Mistrunner 3 - Chapter 23 - Looking Into Things (Patreon)

Mira tries to be understanding. She wants to be a good person. She just doesn’t really know how. She grew up with a man who saw only the worst in people. Jeremiah had his reasons for being the way he was – and he loved her in his own way – but he was ill-equipped to be a parent.

Patrick Ward

I greeted the next day with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. Part of that was because Patrick had spent much of the night trying to make up for his mistakes – both real and imagined – which was always a fun prospect. But mostly, I was excited because, as much as I saw the world for the cesspool of corruption it was, I was still always eager to see new places and experience new things. That the new place in question was a boring place like Fortune didn’t seem to matter. Every city had something to offer, and I was determined to find out what that meant for a town like Fortune.

Patrick was similarly excited, though he made it abundantly clear that his eagerness was due to the prospect of getting started on his armor, rather than being reunited with Cyrilla. I let him sputter out one addendum to his enthusiasm after another until the discussion petered out over breakfast. For my part, I enjoyed hearing how uncomfortable he was with it all, if only because I knew that if anything was really going to happen, he’d have probably clammed up and tried to avoid the topic altogether.

If there was one thing about Patrick that I knew, it was that he was a fundamentally honest person. And on those rare occasions when he tried to lie, he usually did so poorly. That was comforting.

Finally, after breakfast, we went our separate ways. He headed to Cyrilla’s workshop – contrary to my first impression of her apartment, which was strewn with all sorts of parts associated with her work with cybernetics – she had an actual premises somewhere in the city. That was where she and Patrick would create his cybernetic mech suit.

As for me, I went in the opposite direction, heading to the headquarters for the Pillar of Heaven. It was located clear across town, so it gave me plenty of opportunity to take in the sights. And as I was supposed to be undercover, I made the trip incognito, having adopted a new persona via Mimic. I also bypassed the public transportation systems in favor of riding the Cutter, which had been suitably disguised as well. So, as far as anyone in the city was concerned, I was just another unremarkable woman – this time, with light skin and muddy brown hair – on an outdated hoverbike.

Still, I stuck out.

The traffic in the city was so light that it offered very little protection from observation. On top of that, I didn’t see more than a couple of other hoverbikes, and the ones I did see were even more outdated than the disguise I’d adopted for the Cutter. And finally, my clothes were far too bright. In short, I was clearly a tourist, and everyone in the city knew it.

It took everything I had not to simply duck into an alley and let Stealth wash over me.

But I knew I couldn’t allow myself to fall back into old habits. Not without reason. Stealth and Mimic had their uses, but they were just tools meant to help me accomplish my goals. Not a lifestyle. Still, all that attention made my skin crawl, so it took quite a bit of willpower to keep myself on the path I’d set for myself.

It didn’t help that I couldn’t even distract myself by taking in the sights – because there were no sights to see. Just a bunch of mundane buildings built with bog-standard materialized and housing a bunch of people who’d never bothered to develop a culture of their own.

Or maybe they’d just lost touch with it.

That was one thing I’d noticed since leaving Nova City. The world had become a skewed and often distorted reflection of the past. For instance, I’d been surprised to learn that Nova had shared little more than a few names and a location with its predecessor, New Orleans. The culture that had suffused the region had mostly fallen by the wayside, replaced with something far more generic. Even the foods I’d always taken for granted were oddly different from those of the past.

And it was the same everywhere. In New Cairo, they’d latched onto those local ruins to establish their identity, but they’d completely lost any connection with the reasons those pyramids were important.

It wasn’t really all that surprising, though. How many people had died directly after the Initialization? Billions, according to my uncle. And then, more than ninety years had passed, with entire generations growing up without the benefit of their elders passing down the culture.

Perhaps the people of Fortune, most of which had been displaced from somewhere else, according to Patrick, felt it more keenly. But whatever the case, to me, the city was nothing but an uninteresting mass of buildings populated by equally mundane people. So, I was more than a little relieved when my short journey ended before the building that was supposed to be the headquarters for the Pillar of Heaven.

Nothing really set it apart from any of its neighbors, though there was a decent amount of traffic coming in and out of the building. Most were clearly destitute, some looked like they hadn’t had a decent meal in ages, and even more were clearly in the throes of withdrawal. The two guards – a man and a woman wearing identical light blue outfits that looked like nothing so much as robes – didn’t stop any of them.

I approached, and when I reached the pair, I noticed that they look remarkably similar. Probably siblings, unless I missed my guess.

“Go on through. Food bank is the first door on the left. Addiction services are at the end of the hall. And relocation inquiries are on the right,” said the woman.

“Oh, I’m not here for any of that,” I said, cataloguing the directions for later. If I didn’t get what I wanted via straightforward inquiry, I would come back later with a different face. “I was actually looking for a friend of mine.”

“We don’t require identification,” said the man. “Sorry. There’s just no way for us to know if you’re friend’s in there.”

