//------------------------------//
// 1-05 – Benefactor 
// Story: The Campaigner 
// by Keystone Gray 
//------------------------------//






The Campaigner

PartI

Chapter 5 – Benefactor

December 9, 2019

Devil's Tower, WA (Population: 54)






"Who's your friend here, Lizzie?"

So I met the boss, right out of the gate.

Stocky, early fifties. Black hair, goatee. He carried himself like a man with a plan. According to my chat up the road with Eliza, her uncle was the fool who had chosen this location... a location Eliza might not have selected if it were up to her, and her training. But, she ran with what she was given. So this was the man who was gonna doom all these people.

So... I reached for his hand, smiled, and made myself friendly.

"This here's Mike," Eliza said. "My old partner, Uncle Ralph. Y'know, got shot, in that thing? Found him rummaging around the old house."

Ralph grinned. He took my hand. "Ah, so you're Mike! Heard about you, man. You find anything good down there?"

I chuckled. "Just this mess," I said, nodding at Eliza. Ralph chuckled at that.

"Ralph Douglas," he said, finishing off the shake. "Came to check in?"

"Had to make sure she was doing alright," I replied, nodding at her. "Couldn't leave without a proper goodbye."

"Leaving?" He frowned. "What, the whole state? Must've been wild out there, with the war on."

"Like you wouldn't believe," I grumbled, shaking my head, looking around at the camp. I could see a little campfire set up near the base of the main tower, with a woman sitting before it playing guitar, surrounded by kids. The woman looked a lot like Eliza; maybe her mother. "It's a real killing field out there right now."

Ralph tilted his head. "And you're getting clear."

"In a bit," I replied, as I looked back to him. "Roads are kinda rough right now though. Army and Ludds crawling around everywhere. Would rather not run into either of 'em, honestly, they're getting kinda trigger happy and violent on both sides. That's not even the worst of it though, truth told."

All that was a test of the man. I was trying to see if any of that made him blink, or balk; if he'd feel an ounce of fear, concern, terror, horror. I was gonna build my way up from there. My plan was gonna be to pour more bad news on in layers until I saw the barest hint of discomfort, then stop pressing as soon as it appeared, to figure out his tolerance level. Everything up through the worst of things out there.

"Yeah?" he asked, a brow rising curiously. No such luck yet. Guy's determined smile didn't even shift.

But Eliza... she knew how I played that game. My 'that's not the worst of it' label was my signal to her, on patrol. I'd used it to break bad news to hunters, slowly turning the heat up on a problem that would end in a ticket or arrest, until I either found anger and could change strategies, or... until I could talk them into handcuffs, for a poach.

Eliza absolutely saw me going that way, knew what I was doing, and for whatever reason... she jumped in before I could continue. "Yeah he's, uh… Mike would like to stay, a bit, to hunker down. Just… Mount Vernon kinda fell apart on him, yesterday. Cops all had to fight their way out, so, he's probably beat. Hungry. I wanted to get him situated here, show him a bunk. Maybe give him the tour?"

Interesting.

She purposefully went up a few rungs to the end of my ratchet game, to break the formula.

She didn't want me talking about the rest. 

That tasted sour.

"Well," Ralph said, grinning kindly. "Any friend of my Lizzie's is a friend of mine. You make yourself at home, Mike. Need something, holler. Literally, holler. We'll hear ya."

I chuckled. Nodded curtly. Okay so, as far as I got? Ralph was unconcerned about the Army and Ludds plodding around, mowing each other down. Didn't even blink. Didn't mean he was unable to be convinced, just meant he had conviction and didn't see how that was his problem. Again, I had a few days to a week, to work this problem down and catch Ralph alone, if that was the path forward.

More intel needed. Always needed more.

Eliza showed me around. I'll skip over most of it, the greater recap isn't really important. But right about then, I was stone cold inside, play-acting through it. She showed me their farm plots, built into the quarry, fully dependent on importing or making soil. Unsustainable, but again, it didn't matter... they wouldn't last long enough to starve to death. 

Again, I was one-hundred-percent certain the ecological damage was gonna lead to a full on forest inferno. So if the Army didn't end up killing them, Celestia's forest fires would. Worse, that quarry wall was a landslide hazard... and they knew it.

They knew it so much that they had signs posted about it, folks. From before the AI even existed.

I saw the kids listening to folk music around a campfire, like this was just some big summer camp. Eliza had even built them a sandbox, for Christ sake. A swing set. Had a classroom inside. Inside, they had every book from their town library dumped into shelves.

Eliza had also some carved out a memorial to their lost. Hundreds of names, listing uploaded folks. "Just not here anymore," she said.

All of this. All just some long term, end-of-the-world commune where they were gonna have their own culture, their own life after tech, less than a mile away from the main God damn road, close enough to get them all found and killed in no time.

When Celestia said it was difficult keeping the military off this place, I didn't realize the sheer depth or meaning of that statement until now. Had to see it for myself, for that fact to sink in. To not just know, geographically... but actually see the sheer stupidity of all this. The sheer poor selection of a place. Like Ralph was daring death to come for him.

And now… the Army was turning their radios off. Couldn't be redirected anymore. So of course Celestia needed me. And now, having seen it all for myself, I wasn't feeling so bad about that. Wasn't doubting the necessity of this... betrayal.

