Rain Harlow
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Chapter 63
🕑 Added 2025-07-07 15:00:14 +0000 UTCChapter 63: The Last Anchor
Memoria’s silence persisted as her eyes were cast off, a mild frown on her face.
Jack felt a pang of impatience. His heart was beating faster, in suspicion, in worry, his mind both reaching for the answer and pushing it away. “Are you going to tell me who?”
She met his eyes evenly. “Do I need to? Hmm. It seems I do.” She paused, folding her hands in her lap. “Agent Nonpareil Vim. Who still lives, by the way. On a permanent assignment. He’s doing well enough.”
Jack dropped his fork and leaned back, closing his eyes. A wash of relief flooded him; his skin flushed with goosebumps. A second old weight lifted off his shoulders. The last one. He knew that crusty bastard Rockingson was fine. His very existence wasn’t classified, after all.
Memoria continued. “Vim was rather adamant and even petulant about seeing her. Perhaps it speeded his own recovery, to have his reunion as a goal to reach for, but it also likely wore me down in my resistance to the idea. Even what we regard as pragmatic can come around to bite us in the ass, son. Especially if we let our feelings cloud our good judgment. That’s motherhood for you.”
She sniffed derisively. “In any case, I let him in to see her and it was an unmitigated disaster. I still regret it, as it made both of them worse off. Vim got inserted as a more intense trigger hallucinogenic persona to torment Ree, and Vim got crushed by guilt and regret, allowing another worm of doubt in. Apathy and depression hit him. Fortunately, he was treatable. The damage was done, but he swore he’d never so much as ask about her again. And he didn’t. As sad — as unequivocally sad as it is — that was what was best for him. For both of them.”
Jack listened on, supremely shocked by the story, his good feelings for Vim’s survival rapidly evaporating. “That’s terrible. I’m… I’m sorry, Mother.”
She nodded slowly, staring down at her food with a somber face. “It isn’t even the worst of it. My failure was complete by the final realization: that erroneous pairing had taught The Dreamer something. At the least, it hastened the learning. Evolutionary and adaptive tactics of mental fear-making. Twisting their unique connection, weaponing them against each other; hobgoblins in the dark. Making real phantasms and letting them ply their own torment like little destructive programs half-grown from the minds of the afflicted. The psychic was forced to face them in Ree’s mind. She lost.”
“Damn. I guess I should be grateful to Q-Loth for sparing me.”
Memoria gave a subtle shrug. “Indeed. But the dodge was half yours, too. The tactics of your approach. Breaking through the walls, pulling the seed of her will into the equation. Those were her demons to fight. You provided the ammo. Q-Loth provided a frame to strike at the source, to reveal the truth within the delusions. Clarity. Quite the team effort, hmm?” She had a vague smile, but it died as she studied him. “You can’t imagine how worried I was to send you in. Instinctual, traitorous doubt, combating the calculus before me, that it was going to be different. But I’ve seen charging optimism die out in the cold of reality too many times. A sense of deja vu at the forefront of my mind, waltzing my child into that very room again.”
“You could’ve fooled me with that ambition talk of yours. Or the flippant smile on your face.”
Memoria took a deep breath, still meeting his gaze. “I chose to reflect my very real optimistic perspective to you, Jack, because the brave face was best. One day, as a leader, I bet you’ll understand that perfectly. That does not change our inner heart for things, nor our inner reflections of doubt. To choose the brave face is not a lie, my son. It is an expression of your faith, your choice of what you believe — what you hold to and reflect to your fellows. Thus, it is a greater truth than any of your doubts or contrasting denials.”
The Archon reached a hand and picked up a piece of bacon, staring at it. “I swallowed the decision that said, ‘No! We mustn’t! He can’t be risked! He’s my son! It’s too dangerous!’ I swallowed it out of trust, faith, and hope. I have to do that quite a lot. But you came through. You proved it all correct.” She smiled an intentional sort of smile. “Thank you for doing so, son.” She popped the bacon in her mouth.
Jack took it in soberly, studying her. Any snarkiness in him died as he imagined what it would be like to make such decisions for people. “It’s my honor. I’d do it again. It… it was the right call, Mother. I’m glad you did it.”
