching his lips. “If you wish—the physical world in this place would allow you to fly, easily.”
I got up from the bench and stood there, looking up. “What do I do?”
“Just wish to fly to the branch.”
And