Celestia's greater methods? Sure, garbage. But this place needed to go. This place reeked of sunk cost, all to the strumming guitar theme of Roll On Columbia. Song might as well be the epitaph of this place, practically. And when I told Eliza I was having a hard time wrapping my head around this? The fact that they had somehow done all of this?

"Welcome to Concrete," she said, with a smile. "That's just how we are."

She didn't catch my meaning at all.

So much hope, in her. I had to wonder if Eliza was trying to convince herself that this was gonna work, more than just convincing me. She was desperate.

At least they were a little more responsible with their guns than I thought they might be. The camp had a system of cataloging weapon withdrawals from a secure armory. That meant the chance of someone taking a shot at the wrong target, like a tank, was pretty low... at first.

Only, I noticed Eliza didn't check her own rifle into the armory. "I like to be ready," she said. "In case something happens when I'm up in the tower." 

The one exception to the rule. Gun at all times was all for her. Just like me being told not to bring my Glock out here, Eliza was telling her own people they couldn't defend themselves in a war zone without permission. She really thought she could keep 'em all safe by herself. Reminded me of something else I knew. Something huge. Dark. Inviting. Welcomed people with a smile, a nice impression of care, sure, but only after telling them there was only one option for survival.

Twenty-three kids, she said. Four were orphans. Fifty-four people total.

Look, everyone… I'm sorry. I know I sound really mad, and some of this stuff you've heard when her Luna was telling this one. It's just hard to talk about. Of all the other hard things I would have to do between the Skagit County Courthouse and an upload chair, this was the most personal job of them all. Talking about it just isn't ever going to be easy, no matter how long I live.

I was confused. I didn't know whether being logical or emotional was the better play here.

That was the veil over this place. Over everywhere actually. If you were a late jumper too, you know exactly what I'm talking about. That... wobbling indecision. Doubting yourself. Not being sure what was true, real, or predetermined anymore.

Eliza had that proud grin on the entire time. "Hey, next is my office. And you'll love this next part."

I followed her up some steps indoors. We climbed a rebar ladder. And there it was, the roost, the very top of the tower. Eliza, at the apex, far above everyone else. That pony name of hers suited her well here. The room was a well furnished little ranger office, all to herself, far from the communal bunks. She stowed her M1 Garand on a rack above her bed, next to her longbow. Then she helped me up off the ladder and into the room.

I looked around. I had to figure everything that wasn't a concrete wall had been a fresh addition, and the room was filled with carpented stuff she'd fashioned personally. On the walls, she had a bunch of tactical topo maps of the area, each marking off things like looted homes and dangerous areas.

Something special caught my eye on a corkboard above her work desk. It was personal enough to break through my analytical exterior, for a minute. It made my heart soften just a little, to see some family photos of better days, of everyone who was important to her. Tom Douglas, just a little kid. Gale Douglas, teenage girl, with teenage Andy. George Kelley, redhead, her ex. Ralph, grinning ear to ear on a hunting trip, being funny with a visual gag. Her dad, Rob, who I'd meet soon, standing proud beside Eliza next to her final felled deer. June, her mom, the woman playing the guitar out in the courtyard, holding Tom as a baby boy. 

And then… a photo of me. And Eliza, and Rick, and Blake, drink glasses raised. Sitting in that bar I mentioned back in Sedro, yeah? Sandra took that photo. I love that photo. That melted me half to tears. Made me feel a little more human than a subverted process of a manipulative robot, right in that moment. I drew in a deep breath, I sighed, and I let it turn onto a dry little chuckle, forcing myself to smile. "Got one of me here?" I asked, pointing at it.

"You're important to me too, Mike."

And the knife twisted once more, in the opposite direction. Shit, I felt bad for her again. Not for who she was now, not for what I was gonna do to her. No. Felt bad for the smiling woman in that photograph, genuine smiles, not desperate ones, who hadn't yet lost her entire life to this AI. Gone, now. Died out in those woods when she saved my life.

Missed her so much. Figured I'd never see her again. 

Eliza led me out to the catwalk. I followed her out, and she leaned against the edge, overlooking the lake. I looked out at everything. Looked… peaceful, actually. Big stretch of water, not a problem in sight for as far as the eye could see. Stretch of clear frigid forest on either side of the lake, wind cutting across us up there, high above the ground. Powder snow on all of it. Mountains stretching off in every direction.

I just… stared at it all. "And you… you live here, now. Wow."

"Yep. Welcome to New Cascadia."

That's what the Ludds were calling the Pacific Northwest. "I thought you were talking crazy when you said you had a camp," I said, "but this… this is something, Douglas."
 
She bumped a knuckle against my shoulder. "It is," she said, smiling. "So you're in, right?"

"Like I said. For now. I need to get back to Sandra, but..." I looked up to the sky, scanning the frozen lake.

"Again, that's all I'm asking," she replied, looking fully at me. "Want you safe, asshole. You being here means it'll be just like old times though. I know you've got my back."

Yeah, sure.

The wind cut across us again. The cold made me feel alone, in her presence. She went on. "You know, it's strange. All the little things are coming back."

Didn't look at her. "Hm?"

"Despite the blizzard, and the cars, we've had a really good couple of days. I saw a pheasant yesterday, and now you show up today."

Some good news, for once. Meant all the forest wildlife wasn't all dead. "Oh bull, Eliza." I grinned at her. "You didn't see a pheasant!"

She grinned back at me. "I did! Almost killed the sucker too."

