Rain Harlow
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Chapter 5
🕑 Added 2025-03-20 17:50:14 +0000 UTC“What?” Jack looked from the text to Neex to back again. “What?! Me?!” He struggled to process the meaning. “Neex, I-... Look, I think you’re great, but I’m not ready for something like this! Is this like marriage? I don’t even know how old you are!”
When Neex read the translation, her eyes bugged out, she turned white, and then covered her face in her hands in embarrassment. The head tentacles dropped down over it, too, though one gesticulated at him threateningly.
Finally, she moved a hand to make a response, still hiding behind the other. <No! It is not that! All types form this bond! Siblings! Platonic comrades! Merit matches! This is about Memoria’s connection, Jack! Fixing it! Allotment of power, the interface with her System! Making you a Champion!> As an afterthought, she added the singular line, <I’m an adult!>
“Oh.” The realization hit Jack like a brick. Champion. A Champion of Memoria, a Non. It can’t be real. It’s determined after puberty. I missed the boat. But… Jack blew air out and leaned forward on his knees, running a hand over his face and hair as he looked down at the floor. “Sorry. This is a lot to absorb. A lot to believe. Doesn’t it involve Memoria? She didn’t pick me.”
Neex got over her embarrassment enough to look confused. She shook her head. <No. It’s already there, Jack, just Marred and nonfunctional. Unusable, inaccessible. From our deductions, Memoria attempts to interface with everyone, in order to collect the fraction that is functional.>
Jack almost felt slapped by that bombshell. “She doesn’t pick anyone?”
<An Archon would select the most excellent for the most Allotment because it is a gamble of potential loss to enemies. But we’re off-track, no? Do you have any idea how she would respond to our work? How aware she would be of the repair?>
Jack considered it. There were special protocols for Non development within Independent territories. It varied, but he’d read some of the agreements. The most closed communities blocked everything. In New Babylon, it was simple: you were taken immediately, and special arrangements were made with your guardians. They were sworn to secrecy and well-compensated, while you got sent to ‘military school.’ Something every kid dreamed about.
In ‘friendly’ independent territories like Eden, the potential Non could not be ‘taken’ but was expected to report to New Babylon and the Mems. A ‘provisional agreement’ was in place, whatever that meant.
“She’s blocked,” Jack said finally. “She wouldn’t know or respond just from that. Whether what you do is detectable, I’m not sure.”
Neex nodded. <There is danger involved. Uncertainty. And you have a right to be cautious. You don’t have to do this. You should decline if you do not wish it. We simply offer it to you first.>
“Why? Tell me why.”
She averted her eyes briefly before responding. <Quallakuloth finds you compatible and suitable. Worthy. So do I. It is a good match, even if we have no idea what you’ll be capable of. More important than that, you have shown concern and kindness to one alien to you. You’ve proven much to us, you already mean much to us. You are our first friend from the sky! Why shouldn’t you be the first Skyman to have their connection Symmetrized? The one to reap the rewards for what he helped to make possible?>
“Rewards,” Jack repeated, gazing over at the thrumming luminous shell creature that was the Heart. First friend from the sky. Wow. He felt a measure of wonder at that. And a pride rising up that he was suspicious of. Did he truly do something significant? Maybe not. A lot of other people would do the same, wouldn’t they? Right place, right time.
And maybe he was a rube. A mark. Maybe it was a farce for that being to get to Memoria.
Shit. That would make me an unwitting traitor. How likely is that? Is it a risk? Things aren’t always what they appear.
Neex was gesturing. <The Symmetrical Seal, of course, and through it, connection to Memoria. Immunity to Marring. Longer life. Abilities, powers through your Archon, however it works. Thought-speech communication with me through the aid of the Bond. Various other benefits and improvements you won’t understand before you have the interface. Near our territory, the potential would magnify.>
Jack studied her with his hands folded under his chin as he leaned forward. No way she’s evil, but Quallakuloth could be using her as a pawn, right? I’m too ignorant to know how it all works. That would be Memoria’s fault for her secrecy, but we’d all pay… who knows what kind of price?
In the pause, Neex continued. <Perhaps you should take some time to think about it. It would be good for me to meditate for a few minutes and clear my mind of the intellect-disrupting detritus of these dramatic happenings.>
Jack nodded slowly. “Yeah. I get it. But one last thing: what happens after? After this ritual, or pact, or whatever it is you’ll do.”
