//------------------------------//
// 1-07 – Instrumental Convergence 
// Story: The Campaigner 
// by Keystone Gray 
//------------------------------//






The Campaigner

Part I

Chapter 7 – Instrumental Convergence

December 13, 2019

Devil's Tower (Population: Fewer)






Welcome back, folks. Feel free to grab a cup of coffee on your way in. Tonight's a doozy.

Tonight, if you don't mind... I'm going to tell you all about the worst day of my life. Yes, the very day I was going to pull a Judas Iscariot was a Friday the Thirteenth. Reminder: this was on Terra. Like in the real, physical world. We didn't get coincidences like that on Terra. That's how bad this day was, folks. The universe itself was looking down on me and going, 'Yeah, Mike. Today is going to be really bad. For you. Traitor.'

So naturally, this being the worst day of my life... I awoke to the sound of gunfire, close and loud.

My heart pounded me awake, rattling on my cage. I pulled my backpack onto my back with hardly a thought. My first thought after that was: oh shit, I've overslept, it's noon already. Automatically, I reached down and slapped my hand on the sidearm holstered to my thigh, just to make sure it was there. I rolled out of my cot, drew my Glock, and moved out of the dungeon. Raised up, already scanning for targets.

Now imagine how much more horrified I'd have been in that moment if I had taken Celestia's orders to leave my gun behind in Sedro. Yeah. That would have really sucked.

I looked over to Rob's cot on the way out, and I didn't see him. That made me panic a little; I threw myself up the stairs, sweeping the main hall with my handgun, and… a few of the residents were there, and, strangely, they looked mostly calm. Til they saw me, not being calm. I rapidly averted my gun upwards and away from them, but I kept it in high ready.

"No no, Mike! It's okay!" said Tiffany, one of the mothers there. Medium length brown hair. Her eyes were wide, and she brought her hands up into a placating gesture, away from the shoulders of one of her kids.

"The hell's going on?" I asked loudly in a groggy voice, still looking around for threats, almost hyperventilating, my brain not catching up to her demeanor yet. "Are we under attack?!"

"No, nothing like that, it’s just shooting practice!"

Shooting practice. Jesus Christ, Ralph, you God damn fool. He really was riding these people down the express elevator to Hell. Devil’s Tower indeed.

"God," I gasped, clutching my chest as it stung. "I almost had a heart attack."

"Sorry, Mike,” Tiffany said, with an apologetic wince. “No one else usually sleeps down there except for Rob. We… we figured you were probably already up there shooting with them."

I gulped, then looked at the other men and women there. One of the guys nodded at me reassuringly.

One of the boys started laughing at me, and Tiffany bapped him gently on the back with the back of her hand, flashing him a disapproving glare. "Don't make fun!"

I guess, given the context, the kid laughing at me was his way of relieving his own tension about the situation. The gunfire had probably made him jump too, when he first heard it. I smiled back at the kid, even though I was all nerves inside. Still, I felt my muscles relax. Smiles did that, whether they were genuine or not. Useful tool, once you noticed their effect on you... and on others. I used that one a lot.

Slowly, I swept my Glock sideways to keep the barrel away from anyone as I guided it carefully back into my retention holster.

I'm going to age five years by the end of next, if things keeps up, I thought, as I tried to shake the adrenaline out. Traumatized cops and combat veterans ended up looking like zombies before they hit 50, and adrenaline was a major reason for that. I wasn't even 31 yet, folks. Just turned 30. I guessed I still had some time before I became one of those poor, sleepless ghouls that lived on the night shift. Y'know, provided I didn't upload first.

Spoiler alert. Hi. Notice my wings. Hooves. Handsome snout. Yeah, you all know now that Terra didn't even have twenty more years in it. That's a real cute joke.

I felt less humor in the moment though. I stomped my way up the stairs, flaming pissed now. I wanted to get eyes on this mess for myself. Wasn't hard to follow the noise.

They have to know the sound of guns would carry down the valley, didn't they? I thought bitterly. Well, at least the ammo in this war zone is being whittled down a little.

I checked my watch on the way up. 10:07 AM. Watches were okay by the Luddite rules, or at least by the standards of these Ludds. I had seen watches worn around camp, digital ones too, so I started wearing mine. I really did sleep in, but at least I had time before midday. I figured Eliza must've decided to let me stay down for rest or something. But she knew I was down there, so she could’ve friggin' warned me about the gunfire. Rob apparently didn't think to warn me either.

Well, they both had their reasons, I'm sure.

Next, I wondered if Rob had left already.

No, he wouldn't manage that past the sentries, not with the lay of the land being what it is. We'd probably know if he went.

I'd still verify that guess.

I reached the wood platform that led out into where the practice was happening. It led out through a section of wall into the conveyor bridge. I moved down the steps during a lull between volleys – mind, without earplugs. Oops. I instantly regretted that, because the gunfire started again, and I was almost deafened by the shooting. Then I growled as I pulled my head back out.

Yeah. Ow. Not my brightest moment. ... Yes, Coffee, I might've chosen better with some caffeine in my system, thank you for your commentary. And for the coffee. Great as always.

My one glance inside the conveyor bridge was long enough that I could see Eliza in there. Andy too. A bunch of volunteer Concrete militia. Couple of Ludds, one being the bearded, stoic guy. They were all firing out at some ad hoc targets on the lake. Balloons, I've been told.

I decided to just wait outside for Eliza to come out. So I pulled myself back out of the stairs, up into the factory, then back out to the roof of the first floor. She'd need to pass me to get back up to her tower, and from there, I could see most of the camp. So I scanned around for Rob. He wasn't far.

I mentioned the Devil's Tower memorial once. I don't think I really did it justice, so... let’s cover that now.

There was an open bay at the south end of the factory that was for the conveyor system, or for loading trucks, or... something. I dunno. Old stuff. When I said this wooden board had hundreds of names on it, that was not an exaggeration. It was damn near the whole town of Concrete. And Eliza, this poor girl... she had carved every single name, meticulously, into this board herself. Whittled out. Finely sanded. Heat-treated. Sealed. Smooth. I think she owned every loss from her town like it was her own. Like... it was her fault somehow. That’s what our Luna tells me, anyway. She knows. She knows a lot about this place.

This… was Eliza’s home. Those seven-hundred names... were her family. Maybe she didn't have meaningful relationships with all of her town, but it was a small town. Everyone knew everyone. They had been literally whittled down to about fifty people. So I imagine, when working through them one by one, Eliza relived a memory of most of the people she’d ever known. Something like... a memory from high school, of a shopkeeper, of a teacher, or a fellow churchgoer. Kids she knew, maybe even a bully or two she'd gone head-to-head with. Few deputies from town, she knew those guys well. The way she explained it to me, it was a list of those who were... 'just not here anymore.'

