Variance Read online

  Then a Kalliro champion appeared, standing alone on a hill. A bright light turned the screen white, only to reveal a large pillar of fire that hit and hugged the terraformers’ energy field limits back to the ground. The champion charged toward the blast wave with a roar, and the commercial ended with the words Divine Might: Global Championships MMMMMCMXCIX. Hundreds of images and words flew around the screen.

  Paul forgot to breathe throughout the commercial. The commercial frightened him. Was that the real thing? Nuclear bombs? Kaiser had never mentioned nuclear bombs. Well, maybe someone had mentioned nuclear bombs when he was preoccupied with his brain training.

  Definitely not a hot potato. Was his family aware of this critical aspect of Divine Might?

  That’s right. He remembered Statice mentioning that the Legacy suit was capable of handling nuclear blasts. That meant such weapons were prevalent in Divine Might, which meant Statice had designed the suit to handle such blasts.

  Hopefully.

  Siren nodded. “She did. A special function protects you from the radiation and blast force of a medium-sized bomb. The only problem is that Variance will protect you for only five seconds. After that, the suit’s effectiveness will decrease because of the loss of material. You will still have a low probability of surviving.” She smiled again.

  “Well, that’s great. I just need to stay away from those bombs.” He replayed the commercial’s ending several times, scaring himself even more.

  Siren pointed at the pictures and words flashing across the screen at the end. “What are those images?”

  “Not sure. It looks like a logo of some sort. Are you not afraid of the—”

  “Nuclear bombs?”

  “Not just the nuclear bombs but also the lava tornado, fighting to the death, and everything else? That is a lot to handle for a newcomer.”

  Numbers appeared all around him.

  “As I mentioned earlier,” Siren said, “your chances of success are low—and impossible for high-radiation cases. We have the data. All you can really do is hope.”

  “That’s it? Just be happy and hope?” Paul shrugged.

  Siren appeared confused as she hovered back. “Well, that’s human logic, right? When humans experience a low chance of anything, they resort to hope. Your family accounted for adaptability in our program for field data. So put that data and hope together, and we might be fine, I think. There are no calculations for hope.” She patted him on the shoulder with awkward and rigid movements. “I think you need to familiarize yourself with game structure and environments to reduce your anxiety.”

  With all this positive and progressive thinking, Siren was more Utopian than he was. He could not get his mind off the commercial. This is absurd. How do you create lava tornadoes?

  “Remember why you’re doing this in the first place. Do you want Shadow to detonate nuclear weapons in Azure?”

  Paul was not sure what she was getting at. “Of course not.” His experience of a collapsing tree was enough to motivate him. “That’s why we will stop him against all odds, right?” He put his fist in front of Siren. “Come on. Hot potato.”

  “I don’t see a hot potato in, on, or around your hand,” Siren said, analyzing his hand.

  He sighed.

  “But if you’re referring to the physical, symbolic bond between you and Lily”—Siren pounded his fist with hers—“you can’t hold a hot potato, right? The potato could have a temperature of one hundred Celsius. Dermal contact with a potato this hot could potentially result in second-degree burns. So why this type of gesture?”

  The impact of her soft hand was precise and real enough that he retracted his hand. How was he able to feel Siren? “It was something she made up as a symbol of teamwork or an optimistic attitude.”

  “I see. I like it.” She stared at her fist.

  “All right. Let’s run through the scenario again,” Paul said.

  Walking away from a display of an arena fixed to the center of the ship, Paul kept his eye on the planet Prism’s glow. It used to be a tiny dot but was now the size of his thumbnail. Soon it would appear like an endless wall of diamonds.

  Siren stood beside him and summoned several digital icons representing different competitors.

  Location: Forever Winter. Battle type: Terrain survival. Number of combatants: 13. Venue: Closed arena. Time: 30 minutes. Special attributes: None.

  A miniature model of Paul, made with Variance material, flew toward the arena using rotors. Through the cell’s cameras and communication link, Paul expanded the model’s point of view in front of him. “Mock suit systems all checked and ready for exercise.”