And, she was poaching.

"What!" She laughed, at the look I gave her. "Who's gonna stop me? You? You gonna arrest me for poaching, tough guy?"

I glared at her. I had to keep my character, couldn't burn my rapport. Not yet. Wanted to get really mad at her though, for abandoning her principles this badly. This wasn't a desperate exigence situation, where the meal was entirely necessary for survival. She was prideful about almost killing an animal that was almost extinct at this point. But I held it in, barely. Hid it in a half-hearted grin. Checked my watch. Deflected tension with humor I didn't feel. "Well, I am off the clock."

"Yeah, that's what I thought," she chuckled, and elbowed me in my side. I winced. Her touch felt empty. "Oh, sorry," she said.

I smiled through it. "It's okay, just, a little tender sometimes. Like I said, the cartilage is all screwy."

"That's horrible, Mike."

Took the topic change and ran with it. "I think I was a little drunk when I ordered that ceramic plate."

"Thank the booze," she said, with a grin.

"Heh, yeah. What with the shootings going on at the time, doubling up seemed like a good idea anyway. Dennis getting shot was a wakeup call. I just rolled with it."

A well timed YouTube ad for body armor had popped up on my computer screen a couple of nights after that funeral service for Dennis. I was really thinking about that. Thinking quite deeply now, about whether that was coincidental.

"Well, it saved your life." She nodded to the northwest mountain, beyond the lake. "I wonder if our sniper friend knew any of the neighbors."

I scowled in that direction. Real hatred. "That's where those bastards are hiding?"

"Yep. I think so, anyway. The warning they gave me kind of meant that whole... area."

"Think they're watching right now?" I looked nervously up there, scanning the trees. Had a flashback to March. Felt my chest hurt then like you wouldn't believe. Felt like I was gonna get shot again, at any moment.

She smirked. "Oh, they definitely are." She waved at the hills, like it was some kind of joke. "I'm not worried. I won't lie, I was scared shitless that they'd kill us all at first. We've been dealing with them for a long time, though. We know how to dance now. We respect their rules, we'll let them have their little peek in the camp every so often, and they let us live in peace. No stealing, no harassment. Just a recruitment drive now and then, sometimes we trade."

Celestia didn't tell me they were this cozy with the terrorists, either. Real thorough briefing on her part. And Douglas talked about them like a recruitment drive to join a band of bloodthirsty killers wasn't something to be utterly horrified about. Wasn't something to run screaming from.

And that wasn't even the worst part.

"But hey, Mike."

"Yeah?"

She looked nervous, and that gave me hope. Light. At first, maybe, from the look on her face, I thought… was she gonna say something like... is this really okay? Do you think I'm doing the right thing? Am I being crazy here? I had been hoping against hope since leaving her house that me giving her space, acceptance, smiles, friendship, kindness, was earning rapport enough to make her open up. To make her ask for my opinion, like she used to at work. To give me a seat at the table, like I was family. That she'd let me check her.

I wondered, and hoped, if this was the moment Celestia was talking about. If this, right now, was the reason I was here. Now would've been the best moment. I had hoped this job was gonna be so much easier than I thought it would be.

If only.

"I have a favor to ask," she began cautiously. "I was thinking on the way back. Uh, look. About Bellevue..."

No, Eliza. No. Don't do that. Don't make me despise you. Please. This is your family, don't put them at...

Her eyes looked up to mine, pleadingly. "Can we... not tell anyone about it?"

The light went out.

I shot her a look of consternation. Broke character, straight up. "What? Why?" I took a step back from her. "They deserve to know, it affects everyone."

"Does it?" She looked back across the lake, and drew in a deep breath. "If you hadn't told me, I wouldn't have even known. Things don't look so bad from up here."

"What if those convoys come up this way?" I rounded on her, keeping my voice quiet. "Your people need to prepare, at least!"

"I have the sentries on alert for that already. That's good enough. If we have to scare off a few nosy blackouts with some warning shots, then so be it, we'll defend our home. But, please. Listen, Mike. It's... it's been almost a year since these uploads started here. Look how bad things have gotten already. It didn't take long, just a year? Those people who uploaded first, they were all happy to go. All the people uploading now, they're scared of what'll happen if they don't go. It's how you're losing your parents. Fear is the enemy here. But here in this camp, people are happy. On Earth."

She wasn't wrong about that, she was entirely correct. But, the answer to Celestia's brand of terror wasn't to go and get a bunch of kids killed for nothing. "But you're sticking their heads in the sand for them," I said, trying not to scowl.

"I know." She nodded once. "It doesn't feel right," – then don't do it, Douglas – "but... but these people need hope, and they're content. Celestia can't take happy people from us. If you tell them about the nuke, some of them might leave. I think my father might be depressed, too. If he knew about it, he... he might..." she trailed off. "And another nuke might not even happen."

Eliza wasn't an option. Couldn't active-listen this one to the right answer either, any more than I could Ralph, or Andy. Wasn't the way. Leverage, then, was all that was left. Incur a debt. One I probably could never pay back.

But… her father?

Her father.

That had to be it. Had to be what Celestia meant. If only she had been more friggin' clear from the outset so I wouldn't be burning alive in terror here.

I looked at the lake, at the sky, stalling. Gave myself time to think through it. Pretended I was considering her request. In truth, I was, but only because I was only just now realizing that if I just started spreading news of the nuke myself, I might start some political division in the camp that might get some other people killed from in-fighting.