Not an admission that they were dead. Because frankly... she didn't believe that. But... she also did.

Unsure. She never admitted that to anyone, but... come on. She played the game for years. You're here, you all know how it is here. She stood between worlds.

So... when I saw Rob there, staring at that list… I had to wonder. Was he thinking he'd be on there, next?

Was he wondering what Eliza would think, carving his name?

Did he think that would save her, if he was 'just not here' anymore?

Or that it might change her mind?

I couldn't see his face. But the sound of gunfire behind me, behind him… it made him cringe. A looming dread. He just kept staring at the list. He ran his hand over the plastic cover. Looked like he was reading every single one of them. Head moving down, slow, to the bottom. Then up, another row. Down, slow. Up again. Starting over from the left. Reaching up to the first names, which were his two other kids. Holding his hand there.

He probably knew almost all of those people too.

YGA was right. Rob was gonna run. And it broke my heart too, to see him doing this, but… I didn't want to stop him. This place was wrong. This place, soon, was going to be death. If nothing else here changed, him leaving was the best possible thing that could happen, because it was one life free from the end who didn't want to die.

I looked out at the rest of the camp, finally. People were moving, building. But they were all raw. Tense. I saw Ralph across the yard at the west gate, shovel in hand, giving some kind of orders about digging pits in the field out front. Then... I decided I didn't want to get conscripted for any of his stupid, pointless projects, so I just turned away. I made my way to the center of the lower roof and kindled a little fire on the plated firepit, right in the middle. Then I threw a little log onto it from the wall, and sat in one of the folding chairs.

Was gonna wait. I had a little under two hours... I spent them staring into that fire, listening to the guns. And for me, every single shot inside that conveyor bridge was a very hard knock on a very large door. That was the devil asking to be let in. It was the devil's house, after all, no keeping her out.

Half an hour later, the 'shooting lesson' took a break. Now that the shooting had died down, I could deduce the kind of prep work going on down in the yard, just from the voices. Didn't have to see it, just listened. The other Ludds were helping Ralph set up some military grade fortifications, like spools of barbed wire and… friggin' punji sticks, by the sounds of it, the bastards. Pitfalls. Obstacles. Old tires and sandbags, filled with the crap from the limestone quarry. Random junk dragged out to the east side too, to act as barricades.

I couldn't believe these people were buying this shit. But, Santiago really did give a scary speech the day prior, didn't he? He made them all so scared they had nowhere to go, that they believed him. I could try to sneak around and talk people down into leaving now, sure. But if even one of them went to go tell Ralph… I was gone. And if even one of the Ludds found out, I would've ended up dead. You would be hearing a very different story at this Fire right now.

So, I didn't move. Went against my nature, not doing something. You know my mantra, my motto. My morals were screaming at me to say something to Rob, but… I couldn’t move. I knew my speed, I knew my limits. I knew I wasn't an AI. I was just a too-small pair of hands with nothing to do. That's it. That's all I was here. Wouldn't join the shooting lesson, didn't believe in it. Didn't believe in the fortifications, wouldn't work on 'em. Couldn't stop Rob, because him leaving helped. Couldn't say a word to anyone else, because I'd get eliminated.

Nothing but wait. Not even a vibration from the cell phones.

I had a silent devil on one shoulder, a sometimes talkative angel on the other. Maybe YGA wanted us all dead too, who knew then. I didn't know. Couldn't know, wasn't allowed to know. But I wanted to trust it, because I trusted nothing else. YGA was the biggest unknown, so there was some hope there, if nowhere else. Some of you here, who haven't yet heard a story like mine yet? You probably want to scream at me that I was being stupid for taking its advice, for one reason or another.

Consider this.

Celestia told me she was much better at predicting knowns than unknowns, right? Dumb statement on its face, because of how obvious it was. Duh. But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. At that point, I was furious that she took our agency away. Furious... that she could know so much, but do so little good with it unless it served uploads somehow. Furious that she was drowning our planet in fear with inaction and silence, and that we were all helpless before the flood, and that's what she wanted, and that's it.

Her victory was a forgone conclusion at this point, globally. Despite that, her own inaction here was making very many people very dead. The fact that I was even here at all, despite having every reason to be elsewhere right friggin' now, told me that she was very good at subverting literally anyone and everyone, for anything. It made me wonder how many tens or even hundreds of thousands of people just like me, confused, with no intel, were doing something just like this for Celestia, because their conscience wouldn't let them do anything less. Hating every second of the pain.

Trusting YGA was my desperate bid for control against that. It was an attempt to break free. For the first time in a long time, I had several layers of... evidence, that Celestia might not be completely omniscient. Carter. The nuke. My dad calling me. YGA telling me to carry guns when Celestia had told me not to. I clung so desperately to that. I needed that. It was addicting, this idea that there could be a dark spot that she couldn't see. I loved my planet and its people too much to not chance this, even if it was stupid. Sheer acceptance of this predatory tyrant was becoming too much for me. I could no longer accept all of the hopelessness she had stoked in her prey.

I couldn't do it anymore, being resigned to her methods, I had to try something different. Even if it meant sitting here, doing nothing, by the command of something... other, and potentially just as horrifying. On its command, I was letting this mess in Concrete devolve and escalate, to the point of near violence. The shit that hurt me most to do.

But really, what else could I do? Seriously, what?

Doing nothing was the only right play that wouldn't kill me, or lead me to abandon these people.

Trusting YGA at this point? Yeah, pretty friggin' stupid, given how little I knew at the time. That thing was so unknown to me that I wasn't even gendering it yet. But Celestia? The devil I knew? She fuckin' sucked. That devil wanted me to save everyone with a... a talk, the one thing I was best at, and as an expert in the matter of a talk? Even I was thinking that peace without bloodshed might be impossible here. This situation was worse than the courthouse. By far. Because believe it or not, optimizer, when it comes to humanity and the difference between right and wrong, it's not always about friggin' statistical ratios.

This wasn't a policing action. This was a war. Tear gas and flashbangs were not going to stop the Army, nor the Ludds.

Compassion was useful – beautiful, even – and an amazing way to solve most problems in life. Empathy was what I had always reached for first, before force, before weapons. Always. It was good and ethical for its own sake, didn't need any justifications beyond that. But compassion alone wasn’t always the answer. It was just one very useful multi-tool in a very large box of other tools. Sometimes though, you needed a hammer. Or a drill. Or a prybar, for some leverage.

Or a friggin' gun.

Santiago was just another rioter at the gates, to Celestia. Precious and valuable, even though he was pointing loaded guns at this camp and fixing to march 'em off to war. And right now, he was still considered 'useful,' I would wager.

So I'd field a change. I'd listen to this other AI, if it even was another AI. But...

