Thy Eternal Summer (15/15)

The tower loomed larger and larger on the horizon, soon swelling to take up most of the forward vision. Its row upon row of windows, laid out in grids that were part of larger grids, recalled the lay out of Jack's old residential district, so infinitely many days and thousands of lifetimes ago.1

They arrived at the base, and the tower loomed large above them, a giant with its head in the clouds. It was no longer a perfect building, Jack realized upon close inspection. Many of the windows were destroyed, broken by projectiles from within or without. The entire ground floor was open, exposed to the elements, all of its windows completely shattered, the lobby floor (a marble floor, no less) and the desks and the ATM machine caked with dust and dirt. There was a gaping hole in the side of the building several floors wide, and the wind rocked the entire structure and the whole place smelled of wet and mold from being so exposed to the elements.2

Several other squads were leaving the building as the one escorting Jack entered. One of them stopped, its members turning to stare in awe at Jack. The leader called out something in that harsh gravelly foreign tongue; the leader of the squad escorting Jack answered. The former was awed, wondering, pointing to Jack. The latter grinned, cocky, gesturing at Jack confidently and obviously bragging. At one point he said something at which all of his squad members laughed, and the members of the other squad grew even more awed. 3

More words were exchanged, and as they moved to part, the leader of the squad escorting Jack pointed upward. He seemed to be setting their destination uncomfortably high. 4

They began ascending stairs. Jack went confidently up the first few flights. Then he began to feel short of breath. The stairs were at a low slant, and easy to ascend, but there were many of them. Jack felt increasingly winded as they went up, higher and higher. His breath came short. 5

There were no windows in the stairwell, and the doors were all fire doors and you could not see through them. Time seemed to stop, on that climb, the dozen climbers and their captive cut off from the march of history, lost in their labyrinth of stairs. The stairs went around and around above them, an endless circle spiraling off and up into oblivion, like the wheel of eternity. The idea made his head hurt, and craning his neck to look upwards at them made his neck hurt.6

Finally, the squad leader called a halt, on an indeterminate landing on an indeterminate floor of the indeterminate building.. Jack slumped against a wall, breathing a sigh of relief. The other soldiers didn't seem nearly so disconcerted. They simply stood about, or leaned against the wall, indifferent in repose as they had seemed indifferent in action.7

The squad leader called them back into action, too soon for Jack's liking. The stairs, though they appeared no different and kept the same slant, seemed to be actively resisting him, making themselves slipperier and simply harder to pull one foot up and place it on the next stair, on into infinity. 8

After a while, the squad leader called another halt. He slung the pack off of his back, and began rummaging through it. The other soldiers took his cue, and did the same. The squad leader glanced up at Jack, leered a little, and brought out an extra can and a bottle of water. He did a quick messy job with the can opener and tossed the can of processed green slime to Jack, along with the water bottle.9

Jack ate and drank greedily, not realizing till he had eaten half the can and downed most of the water bottle that the green slime truly tasted horrendous and the water was filled with grit and tasted, of all things, sour. He finished them both, but realized that he felt slightly sick. He did, however, feel less as if his bones were going to simply give out and he were going to collapse.10

That feeling did not last. The soldiers took to encouraging him; they seemed to know what floor they were on, whether by intuition or guess or simply from counting out of boredom, Jack did not know. But they would slap him on the back and say, “You can make it, you know you can,” “We're more than half way there,” “The number of flights left is under three digits,” and other epigrams that Jack supposed were meant to be encouraging.11

It was at the point that they were telling him “Only a quarter of the way left,” that Jack collapsed. He felt his body give out under him, and he fell on the steps and slid a little and came to rest. He knew he could not get up; whether this was because he was telling himself he could not get up, or because he truly physically could not get up, he didn't know. It probably didn't matter.12

The soldiers jeered then, kicking him and calling him names in their strange language. When Jack did not rise, nor indeed so much as move his head, they stopped and stared at him. Finally the squad leader, heaving a great sigh, bent and gathered Jack in his arms.13