  “Commencing arena preparation.” Siren generated realistic graphics of the arena and the suits. Terraformers released ripples of energy that molded into a dome barrier as webs of lightning crawled across the limits. Complex ice structures formed all the way to the highest point. “Match starting in three, two, one.”

  A corridor made of ice tilted at an angle and slowly narrowed all around him. He mentally guided the model through the hall until the walls began to squeeze him in.

  “Good control. Steady. No dangers in the area.” Siren scanned for threats.

  The model formed into a drill, and he cut his way out, only to find a massive block of ice moving toward his location. He flew upward and evaded the collision.

  Realistic simulation displayed ice powder and chunks erupting around him. An Abstract combatant attacked him, and he disarmed the fighter with five strategic electrical shocks through tentacles. The combatant fell toward a rising flow of ice.

  He caught the combatant and encapsulated him with a thin sphere tethered to his suit. All life was precious. “Got him.”

  “Good catch.” Siren highlighted a safe flight path for him to follow.

  In the distance, two combatants, a Legacy and a Controller, fought each other while evading the moving terrain. Drones fell from the sky, while others launched missiles and fired lasers. Ice pillars formed around them.

  He had to save them.

  He sliced his way through the pillars until he reached the proximity of the combatants. In an instant, everything turned bright, all the ice melted, and he found himself all the way at the bottom of the arena. His simulated vitals showed that his skin and muscles had evaporated.

  He died.

  “You can’t always save everyone.” Siren ended the program with a loud and exaggerated sigh.

  He’d executed 831 exercises, and this was the first time he had died while trying to save someone. “Statistically, I can save anyone in most situations, except when they decide to self-terminate with a nuclear bomb.”

  “I don’t want you to take any additional risks, even if they’re small. You need to return to your family.” Siren pointed at his family photo fixed to the curved interior wall.

  “I would’ve died anyway in that situation. If I flew anywhere else in the arena, the blast would’ve killed me.”

  “You forgot to account for the Legacy suit’s blast range. In this scenario, another combatant hijacked the suit and set off the detonation. My flight path would’ve kept you out of range, at least minimizing the damage.”

  “That’s against the rules, Siren.” Paul jerked his head back. Why was she experimenting?

  “I’m trying to make you aware of other possibilities. Utopians will follow rules. Kazats might not. We can’t take that risk either.”

  “Good point. Very good point. All right, let’s keep practicing. Thank you for your thoroughness and consideration.” He put out his fist, and she bumped it.

  A text message from Kaiser appeared on his Visuals, sent ten days ago:

  We’re safe for now. We managed to relocate after the destruction of several trees and found another forest for refuge. I’m sorry for sending you off so soon. I’m sure I’ve lost some, if not all, of your trust.
I will protect your family with my life, and as long as you stay on course with your mission, we can end this war and find safety together.

  Your family appreciates the videos you sent them. They wish they had traveled with you, including Lily. Good news: more AI brains. We will have suits ready by tomorrow. Statice is working on the data sent from Siren to upgrade our systems. The rate of Crimson attacks increased significantly. We’re not sure where the scouts are coming from if there were no ships inbound from Crimson.

  I’ve assembled Azure’s leadership and aligned them on the evacuation protection plan. Since we don’t have time to fabricate long-term spaceships, we’re going to use the trees for mass evacuation. We’re trying to convince citizens to volunteer and protect the ships using the Variance suit. So far, no one has volunteered, and those in leadership are hesitant to contradict Utopian beliefs. We’re on schedule to produce approximately one million suits as soon as automation facilities worldwide are completed. We need all the help we can get. This will be our last contact until you reach Xameeshee. We wish you the best.

  Siren tilted her head. “Should we turn back to help them?”

  As much as he would have loved to return home, he knew it would be counterproductive. “No, we keep moving forward. Your upgrade is crucial to our success.”