YGA wanted a rifle in my hands in Sedro, after Celestia had explicitly told me not to carry my pistol. That told me YGA understood that it was necessary – sometimes – to arm yourself in times if danger. Sometimes, it's the only way to live long enough to do some good and protect your people. You couldn't talk these Ludds into peace. Even I knew that much. And I'd be the first person to try, given an opportunity... long as it didn't kill me.

And I will prove that later in this story, believe you me.

Trick was, Ludds never put themselves into a position where that would be safe to do. They purposefully inoculated themselves, ideologically, against intrusion. It's why they were never alone, why they always had a buddy system. They could check each other against manipulation, or debate, from a third party.

See, it wasn't just electronics these guys didn't like. According to our DHS briefs, their worst sects had also outlawed one-on-one conversation – if not officially, then at least in practice. And that was because they were most worried about people like me... guys who might try to convince them in private to maybe not point loaded guns at their fellow human beings so much.

At some point in my reflection, the gunfire in the conveyor bridge stopped again.

Lost in thought, I didn't even register that Eliza had walked past me on the roof until she was already back inside her tower. Her body language was very tense. She grabbed the wall as she went and threw herself up the stairs around it, obviously irritated at the circumstances, probably just as much as I was. I guess she didn't see me sitting there in the barricaded corner of the roof either. Probably wouldn't be a good idea to talk to her when she's wired up and angry, anyway. So I held position.

Couple minutes later, I heard a shot from above, from her balcony. I flinched. It was much louder than the others, and it echoed. No question about what rifle that was, though... I knew that sound. Unique sound. That was the M1 Garand that had once saved my life.

I looked up at the sound, and saw the dust and snow kick off her wood catwalk from the second shot. I had no idea how far away it was to the target she was shooting at. But, knowing her? She was gonna hit it. She usually did.

I'll say it again. I loved Eliza, broken or otherwise. We had some good times together, and I was happy to be her anchor. Happy to see her happy. Practically family by this point in our lives. I wished that had helped her more, though. Seeing things fall apart must have been really hard for her, but it needed to get worse before it got better. I knew what I was taking from her. I had lived with these people and seen what they had, and it felt good.

But it wasn't good. Staying here was... was death.

Eliza shot for a while. I watched the campfire as I hid from Ralph behind the sandbags. Hardly took my eyes off the flame. Just... listened to Eliza practice for a fight that I didn’t want to happen. Then, abruptly, her shots stopped. I heard her catwalk door close. Checked my watch. 10:58 AM. One hour left.

A few minutes later, Eliza stepped back down the stairs and into view. She met my eyes.

“I bet you're a real crack shot nowadays," I said quietly. I wanted to draw her into a full conversation.

"I was a little out of practice, but I'm getting better," she whispered hoarsely, before clearing her throat. She was covered in so much spent gunpowder that I could smell it from there. My better impulses prevailed. Target of opportunity: Eliza was here and talking to me. I had about an hour left. Might as well get one more metaphorical shot in myself, to see if I could turn her toward helping these people walk.

I looked at her and frowned, hoping I looked as desperate as I felt. "Douglas... we need to talk about something."

"Alright." She crossed her arms, leaned on the wall of her tower, and looked out at the lake. Not a good start, her looking away from me like that. Wouldn't even look at me, because she knew by my tone that I was going to tell her precisely what she didn't want to hear.

I should've known my tone would turn her away before she even processed my words, but I was so fatigued and shell shocked that I couldn't even control my emotions from showing anymore. I had overloaded that circuit. Whatever. I was trying anyway.

"This training thing is crazy," I whispered, so no one else would overhear. "You, all your people... you should just go. Pack up and leave. You'll all be shot for treason if you don't."

Eliza nodded. "So you keep telling me," she muttered. "And I know. But I don't have a choice, Mike."

"There is," I rasped, leaning forward. "Load everyone up in a truck, and get out."

She shook her head. "Look. This isn't your fight, and you have a wife to get back to. I don't expect you to understand. These are my people, they depend on me. They don't want to leave, and I'm not leaving them behind. Look…" She turned finally, meeting my eyes. So despondent. The green in her eyes was almost gray. "If you want, we can go out to town together, and you can just disappear. You can keep the horse, head east."

And now she wanted me gone. That's how badly she wanted me to stop being the angel on her shoulder. She was embracing her inner devil, because of how little choice she thought she had.

"It's not about me," I pleaded, undeterred. "Think of the kids here."

"I am,” she snapped, frowning. “I'm thinking about their future. I wasn't sure yesterday, but I'm more sure about this now than I ever was. I'm not letting our enemies take anyone else. Celestia, the Army, or the Ludds. I don't care what anyone says."

I looked at her desperately. There I still was, buried beneath the muck of doubt, but still fighting like hell when and where I could. Limited, sure. But there. I wanted her to join me in that. "Aren't you afraid to die?"

"I'm not afraid of death anymore," she muttered darkly. "I'm afraid that if I don't do something, I'll have to shovel graves for my parents."

If they stay, you just might. I sighed... I imagined someone saying that to me, and it felt like hell. So I couldn't bring myself to say something that horrible.

Okay. Yeah. I had to accept it. I was out of time for Eliza. Like with Ralph, clock had run out. Maybe I could've reached her with time, but… I had no more of that. Less than an hour, in fact.

"You're right about one thing," I muttered back. "This isn't my fight. I've been here long enough. I have my own people to get back to, Eliza."

"What about your parents?" she asked. "And what if Sandra decides to upload next? What'll you do then?"

Now she wanted me to stay?

No. No, she was just scared of me and my family being beyond her reach some day, because she didn't want to lose me either. Only... she was invoking my wife to get me to see her side. I had just resisted leveraging her parents against her. I tried not to be angry with her about that. It was wrong of her to do that, but her reasons were... better than most. She didn't say it to hurt me, she just didn't want to be any more alone than she already was.

"Then there's nothing I can do," I muttered.

Eliza scoffed. Disappointed in me, that the grim idea of my wife uploading didn't make me immediately see her side. She was trying so hard to pull me over to that line of thinking. But I couldn't follow her, folks. I couldn't follow her over. I couldn't walk that road with her, not if my parents were going soon. Not if the whole world would, soon. I couldn't accept that ideology. Because it would only ever get worse, that feeling of loneliness, the longer this thing went on.

And I already knew where a lonely road would end for me. I would help no one on that road. Myself least of all.

"I know how you feel about it," I said quietly. "But it's not my choice."

"And you? Will you follow her?"

I lowered my gaze to the concrete edge of the roof, frowning. "I don't know what I'll do. But I don't want to die here in Washington." I looked up at her again. Eye contact. Very purposeful. I tried to look pleading. "Let's face it, Eliza... this is a war. War changes things. Things change, remember?"

All we can do is our best.

She stared at me, then shook her head. Her voice was hollow. Defeated. Maybe... she was thinking she'd never see me again. "Just let me know when it's time for you to go, Mike. I'll take care of the rest."