“I appreciate that. It’s always great to see desired results pan out in retrospect, hmm? In any case, though it may seem otherwise, I hardly make all the decisions alone. This particular matter certainly required outside input due to my biases.” A pause as she looked at his plate. “That was hardly enough to keep a bird alive, Jack! Don’t stop now — you need your strength.”
Jack chuckled and picked his fork back up. “Yes, ma’am.” He ate some more for a few silent moments as Memoria did the same. “That whole thing did take a lot out of me, eh?”
“Indeed. It won’t be as bad when your Inner Energy is up. Other than that, in consulting Neex, there are herbal supplements only the deeper undersea regions can provide, to facilitate less drain.”
“Ah. Makes sense.” He munched on some bacon and bread. Meanwhile, that subject wasn’t one he could pass up. “Are we going there, by the way?”
“We?” She gave him a wan look. “If you mean you and Neex, that seems rather likely, at some point, doesn’t it? I can’t send you like you are. Full operational status is at least Access Level 5, preferably Level 6, and preferably having earned the jacket. I won’t hand it to you — I can’t. I can’t even guarantee the jacket, period, because it's possible to screw up one’s chances. In which case, I have to make you a consultant and attaché, so to speak. Nonetheless, it's entirely feasible to attain the jacket in that level frame. I’ll certainly give you the opportunity.”
Jack nodded along, deliberately suppressing an excited outburst. It’s likely! She must be sending a team. Potential bonders, even? “I appreciate the candor and info, Mother.”
“You’ve earned it, son. A big difference from where you were, to here and now, regardless of how little time it's been. You’ve completed many requisites of duty and hopped into the submarine, as it were.” She smiled. “It’s just the beginning, of course.”
“So, what’s next for me?”
“Today? Rest up and go back into your training regimen. Tomorrow, I have something else for you. Which I’ll tell you a little about” — she popped a piece of bread in her mouth and squinted her eyes at him — “if you clean your plate.”
Jack sat back and barked a laugh, shaking his head. “Are you kidding? I’ll be going for seconds after I hear.”
“That’s my boy…”
Jack promptly finished everything off, also noticing Memoria doing the same. He used bread to soak up the remaining oils and other bits, completely cleaning the plate. Chewing the last piece of oily bread, he held the plate up for Memoria’s inspection.
She nodded approvingly. “So dutifully clean.” She dropped her knife and fork on an empty plate and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “Tomorrow, you’ll be a field mission trainee, the field being New Babylon, and the mission potentials being quite real. This is typically reserved for graduates, but not always, particularly in the case of Keepers — or intra-territory specialists — who are more likely to function as Core territory agents. Peacekeepers, investigators, and so on. Advanced training of this nature is thus not unheard of, especially for Linewalkers.
“Essentially, you’ll be a Man In Black, a faceless Memorial Agent — with a face, technically, whether helmeted or not. Standard procedure for suit wearers. As it happens, your apparent age is a nice side benefit. Not much work at all to age up into the ‘prime age’ immortal figure we cultivate. You’ve even got a nice frame for it. Nonetheless, a disguise artist will give you some touch-ups.”
Jack nodded along, increasingly excited. He grinned. “Rad. Do I need to chop my hair off?”
Memoria shrugged. “The disguise applied is a temp job that reverts, as a standard. Hair included. Come however you like; that’s not important. What is more important is getting used to your kit. All inner clothing is SSMM — Stitched, Simulated Memorite Material. Metal fibers inside will react to impacts, triggering a levitation-based stiffening at the impact site. The effect is much stronger closer to the Core. It’ll stop bullets but is designed to bend and not break, distributing force. Thus, blunt trauma is a concern, particularly for higher-velocity arms. But handguns are largely irrelevant unless a machine pistol unloads on you from close range.
“Your outer overcoat is another matter.” There was a sudden ‘ring’ at the door. “There it is now. Go ahead.” Jack blinked in confusion for a moment, and she gestured at the door with her eyebrows raised. “Well? It’s your door. Answer it.”
Jack sighed and stood. “You just let yourself in, though!”
“Maybe I never left.”
Jack just shook his head as he went to the door, opened it, and was stunned to see a long, black trench coat just floating there. Its arm lifted and waved at him.
Jack stared. “You’re doing that, right?”