  4

  Perspective

  IT WAS DAY THIRTY of his journey, and Paul was nervous. Lily’s bouquet had withered and dried. Paul packed his last meal container in the storage box as he entered Xameeshee’s atmosphere in a gentle descent. Planet Prism’s diamond surface covered the entire daytime sky as streaks of bright lines forced Paul to close his eyes. He aimed his focus toward a desert below to avoid the sparkling glare.

  Was this desolate area Forever Spring? Had he landed in Forever Summer?

  He approached an abandoned forest that was dirtied with sand and unkempt. There were no signs of life. Everything was still.

  Where was everyone? Had Shadow finished his genocide?

  The ship entered the midlevel flight deck of a tree. Disturbed sand slid off deserted ships, and dust went airborne, clouding the deck. He replaced the ship’s flight suit and armed himself with Variance.

  Siren activated. “No hazards detected. Ready when you are.” She floated to his side.

  “Let’s go.” He gulped, hands clenched into tight fists.

  The ship’s engines ceased, and the ramp opened. He floated through the opening as Siren morphed his bulky suit to fit through without interference. The deck’s walls should have displayed natural views of flowing streams along a mountainside or a bamboo forest, just like the walls inside Azurian trees. Instead, dust covered the rusted metallic walls. The emptiness worried him.

  He sent out a short-range public broadcast: “Hello? Anyone here?”

  In slow motion, Siren shaped his suit with curved plates. Multiple flashes of light from a distant opening resulted in simultaneous pings off his armor as the projectiles returned to the source.

  He slowly hovered back to the ship. The small-arms fire ceased.

  Siren highlighted his body. “Negligible damage. Enemy target identified. Human. No armor.”

  An unseen man shouted in the distance. “Get out of the suit! You almost killed me with my own rounds.”

  Paul lowered his mask and felt an intense, dry heat. “Why? You just tried to shoot us.”

  “Who’s us?” The man stood up behind a deserted ship.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just me. I meant myself and my AI.”

  The man approached him. Wearing multiple layers of ripped polymer sheets, the man spat on the ground before him and stared for a couple of seconds. “Get out of the suit—now.” Disrespectful and lacking an aura of joy, the man had to be a Kazat. There was no possibility that this man had any affiliation with Father Kaiser.

  Siren highlighted the man’s weapon. Swiftly shooting a spear with multiple fingers at the tip, she broke the weapon into pieces in the man’s hands. “Now you can get out of the suit.” Several sharp tentacles floated around the man in all directions.

  “Impressive.” The man kicked around the parts of his weapon and smirked at the needle-tipped tentacles. “Must be the AI’s doing. Definitely not a Utopian trait.”

  Paul figured the man knew about Variance, which was enough to gain his trust. He deactivated the suit, and the material snaked into a sphere at his side while setting him down on his feet. The man stepped close to him—close enough for Paul to smell a sharp, offensive odor. He had never seen a beard so long in his life.

  “You’re the one Father sent.”

  Paul could taste the man’s breath, which tasted like acid. Good. The man knows Father. Paul exhaled to expel the odor out of his nose. “That’s me. My name—”

  “Welcome to Xameeshee. Tell your AI to shut down all defenses in my presence. If you wish to be in Divine Might, I need total compliance.”

  Eyeing the man skeptically, Paul said, “Siren, let’s stand down.”

  Siren sighed and nodded. All the material returned to the sphere. She crossed her arms and hovered about with her eyes locked on the man.

  “Done. My name is Paul Benedict from Azure, Forest—”

  The man punched Paul in the face, hitting him hard enough to make his ears ring. His head slammed into the sand as he fell. Had he made a mistake in trusting the stranger?

  “Want me to get him?” Siren growled, hovering directly in front of the man with tentacles stretching from the sphere.

  The man cracked his knuckles and motioned for Paul to stand up. “You’re like piss in the wind. You go wherever the slightest force takes you. Put these damn spiky things away.”