<You would be unequivocal evidence innately. Proof of what we can offer. Once she is aware of you, it would be obvious, giving her pause, and making her consider our offers of peace and alliance. The connection should give her a greater understanding of what transpired in you. With luck, all will be well.>
And without luck, she’ll disintegrate us all. Or we disappear forever. That was what happened to those who committed terrible crimes. Killers, terrorists, the worst of the worst — they just disappeared. A threat to mankind would certainly fit the bill. “What about your connection? You’ll be alright if this is done? You said it was a permanent solution. For your health and well-being, right?”
Neex gave him a flat look, her pupils going to skinny bars. <You shouldn’t be factoring that into your decision, Jack.>
“Maybe, maybe not, but I’m asking.”
Her pupils did a swirl as she quirked her lip. Sighing, she gave a thumbs up. “Neex good, Jack.” She gestured to make script briefly. <We will solve it regardless.>
Jack frowned right back at her. Evasive. But I already know I’m right from what she said, though she called it a ‘side benefit.’ This is almost certainly the most surefire way to keep her alive. “Why is this so important? Why did you all risk your lives to do this? Is friendship with us that desirable?”
Neex’s pupils turned to curved lines like a frowny face and her skin rippled, becoming prickly. <I thought the last question was the ‘one more thing.’>
Jack barked a laugh. “This is the last.”
She huffed, perhaps ironically, and then made more script. <My reasons and Quallakuloth’s differ somewhat. For me, I would tell you ‘yes’ to that last question. For science, for progress, for the pursuit of wonder. For sharing and learning and a hundred other beautiful dreams. For Quallakuloth, it is mostly about the bigger picture of Earth’s future and our place in it. We could use an ally. This was a calculated risk, but we’ve been encouraged. We’re now optimistic we made the right choice. Quallakuloth has more to say, but that isn’t my place.>
“Right, I get it. If I agree…” He made a motion with his hand.
<No. This would be for Memoria. Perhaps you would be informed, perhaps not.>
Jack nodded, frowning and sitting back to sigh grandly. What a thing for a shmoe like me to have to decide. Southern Lights, Sky Above, help me. Suddenly, he remembered how the day started and he barked a bitter laugh. Neex looked at him quizzically, so he said, “I skipped breakfast, remember? I knew the day would be totally screwed up. I knew it.”
Neex gave him a stern look. “Jack. Food. Now.” She pointed at the door.
He raised his eyebrows. “Quite a command already. Is this what I would have to look forward to with this bond thing?”
“Yes.” She nodded firmly and formed script. <I have high expectations for my bondsmate. Eating. Structure. Total obedience.>
Jack looked from the script to her, incredulous. Her face was too smooth and tight, damning her as full of shit. Jack made his eyes widen and his brow draw up comically. Neex immediately broke, snickered, and grinned wide, practically ear-to-ear. Her head tentacles did curls.
Chuckling, Jack rose to his feet. “Okay. A drink, at least. Enjoy your meditation.”
Neex gave a thumbs up, and Jack headed for the door. He paused at it briefly, looking down at the handle. He felt like he was being watched from behind by two sets of eyes.
It doesn’t have eyes, though…
He went through the door, feeling a quick, though not quite instant change from cold, damp, thick air, to the normal warm, dry, thin air he was used to. Warm-er, anyway. The difference wasn’t super extreme. The lighting was the biggest change. It was like downgrading in dimensions, somehow, despite being brighter.
Greater clarity in the dark?
Jack closed the door behind him and took a deep breath, trying to process things. There was too much. His instinctual choice, his urge for ‘more,’ the answering of a call — it pushed and nagged at him. He felt he had to deconstruct it a bit, play Devil’s Advocate. Just to pay heed to the gravity of what he was considering.
He went to the counter and poured some water. Just as it was touching his lips, his eyes caught another container close by, filled with a darker liquid.
Liquor? Well, if there was ever a time, right? Jack fished in a cabinet for a whiskey glass and poured a finger of the rich, amber liquid. He sipped and felt the burn go down. False warmth, but it felt good. Appropriate, somehow.
Jack decided to go outside with it. He turned up his radio, but there was nothing. His uncle wasn’t back, but he would be soon — the last of the twilight still held, but night was coming.
As usual, when he drank any alcohol, he thought of his father. A voice that automatically chided, ‘Your father was an alcoholic.’ An inescapable warning and self-judgment.