Memoria called back from the kitchen, “It’s more fun not to answer that!”
The jacket did a ‘shrug’ and darted past Jack inside, soon floating over to the kitchen.
Jack stared a bit longer before closing the door and approaching. The jacket turned to ‘face’ him. “Seriously, Mother, I need to know if this thing is fraggin’ sentient or some shit! It’s weirding me out.”
She was leaning over the chair arm with her chin resting on her hands, looking very pleased and amused with herself. “Take the jacket and try it on, dear.”
Sighing yet again, Jack gingerly reached out to take the jacket. It shot into his hand suddenly, making him jump. But as he gripped it, it went totally limp. Muttering to himself, he put it on and adjusted it. It was thick and heavy. Even without channeling memorite, he felt an echo of the material. The surface was deceptive… It looked like cloth, but it wasn’t. Moreover, it was already special in a way nothing had ever inherently felt to him before.
When he met Memoria’s eyes, she was grinning ear to ear, and she said, “Channel a small amount of memorite. Ten percent. Get a feel for it.”
Jack promptly complied, reaching out to that brother substance just past the perceptual veil at a certain, mysterious angle. Immediately after exiting his body, the memorite felt ‘magnetized’ to the jacket, wanting to collapse into it. And he confirmed the whole item was made of metal, its surface brushed and colored to a more matte, cloth-like finish. It was a vast, intricate mesh of metal fibers, the nature of it something he’d never encountered before. It felt alive.
He turned to Memoria, who was still grinning as she watched him. He asked, “This is memory metal? But I’m missing something, aren’t I?”
“Mmn,” she murmured. “Sisters to the brotherhood, my son. An alloy mesh of permanent levitational memorite, three kilograms of it, and configured a certain way. Now: interlace it with your own channeled memorite. Possess it.”
Jack did so, which was mostly a matter of letting it do what it already naturally wanted. It collapsed almost instantly into a similar mesh pattern, miming the contours, flowing into ‘grooves’ that were already there and pulling his control throughout, with extra leverage and grip. That grip was attached like many anchor points, or ‘curves’ of counterpressure that transformed into the opposite as his own memorite stretched further into the many wells like nexus points…
At least, these were the thoughts he had about it. Confusing almost-logics, but when he took hold of the jacket’s metal material, he quite simply was holding onto something poised and hyper-responsive, buzzing with reactivity. It wasn’t inhibited like normal metal, despite being close to his skin — it was like his memorite, like an enhancing extension of it, even with a small amount interlaced.
Just as he was about to open his mouth, Memoria continued, “Now: bump it up to 20%.”
Jack shut his mouth and did as instructed, pouring more memorite in. It was seamless how it flowed in and reinforced the structure, at a speed far exceeding other conscious things he could do other than channel memorite itself. It was a hair slower than that, which was still absurdly fast.
Instead of saying anything, Jack took control of the memorite and made the arm of the jacket extend and form a liquid tendril. He watched in amazement as the fibers kept together, simply branching and tightening to emulate his desire, and at the relatively higher speed of direct memorite manipulation. He then let it go… and it snapped back into form on a dime!
Jack cackled.
Memoria also chuckled briefly. “Quite a fun little toy, hmm? Can you guess why it's in the form of a jacket as opposed to, perhaps, a body suit?”
Jack considered that for a moment. “My first thought was style and subtlety. As in, it could adapt in the field. But I just saw it snap back into its base form, so maybe not.”
Jack was suddenly aware of a brush at his side. He looked to see a pointy knife floating in the air, piercing through the jacket’s lower flap from behind, fibers moving aside. It then floated back out, and the jacket was repaired instantly.
“A responsive material is not an innately resistant material,” Memoria declared as the knife particulated into dust. “This toy needs to go on over other things because it is only useful actively rather than passively. It is designed to enhance your default, emergency capabilities. Last-ditch close-range, for example, though nothing can change the fact you’re better at a distance. If a piece separates from the greater whole, it’ll more slowly particulate and return.
“You can form it into a cord very easily if you practice a bit with it, as it is predisposed to form tight, fibrous bonds. You can make a very tough, stiff barrier as well, by focusing almost like flexing a muscle to tighten the bonds and hold it rigid. All active requirements, resetting once you let go — unless you deliberately lock it, but it works as a whole, so be mindful. Even if it's far away from you, by default, it’ll come back and reform.”