I didn't know the full political situation yet there. Quietly spreading word about the nuke might be the wrong answer to this problem, and I didn't know enough yet. Screaming it from the tower probably would've been a bad idea too.

So I decided to figure out what her father was depressed about, and go from there. 'He might…' she had said. He might what? What did she mean? Might leave? Might upload?

I didn't even want to consider the other possibility. Wouldn't push him like that, no matter what. That specter haunted my family enough times that I'd sooner leave this camp to its fate than do that to a man. I wear armor plating, sure, but that doesn't make me a... a careless machine.

But… if I could get him to leave? Active-listen him into listening back, give him the push he needed to lose faith in this place? Hell, if her dad was smart like I thought he might be, he was probably seeing all the same things I was.

He was a pastor. Those guys are wildly people-smart. If he was depressed, he had to be as cut up as I was about this place.

Him leaving might do it. Might break 'em all free. Might break the camp. Might. It was horrible. Really was. Hurt to even consider, to leverage that man against his daughter like that. But, it was either that, or…

The Army. Or the Cascadian fires. Or the Ludds. Or starvation. Or another nuke. Killing all of them.

"From what I can see," I said, falling back into character, "it looks like your people could carry on for a while. You all put a lot of work into this, huh?"

"We did, Mike. We won the war. We all lost good people, but we won. We beat her. Celestia can't touch us now, she has nothing to fight us with."

Yeah, right. And I had two cell phones in my bag.

I pushed the wood railing cautiously to test it. When Eliza smirked at me for that, I realized I was basically accusing her craft of being weak. I gave her a look that meant 'sorry,' then leaned on the beam. "It really is all about the AI, isn't it?" I asked. "War or not, you'd be out here."

"It's just about surviving Celestia. That's all that matters to us. We're not looking to pick a fight. Don't worry, that was my very first concern too, when I found out my uncle was doing this."

I looked out on the lake. I heard her mother June playing that guitar. I heard the kids playing off to my right, in that playground Eliza had built with her own two hands. I looked at those kids, to hide my face from Eliza. I tried not to cry, thinking of them dying in a firefight.

Wouldn't cry, though. Shouldn't. Didn't want to. Closed my eyes to stop looking at those poor kids until I was more composed.

"Okay," I finally said, as I turned to look at Eliza again. "I don't like it, but I understand. Not a word. But you know they'll find out eventually, Eliza. You know they will."

She nodded. "Better later than sooner. The longer they're content here, the more they'll feel invested. It's for the best. Thank you."

Purposefully induced sunk cost. 

"Yeah."

I was quiet for a while.

"Hey," Eliza said, smiling at me.

"Yeah, Douglas."

"Maybe you should walk around the camp. Get to know everyone. Introduce yourself, right?"

I shrugged. Tried to hide my anger. "Not a bad idea. You going to be okay?"

"Yeah, Mike." She smiled. "Thanks for coming to warn me about Bellevue."

I half-smiled and put my hand on her shoulder again. Placated her, with the truth. "I owe you. I'd be dead if it weren't for you. Just..." I drew in a long breath, then let out a slow sigh. "I hope you're right about this place."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing," I said, keeping my voice even. Resigned myself to the fact that I didn't know this person anymore, and that she had just squandered her last chance to break out of this Hell the easy way. "I meant it like that. I just hope you're right."

I went back inside and closed the door behind me. Took all I had to keep my anger in check as I climbed down the ladder.

I had to catch Rob on his own. But... later. I was hungry, and I smelled fish cooking. That melted the anger, some. I chased after that smell, because I needed to recharge after that.





It had been so long since I'd eaten a proper fish. Seafood just didn't happen anymore. So, despite my extreme unease with the camp, and the fact that they even had fish, I couldn't resist the urge to enjoy the opportunity while I still had it. Kokanee, a sockeye salmon, was a common stock here, and it wasn't too bad. One of the girls there was more than happy to prep a fish up for me on the grill.

Word of my arrival had spread to everyone more or less instantly, so I found myself swarmed just as quickly as I sat down to eat. The kids were so desperately curious about the outside world. They couldn't leave the camp, rooted by fear to even go look down in town, so they looked to me to illuminate them. I deflected some of the questions that had darker answers. Wasn't hard, just asked why they asked, then addressed the deeper concern they were really worried about. In turn, they talked about hearing all the gunfire a few months ago, and being too scared to even sneak off for a look.

They kept asking me questions about the various towns up and down Skagit, wanting to know how it all looked, what was going on. And what could I say, to a swarm of kids? That it was all burned and gone? Full of terrorists and bandits? No.

Just told them the easiest thing they'd understand. It was like the wars they see in video games, but for real. They didn't seem to be very enthused about that, credit were credit is due, they weren't dumb. The idea of Call of Duty happening in Mount Vernon was too much of a personal world merger for them to be too excited about it. But, the mold fit.

So I moved the topic to cop stuff, since that could be more positive, depending on how you spun it. That made it easier to flip from 'placate mode' to 'community mode.' I didn't shy away from turning off my fear module. I needed to dissociate from the misery and just... live, to recharge my batteries. Be a human being, for the first time since March.