Frederick Laker. Freddie. A man who had only truly abused the liquid spirits after being abused by circumstance — not that it excused him. His wife, Jack’s mother, was seduced away by some crazy religious cult. A gradual but increasingly nasty divide occurred between them because his dad rejected it. She’d brought Jack to church a couple of times, and the argument that inevitably spawned was one he’d never forget. Screaming vitriol from both sides the likes of which he’d never seen or heard.
The cult was an offshoot of the Mardukites, worshiping the one-time ancient god of the Babylonians. They were okay folk normally — orderly, adjusted, Memoria-worship adjacent — but the cult leader of the offshoot was a different story. A self-styled prophet, he was adamant Memoria was no good for humanity and they had to ‘separate’ to obtain their own holiness for Marduk… or whatever. Jack’s memory was foggy. But his mother bought into it entirely. Went cuckoo. She even became a ‘prophetess.’
She separated from her husband and things got… messy. They got even worse when his dad found out she was impregnated by the leader. He hunted down and assaulted the man, almost killing him. So a horrible cycle began when he went into ‘Intensive Rehabilitation.’ Jack’s mother wanted custody, but Jack hated the idea and did his rebellious best to refuse, including insisting about his desire to go into the military as soon as possible. The state found her unfit as a guardian and he went to live with his uncle.
The prophet leader got his wish in his own, isolated community off-plat with his horde of duped believers. Many wives, eventually. So Jack had heard. His mother, the ‘Honored Ascendant Second Wife,’ wrote to him, but her words became more and more saturated in her religiosity. Insistence he should come to live with her to be ‘free and separated.’ He stopped reading for the most part.
His dad got out eventually, tried to get on track, and made lots of promises to Jack’s face, but he rarely managed to keep them. He hit the bottle harder and harder and it simply took him. He’d survived, at least. He held it together long enough to see his son graduate from military school and become a pilot. He was very proud of that. He’d even managed to make it to graduation sober. Three months, showing off a token of the latest program.
That had made Jack proud, too — of him. It was something, even if it couldn’t last. Hope briefly corked in a cracked bottle. He could never forget that feeling, then. That things had maybe changed for the better, because there he was, fulfilling a promise for once.
Looking up at the first stars that were visible in the faded light, Jack lifted his drink in salute. “Here’s to you, Dad. You tried.” He downed the whiskey and winced. “I hope you’re not dead.”
I’ve probably got a dozen half-siblings by now from my Dearest Momma. I wonder if they’re all brain-washed loonies, or if one is looking up right now at the same star, wishing they could get out, get away. Free will. It’s a real bitch of a thing, isn’t it? Memoria gives us the benefit of the doubt and we frag it up with our bullshit. We give it away to others, we abuse them, abuse ourselves. But life goes on, I guess. It functions. A powerful machine chugging away, unstoppable, errors be damned. We’ll endure, we’ll adapt. We’ll mutate.
Jack wandered over to his vehicle, turning the empty glass in his hand. “So, Alice…”
She responded as quickly as ever. “Yes, Jack?”
“Should I do it?”
“I need more information, Jack. Do what?”
“Accept an offer of great promise and potential, at the risk of everything. But it could also be no risk at all. I could risk promise and potential for… everyone, even, by refusing.”
“This sounds like a very difficult decision, Jack. You should weigh the pros and cons, and determine the severity and likelihood of the risks. Does it align with your own goals, personally and professionally? But also consider how it affects others around you long-term. Seeking advice from others could be the key to gaining some critical perspective.”
Typical. “I’m afraid extensive breakdown and specific advice is probably not in the cards.”
“That’s unfortunate. Perhaps you should trust your instincts? If you must make a decision quickly, the subconscious mind can pick up things your rational mind hasn’t fully processed.”
“Heh. You’re probably right, Alice.”
“Good luck with your decision, Jack!”
“Yeah, thanks.”
He sat down on the roof of the car and thought it over. Instincts. He could almost go either way with those. Some innate part of him rejected the idea of consorting with another Archon. It was absurd. Unthinkable. Yet his gut trusted Neex.
Weighing pros and cons? His own goals? Most of this was on the side of doing it. He was being offered a metric shitton. It was everything he’d wanted since he was a kid. Superpowers. Are you kidding? Of course, he wanted them. Of course, he wanted ‘in.’
Serving Memoria… he’d come to feel quite mixed on that, especially after all the psyche evaluations and ‘rehabilitation’ in quarantine. He could rationalize why she did the things she did, but that was different from agreeing with them. The state of ignorance she maintained made it impossible to fully grade her. He didn’t have enough information to know if her way was best. It was always left to trust.
