Chapter 17:

The eyes never seen before (2)

Cybernetic Dreaming or The Allure of Overcoming Humanity


God remained seated on his throne. In the whole fight, if it could be called such, he hadn't risen from his throne. And yet it had all ended in his favor. He had easily crushed his enemies. Naturally. What could mere humans do against a god? That hadn't bothered him from the beginning. Nor now, of course. What had him pensive was the man called Jonathan Townshend.

More precisely, his eyes.

He turned to his pet and stroked its head. The pet responded to his touch, snuggling against his hand, obedient.

"You know, your brother is an extraordinary person. The fire in his eyes could reduce the world to ashes.

Yes, he knew eyes like that well. He saw them every time he looked in the mirror.

"Or might well end up consumed by his own flame. I didn't care how he will turn out, but I have an interest in witnessing it. Besides, he'd be useful to me. If I can preserve enough of him, he'd be one of my most useful assets. What do you think, Cecile?

Her pet stopped snuggling against his hand. She lifted her head, looking into his eyes. He blinked several times and God thought for a few seconds that there had been some glitch, that she wouldn't respond.

"He will kill you," she said.

God couldn't help but laugh, though he should have been offended. Just like that, huh? It was the first sign of defiance in so many years.

Maybe seeing her younger brother, who was now actually older, had awakened something in her.

Maybe.

"That remains to be seen," God said, although, of course, he had no doubt who would come out on top.

After all, he was a god, while Jonathan was nothing more than a sack of meat like any other.

He wasn't even the first person who had dared to take him on. He had eyes he had never seen before, except in his own reflection, but he would end up like everyone else.

God didn't doubt it in the least. Of course he wouldn't.

What kind of god would doubt himself?

Mary blinked.

What her eyes were seeing was a familiar scene. Nothing but her mother setting the table before eating, her little sister already seated and ready, rubbing her hands together eagerly.

Yet for some reason her heart was beating too fast.

It didn't add up.

She had a feeling she was missing something, but her instinct wasn't, or that she had forgotten something. Something very important. Mary brought a hand to her chest, squeezing.

Squeezing the material of the shirt into a ball. And as if she'd actually touched her heart, her heartbeat quickened a little more.

Coincidence, of course.

Why was she so nervous, as if her life was in danger? In fact, what was she talking about instinct?

Mary was just a normal girl, with a normal life.

The strangest thing about her was that she had no father, but even that was common enough.

So why, she wondered, squeezing harder and harder, why?

Her mother noticed how strangely she was behaving. Well, the really strange thing would be if she hadn't noticed, since Mary wasn't doing the least bit to hide it.

Anyway, she stopped putting the plates and cutlery away to look at her questioningly.

"What's the matter, my dear?" Her mom asked.

And for some reason, such a normal question -which should be so normal- made Mary shudder. On the other hand, now her heart wasn't beating so hard, although it was still beating faster than normal.

"I..." Mary opened her mouth. To say something. To reassure her mom. To dismiss her own unfounded anxiety.

But she couldn't even begin a sentence, much less finish it.

She gulped.

Why was her heart pounding like that? Why were her eyes suddenly stinging? And why did she feel so... relieved?

She had never been so confused in her life. If it weren't for the fact that she had clearly felt her shirt and her own body heat, she would say she was having a strange dream.

Mary shook her head.

"Nothing," she repeated, as if to convince herself, and sat down next to her little sister to wait.

It was a day like any other day in the normal life of a normal girl. It would go on as normal, from start to finish.

What reason did she have to doubt it?

Jamie came out of her dream startled, her heart pounding. But, of course, nothing horrible awaited her beyond, just her usual room.

It had only been a dream.

She didn't even remember what had made her so agitated, but it had just been a dream. There was no point in even trying to remember it.

Dreams were strange, anyway. Many times she had felt scared shitless in completely normal dreams, with nothing violent or terrifying going on.

She had to reassure me. In a few minutes, maybe even sooner, whatever she had dreamed would be less than a shadow.

It would disappear completely along with the feelings it had stirred in her. Jamie would be fine. Because... It's always gonna be okay from now on, right? I'm happy now, aren't I?

The door to the room opened.

Through it he stepped in.

Since she was in her nightgown, Jamie couldn't help but feel self-conscious and pulled the sheet over herself. She would be embarrassed for any man to see her in that state, practically naked, but especially Jonathan of all people.

She would be embarrassed? No, the truth was, it terrified her.

Now her heart was thudding against her chest as if it wanted to force its way out, and it didn't seem strange to her at all.

In other words, what if Jonathan saw her as she was, and didn't like her? What if he even found her repulsive? Because, after all, she wasn't... real. He had treated her very well.

It was no exaggeration to say that if it weren't for him, she wouldn't be here.

But why would he choose her when he could have a real woman? Jamie's eyes stung as they filled with tears.

Jonathan cocked his head to one side.

"What's wrong? I'm sorry if you freaked out, but I just got up a little early. I went to the bathroom. And made some breakfast."