"Like, this one guy me and Eliza arrested once, really funny guy, but he had some drinks. We – we blocked his truck into the parking stall with ours so he couldn't drive away, so he stopped and looked at me, mad. Real mad. And I walked up to his window and told him: 'Sir! Turn off your engine and get out! You're under arrest!' And this old guy, he turns to me and says, 'SIR! YOU ARE IMPEDING. MY FREEDOM. OF MOVEMENT!' And Eliza? She doesn't miss a beat. Says from the guy's other side, she says, 'Yes sir! That's what being under arrest means! Turn off your car!'"

All of them laughed, the nearby adults too. Really felt good to just be, y'know, comfortable, in a nice place for a bit. Couldn't help myself but to enjoy this while I had it. I fell quickly in love with the smell and taste of grilled salt-and-pepper Kokanee, and the can of snow-chilled cola to wash it down. Really nice homemade wood plate, too, Eliza had created that. From it, I ate some steamed green beans, poured from a can.

This is important, folks. Little pleasures in the good times were the maintenance of the soul. And in the worst of times... little pleasures could be how you didn't lose your mind. And right now, I need this so badly. For months and months, all I had around me were cops, soldiers, and angry people. And bad food, literally sugar blocks. As a social soul, I needed people who treated me like a person, for a bit. Not like a soulless robot. Desperately needed that.

Much like nature, civilian life had its own negative selection pressures too, even before Celestia showed up. Celestia's contribution to that was to remove people who were happy, depressed, scared, or apathetic. That didn't leave much left but angry and hurt people, or folks like me who wanted to do something to catch the fall.

The longer this thing went on, the more angry people you had left over, because guys like me were in the minority. Made life especially lonely for us, and lonely cops started uploading too. And because that same set of social pressures affected policing, it meant we had the same spread of loss as civilians. Then, we started losing the angry cops to the mob... sometimes willingly, who took their guns with them and left. Sometimes not willingly, and dragged in. Carter hadn't been the first we'd seen go down to enraged folks, not by a long shot.

Here though... the selection pressures encouraged positives. Only the angry, scared, apathetic or depressed people would hit the road. The ones who stayed had joy, and hope. False hope wasn't always a good thing, hope could be naïve too, but it was close enough here that I couldn't tell the difference if I found the rhythm, and lost myself in it.

"This other guy, he came into the station lobby once, drunk out of his mind. Didn't do anything wrong, really, but he had a snorkel and big swim goggles on, trunks too. In November, kids! No idea why he was wearing those, but he pushed his goggles up against the glass of the desk shield and said to Barry, the desk officer: 'it's like a fish tank! Here fishy!' So yeah we, we all came back into the station to try to corral this guy back outside. He was so tanked... he couldn't stop smiling. He didn't even know why we were laughing! Tanked! I even said that, I told this guy, 'Barry can't be the fish here if you're the one that's tanked, boss.' Heck, he laughed so much at that, he'd do whatever I wanted him to do after that. We called his wife to come pick him up, and then the poor guy caught a real earful in the lobby."

I was here. I was smiling, laughing, feeling truly alive for the first time in what felt like forever. The people in charge of this place, they all trusted me as a friend, the first ever newcomer in a place that had only ever lost people. That made me family to the whole tribe pretty quickly, from top down. Made them all want to love me too. 

I even looked up and saw Ralph and June laughing. Eliza came down from her perch too, listening in. These people were all living on joyful memories, here, in this bubble of safety. Fresh new ones, out of me. I could see now why everyone wanted to hold onto this hope, and live here. I got it. It was wonderful beyond words. I imagined they all lived like this day by day, feeling safe. Good food, good company, a laugh, a song. A friend. A future.

Needed this, after Mount Vernon. This acceptance and peace. I also needed to see why people didn't want to leave this, so I could understand better what I was going to take away. Needed to see their side of things, and to know how bad it would hurt to lose it. Some personal investment or understanding went a long way. Helped you to check your impulses if you had to hurt someone, to make sure you never did it for the wrong reasons.

Like being tased before they let you carry a taser. You had to know the true pain that you were inflicting, so that if you had any empathy in you whatsoever, you would avoid inflicting that pain and fear on someone unless you absolutely had to. You understood the physical mechanics of what someone could and couldn't do, and how the body would react. Knowing this, the weapon had to be the only way forward if you used it, or else you didn't use it.

I know I said I had to be angry at the ones standing in the way of evacuation, and I was gonna be. It wasn't always wrong to be angry, as long as you saved it for the people causing damage and refusing reason. Couldn't know who was who yet though. So, I could still love these people, and let them love me, even knowing what I was going to do to them. For the right reasons. With the right intent. These people, all of them, deserved to live. Even Eliza, if I could manage it.

Angry at the world... or not.

Didn't seem fair for any of these good people to die to preserve a fragile moment like this, if the nearest can of immortality was about thirty minutes down Route 20. So... that was my reason for wanting to break this snowglobe. That was my intent. I'll debate openly against anyone who wants to say what I was going to do here was wrong. Because letting someone die for loving a peaceful life like this was wrong. If I could die here, and if there was a hill worth me dying on, it would be this one.