He just didn’t know if what he was offered would put him ‘in her camp.’ If it did, everything would change. He’d be one of them. He had no real aspirations about ‘change from within’ or any stupid shit like that. If he became one of them, he’d do his best for the functioning of the role. His duty. It was as simple as that. If he had say, if he sensed he had clout, sure, he’d use it toward his own principles.
How the decision affected others and the risk… that was where things got hairy. He was locked into the uncertainty without a way to know. If it was simply dangerous to him, he’d have never left the room. That risk was more than worth it.
It had everything to do with the fact that one of the ‘default enemies’ of humanity could be an existential threat to Memoria through the bond they conspired. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, offering something sweet, but in reality ending up to be poisoned fangs. It was possible, wasn’t it? How convoluted was it? Was it plausibly the motive through it all?
The key being an innocent Neex sheltered and manipulated, giving all the cues of a pitiable, good-intentioned idealist. Get her here and sell the story, then get an agreement out of someone who will buy it. Maybe they expected a bleeding heart. Hmm, am I a bleeding heart? Damn.
He was trying to sell himself on the idea. But… Neex had indicated the ‘hope’ for someone who’d listen, but not the expectation. She acted more pleasantly surprised. Honestly, getting blown to hell should’ve been the expectation. That was exactly what happened, she’d just survived it.
Maybe it was logical to expect interception and capture by the military on a ground base. In that case, they’d assume to converse with intelligent operatives and the whole nine yards. Memoria herself would judge them. That didn’t seem like a great plan to pull off a deception.
If they wanted a rube like me, hailing a base to get blown up seems like a stupendously bad tactic. Why not deceive some rando closer to their territory? They could even study a base or something and pick a good target.
He understood the frontlines were not very receptive. The deeper one went into the territories, the more opportunities for clueless people would come up. Military personnel in the inner territories were not immune to that. The only reason he could think to travel all the way to New Babylon was to make Memoria notice them directly. A bold risk. But they’d ignorantly popped up in likely independent territory and hailed the wrong sort of facility.
It was that or Memoria was too busy to notice. They’d stealthed themselves the whole way, after all. Perhaps they were too good.
Jack sighed. A deception by Quallakuloth remained reasonably plausible but seemed less likely when he tried to rationalize Neex’s story. Unless he could completely rule it out, it remained a question of, “Can I take the chance?”
The safer bet was handing it off to Memoria — if he could. And then… what? The Mems would come. One way or another, she’d respond.
She’s blocked off, but her agents could talk. Or they could raze the whole manor. Just to be safe, right? ‘Phew, that was a close one, she was almost exposed to Memoria!’
Jack grimaced. They did not get the totality of the personal impressions he did. They could easily jump to conclusions. He might be in the best position to make the right decision. Especially if he believed Neex.
Skies help me, I do. Too much, maybe. I don’t want to shutter this. What led to here, and where it could lead me. If I hand it off, it’ll all be taken and swept away. I’ll be sworn to absolute secrecy. If I was a good Memorial Boy, I’ll get to go back to my boring ass life. One I didn’t even ask for. Hell… I might not even learn what happens here once I fly away to deliver myself and this message. ‘Classified, son. Good boy, pat-pat. Now move along.’
He shook his head, unable to stomach the thought he’d be stripped of being a part of it, of knowing.
He laid back on the car and stared up at the sky. It became a scowl. A frustration was boiling in him, up from deep within.
No. No, Memoria. I’m sick of not knowing! Sick of the wool over my eyes. You don’t get to make that decision and don’t get to make this one, either. I saw this through. This is mine, this is my Pandora's Box, my hope within it I exposed. I have to own it and carry it. I can’t pawn it off. I won’t.
We’re not playing this one safe.
Jack sat up and hopped to the ground with a surge of excited certainty pumping through his veins. He took a deep breath. “We’re doing it, Alice.”
“That’s fantastic, Jack! Congratulations on your new opportunity. Wishing you the best of luck on your journey! Be sure to stay focused, have a positive mindset, and never stop learning.”
Not every homo sapien would make the same choice. I can’t know how many would be with me, or who would understand. I don’t make the decision lightly, but I make it as a human being. As it should be, for better and worse.
“Thanks, Alice. Welp, I guess it’s time to go shake The Devil’s hand!” He rushed inside running like an idiot, his answer burning in his throat and ready to spill forth.
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