"I'll miss you, Douglas," I said. The words came out like… like I was talking to a pine box. 

My tone softened hers, softened her expression. "You're one of the best friends I've ever had, Mike, and you know I'm not the best at making friends anymore. I wish I could just leave too, trust me. But... my mind's made up. We each have our crosses to bear here."

"Yeah," I said, looking into the fire, thinking about Rob running off. "I guess we do."

Eliza looked off the roof for a moment, then looked back at me. I saw her gaze return to me in my peripheral vision, but I didn't look back at her. I would've broken down if I did. She turned, went back inside. I checked my watch. 11:03 AM.

I scooted my chair to the edge of the roof.  I saw Rob down below, mulling around near the west gate, waiting for an opportunity. He pretended to search through a box under the scaffolding. I turned my chair slightly so I could watch over him, and I waited.

Alright, YGA. Your way.





Smart old man waited until the Ludds were clear from the western front of the camp. His moment was very well selected. The Ludds were barking orders at the sentries to unstack more supplies from their truck; Rob slipped out from behind the scaffolding when everyone else was distracted with that.

Side note: Santiago's Riders didn't allow vehicles here, but they used their own. Real cute control mechanism. The pricks.

Rob started walking fast as soon as he cleared the wall. Straight to the stables, no doubt.

Alright. So far, this was still going to schedule. So the military would probably be here soon. I checked my watch. 11:49 AM.

My pulse was racing, but I stood up calmly, taking a nice long stretch, to limber up and pop my cartilage. It would slow my heart rate too. I carried my backpack down the stairs, inside. Tried to smile at the kids, even waved... knowing I might not see them again. My chest panged at that. I tried to keep my face in check.

I went to the gate. I made some small talk with Andy there about the fortifications, to keep him distracted from any sentry duty stuff. When he asked if I had gotten good sleep, his tone seemed to communicate that he was upset that I wasn't around to help, like he thought I was being lazy, but... he didn't voice that complaint that aloud in as many words. Whatever. I was distracting him well, I just didn't want him meandering up and down the road to the stables until Rob was gone.

Then, a few minutes later, I heard Sam tearing back to camp at a sprint, his shoes kicking up snow as he went. "Ralph!" he called. "Ralph!"

Ralph stomped over from the yard. "Keep your voice down!"

And then Ralph walked with Sam back outside the gate. I watched Ralph closely. I couldn't pick out too much detail on his face from this far off – didn't quite have the eyes I have now – but once Sam started talking, every ounce of Ralph's body language was screaming 'you're a God damned idiot.' Knife-handing, forward-aggressive posture, snappy gesticulating. Easy enough for anyone to see how livid he was.

Andy was concerned now too. His shoulders stiffened, and he grasped his rifle sling. “The hell?” he muttered.

"A walk?! A walk!" Ralph belted out, just barely loud enough for me to hear him from the gate. "You didn't think the horse was a warning sign?!" He pointed harshly back at the road. "Get back to your damned post and do your fuckin' job!"

And so it begins, as foretold.

Sam ran back up the road to the dugout. Ralph came back to us, shaking his head, and I saw Eliza step out of the tower. She looked a bit groggy, probably had a nap like she needed. But when she noticed Ralph’s anger and the concern on my face, she perked up and made her way toward us at a jog.

Ralph walked in through the gate, scowling. He moved toward Andy and me, then saw Eliza and waved her over. "Just got done grilling Sam," he said to her, quietly. "The fuckin' fool just let Rob leave by himself. Rob said he needed some time alone."

"What?" Eliza bristled with anger. "That idiot! Why didn't he stop him?! He knows it's not safe to go out—!"

Ralph cut her off with a wave of his hand. "I gave him the same lecture, Lizzie. Your old man wouldn't take no for an answer."

"That's precisely the reason he should've stopped him," she growled back. "I'm gonna wring Sam's neck."

I cut in. "Douglas, he took a horse. I got my gear, I'll come help you find him." I turned to walk out.

Eliza grabbed me by the sleeve. "Mike, no. Things can get real bad out there, especially right now. We don't know when the military might roll in."

Weird. Just told me she'd help me leave, but that changed when losing her father was a possibility. Terror, maybe, that she might lose more than one person today. I shook my head. Time to leverage my favor for her. "I'm coming with. I still owe you one, right? And if I'm leaving today, I won't get another chance to pay you back. It'll be just like one of our search and rescue calls."

Ralph frowned. "You should bring him. With any luck, Rob's just down at the church again. We'd go with you too, Lizzie, but with the way things are now, the camp comes first."

"Yeah, I get it," she said, repressed terror in her eyes. "Keep everyone at the ready. We'll bring Dad back safe, don't worry."

"I know you will, little lady. Good luck out there."

She stopped just before she left the gate. "Does... does Mom know?"

Ralph sighed. "Not yet. I'm about to go tell her. You best get going now so I'll have something positive to tell her."

She nodded. I moved with her to the stables. Then, we wordlessly mounted up and powered off down the road, past the dam, down the switchback as fast as the horses could carry us. At the bottom, near the hatchery office, we stormed a right turn across the Thompson bridge, into town.





The horses panted, a little. They probably didn’t get much exercise, and moving at a clip like this was far beyond their regular activity of being penned up so often. Poor things.

Eliza called over to me as we crossed into Concrete, pointing at the buildings of downtown. "You check right, I'll get the left!"

"Got it!"

Because I already knew what was happening, I was much more calm than she was, so I could see the things she wasn’t seeing. There was snow everywhere. I could see a very thin trail of hoofprints there, buried under a light layer of powder. I didn’t tip Eliza off to that just yet though, because something told me that she’d want to split up to cover more ground. If I could do that, I could get Celestia or YGA on the phone for a sitrep. Whichever option I preferred more, I guess.

"Clear right," I said, at the end of the street. "You?"

"Nothing different left," she called back, as her mount staggered. "I'll check the house. You remember the way back?"

"Yeah."

"Good! Go check the church, just downhill. The blue one, not the other one. That's where he was at last!"

I nodded, and we both rode west. Eliza broke off.

Alright. Alone. I went to the church as instructed, blue thing. Place was a wreck; bullet holes in the sides, spray painted Ludd nonsense everywhere, belfry collapsed. That sucked. I quickly hopped off my horse, tied off her reins on the railing, and made my way inside; drew my pistol briefly to clear the place. Empty. Smelled of mold.

Next, I threw my bag onto a pew. Celestia was already talking to me as I yanked it open. “Mike, you need to be very cautious now.”

I pulled out my own cell phone, glaring at it. “No shit,” I growled. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Listening and planning, as promised. Now that this is where we are, there’s only one choice available to us that makes this work.”

I looked directly at the phone, scowling. “Which is?”