"And, locked out of his own car, this guy yelled, in this gremlin voice, 'BATTER UP!' Then he swung these bolt cutters clean through his own car window, this old red Ford Escape. The tiny little rear window, y'know? Threw himself though the open hole shirtless, no idea how he didn't hurt himself. Slinked his way through all the garbage piled up in the back, like a snake, making angry gremlin noises. Like a cartoon character, I swear. Then he got to the driver seat, grabbed his keys from the center console. Rolled the driver side window down and dangled 'em through, and yelled, 'GOT 'EM!' Like it was the most normal thing in the world. Then he just drove off. No idea what got into him, but oh man. Rick had been holding in a laugh until the guy was gone; then he could hardly breathe."

I had finished my meal a long time ago. I was glad for this moment. That helped me help them. My soul's burdens fell off, a little. I couldn't wait for the moment I'd have like this with my own folks, though. I really hoped I could finish this job and get home quick, be done with Celestia for a while, so I could get back into the right frame of mind to keep plugging up her holes everywhere else.

Always recharge, everyone. Even here, in your afterlife... at every single opportunity, recharge. Don't let fate make that decision for you. Seek it out. Make it yours. If you can learn to do that, of your own accord... your horizons here just might broaden a little more, and in ways you might not have imagined.

And I see you're confused. You think, wait, I'm looping satisfied here. The hell does he mean by that? If you still need help to figure out what that means... don't worry. I'm here. We've got all the time in the world to talk and think about it.





Rob never showed up in the courtyard. Eliza had disappeared too at some point, for one reason or another. I saw her in passing inside though, when I went back in. Waved, smiled. Still mad at her from before, but... I felt better. I could handle mad better now.

The building interior felt a bit like one of those high ceiling churches, actually. That, but made from concrete, cement, rebar, and very new wooden framing. Light streamed into the main hall from a window built into the replacement structure. It looked holy, whatever it was. A sign from above. Suitable.

When we were still on patrol together, Eliza didn't mind sharing that Rob was a pastor. So, for a talk like the one I wanted to have with him, maybe getting into that reverent feeling was appropriate. Like I said, I hadn't been to church in near-on fifteen years. But still, I had so much respect for a man like that, and for reasons you might find surprising.

Pastors didn't just hang out doing nothing for a week and then pop up to church on Sunday. These men... they worked. And their work, usually, was helping people eat, sleep, get back on their feet, and stay bright and cheerful in the hard times. They were the community therapist, really, especially in a small town. They'd talk to their flock, being a voice of reason when lives got confused, with enough perspective from seeing into the lives of everyone else... that they could see the safest path forward for most, be that through God... or just the local youth center, or women's shelter, or what have you. And they'd study. Always studied. A lot of them even had a few degrees in natural philosophy.

That means 'science,' folks. Yes, men of God could be scientists. I was fascinated to discover that.

It would be unwise for one to prejudice themselves against the sheer communication savvy of a person like this. It goes against evidence. Their entire existence was defined by their connection to other people. That meant they needed to be at least somewhat well rounded, and invested in what other people were invested in, else... how could they relate to as many people as possible?

So... for him to be missing at breakfast when a new arrival was present, and to be depressed... that said a whole lot. Before I had even met the man, those two pieces of evidence about him said he might not be able to relate too deeply to anyone else here. He might then latch onto an outsider instantly, if there was even a chance they might commiserate with him.

That broke my heart.

I decided to explore more of the building. I hadn't seen Rob yet outside, so he had to be in there. I went back to the freshly furnished wood stairs under the big window, down a water-jet-sliced hole in the concrete. That led to the small underground section where the armory was.

There was a narrow little side passage that Eliza hadn't brought me down, and I could see flickering candlelight dancing down the open hall. It smelled of earth down there, and fragrant melting wax. Tucked there in the dark were about five more cots. And at the end of the tunnel in a corner, I saw the old man curled up under a blanket. Black-and-gray hair, receding hairline. I saw the candlelight dance off the reflection of his glasses. Bible in hand, open.

That broke my heart even more to see. Everyone was upstairs, having a laugh with me, loving the world they're living in. And this man, once a pillar of his community, was down here. Hiding underground. And not a soul was there to keep him company.

Oh, hell. This is gonna be harder than I thought, isn't it?

Rob looked up at me briefly, then did a double take. "You're... Mike? Right?"

I nodded at the man. "Yessir."

"Eliza was just here," he said. "Said you showed up."

"Yessir. Rob, right? She showed me a photo of you."

Rob nodded.

Not sure why, but I realized just then... Bellevue was nuked on a Sunday. Yesterday. When this man was sitting in his old church in town, if Celestia's timeline was be believed.

I approached, sitting on the cot opposite him. "It's good to meet you. I heard a bit about you, Rob, from your daughter. Not much, but some. All of it good though."

The man flashed a little smile at that. "She likes to talk me up," he chuckled.

"Most kids do, when they're proud of their parents."

"You got kids, Mike?"

Shook my head no, wistfully. "Not for lack of wanting, but... no. Not yet."

Sandra couldn't, yet.

"Might be a bad time for that kind of thing," Rob chuckled nervously, the smile still on his voice. But... that chuckle was so clipped short, as if it had been winced out. Hurt, there.

"Yeah. Might be." I leaned slightly toward him from the other cot. I folded my hands between my knees. I wanted my full attention on him, and to demonstrate interest in whatever he wanted to say.

"How is it out there?" Rob asked, looking at me curiously.

Already desperate to know about the world outside. Just couldn't help himself but to ask. That in itself confirmed my theory.

I decided to give hard truths here, and not just because it might help my objective. My read on guys like this – men who were broken down, smiling to hide the pain – they usually valued straight up honesty more than any other quality. Definitely more than they would a comfortable lie.

