Chapter #81A Nightmarish Future by: imaj   Kali leads you up some stairs and into a small guest bedroom at the back of the house. While she closes the curtains you set Jen’s suitcase down by an old fashioned looking wooden wardrobe and remove her blazer.
“I’ll come up to wake you in two or three hours,” says Kali as you settle onto the bed. You are too tired to change, and just want to sleep. Kali smiles and nods as you mumble your thanks. You don’t even notice her exit, as you are already drifting away to sleep.
*****
Rain beats down heavily, plastering your hair to your forehead and drenching your clothes, and it is your clothes for it seems you are back to yourself. Whether that’s the original you or the flipped version you cannot tell, for there are no reflective surfaces nearby and the puddles on the ground are disrupted by the insistent patter of the rain.
You seem to be standing in an empty parking lot. Nearby, the bright neon lights of a seedy looking motel light up the night sky: Bright pinks, blues and greens that are reflected on the wet ground. Heavy clouds fill the sky, hiding Sulva from your vision. In the distance you can see the headlights of passing cars as they travel along a highway.
A car turns into the parking lot, bright beams of light illuminating its path as it slots into a space. It is a futuristic looking thing – as if a car had somehow been melted into a smooth and indistinctive looking shape. It skirts low to the ground and its wheels are hidden behind covers.
You move closer to get a better look. The wipers continue to batter away ineffectively, clearing the rain from the windshield. There are two people inside it, and they pay you no attention as you press up against the passenger side window.
“This place looks gross,” says the passenger in a distinct accent, a young woman, barely older than you are. She has dark skin and an exotic cast to her features that mark her as foreign. Her hair is an unruly mass of black waves.
“It’s just for the night,” replies the driver. He’s older, maybe in his mid thirties. He’s handsome enough, although there is something naggingly familiar about his face. The motels neon lamps leave his neat blond hair streaked with outlandish colours. “We need to rest, at least for a while, before we move on.” The driver sits silently for a handful of seconds. “I’ll get us a room.”
The driver opens the door and hikes his minimalist looking grey jacket over his head to protect himself from the rain. He runs for the reception. You consider following him, but decide instead to stay with the car, taking a closer look at the passenger. She’s wearing a tee made of a strangely plastic looking white material, the colours from the signs run across it as she turns in the seat. As you look closer, you realise she is crying – soft, long sobs that cause her lean body to heave.
You walk around the car. It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before. Kneeling down by the hood, you look at the plates. They are dated fifteen years from now.
You don’t have time to think about that. The driver runs back out from the reception and opens the passenger side door. “I got us a room Vidya,” he says.
The passenger stays in her seat. “One room, to share,” she asks miserably. “I know what they say about you.”
The driver shrugs. “It’s all true,” he sighs. “I’ve got a limited amount of cash left, so one room it is. I don’t want to use my credit card, and in any case I think the Stellae one has been stopped. Now it’s raining very heavily out here and I’d like to get inside before I have to add pneumonia to my list of worries.” The driver breaks out into a weak smile. “I have enough worries as it is.”
“Ok then,” says the passenger, Vidya. She doesn’t sound entirely convinced, but rather as if she is conceding the point out of necessity. Vidya climbs out of the car and dashes for the shelter of the motel, leaving the door open behind her.
“Yeah thanks,” shouts the driver.
“Close it yourself Joe,” comes Vidya’s voice from over by the motel.
And it strikes you. The driver is Joe. If the car is fifteen years into the future then this must be Joe fifteen years into the future. You recognise now his face, just filled out a little by adulthood. Joe closes the passenger door before running over to join Vidya.
You follow. Even standing right next to them as Joe unlocks the door to the room, neither notice you. You are able to slip between them as they enter. It’s as if you have wrapped them in your cloak, although you do not remember using it, nor can you sense its presence.
Vidya closes the door and turns on the light. “I was right, this place is gross,” she says surveying the room.
Joe shrugs off his soaking jacket and sits on the bed wordlessly. He stares at the floor with vacant eyes. Vidya sits next to him clasping her hands between her thighs. “I know,” she says quietly, tears brimming in her eyes again.
“Kali,” says Joe mournfully. “Rosalie, Ed, all dead.”