He seemed unnaturally strong, and Jack felt himself unnaturally light, as the squad leader carried him up the stairs. The man looked down at him, out of a weather beaten, prematurely lined face. His eyes were those of a man who has seen many battles and has lost the concept of loyalty, and who fights now only for those who will pay him to fight, who will feed and protect him. This man, Jack saw, was truly lost.14

The squad leader spoke to him. “You're inconvenient, you know that, boy? Damned inconvenient.”15

He found he could speak, if only barely. He croaked at the squad leader, “Where are you taking me? What's to be done with me?”16

The squad leader threw back his head and laughed. “You are to be taken to His Majesty, the King of Broad Street.” He laughed again. “Or so everybody calls him, except to his face.” The squad leader's face grew serious again. “But he is, truly, a great general, one whose military genius is unrivaled. He was to lead the way in subduing this region, except that our missiles destroyed the resistance so thoroughly before he got here.”17

Jack remembered the farmers, their guns ready, their way of life mostly unchanged, their faces set in determination to take on and bring down any who resisted them. Jack heard the squad leader's words, and thought of this, and smiled.18

“He is an exceptionally wise and benevolent king, as well,” the squad leader continued. “He sees the plight of the people, the way they shrivel, the way they run in fear and stare at themselves in greater fear, and wonder and do all sorts of evil out of their fear. He would find a way to subdue them, but only in curing them. He wishes to cure this state, and he thinks the cure will come from from the young.”19

Jack snorted, finding he was able to roll his head around a little. He turned it, rolled it, to look the squad leader in the eyes. “Of course he wishes to find a cure for the people,” Jack said. “So he can enslave more of them, and they'll be better workers for him.”20

The squad leader shook his head, the look on his face recalling the one that Peter would wear if someone said something he considered blasphemy. “The man is a powerful ruler, as well, with an iron fist. He will crush any who resist him, as he is crushing the clans of shriveled ones who hide away and resist his benevolent will.”21

Jack snorted again, wondering if the squad leader was even aware of what he had just said, of its implications. Apparently not, for the squad leader glared him into silence. 22

Jack's thoughts turned, naturally enough, to his fate. The king... or whatever he was... seemed to think that the cure for the 'shriveled condition' would come from the young. That meant Jack, obviously, and obviously made him all the more desirable as one who had not been affected, at least noticeably, by the shriveling disease. But... if the cure were to come from him, and it was to be the cure for so many... Well, they must need a large part of him. In other words, Jack thought, their plans probably did not involve his survival.23

Jack turned his thoughts upwards, or forwards, to the heavens or through the veil between worlds, to the master of the heavens and the One who sat enthroned behind the veil. This time, he found words to speak. 24

“I... I... I have thought about this many times over my life,” he said, in his mind, and his voice trembled even there. “More than most of those of my age, probably. But, I find myself quavering. This is when the hammer hits the anvil, the reckoning comes—this is, I know, when I receive the test of my true mettle. All my grand words, my glorious thoughts, the old poems and tales I said I believed in—it all comes out in this moment.25

“But, you know what? I have looked deeply into myself, and I have found nothing but a cesspit. I am afraid. I do not want to die. I do not want to face the unexplored country beyond the veil. I do not think I have the strength to stand, much less the strength to face whatever it is I must face. I am alone, and silent, and alone and silent will I fail.26

“Better men than I have gone to their deaths in your name. I see now what they saw. I see the rot within me, and I see that I am weak and helpless. If you are there, you are the only one who can help me. It is unto you that I commend myself, and I pray you do with me as you will to do. A...” He had forgotten the word. “Amen.”27

They set him down at the final landing. A long wall faced them, on the other side of which (Jack was informed) lay a long, wide room, with the operations that would save the shriveled ones.28

The door was opened. Jack took in a long, wide room. Immediately across from him was a bank of windows, or a former bank of windows—it had been entirely blown out, and lay exposed now, open to the elements of wind and rain. A fine mist coated the room, which Jack realized must have been an invading cloud. To the left was a row of machinery and computer screens, apparently impervious to the elements. It was filled with screens and knobs and banks of switches, and it made Jack's head swim. 29

Lined up in front of the open windows, dimly seen, was a row of long tables with small forms lying on them. Jack saw them indistinctly, but he knew what was on them. And he knew who was on one of them.30