“He’s not,” I said. “He left me a note, actually. Said he was moving on. I’m guessing it has something to do with the relocation you just mentioned.”

His eyes narrowed. “And you want to bring him back home, huh?”

“No – not at all. I’m just trying to make sure he’s okay,” I said, playing my role, which was based on Cyrilla’s situation. It might bring some attention, but given that I wasn’t even wearing my own face, that didn’t matter much to me. “Any chance you can check up on him?”

“Sorry, no. We have limited contact with the settlement,” said the woman. Even their voices sounded similar, which was more than a little creepy. That’s when I noticed the unnatural sheen of synthetic skin. It was high-quality stuff, but they were both covered in it. So, either they were covering up some pretty extensive cybernetics, or they’d both altered their appearance to an alarming degree. I’d seen plenty of that before – human vanity knows no bounds – but the fact that they’d chosen such similar appearances was extremely off-putting. And it made me realize that they probably weren’t siblings after all.

I sighed dramatically, but I didn’t push. If it was that easy, Cyrilla wouldn’t have needed my help. “At least tell me where he might have gone,” I said. “Maybe I’ll visit.”

“Also not possible,” said the man in his strangely androgynous voice. “For security reasons, only Heaven’s Chosen are allowed inside the city.”

“I’m not even allowed to know where it is?” I persisted.

He shook his head. “Not unless you want to join,” he stated. “And given your attitude, I don’t think you’d fit in.”

After that, the pair continued to rebuff my every attempt to wheedle any extra information out of them. However, I couldn’t help but notice that they didn’t pay more than cursory attention to the steady flow of traffic entering the building. So, my way in was pretty clear, even if it wasn’t one I really looked forward to taking.

Soon enough, I left the headquarters of the Pillar of Heaven behind and found my way to a market I’d passed on my way there. It was a depressing place filled with food carts hawking unappetizing fare, but it wasn’t so different from what I’d seen in a hundred other cities. And certainly, I’d eaten worse, so I didn’t hesitate to find one with food that looked mostly edible – some sort of meat on a stick – and settled in to think.

As much as I hated to admit it, I was inclined to take Cyrilla’s side regarding the Pillar of Heaven. In my experience, nobody was that secretive unless they had something to hide. Or protect, I amended. Perhaps that was what they were doing – protecting their people. But I suspected something more nefarious.

Because of course I did.

It was always something evil. No matter what stone I overturned, I almost inevitably found something terrible. Whether it was Heather’s fate back in Nova or the slave ring I’d dismantled half a world away, there was no end to the human capacity for evil. So, as much as I wanted to believe that the Pillar of Heaven was just a well-meaning organization trying to make the world a better place, I knew that was too good to be true.

Or maybe I’d just seen too much human misery to believe that anything else was possible. Either way, regardless of my first impressions, I intended to get to the truth. And to do that, I needed to once again change my face. But that wouldn’t be enough. I would have to completely alter my entire appearance. Otherwise, I’d never make for a convincing dust fiend.

So, once I’d finished the meat-on-a-stick – which was surprisingly decent, given that I couldn’t even identify what sort of animal it came from – I headed back to the dock. Once I reached the Leviathan, I started rummaging through my disguise kit. Normally, Mimic was enough to get me in wherever I wanted to go, but sometimes, I’d had to get a bit creative with my outfits. So, over the past few years, I’d built quite a collection of disparate clothing. I had ball gowns and dresses that looked fit for a princess, but right alongside those glamorous garments were dingy and decrepit clothes from the other end of the spectrum.

I knew which side I preferred; I wasn’t exactly a fashionista, but I don’t think anyone can put on beggars’ rags and be happy about it.

I spent the next hour selecting a properly dull and distressed outfit, then another twenty minutes or so dirtying myself up.  Once I was satisfied with my level of uncleanliness, I adopted a new persona via Mimic. For my latest foray into the Pillar of Heaven, I chose the face of a woman I’d seen on my trip through the city. She was probably twice my real age, but she looked far older, with creased skin and the sort of bony physique I’d attached to my image of Cyrilla.

By the time I’d finished, I was unrecognizable, and I hoped I wouldn’t garner much attention as I infiltrated the headquarters of the Pillar of Heaven. So, I threw on a thick overcoat – it was cold outside, and I needed to hide my appearance from anyone who might take note someone who looked like a beggar leaving a clearly expensive ship. Then, with my identity properly concealed, I headed back into the city. As I did so, I sent a message to Patrick telling him that I might not return until morning.  He responded by telling me to stay safe.

So, with that obligation seen to, I traversed the city on foot. Along the way, I noticed that my appearance garnered very little attention. The people were too focused on their own mundanity to even look up from the sidewalks, much less spend the brain power to notice someone like me.

Instead of taking a taxi or the Cutter, I made the journey as a pedestrian. As I walked, I made certain to alter my gait so that I maintained the façade I’d built.  In my experience, dust fiends tended to walk and talk a certain way, and over the years, I’d managed to craft a decent facsimile. It wasn’t an enjoyable task, but it was a necessary one.