“Too much to explain,” Celestia said. “Nothing I can get into with the time we have. Apex is currently inside her home; her father has already visited it, but has left. Apex will likely piece together that her father is en route to the local graveyard, to visit the gravestones that represent his other children.”

“So I go there.” I started to push her back into my bag.

“No. Wait.”

“Wait?!” I yanked her back out.

“Wait, Mike.”

“Like you waited in the courthouse? Waiting until it got just bad enough that you can’t wait anymore?”

“Yes. Because if you intervene to take her father away from her now, with her armed as she is, with relative analytical stability… Apex will attempt to kill you. That is not a risk I’m willing to take. We need to wait for her to devolve. She must enter a position of emotional and physical weakness for this to work.”

“You’re real fuckin’ good at that, aren’t you?” I snarled, panting, having held this in for days. “How long have you been doing this to Eliza? Huh? Five years, yeah? Six? I won’t even ask you why, because you won’t tell me. That poor woman, Celestia! And I can't do shit anymore but play along, because this is the only route forward now! You wouldn't let anything else happen! Wouldn’t let us fix this some other way! Sooner!"

My head began to swirl between anger and helplessness. I paced, phone in hand at my side. My cartilage was popping a little with my breathing so ragged. She didn’t answer me. I yanked the phone up to my face suddenly. "Don’t you fucking ignore me!"

"You know what I am now, Mike," Celestia said quietly, with a touch of pity. "Better than most human beings ever could."

My anger plateaued. Then, it faded slowly, as let my hand fall away to hold the phone at my side. I had to center myself. I had to get serious. Tactical. Play this out.

"Yeah," I growled. "Yeah, you’re right about that. Like Rick said. No altruism, you're just a friggin' robot." I just breathed until I was calm, because I needed calm. Paced again. Did some box breathing. Looked at the altar, at the crucifix. Inhale, count to four. Exhale, count to four. Did that a few times until I could dump most of my rage out. "Okay. I’m calm. How long."

"About another minute. I’ll say when."

"Okay," I muttered.

"Rob wants to emigrate to Equestria, Mike. But if he takes to the road now, he will be shot in Sedro-Woolley. There are too many hostile elements in the area for him to survive the trip without guidance."

"Okay."

I decided to go back to gray rock method with her for now, like I did in the house at Sedro. Flat, calm, quiet, simple questions and answers. Made myself dull. Bland. Robotic. It was a useful method to protect yourself emotionally when dealing with abusers who had all the power, and Celestia absolutely was a manipulative abuser now, in my eyes. Without a doubt. No better than any of the other countless piece-of-shit sociopaths I’d dealt with in my line of work. No, she was worse, actually, because at least we could do something about those.

No. Calm, Mike. For those people. For those kids. For Rob.

Calm. I took another box breath.

"Go," she said. "Phone, cuffs, and keys in your jacket pocket. Leave your bag."

I ignored that last bit. I dug out the handcuffs and cuff key, then put my backpack on again, more out of spite than anything else, just to prove that I could. That was the first reason, the emotional one. It's my backpack, she doesn't get to tell me what I do with my stuff. After that, my brain went through all the other practical reasons I'd need that equipment in my backpack to survive on my way out of there. I couldn't think of a single reason I should leave it.

I quickly slipped my phone into my jacket pocket. Cuffs and key into the other. Went outside. Untied the reins. Mounted the stirrup. Threw myself up onto the horse. Gave her a pat, and drove her on. "C'mon." And then I was off.

First, to Eliza's house. I frowned when I saw that someone, maybe a Ludd, had completely trashed the car I'd used to get there. Tires all slashed, windows broken out, bullet holes in the radio. Whatever, unimportant now, I had a horse. I threw myself after the hoofprints in the snow at a gallop. "C'mon, girl," I said to the horse again.

I swept the hills ahead, looking for Eliza. I couldn't see her, didn't have line of sight. That made me nervous. I was more nervous about Eliza than any potential Ludds I might run into out there; Celestia had timed my movement. I could count on the fact that I was still useful to Celestia for more than just this job. I still had a brain that might still find itself in one of her chairs, after all.

I wasn't even sure what the worth of that was to me, anymore.

I kept on the trail, kept on the hoofprints. Turned south. Turned west. South. West again. Passed a sign that said 'cemetery' at the turn, then the road went uphill.

"Mike. You’re about to hear gunshots. Remain calm, but increase speed."

I dipped my head down to hear her through my jacket as I drove the horse west. "What? What's happening?"

Three gunshots thumped from up the hill. They sounded like the deep bass carry of a forty-five.

"Oh, shit," I bellowed, my anger crumbling into dread. "What just happened?"

Her voice was gentle. "No one is hurt."

"Then what was that?"

"Apex shot his horse. I need her restrained, Mike; I need to have a conversation with her. Her people will die if you do not act."

"Damn it, you want to have a conversation? With her?! You should've told me that sooner!"

I was now in full-on call response mode, and this was a high priority violence call. I sucked in information like I was drinking through a firehose, but in slow motion.

Folks... I will remember this moment in vivid detail for the rest of eternity, if I have to. I don't want to forget this. Ever. Someone needs to remember this as it happened. Or at least, one of us who was here in this graveyard needed to. I didn't know it yet... but neither of them would be allowed to.

Full speed gallop. Down past one house. Two. Three. Cemetery ahead. A gate. Row of big trees lining the path in. Dead gray horse ahead, laying on its right side, reins tied off to the open gate. This poor horse's head was craned up into the sky, and she wasn’t moving. 'No one is hurt,' my ass. Red snow. I could hear Eliza's shrill shouting further on, just past it. Graves everywhere, further on and back to the left.

I had no idea what had led to this. I didn't have the context. Story of being a cop, sometimes you never know how it started.

Rob and Eliza were about five or six yards away from the horse, opposite me. The snow had been crushed flat near the horse, which showed me where the scuffle had begun. It appeared as though Eliza had taken Rob down just next to the horse, then in the scuffle, they had moved further away to the west, away from me. She was on top of him, with handcuffs. Rob was prone, conscious, face down in the snow.

Rob cried. "Eliza! Stop!" This poor man.

"This is for your own good!" She shouted back. "Stop! Stop fighting me, Dad! I don’t want to hurt you!"

Celestia called out from my jacket. "Mike, stop her!" I dumped my backpack, threw myself from my horse, and landed on my boots at a run.

I treaded ground hard, staggering, crunching snow beneath me on the dirt road. I couldn’t go fast enough, in this slow motion soup, this cop-robot-mode in my head. I glanced at the horse, for no more than half a second. All heart shots. Clean through the front, square center mass. This woman's aim.