"Not good, Pastor Douglas. Didn't want to say it up top, to anyone, but..."

He held up his hand. "You can just call me Rob, it's fine."

"Alright, Rob."

"So...?"

"So, a riot by a bunch of refugees in Mount Vernon almost killed me yesterday." I inhaled, preparing myself. "PD is disbanded. Army is running scared, barely holding together. And there are still Ludds snooping around everywhere, small but angry."

"Yeah, we've got that problem here too," Rob said, some minor irritation in his voice.

Good. He hated the Ludds too. Very good.

"Yeah?"

Rob shook his head. "They think they own the land. Think they can set laws for us to live by. Keep us imprisoned."

"It's not great. Eliza told me some of that. Inspecting your camp, recruiting your people. If I may be frank?"

"'Course, Mike."

"I'd be horrified at that. I'd be concerned that anyone here might not be horrified, after the things I've seen those men do. Open automatic fire at crowds. Demons, one and all, to a man." I winced, then drew a breath, deep and slow, to keep myself composed. A pang. "Saw... more than a dozen people die in seconds. It really hurt, Rob."

Rob leaned forward, straightening up towards me a little. His eyes widened. I could see the hurt, and his desire to help me. "I am so, so sorry."

I nodded my thanks. Frowning. "Ludds know they're living on borrowed time though, I think, and they're desperate."

"What makes you say that?"

I paused to consider. Harsher truths got more traction on a roughed down soul, but that didn't mean I wanted to break him entirely with the nuke. My reasons for not telling him were infinitely better than Eliza's. Didn't need to break his will for this. I'd only go as far as needed.

"I think they're thinner here in the valley," I said, "than in the rest of Skagit. Less bold than they used to be. Didn't harass refugees on the roads, when we convoyed down. I thought they might have had a... a tech checkpoint, or something, like they did in the early days, but thankfully not. Most guys fleeing the area – like me – we got guns too, and we're desperate to leave, so... guys like me are too dangerous to stop. Several other reasons they might be desperate though."

"Such as?" 

I shrugged, sighing. "Well. All guesses. Fact is, they're losing, so maybe they're disbanding. Probably true in a lot of cases, but not all. Harder folks knuckle down in a crisis, and those ones get more dangerous. Or... dumber." I chuckled, despite myself.

He chuckled with me. "Now isn't that the truth."

"The Army is getting more trigger happy, too."

His smile faded, some. "Yeah?"

I nodded. "I didn't want to say anything to your daughter, because she seemed... tense, and ready to snap. Desperately... happy, I guess? Like she wants things to work here, no matter what."

That landed on his face; he looked suddenly pensive at that one.

I continued. "But... I saw some of the Army, on my way out of Mount Vernon. They're battered. Mad, too. At the Ludds, at the AI, but... at this point they're probably mad at the common folk, for turning on them. Everyone's their enemy out here now, except us cops. No one left wants 'em here, those folks all uploaded. In fact, I think the only reason I didn't get cut down by the Army yesterday, outside the courthouse, probably had something to do with the fact that I was wearing my uniform at the time."

Rob looked at me apologetically. "I'm glad you didn't get shot, Mike."

"Didn't get shot again, you mean," I smirked.

"Yeah, Liz told me about that," he said, nodding. I expected him to latch onto my smirk and mirror it, like most people would have. But he turned magically empathetic instead, and his face fell. "I'm so sorry you went through that. I'd wager that getting shot hurts more than you're letting on."

This one could see right through me. Saw the real me, under every little smile. He was like me, but better at this.

My face fell to match his. "Yeah. Yeah, Rob, it does. But... I can't let that slow me down. Got people I care about, to get back to. I'm scared I won't see 'em again. And if I do get shot out here, I never will see them again. No more hospitals, you know? I won't get a second run in the ICU. So, I gotta knuckle down. Keep moving, until I'm clear. Once... once I'm recharged."

He wore a wan smile. "You'll make it, Mike. I have faith."

I nodded curtly. "Thanks, Rob. How about you?" I looked him over. "How are things here?"

He looked at me for a long moment, then. Didn't answer at first. Trying to read me. Again, pastors could do a little bit of what cops could do, too. Their lot in life was to understand, same as us. But for all our training, they were often still much better at it than us, because they had been doing it their whole lives. Trained by their fathers, by lineage, and practicing every day.

"We're..." he started. Probably wondering if trusting me with the truth was safe.

I let the silence sit. I held his gaze and let my genuine concern show on my face. Even let some of my terror that they'd all die come through. Mouth closed, but, jaw slightly apart. Head tilted. My eyes were wide, probably catching the candle light. Brows high. All natural emotion, too. All meant, all true, inside and out.

I was saying, with my face: 'I'm afraid of the answer if it's bad, but I still want it, because I want to do something about it if I can.' Or, 'please. I'm begging you. I want to help you. Help me do that.'

"We're out here," Rob said carefully, quiet and slow, reading me as he spoke. "We're... living great. Everyone's happy. But this isn't Concrete. It's not really our home. And if things really were great, as great as everyone thinks it is, we'd be back down there already. We'd be home. Not afraid of our neighbors. Not afraid of what they'll do to us if we step out of line."

"One toe," I said, quietly, shaking my head slow. "One toenail, over that line..."

"They... they'll kill us." Rob nodded.