  Paul’s vision darkened as he knelt down. Siren motioned to assist him, but he waved her off. He wobbled and adjusted his posture despite a pain in his neck. Sand stuck to his face. It was an uncomfortable feeling. His Visuals alerted him of his injuries through his teary eyes.

  “Was that necessary?” Paul said. “I need to talk to the contact who will help—”

  “That’s me. Everything we do from now on is necessary. You’re a Utopian man who’s never felt pain. That’s all you’ll feel from now on—pain. Might as well familiarize yourself before Divine Might. My name is Ryan.” He put out his hand.

  Paul used a clean part of his hand to wipe the tears away and then returned the handshake with caution.

  Ryan jabbed him in the chin, pulled him close, and then helped him stand upright. “I need you to trust me. And to not trust me. Or anyone on this forsaken moon. Understood?”

  “That doesn’t make any—”

  Ryan threw an uppercut to Paul’s stomach, and Paul evaded by moving backward.

  Ryan’s insane. Did Father Kaiser anticipate this? Maybe I should run away.

  Paul raised his hands to surrender. “Please. I’ve had enough.” Experiencing burns was intense, but constant all-body contact was just as painful, even with Cellular Infinity.

  After a kick to the stomach and some airtime, Paul landed and tumbled backward with grunts. Siren lifted him up using Variance. His insides hurt, and he could barely breathe. He wanted to vomit. He wished for a gradual familiarization of pain, not a full-blown immersion.

  “You’re not going to save your people by sleeping on the ground.” Ryan entered Paul’s ship, rubbing his hands with an occasional groan. “Man, you have a hard fucking head, asshole.”

  Paul dusted himself off and stood up. He took a moment to stabilize himself before entering the ship. Siren walked him up the ramp, and the flight suit material covered his body and positioned him away from the center. He was surprised to see Ryan controlling the ship. Dazed, he stowed Variance on the side, and the interior displayed the flight deck.

  The word fucking was new to him. He looked it up and learned that it was an Earth-based curse word meant to emphasize an emotion or the act of sex
ual intercourse. Ryan’s meaning definitely could not have been the latter. The punch must have truly injured Ryan’s hand.

  He next looked up the word asshole. He was either the human anus or a contemptible person—most likely the latter. “I’m sorry about your hand.”

  “Eat shit. Prepare for departure.” Ryan sent the ship out of the desert and into the sky. Both of them hovered above the floor.

  Eat shit? Paul felt negativity in Ryan’s scowl. He didn’t need to look up the word shit. But his head hadn’t punched Ryan’s hand. It was not his fault that his skull was hard. “I am truly sorry about your hand. Are you always this disrespectful?”

  “No. I’m a very nice guy. Actually, you know what?” Ryan hovered close to Paul and slapped him several times.

  Paul attempted to block whatever he could but received a substantial number of slaps and punches to the face, as well as a finger flick to his eye.

  “Activate your current brain-training session for target detection.” Ryan returned to the center of the ship and held the ship above the clouds.

  Paul let the pain subside and his eye recover. Fuck was starting to have meaning to him, but he wished he had not learned it or looked up the word asshole and seen a human anus on his Visuals.

  He opened the program, and 123 different shapes and objects moved around the ship. Normally, he would have been able to identify the unique shape at that level, but finding it was difficult with an elevated heart rate and pain.

  “It’s a stress test. It wasn’t designed for you to practice while you’re relaxed. Reset to a lower level, and try again.” Ryan hovered with arms crossed.

  For thirty days, Paul had trained improperly. It was a stress test all along.

  While Paul restarted the exercise, Ryan slapped him hard across the back of his head. For the first time in his life, he felt aggravated. “There’s got to be a better way.”

  Paul moved his attention from his exercises to a majestic mountain range surrounded by a colorful valley of red, yellow, and green. The contrasting, solid colors stimulated his eyes. Sol’s sunset reflected onto Prism, providing enough light for him to absorb the natural view. This was more beautiful than any landscape in Azure.