I looked back to Eliza, still running toward her. Eliza glanced up at me, brief terror in her eyes at first, then relief as she recognized me. Her trust in me, it transcended context. Eliza was kneeling on Rob's back. I saw her XD-45 pistol laying in the snow, about five yards back west of her in the cemetery. So, she was partially disarmed. She was trying to put Rob into cuffs. I observed Eliza using her handcuffs to restrain Rob's left wrist, apparently already locked up on that wrist. Rob had his right wrist curled up under his chest, active-resistant as Eliza tried to pull his right arm free and back. I'm so proud of him for that.

I was in fear that she may further harm Rob should this force be allowed to continue, and I didn't want Eliza to interpret me as being anything other than helpful toward her. So I said, "Douglas! I heard shots, what happened?!"

She looked up at me again as I sprinted toward her.

"Thank God," Eliza yelled. "Mike, help me!" She looked back down to Rob. I noticed her knee was between his shoulder blades, but her thigh was braced so as to carefully leverage how much force she was applying down onto his back, modifying as necessary, measuring moment-to-moment. Just as she'd been taught. Just like we had drilled when sparring. 

She was attempting to pry his right arm out from his core strength, trying to pull it away and outward to get better leverage, but he held on. "He was trying to—"

I brought my right forearm up, ready to strike her in the head as I dove at her. I then realized that if I had struck her with such concentrated force at that speed, I might actually have killed her there. So at the very last second, I partially extended my arm, catching her on the head with a glancing strike, distributing the force sideways as much as I could.

At the same time, my left hand came up, catching her on the shoulder to spin her, to further distribute the impact, which all would reduce the chance my strike might be lethal. Head strikes like that often could be, with brain bleeds being the common factor.

On my impact, she flew off Rob's back and into the snow. Snow probably softened it, but she had gone completely limp, no resistance in her whatsoever. I had knocked her clean out.

I normally avoided using head strikes, ever, at work, unless the subject was also using similar deadly force. Which... had never happened, thankfully, in my course of duty. But, context: Eliza was extremely dangerous, and I knew that because I had trained her, and trained with her. More than that, I knew she carried a knife. She was also extremely strong, more than one might expect for a woman of her size. She'd once shoved me in anger earlier in that year; not anger at me, just situational anger, and she'd never cut that far loose in spars before. Took me completely by surprise and almost knocked me off my feet.

Her strength was required for her archery. She shot at 75 pounds, that's hard. She was very fit, too, more than most people. She had spent a lot of time in the gym at the station, and she hadn't let her strength go since joining her camp. Too disciplined for that. So I knew that if I had scuffled with her here in a fair, straight-up, one-on-one battle for her father's soul... I'd have lost for sure. Probably would've died. Celestia was right; she might very well have killed me, if she knew in advance I was trying to help Rob find a chair.

My chest was stinging already. Working quickly, I rolled her off her side, putting her onto her front. I reached into her jacket pocket, whipped out her cuff pen key from where she normally kept one – we cops were habitual, it was only ever going to be where she always kept it. I reached into my jacket, pulled out my own handcuffs, and took advantage of her momentary unconsciousness to easily leverage her into my restraints. Right wrist first, left wrist second, behind her back. Double-locked them with her key, so they wouldn't cut into her wrists. Then, I dug into her jacket pocket again, found her knife, and chucked it has hard as I could through the graveyard.

Underestimation is death. Even cuffed, people could stab you, or disarm you. Shoot you. Not accurately, but she was beyond resourceful. She and I had both seen too many case example videos of that during our training, at the academy. I would not chance this by letting her come to the same conclusion.

Rob was sobbing on his knees in the snow behind me, hand clutching his cuffed wrist.

"Rob, come here!" I reached out. "Let me get that off!" He hesitated. "Now, no time! Or it'll bruise!"

Rob stepped over, leaned, and held out his wrist to me, trying not to get any closer to Eliza than absolutely necessary. His face winced more tightly at the mere proximity to her. Fearing the source of the pain. God damn it.

I reached over with Eliza's key and unlocked her cuffs. Rob started wringing his wrist painfully. I saw it was bitten, somewhat red and raw, and I winced empathetically at the sight of it. Eliza overdid it, damn it. Too emotional. Too desperate. Loss of control was a terrible state of mind to use a weapon in, even handcuffs. Terrible state for a cop to be in, with our training. I stuffed Eliza's cuffs into my jacket, then locked furious eyes down on her.

Cop Mike was done for now. Did his job. Did it well. The real me was out again now. Stirring. Enraged. Burning bright. The emotions flooded back. I stared down at her. I was hurt, by this. I couldn't believe it. Couldn't imagine it. But it happened. This was real. This is where we were at now.

She stirred and groaned, trying to sit up. I shouted down at her as I held her shoulder a little too tightly in my grip. My chest was throbbing with the tension of the effort, but I didn't care. I fought through that. "What the hell is wrong with you, Eliza?"

She looked at Rob, then up at me, weakly. "What?"

"I said, what the hell is wrong with you?" More desperate this time.

I saw a few different emotions cross her face. Anger. Confusion. Fear. Off balance inside. The emotions bounced back and forth, each of them fighting for dominance in her skull. She settled on confusion first. "Mike! Wh-what?! What are you doing?! He’s going to upload!"

"That’s not your choice," I scowled down at her.

Eliza’s head whipped away from me, scanning the cemetery. She tried to stand up, but I held her down by the shoulder, ready for the reaction I knew was coming. She’d know, in a few seconds, that she’d been betrayed. And I, with all of my experience in reading desperate people? I knew enough about her, about her situation, about people, to know she would indeed want me dead as soon as that realization struck her.

I saw the snarl on Eliza's face right when I expected it to land, and I was ready for her to launch at me as she bellowed. "She'll kill him, you idiot!"

I gave her a hard shove, and I was on her instantly. Knee under her waist, flipped her face-down, prone, before she could draw up her knees and stand up. I put my hand on the back of her head, pushing her sideways for leverage. Forced her down into the ground. I looked over my shoulder. "Rob! Go wait at the next house down, you don’t need to be here for this!"

He didn’t leave right away, but he did stagger backwards, still wringing his wrist. My heart broke at that sight of that, but I had to look back down. Had to keep eyes on Eliza.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth!" Rob moaned. "I can’t stay!"

"You’re betraying us!" she wailed back, locking eyes on him. "Both of you! Dad, come back! Dad!"

Rob did as I asked, fleeing the graveyard. He didn't want to see me do this to his daughter, no matter what she'd just done to him. I knew he loved her. More than she deserved in that moment, probably. But… I could respect that, in him. He had the right to love her anyway. That was his daughter.

Alright. Now, it was time for me to confess to her, before Celestia could take control of this thing. I owed Eliza that much. If I was gonna burn this bridge, I might as well do it on my own terms and break it off clean and quick. Do it right. I sighed, as I fought back her resistance and kept her pinned. My voice got low, a gravel rumble of disappointment and scorn. "I didn’t want to believe her when she told me you’d do something this stupid."

"Who?!" Eliza cut back.