When the door opened two things happened. One of the forms on the tables put its head up, and let loose a wailing that pierced through the mist and the peripheral sounds of wreckage. Soon the wailing resolved itself into a word.31

“Jack!”32

The second thing that happened was the appearance of the General from the mist. From the squad leader's description, Jack had been expecting a great tall man, one with huge muscles and a rough disposition. The man who approached them was small, not even five feet tall. He was thin, also, a wisp of a man who Jack could almost have found comical. The glare on his face as he stomped toward them, however, stopped any thought of humor.33

The man paused before them, studying Jack, but whipped around when the scream from one of his victims became coherent. He stared in that direction a moment, hands on hips, before turning slowly around to face them once more. He spoke to the squad leader first.34

“You should have sent word by elevator that you were coming and what you were bringing,” he said, his voice high but rough as well. “You know the protocol.”35

“Yes sir, of course sir,” fumbled the squad leader. “But I thought this so important that I forgot about that, sir. The protocol, I mean. Sir.”36

“Quite,” said the general. The screaming ceased for a moment, then returned, growing louder.37

“Jack!”38

The general turned his gaze on Jack, and it was full of cold fury. “Are you Jack?” he said.39

“That is my name,” said Jack. He was standing now, but leaning on the shoulder of the squad leader.40

“Her Jack?” the general said. “The one she has been screaming about for weeks, the one she has been insisting despite persuasion and torture would come for her?”41

“I... believe so,” said Jack.42

The general made a harsh gesture in her direction. “Go to her,” he said.43

Jack stepped away from the squad leader's side, finding he could walk on his own feet. He crossed the room, feet clattering against the floor, breathing in the misty watery air, his apprehension growing with every step.44

She was just as he had seen her in his vision, if not worse. Her face was gaunt, the lips shrunken, her skin clung to her bones as a child to its mother. He kissed her on the lips.45

“I love you,” he said.46

Tears streaked down her cheeks. “I didn't believe you,” she said.47

Jack wiped her tears away. “Of course you did,” he said. “He just told me how you've been shouting about me for weeks now.”48

“No,” she said. “That was simply a comfort, a hope while dying. Deep in my heart, I didn't believe you.” The tears flowed faster, clouding her cheeks, leaving streaks on the dry skin.49

Jack wiped her tears away, even more vigorously. “And yet,” he said. “Here I am. Just as I told you I would be.”50

The tears flowed thickly, but he kept his hand on her cheek and wiped them away, over and over and over. “Forgive me,” she gasped.51

He bent, and kissed her again on the lips. “There is nothing to forgive,” he said.52

He stood, and turned to face the general. “You have tortured her,” he said.53

The man stared back at him, and Jack couldn't tell what his gaze contained—fear or admiration or pity or rage. “I tortured her,” the general acknowledged. “She was my enemy, as were the whole of your people.”54

“What do you plan to do with these people, if you cure them?” Jack said.55

“I will make them work for me,” the general replied, meeting Jack's gaze.56

“What do you plan to do with these people, if you do not cure them?” Jack asked.57

“I will make them work for me,” the general said. “But I will have to exterminate many to bring the others into line, and their lives will be shorter and more painful when they do fall to me.”58

Jack nodded. “So it really is something of compassion in you, that drives you to search for this cure,” he said.59

The general shrugged. “Call it what you will. It is what I am doing, and what I shall do.”60

“And you think,” Jack said. “That the like of me will be able to cure this... this disease?”61

“No,” said the general. “I think you will be able to cure this disease.”62

He looked at Jack, and saw Jack's incomprehension. He turned toward the bank of instruments and screens, panels and knobs and readouts, motioning Jack to follow. The screens spewed thing in foreign letters, their lines and graphs completely incomprehensible to Jack. 63

“I have been working here for weeks,” he said. “Months maybe. I am a scientist, besides a general. I insisted my equipment be landed with me, and a monstrous task it was to get it all here, too. But I knew whatever problems we encountered, the answer would be found here.64

“But I was wrong. We seem to have moved from an age of rationality to an age of prophecies and whispers and strange figures in the shadows. Perhaps it is an age we never left.65