By late afternoon, I’d reached my destination once again, and as I’d suspected, the twins didn’t even give me a second look as I stepped inside. The interior of the headquarters was mostly what I had expected to find, meaning that it followed the same utilitarian design that seemed so prevalent in the rest of the city.

There were little flourishes that set it apart, though. For instance, there were actual paintings on the walls. Not posters. Not prints. Real paintings depicting paradisical vistas that seemed like a promise of something better. It only took me a moment to recognize the Mist coating every inch of them. I had no idea what it did, but I suspected it had something to do with manipulating the people inside.

I had no evidence that that was the case, but experience had been a great teacher. The presence of that Mist put my guard up even further.

I quickly found my way to the food bank and partook of a surprisingly tasty meal. I couldn’t identify much of what was served, but it was much better than expected. That shouldn’t have been terribly surprising, though. If the Pillar of Heaven was as nefarious an organization as I wanted to think they were, of course they would serve good food. Doing so would make people that much easier to hoodwink.

After I’d finished eating, I lingered in the addiction treatment center. I didn’t approach any of the workers – all of which were dressed in the same light blue robes as the twin guards; I also didn’t fail to notice that they were coated in that same artificial skin – but that wasn’t terribly out of place. Many addicts, even after making the choice to seek help, tend to be hesitant, so my demeanor didn’t really stick out.

It also gave me plenty of opportunity to observe, and what I saw was actually pleasant. Whatever else the Pillar of Heaven had going on, they were capable addiction counselors, and they approached the subject with tact and kindness.

That alone put my hackles up.

For better or worse, very few people could look at someone in the throes of addiction and respond with absolute kindness. Most regarded dust fiends as lost causes, public menaces, or pitiful creatures who needed to be put out of their misery. I’d seen it enough that any other reaction made me wonder about ulterior motives.

It was like meeting someone who, on the surface, seemed perfectly pleasant and kind, but somewhere beneath the surface, you know there’s a dark secret. The Pillar of Heaven counselors were like that, only I didn’t see their façade slip even once. No annoyance. No frustration. Just endless patience and kindness.

“Hello, friend,” came a voice from my side. I feigned a flinch, then looked in that direction to see a pleasant-faced man staring back at me. Like all the other workers, he was wearing the same blue robes and artificial skin I’d begun to associate with the organization. “I haven’t seen you here before.”

“I…uh…”

He held up a hand, stopping me as he said, “No, don’t mistake me. I’m not judging. We all come to Heaven’s Path when it is appropriate to do so.”

“Heaven’s Path? I thought this was just…you know…for food and…treatment,” I said.

“For some, it is,” he admitted with a kind smile. It creeped me out something fierce, but I didn’t let that show. “But for others, it can be so much more. Tell me – what are you looking for here?”

“A hot meal,” I said without a moment’s hesitation. “And…maybe to get clean…”

“We can help with that. It’s the least we can do for our fellow humans,” he said. “But what if I told you there was somewhere better than all this?  A paradise on Earth.”

“I’d say you was tryin’ to sell me somethin’,” I muttered. “Ain’t no paradise here.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, friend,” he said. “So, so very wrong. It exists, and I think you’d be a perfect candidate for…relocation…”

At that, he cocked his head to the side, almost as if he’d only just noticed something peculiar. Then, without a moment’s hesitation, his hand shot out as he lunged at me, intending to grab hold of my arm. But I’d recognized that look the moment it crossed his face, so I was ready for it.

Not many people could see through Mimic, but it had happened enough that I could recognize the signs – especially when they were as poorly concealed as they were with this mook.

But to my surprise, I wasn’t quite quick enough to avoid his grasping hand, and when he grabbed me, he did so with a grip like iron. Clearly, he wasn’t the mild-mannered counselor he was pretending to be. So, I didn’t at all feel guilty when I reared back and punched him in the jaw. The sound of breaking bone should have been satisfying. And usually, it would have been. The only problem was that those breaking bones were in my own hand.

I grunted in pain, but I didn’t let it stop me from summoning Ferdinand II from my arsenal implant and aiming it at the man’s face. I pulled the trigger, and the sound of the gunshot sent the crowd into a panic. But unsurprisingly, my pistol’s issue only ripped the fake skin from the man’s face, exposing metallic subdermal armor.

So, I fired again. This time, at his eye socket. That did the trick, and he went down like a ton of bricks.

Unfortunately, by that point, I was surrounded by a dozen blue-robed guards, each one of which was pointing a rifle at me. That’s when I noticed that the man I’d downed was already picking himself up. His face was almost entirely destroyed, but that didn’t seem to bother him one little bit.

Which made me realize that I might’ve stepped into something much more complicated than I had expected. At that point, some people might have made some witty comment. Or maybe tried to talk their way out of the situation. But me?  I’d always been a proponent of letting my actions speak for me.

So, I opened fire.

Yeah – that was exactly the statement I wanted to make.