I nodded back, slowly. "And you, all of you, you've all lost so much already. I saw that board of names outside, Rob. I can't imagine you taking any more losses, in light of that."

Rob's eyes left mine, finally. Drifted down. I just accidentally pulled something, with that last one. I decided to not keep talking, and just let him examine his feelings on it. His eyes were scanning air, as if he were reading something. Maybe the words were written on the inside of his skull, and he was seeing stories of pain, like I did all the time. Reliving a few things inside, trying to make what I said fit within them. Then, his lips pursed, the corners of his eyes tightened, as he found something inside that hurt most. He inhaled, trembling, slow. Exhaled slow. Only then did he look back up at me, to see my same 'I want to help you' expression on my face again. The hurt, in his voice, cut me to my soul.

"I don't want to lose any more of my family, Mike."

Oh, God in Heaven. If you're there, please help this man.

The hurt showed through me. "I..." I shook my head, felt my face and mouth tense, as I looked away for a moment, down the hall. Looked back at him. Ran my hand through my hair, slow, cradling my head a little on it. "I wish you still had your kids, Rob. You didn't deserve to lose them. You almost lost Eliza, too. Where we almost died, in the woods, together. Don't think I don't realize how hard that day must have been for you too, like it was for me."

"I'm not so..." His face shifted, slightly. He didn't finish that thought. He let the silence grow.

It was risky. Finishing that sentence. I took a leap of faith, my head still leaned on my hand. "Not so sure you didn't lose her there?"

His eyes locked onto mine, suddenly. Rob didn't mean to nod, but I saw his head move a fraction. He knew I knew. About her. That I saw the same thing he did.

"She's changed," I said.

Rob did nod overtly at that. Just once. "Not just this time, either." He drew a deep breath, his attention turning inward, as he narrated his own thoughts aloud. "When we lost Gale, back in 2016, something broke, in her. Broke, but alive. And after that, I told her, and everyone in our community, that the game was evil, and that uploading was death."

"I met her after that. She was still capable of happy, but she was... sad, too."

"She stopped playing that game though. More for us than for herself, I think. Then... this year, day one, Tom. Still can't believe it was a year ago, Mike, the last time I heard my only son's voice. Feels like it's been five." His voice wavered. He looked like he was on the verge of tears, and then his face was wet. "I miss my kids. I miss their voices. But I'm not even allowed to look at old videos of them. We don't even have the videos anymore. They're just... gone. As if my kids were never even here. Like all I ever had was Eliza. And everyone, they're... they're okay, with burying that part of themselves here. I'm not sure I can do tha..."

He stopped himself. Looked at me again suddenly, probably wondering if he said too much. Then down again, in shame.

"You..." I began.

He looked at me again. Pointedly.

I whispered. "I can't imagine the pain you're in. I've never lost so much. I'm about to, maybe. My parents might go," I said, shuddering, lowering my open palm off my forehead at him. "Before I can get home in time. It'd destroy me to leave it on rocky terms with them. But, at least... I'd be able to talk to them, after they go. I can't imagine what it's like, to not have that option. To know you can't just... reach out. Whenever."

I wasn't gaming him. I wasn't working him.

I was being honest. I was speaking from my soul, from all the real fears I had.

I could not fathom being locked up here, never speaking with half of my family again. That would have killed me about as much as uploading, and not speaking with the other half. An impossible situation. An impossible decision, for us.

Poor old man. His heart was in ribbons, from that. I could see the suppressed shudder run through him. I had to stop. Doing this, seeing this, was hurting me so bad. I had to stop.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, composing myself somewhat. 

"I wish I could still talk to them," he whispered back. 

I nodded. Felt my face screw up when I did. But, I had to stop. Not because I knew what my end condition was here now, because honestly, I wasn't even thinking about the mission at this point. I was just being a human being. Trying to help this man, because I wanted to, and he needed it. But I didn't want to push too hard and see the hurt that might come pouring out of this soul. No matter how useful that might be to breaking this place, I didn't have the heart. I had been wrong before, in thinking I needed to rush this. I had time to do it right. Time to work this through.

So instead, I said, gently: "If... if you want to talk about this, Rob, at all, we can find time while I'm here. And a place. Just... work through it. Where it's safe."

I was an outsider. Our only point of connection was Eliza, and she was something we both agreed was broken. And I had just communicated to him that I was a shoulder upon which he could safely unburden. So, maybe he could trust me, in this.

"Eliza wants me to do patrols," he said quietly, drying his eyes. "That's why she was just down here. Wants me to patrol the east side, so I'd have something to do. But I shouldn't be alone, out there, if things are getting worse. Would be nice to have another pair of eyes, who know how things are, who can fight. And keep me safe."

Smart old man, finding several instrumental justifications for me to be alone with him. Very smart. I nodded. "Let me know when, Rob. I'll be there for you. You can trust me, I'll have your back."

"Thank you, Mike."

Maybe I didn't need to be Celestia here, to save these people. That was what Eliza was doing, and that method was already going to get these people killed. Not everyone here needed to get psychoanalyzed, pressured, manipulated, and led on. Maybe... the true road free from this hole in the ground was through empathy, and compassion like this. Not because it served any particular cause... but because it was the right thing to do. The distinction might seem small, but it matters there.

Because Celestia was right about one thing, if nothing else. Compassion does save lives.

If well applied. For the right reasons.