Now.
The terrible report of automatic weapon fire filled the cabin of the Routine-class Astromobile.
Gunther’s life, of course, flashed before his eyes, but that would happen if he stubbed his toe in the dark.
Only the last few months flashed in front of Kendra’s.
•••
Two Months Ago.
“The what-a-what?” Kendra asked into the mouthpiece between breaths.
“The Infi-Net, darling, it’s the next best thing,” her agent repeated into her ear. “GoogolSoft is looking for early adopters. It’s yours for the taking, sweetheart. You know who’s not on the Infi-Net? Christina Lopez.”
Kendra huffed and puffed as her legs pumped away on her treadmill. She was conflicted. “A virtual concert?”
“Well, sure. Okay, I admit, I don’t understand all of this techno-babble. It’s sort of like the internets, I think. So, yeah, people would log on instead of going. I guess? The money’s not virtual, I know that much.”
Kendra pulled the emergency stop key and let the treadmill guide her to the floor. She did understand all of this techno-babble. “You know the internet killed my father, Barry,” her voice darkened.
“Sweetie, I’m so…. Did I—did I know that?”
Kendra marched out of her exercise suite until her besneakered footsteps echoed throughout her shower suite. “He was in information technologies, Barry. We never saw him. He worked all the time. He spent his life behind a desk fixing other people’s problems. Until finally his heart failed. Clogged with artificial cheese dust.”
“Is that what Don’t Uninstall My Heart is about?” Barry didn’t like the silence that answered him. “Honey, if you don’t want to do it, we won’t do it. It’s that simple.”
She kicked off her sneakers, then slid out of her exercise shorts and deposited them in the hamper. She crossed her arms and pulled her top off. Tears fought her eyes for primacy. She looked over at the picture of her father—she had one in every room. His oval head and orange-stained beard smiled back at her. The frame read: In Loving Memory. Christopher Kenneth Shields.
“Kendra?” Barry probed.
“I’m in,” she announced before stripping off the headset and depositing it in the hamper with her tank top.
•••
Six Minutes Before the Show.
Kendra sat in her dressing room, surrounded by a virtual jungle of flowers. Virtual in more ways than one. Just ones and zeroes dressed up in pretty colors and pretending to smell of azaleas.
She fiddled nervously with the small black box in her hand. Her father’s invention. She knew what she had to do but wondered if she had the courage to do it. It was too late, wasn’t it? All the pieces were in place. The plan was in motion.
She held the transmitter/receiver in her hand and said her last goodbye to her guise of Sim-Chris. After this, it would all be different. They’d all see their folly. She only hoped as few people got hurt as possible.
The handle on the door squeaked behind her. She dropped/tossed the device onto the vanity top. It slid beneath the petals of a star-rose arrangement.
She picked up a hairbrush and began singing.
The noise of the “virtual” crowd assailed her. GoogolSoft had gone too far, she cursed before putting her face on.
She turned. “What’s going on?” She pouted innocently, widening her eyes ever so cutely.
“Yeah, I sure don’t know.” The boss gritted his teeth and turned slowly to his assistant.
Kyle smiled sheepishly. “Five minutes,” he supplied, and held up as many fingers.
•••
Approximately Fifteen Minutes Later.
The white light faded.
Kendra hit the floor with a grunt.
A body hit the floor next to her.
Her long eyelashes fluttered, as she opened her eyes. The cabin of the mid-sized Astromobile swam into focus around her. She’d done it! It worked. She said a quiet thank you to her father for insisting his daughter learn his trade in case her singing career didn’t pan out.
She pushed herself up to her elbows and looked over to the other body. Their proxy, the Shadowstory, Uther Q. Willingham, or something. He was alive if his profuse vomiting was any measure. Good. She could use him, if he was willing.
“Are you okay?” she asked. The poor dear had no idea what was going on.
The tow-head looked over at her and his eyes shot wide open. Some part of his mind must think he had killed her.
“Heavens to heavens,” he shuddered, “is this Heaven?”
She shook her head, which he apparently missed.
“Heaven looks a lot like R.T.,” he announced. “I always thought it would look like my mother’s house.”
“It’s not Heaven,” Kendra asserted.
Gutnher covered his mouth with his hand. “Is it… is it, Hell?” He looked around with newfound fear. “I always thought that would look like my mother’s house too,” he added.
“No. No, Uther, you’re very much alive. More alive than most, in fact.”
He stared at her for a full ten count before it became clear he had no idea what she was saying. “What?” he vocalized his ignorance.
“We’ve disconnected the Infi-Net,” she explained. “With a mix of good, old-fashioned technology, and exploiting the burgeoning cosmology of the Infiniverse with some good, old-fashioned magic, we’ve set the whole thing off the rails.”
“Mercy,” he exhaled. “But I have no idea what that means, Miss Shields. You sound smart. Like Lord Chuckles, or Sparky.”
“Basically we just performed a virgin sacrifice and teleported back to the Storyverse,” a hint of pride snuck into her voice.
Her companion struggled but slowly came to nod. “You’re a virgin? That’s nice. These days it seems—”
Kendra’s mind drifted back a year, to the sweat-soaked chest of Jared Woodriver. “No. Not me,” she winced, and smiled wanly.
It took a second. Several, actually. “Oh.”
Her heart jumped. She didn’t have much time!
She had a ship to steal.
•••
This Morning.
“What world is this again?” her partner asked as she grunted with exertion under the mainframe.
“What?” she called out, her legs the only part of her visible.
“What world is this?” he repeated. He wasn’t very good with details.
She forced the last bolt tighter, fastening the device in place. She pushed herself out from under the communications hub. “Technopolix 7,” she answered once she was back out into the air. It was one of 20 communication hubs around the Storyverse that were crucial to her plan.
Gunther nodded. “I wonder why, seven?”
Kendra gathered her tools together. “Hm?”
“Are there six or more other Technopolixes?” he mused. “You know what I mean? Everywhere we go is always Something 9, Somewhere-else IV. I always wondered is all.”
The erstwhile pop-queen took a quick inventory. “Lazy writing, I guess,” she decided with a shrug.
If he heard, he gave no indication, he was lost somewhere in the maze of his own thoughts.
“Come on, we’ve gotta’ go. We need find a place to put this dummy beacon, and fast.” She held up the thumb-sized transmitter.
“Do we have time?” he worried at his lip. “The chickens are getting closer.”
She didn’t answer, she didn’t have one.
“Those are Ottgar chickens, and no mistake,” he added and followed. “They’re killers.”
She had heard the stories. “And they’re not stupid. So we need to keep up as if we’re just laying some false trail, otherwise they’re going to stop and investigate. We can’t risk them finding the devices. They’re the key.” Only one more planet to go, she tallied.
They hurried back to R.T., parked within the executive hangar used by the Technopolix technocracy. One more planet, and her plan would finally be complete. She would save the Storyverse. For her father.
She stepped off the gangplank into the cabin and immediately sensed something was wrong.
Too late.
The cold, black steel of an Uzi careened into the side of her face.
•••
Seconds ago.
Kendra looked down the barrel of the sub-machine gun. She swallowed hard and continued speaking into the transmitter held up to her face, “R.T., I think I’ve run out of time. You’re… you’ve been lied to. Used. You need to get to GoogolSoft and input Override Omega into whatever they’ve found to replace the primary Infi-Net router. This will—”
The terrible report of automatic weapon fire cut her off.