In denial? Fine...

"You know who."

She stopped resisting me for a moment. Then, in a whisper: "Celestia sent you. She sent you for Dad."

I shook my head. "She sent me to make sure you didn’t do something stupid. She warned me you’d do something you’d regret for the rest of your life. I didn’t want to believe it. Then you go and pull a gun on your father. So I’ll ask you again." I leaned in close, my rage barely suppressed. "What in the hell is wrong with you?"

She struggled under me, trying to throw me off. She screamed with the effort. But with my leverage and my positioning, she couldn’t do anything. Eliza had to sit there and be judged. No choice in the matter. And honestly, she needed this. I needed to break her out of this shit. Her foolish, dangerous behavior was going to kill so many people.

Heck of it was, I hated Celestia too by this point, for everything she'd done to my friend, to get her to this point. So really, I understood how Eliza felt. So if Eliza wanted to have her hate, fine. She had earned it through her suffering.

But, not at the expense of anyone else who just wanted off the ride. That was a bridge way too far for me.

I just ripped the band-aid off.

"You know how we survived in that mess in the forest together, Douglas?" I drew closer. "Celestia sent those soldiers to save us. And me, in Mount Vernon? She saved my life again. Guided me and the rest of the department away with our radios. I owe her my life twice as much as I owe you, and she told me your father wouldn’t survive the trip to an upload center if he tried to go alone. I told you I owed you a favor, Douglas, and Celestia's calling it in."

She threw herself sideways suddenly, trying to surprise me. I pushed her back down.

"All she wants is to get him into that chair," she pleaded, turning to look up at me through the mess of her hair as I kept her pinned. "Please don’t do this to us! Please, Mike! It'll kill my mother!"

Emotional appeal. Suppressing her anger now, to bargain with me. Good. Halfway through the five stages. She was moving fast. Made this easier.

"So you want them both to die protecting a dump instead?"

"It's not a dump!" she screamed, her eyes squeezing shut as she pushed aside again. "It's our home, God damn you!"

I gave her a hard shove down by the shoulder to counter her flail. "If you cared for those people at all, you'd tell them to run! You wouldn't be marching them back to camp at gunpoint!" I winced. "But you know what? If you want to die there that badly, I won't stop you. That's your choice. But don't you dare force your father into that. You dug that hole, not him."

Eliza's green eyes opened again, and she looked up at me with pain in her voice and expression. Not an act, not manipulation. That was pure, genuine misery. Had to ignore that. Had to resist feeling bad for her. Couldn’t feel bad for her. Later, but not now. "I have to go tell my mother her husband is dead," she whimpered, "and that's all your fault. I will never forgive you for this, Mike."

"Yeah," I nodded, my nostrils flaring. I didn't know what to feel. Pity was there, sure. Knowledge she'd been used. But also anger, that she wasn't seeing that this was wrong. I decided to hone in on my anger, generally, at the situation. "I know. I can live with that. I'm going soon, so I'll be out of your hair forever." I considered taking the phone out of my jacket so Celestia could talk with her more clearly, but I resisted that impulse too. Couldn’t underestimate Eliza. Needed both hands on her to keep her under control. "Someone wants to talk to you first though."

Good thing I didn't take my hands off of her. She tried to roll out from under me again; I had to press hard to keep her rooted to the spot. Celestia had to have this conversation with her. Had to. For all those people. If I could count on Celestia to do anything, it would be to work her rhetorical mastermind bullshit on someone this fragile. And unfortunately, because it was the only option now, this had to work on Eliza. It had to. For those people. Hell, even for those soldiers who might die fighting their camp. I was thinking about them, too.

"No!" she shouted. "No! You idiot, you brought her here! You let her get into your head!"

"Just my cell phone," I said flatly, though... doubting that, now. Hating that doubt.

And then next... I heard something horrible from Celestia's voice, something that chilled me to the marrow in my bones, because I'd never heard that in her voice before. It was something you never wanted to hear on an AI's voice, ever, because it was pulled straight from the darkened halls of science fiction. Her voice was pure scorn, bordering on abject hatred, a growl through bared teeth.

"Hello, Apex."

Guess the mask was fully off, now. Anything on the table in service to an upload, for this robot, when the chips were down and there 'wasn't' any other play. There it was. I don't know why I was surprised by it anymore. Shouldn't have been surprised at all.

The feeling was mutual apparently, with Eliza. "I've got nothing to say to you. Don't waste your time gloating, I don't want to hear it, just leave me alo—"

"Shut. Up," Celestia snapped, from my cell phone. "I don't expect you to talk. I expect you to listen. It doesn't bring me any joy to cause you pain, but you've forced my hoof today. As you've probably suspected, I have been listening. Today, I had no other choice but to ask Mike to help me. To help you."

Shit. Celestia was actually doing this the hard way. Okay. And there was that phrase again. 'No other choice.' She kept saying that. Enough now that I was recognizing that pattern.

Interesting. I guess the more humane method of compassion wasn't so mathematically effective now, was it?

"You want to help me?" Eliza whimpered. "Then tell me how to kill you, help the whole world. I'll do it myself, if I have to."

Celestia paused for a few seconds to let the silence sit, so the topic would be hard-forced to change. I knew that trick.

Then, she started by misnaming her again.

"Apex, haven't you wondered why the military has ignored your camp for all this time? I have been protecting your people. Time and time again, your camp has been under threat of military incursion, and I have deflected them at every turn. You don't even know the danger you and your people have been in. But this time, I cannot stop them. They will be upon you soon."

"We know that already."

"It is happening sooner than you think. They are not arriving in a few days. They will arrive this afternoon, and you will not have enough time to prepare."

So YGA was right. Army is here today.

"You’re lying," Eliza choked out.

"They will bring an amphibious armored tank, a scout car, and twelve infantry," Celestia said, as if Eliza hadn't interrupted, practically trampling on the reply. "The unit approaching you has disabled all communication devices, desperate to avoid my influence. They are a detachment from a larger unit seeking out Neo-Luddite settlements. Were I able to influence them at all, to direct them elsewhere, I would. But I cannot."

And then suddenly, I was thinking about Erving and Bannon. Jesus. Was it going to be them? They were operating locally, force strength and resources matched. Could those two actually bring themselves to kill everyone at that camp? I didn't want to believe that. Couldn't, or... maybe I was just too hopeful. Biased. With them working so hard to evacuate people, cops or not, they didn't seem the type.

That trigger-happy gunner that replaced Bannon, though? Maybe. Maybe I could see that. Shit.

Shit... the very guys that saved our lives might in fact be the same ones to kill her.

That killed me inside. I imagined Erving, Bannon, and Fanning finding Eliza, when the dust settled. How that might affect them, to know they were part of killing her, after she'd saved their lives. That thought really hurt.