“By all the tests, all the experiments, all the analysis—any blood should work. But she has been calling for yours, and she seems to have infected the others. At any rate, we have been failing. Perhaps you will be more successful.”66

Jack studied the general. “You... you need my blood.”67

“Yes,” said the general.68

“I don't believe that it can do anything,” Jack said.69

The general produced a vial of clear liquid. He grasped Jack's wrist, drew a knife from his belt, and ran it across the wrist. Pain lanced through Jack's body, nearly paralyzing him. The blood dripped slowly from his wrist into the vial, turning the liquid dark red. The general strode to Ava's side, pressed the vial to her mouth, which was open in sleep. A little of the liquid went down her throat.70

She swallowed, reflexively. She settled a little against the cold slab, looking slightly less uncomfortable. Jack bent down close, very close, and he saw a slight rosy tint enter her cheek. The skin was less sallow, and it began to turn back to a fleshy color, away from the faded gray it had assumed.71

“I want something,” Jack said, not turning away from her sleeping figure.72

“What?” said the general's voice behind him, a little tensely.73

“If I help you, she goes free. You cure her first, and you send one of your men in a Jeep with her and take her south, beyond Liberty, to where the road is no longer destroyed. You leave her there with food and water,” Jack said.74

“And this will satisfy you?” the general said. 75

“Yes,” said Jack. “If she can get there safely, she will be safe. Can I trust you to give your word, and keep it?”76

“You can,” the general said. “I give you my word, and you may indeed trust me to keep it.”77

“I believe you,” Jack said. He turned away from her. “What must I do?”78

The general spoke into a radio, and soon the doors to the room opened and several attendants, men dressed in white coat who spoke in a strange language, entered and began guiding him to a table. They motioned for him to lay down, and went to strap him to it. The general stopped them, approaching Jack. 79

“You can still stop it, Jack,” the general said. “You have the freedom to throw yourself from that window behind you, the freedom to get up and walk out of that door and live your life as you see fit. One such as you could go far, even in this world. You have the choice.”80

Jack looked the general steadily in the eye. “Do I?” he said, and lay back and was strapped in.81

They attached sensors and appendages to him, and there were several pricks as various needles and tubes were inserted into his veins. The general studied Jack, and his expression was unreadable. It was not triumphant. “You know,” he said. “That you are only prolonging these people's lives? That they live only to toil, only to be enslaved, only to love and have that which they love torn from them...”82

“Then they live,” Jack said. “Only to be human. That much I can give them; the rest lies with them.”83

The general nodded, and someone flipped a switch. Jack lay his head back, and gave up his spirit.84

Ava awakened and looked down at herself. She was no longer the shriveled gray thing she had seen dimly through failing eyes. She was now, in fact, as healthy as she'd ever been, and her eyes saw this clearly. She took a deep breath and, while the air was both thin and putrid, her lungs filled with it properly. 85

She looked over, and saw what she had expected to see, and what she had dreaded to see. Jack was there. He was shriveled and gray, his skin clinging tightly to his bones. She knew it was him, though: there was the same firm set to his face, the line of the mouth determined and wise. 86

She went to him, and two unbidden tears slid down her cheeks. Was this all she could do, in memory of him? She took his hand, and it was cold and felt only like dry bones. And she saw the eyes, which were half open but with no life in them. And she knew that Jack was no longer there.87

She touched his forehead. “Good night, my prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.”88

The small man, the one who had shouted at her and tortured her, the one who had made her sicker faster, stood at her side then. He looked on Jack too, and his face was sad.89

“He came for me,” she said. “Didn't he?”90

The man nodded, and a single drop slid off the bottom of his chin. “Just like you knew he would. Just like we all knew he would.”91

Ava shook her head. “No. No, we didn't.”92

The general looked at her, then motioned toward the door. “Your chariot awaits. You have been freed.”93

Epilogue94

When the city was rebuilt, by a different civilization under a different name, it was built around the old monument. The words, some cryptic now, some even forgotten, debated over by scholars, memorized by young people with stars in their eyes, were considered the only piece of literature worth saving from the old civilization. They were quoted, often at commencement addresses, when the next generation was sent forth into the world to do as it would.95

“Rise,” the speaker would say. “And set to your purpose.”