“Why is this happening,” says Vidya quietly, her head bowed.
“Kali had been dead for weeks when I found her,” says Joe quietly.
Vidya’s head jerks upwards sharply. “But… But that’s impossible,” she stammers.
“Because we both spoke to Kali this morning,” says Joe, raising his own head too. “It wasn’t her. They looked like Kali, they spoke like Kali and they acted just like Kali would. Perfectly so.”
“How is that even possible,” interrupts Vidya.
“There are ways to impersonate people,” explains Joe. “But to do it so completely and perfectly, I can only think of three ways to do it, and two of them are locked up out of reach in the Stellae archives.”
“So the imposter used the third way,” asks Vidya.
“The imposter is the third way,” say Joe morosely. “Will Prescott.” You freeze at the mention of your name, but Joe continues talking. “There’s no easy way to say this, but he’s one of us, one of the Stellae. Or he was anyway.”
“What are you talking about Joe,” you ask, shouting your question.
“He went missing a couple of years ago,” continues Joe, oblivious to your intervention. “I guess he’s back.”
“But why,” asks Vidya, her expression fraught. “Why do this if he’s a Stellae.”
“He isn’t, not anymore,” says Joe unhappily. “He’s fallen, gone retrograde.” Joe’s face goes white. “Taken Nibiru as an ousiarch,” he adds shocked.
“Kali never mentioned such a planet.”
“She wouldn’t. We don’t talk about it,” says Joe. He seems to be holding back tears himself now. “Nemesis, the dark planet: Pride, conceit and tyranny. There’s no other way he could have taken out three powerful Stellae otherwise. And why did he do this? I think he wanted you.”
Vidya sits in shocked silence. “What…” she stammers. “Why me?”
“The next stage of your training,” explains Joe. “You were going to come work with me and John Reilly in the archives. I think he planned to kill and replace you. And I’d have taken him straight to the archives without realising,” he adds, staring at his feet again. “He doesn’t know where they are, you see. One of the first things Rosalie did when Dad picked her as his successor was move the archives. Only a few of us know the new location, she excluded herself. She’s a cagey one. Was a cagey one…“ he corrects himself, trailing off.
“But why are they so important,” asks Vidya.
“They don’t just contain the knowledge and history of the order,” replies Joe. “But also every artefact we’ve made safe: The Calice de Ténèbres, the Libra Personae and Efnysien’s vessel and that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”
“I would have it all,” you whisper, realising your future self’s motivations.
“He would have it all,” echoes Joe. “And you don’t realise how frightening that is. Some of the things in there have been locked away with good reason.”
Vidya lifts herself from the bed and paces around the room a couple of times. She turns to face Joe “You said he would have replaced me,” she asks nervously. “He could do that?”
“He can replace anyone,” explains Joe. “His gifts make him the perfect imposter.”
Vidya nervously edges towards the door. “But he could be anyone,” she begins, her voice rising, panic in her eyes.
“Not me, if that’s what you’re thinking,” says Joe with a wan smile. “If he’d gotten to me, he’d already have found the location of the archives in my memory and be halfway there by now. If that’s not enough, I think there’s one other way to tell. Did Kali use any of her gifts in the last week?”
Vidya stands stunned. “Her gifts…” she stammers.
“Powers, prodigies, something like that” explains Joe. “Kali was able to summon Arbol’s fire,” he adds, swallowing visibly when he refers to Kali in the past tense.
“No,I think,” says Vidya uncertainly. “I’m sure. Yeah, she just lectured me and led my meditation.”
“That’s because Kali’s ousiarchs were Arbol and Perelandra,” explains Joe. “Prescott’s are Sulva and,” he hesitates again. “Nibiru. So he couldn’t use her gifts.” Joe closes his eyes and concentrates. A pair of sigils appear, one in each of his open hands: Arbol and Viritrilbia. “See. I’m who I say I am,” he smiles weakly again.
Vidya visibly sags with relief. “Thank you,” she replies. “What,” she adds, noticing Joes expectant look.
“You too,” he replies.
Vidya closes her eyes and holds her palms out upturned. She frowns with concentration and you’re not sure if its panic or lack of practice that slows the appearance of the sigils in her hands. They waver indistinctly, impossible to read.
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