She paused and shrugged. “Anyway. You can play with it to learn it further. This is an in-house prototype, by the way. Designed for the Core. Do provide input for the next iteration, and note any errors. Perhaps it’ll be blue by then.”
He took the meaning. “Understood. And I can’t use this in team trials, obviously.”
“Mmn. Well judged, son. I’m providing you this because you’re entering the field, much as it spoils the surprise. I have to prioritize that it could save your life, or — far more likely — someone else’s life. The biggest danger to my agents are unforeseen ambushes. The quicker the reaction, the better. Aside from that, doing some early testing is also great. Train a bit with it today, hmm? Especially reactionary and defensive uses. As for your briefing, that'll have to wait until tomorrow.”
She stood. “You’re well-suited as enhanced backup to an investigative agent, and have a potential mission-relevant ability. You might bump into action, you might not. The variables are too high to say, and specific assignments are an ongoing development. The last thing I’ll say on it: I need you. I need every single non-liability I can get out there tomorrow. So be ready.” She paused and looked around the place, her hands going to her hips. “That’s about all, son. It’s time I departed.” She turned a fond smile his way. “I’m glad we had this time together.”
“Me too,” Jack replied and found that he meant it. He glanced at his slick jacket. “Thanks for the gift, Mother. And for cooking. It was great — is great, actually. I’m going to eat the rest before cleaning up.”
“I’d expect nothing less!” She approached and gave him a hug, which he returned automatically. “And you’re welcome. I’m proud of you, Jack. Until next time.” She patted his back and slid away, actually headed for the real exit for once.
“Mother,” Jack called. As she turned around and raised an eyebrow, Jack continued. “Sorry, but I’ve got to ask: if Vim is still alive… will he get to know? About Screamer; about her restoration.”
Memoria looked at him and drew up, taking a deep breath. She smiled faintly. “We’ll see, my son. She’s still got a long way to go. When she’s ready, when he is? Perhaps. But stop worrying about them, hmm? Take the good cheer you’ve obtained and digest it. Fuel your own growth. It’s brought you to wonderful places already, hasn’t it, dear? Don’t stop now.”
“Yes, ma’am. Will do.”
She smiled wider, nodded, and turned around to exit. She did one final wink and wave before she left, the door closing behind her.
I might as well be thankful for the relationship I have with her.
As he let his memorite collapse back into him, he took off his new marvel of a jacket. He ran a hand over the unique fabric. Deceptively soft on the outside. Inner steel, eh? Many layers, like its maker. Here I am, the protege of Mother Metal, handed a priceless gift of her ingenuity. To think, I was worried I’d be irrelevant when I was first considering my class options. Silly boy. Instead, it might be more like I’m carrying the mantle; like I’m an heir to the throne.
Jack scoffed at his own thoughts suddenly. “Pff. Getting too big for my britches, here. Don’t corrupt me, Jacket!” He chuckled and tossed the jacket on the couch back, strolling into the kitchen, grabbing his plate, and getting his seconds. Mother had left plenty, and he still had plenty of room. His prescription was rest and food, and the sooner he got to it, the better!
His thoughts wandered back to the young man who had saved his life. One he’d saved in turn, only to worry endlessly, uselessly, for years — and what felt like decades — about whether the poison had finally claimed him before the Mems could help. You’re still alive, though, Vim. Thank you. Thank you for surviving, you tough little bastard. Me too, brother. Me too; I made it. I hope I get to see you again. I hope you remember me. More than anything, though, I hope to be there for your reunion with her. I know she loves you cause I saw it with my own eyes, and you must love her for the hurt her condition dealt to you.
Jack sat back down at the table and ate with extra pep and a grin on his face, feeling like his blood had turned to liquid gold. He was just flat-out happy.
We’ll put these demons to rest once and for all, and march forward together.
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Comments
Thomas V.
It would be lovely indeed if they all reach a point where that reunion between Vim and Screamer is possible. And I both dread Jack meeting Vim again (time and trauma changes people, and Vim has had plenty of both), and eagerly await it. Healing is always great to see.