Oh.

Now that he said it, Jamie had somehow overlooked it, but Jonathan had come in with a tray in his hands. It smelled so good. She didn't know he could cook.

Without hesitation, Jonathan climbed into bed with her and set the tray on her lap.

His smile was beaming. And his eyes... That man had never looked at her with those eyes before. Now Jamie's heart was pounding for a very different reason. A pleasant one

Still, this was strange. Jonathan had never made her breakfast before.

Nor had they ever been in the same bed together, much less so casually, as if nothing was wrong.

"Come on, eat," Jonathan told her.

Jamie picked up the spoon and started to eat....

The soup. It smelled good and tasted twice as good.

"Thank you," she said at last, feeling very silly for not knowing what else to say. And very ungrateful. "But what is this place, where are we?"

Jonathan frowned.

Jamie thought she saw something dangerous in his eyes, but it was only for a moment, a spark as fleeting and, surely, imagined as the nightmare that was already sinking into the depths of her subconscious.

"Are you still half asleep? I make you breakfast every day. And this is our house, honey."

"Honey?" She couldn't help but raise her voice. Her face turned red.

Jonathan moved closer to her, too close, in fact. Jamie gasped, pulling back. What was going on? She didn't understand any of this.

Our house?

She'd misunderstood because she was stupid, he'd surely meant their house, the whole team's house, not her and him specifically.

Still, since when did they have a house? They had nothing but that car.

They couldn't have a real home when they did nothing but go from place to place, as their job required.

"Now you even doubt that I love you?"

She had always dreamed that Jonathan would say something like that to her.

And now that she had heard it, she couldn't even believe it. But who could blame her? Too sudden. Her face ought to be as red now as a bomb about to explode in a cartoon.

Jonathan reached out a hand, placing it on her belly. Touching her so intimately without reservation, despite the fact that not the only thing separating him from her naked skin was a thin nightgown and the sheets covering her.

"Even though the proof of my love.... Our love is right here."

As Jonathan finished speaking, Jamie felt a kick. Coupled with the impact of the words themselves, her mind went completely blank.

"What's wrong with you today, dear? You seem very distracted."

That's what her mother told her. Mary had been eating and the conversation had been flowing. Little by little, she had been leaving all that weird stuff behind.

But suddenly, without even realizing it, she had frozen with her spoon halfway to her mouth.

Staring at nothing. Thinking about nothing.

Like a machine that had run out of energy.

Awakened by her mother's words, Mary lowered the spoon back to the plate. She didn't want to spill

(saw a trail of blood on the wooden table. Thick, erratic, the blood had already clotted)

the soup.

"I have a feeling... I'm forgetting something very important." Mary decided to be honest with her, and the decision didn't cost her much.

Well, she was her mother after all. If she couldn't trust her, who could she trust?

Precisely because she was her mother Mary didn't want to worry her unnecessarily, but she had a feeling that if she kept her mouth shut, everything would go from bad to worse.

Mary didn't think she would help her find an answer, at the same time.

Maybe there was no answer at all. Just nonsense. Pure imagination.

"Something like what?"

(Before her eyes, her mother's neck opened. No, a broad red smile spread across her neck. Her sister had been sitting next to her, but now she was lying on top of her mother. Also motionless. Also pale, cold, dead. The only thing that gave her warmth was the blood.)

Mary blinked several times, hard. She stood up suddenly.

"What was that?"

"What was what? You're worrying me. Come on, sit down."

Mary noticed that her sister hadn't said anything all this time. Not that it was unusual for her to just be concentrating on the food, not really paying attention to the conversation, either.

Mind you, she was a very little girl, kids were like that, but....

But?

(pale, cold. Except for the warmth given off by the recently spilled blood.)

Mary grimaced, put both hands to her head, clenching. Her headache didn't subside. Quite the contrary.

"I should call a doctor.

Her mother made an attempt to get up.

But she couldn't. It wasn't that her legs suddenly gave out, nothing like that. It was that Mary picked up a fork...

And with it she stabbed her hand back to the table.

Mary pinned her burning, tear-clouded eyes on her, too.

"Who are you?"

Because that woman wasn't her mother. This was all wrong. And the answer wasn't given to her in words, but it came. The face of the thing that had pretended to be her mother melted, literally. Uncovering a tangle of wires like a nest of snakes.

Moving continuously. Moving toward her.

The implications of the kick Jamie had felt were clear. And not that it was impossible biologically speaking, technology had come a long way, but one couldn't just magically get that way.

For that, she would have to have done it. And with Jonathan, of all people.

It didn't make sense.

If it had happened, she would remember it. All of it.

She would remember what would undoubtedly have been the happiest moment of her life.

"Who are you? "Jamie demanded to know, or tried to demand, her voice lacked strength. "None of this made any sense."

"I'm your husband," Jonathan said convincingly, sounding hurt, and the pain in his voice made her want to believe him, almost convincing her that she was the one who was crazy. Who had something wrong with her.

Then the thing's eyes changed color, burning green.