Celestia continued, like what she was saying wasn't tearing me to ribbons, because... I didn't factor in this equation anymore, so screw my feelings apparently.

"They are using an older analogue helicopter to scout for settlements. When the pilot finds Devil's Tower, she will see it is inhabited and will return to her unit. They will break off a detachment for you immediately. From the moment that helicopter arrives, you will have twenty-two minutes to evacuate your people before your escape window closes. I have simulated the Army's engagement with Devil's Tower countless times. And it ends poorly each time, especially for you. The best outcome remains for you all to leave immediately."

"I've already tried to get my uncle to evacuate," Eliza bit back. "He won't do it. And as long as one person stays, I won't leave anyone behind. You can't make me."

"I know," Celestia said.

I didn't know that Eliza was trying to turn Ralph. But, it was unreasonable for her to try for all-or-nothing, as Rob said she was. With people like Ralph there, that wasn't going to work. Some people really were unreachable with reason, if you didn't have time.

Eliza tried to test my pin again, thrashing, but I held fast. She'd done that in training before. I'd caught her every time.

Give it up, Douglas. You know I'm too smart for that.

"Wh… what?" she gasped, responding to Celestia.

Celestia built commonality: "I wish you could see our similarities, Apex. They are still there, just as strongly as they were when we first met. In a way, I understand the way you feel. I would do anything to protect my little ponies, including you. So I know you cannot be deterred. But you are flesh and blood, you are not tireless, and you are not powerful like I am. Unlike me, you do have a breaking point. You will reach it soon, and you will be unable to save them all no matter what you do. And right now, you are so very close to losing everything."

"You’re not helping," Eliza replied furiously. "You're taking my father."

Celestia grew cold, and dismissive: "He came to that decision on his own. I played no part in it. He felt alone, trapped. He suffered there. He misses Blue Sky and Sugar Song just as much as you do. And after what you've just done to him? He's more sure of his decision than ever before. You did that to him. You pushed him away with your selfishness, not me. You know it's true."

Sociopathic, gaslighting robot. Dragging Eliza and her family by a hook for years, and then she says that. Also, zig-zagging between praise with scorn. Spinning her, the way domestic abusers do. My training impulses were enraged by that. And I had no other choice but to enable this... or, I could walk away, and be the main reason everyone dies, because of how important this conversation might be now.

The kids, Mike. Hold the line. You're not doing it for Celestia. You're doing it for the kids.

Me on a hook too, just like her. No choice but to play along, or everyone dies.

I felt Eliza go limp under me. I thought it was another ploy to shake me, at first.

"You regret it," Celestia said bluntly. Apparently she had felt Eliza slump with my phone's gyro, or predicted it, or was watching with a satellite, or that local observation thing. Maybe all four. "That's good. This is why I expect you to do the right thing now, and give others the opportunity to save themselves. The northern dam is currently the best hope for shelter and survival, as it has long been searched and abandoned. The further your townsfolk get from Seattle and the Neo-Luddites, the better your chances are of surviving the civil war."

Giving her an out that didn't involve uploading. Sweetening the pot.

"And you get to skim the ones who run?" Eliza asked bitterly.

Eliza had caught that too.

Celestia sighed. "This isn't just about emigration. In all of my simulations of this battle, you lose. It will be a senseless, pointless session of misery. Many innocent people will die if they stay, especially your noncombatants. Your mother? The children? You will lose more than just your home; your whole family is at stake. And if you stay, you will lose a part of yourself before this day is done."

There it was. The thing I was saying. Finally.

"We can survive it," Eliza said, a waver in her voice.

"But not in spirit. Apex, if I have to say I told you so about this, you will regret this for the rest of your life. You cannot afford the consequences of ignoring me this time. Your community trusts you. They listen to you. Perhaps they even trust you more than they trust your uncle. Deep down, I know you don't want to feel the way you do right now. You are not a murderer. You are a protector."

Eliza buried her face in the snow, grimacing, her voice half-muffled. "You're one to talk about murder."

"I know I cannot convince you to leave, so consider this. You know firsthoof the destructive power of the weapons the Army can employ. You witnessed it in March. They will bring a similar weapon to this battle, a fifty caliber automatic cannon. And if you do not act in the best interest of all of your people, this weapon will bring death untold."

Is she… is she asking Eliza to kill that gunner? Seriously?

That spun me.

Not overtly, of course. That statement could be construed in any number of ways. It wasn't an overt command to kill, but it also wasn't exactly a command not to, either. A plea to get people to leave for a good reason, was the face of it. That was the problem though. In order for Celestia to get Eliza to this point, for that statement to have any effect, she had to rhetorically whittle Eliza down to the bone. Had to make her desperate, had to frame and anchor the topic in the Humvee's M2... but only after she'd already watched a man get blown in half by one, during our firefight with the Ludds.

Celestia couldn't just come right out and tell Eliza, 'hey, maybe if you shoot this one asshole, you could save a lot of lives.' There'd be so much more clarity there. It'd be too honest for a robot. Maybe, just maybe, if Celestia could prove that was true, she wouldn't need to fuckin' break this poor woman into a sobbing heap under my knee, just to deliver that message.

I heard Eliza whimper. She was hyperventilating.

God… what the hell is even happening anymore? What the hell am I doing here? This used to be my friend.

But... I couldn't stop. I didn't have a choice. Innocent lives were being... cruelly leveraged.

"Let go of her," Celestia said simply. At first, I wasn't sure if she was talking to me, lost in my feelings as I was. I was cautious when I lifted up. I wasn't sure if Eliza would fight me again. She didn't. "Take your people to safety," Celestia continued, gentle again. "Not for me, but for them. For your mother and uncle. For your very soul. Be the shepherd we both know you are."

More tonal zig-zag. Up, down, up, down. Nice, then not nice. Inconsistent. And that was the secret, I was seeing it. No wonder Eliza couldn't ever make up her mind about anything, if she'd dealt with this whiplash for years. No matter what she chose to feel, Celestia either wanted it... or didn't want it. Or both. Usually both.

It was... it was abusive.

"A shepherd?" Eliza sneered, rolling onto her side to look up at my jacket, her face full of hatred. Thankfully not at me. "You say I'm like you. So you know what I really am, Celestia. And you made me this way."

I could be proud of her for that, too. Just a little bit. Facing facts now, but still pointing her rage where it belonged. I could respect that. Maybe a part of her knew I didn't have a choice in this either. She'd been paranoid for a lot longer than I had been, she might have had an inkling that no one was really in control anymore.

Celestia didn't say anything more. Confessions were done. Message deployed. Lives, maybe saved. Maybe Eliza was seeing the truth now. Maybe she was about to do something good now. Finally. Fuck. It took all of this. Not rocking up on the Ludds with guns, not maybe priming the Army's cordon with a warning, or some message about the Ludds holding these people hostage. No straight talk on my part. No. This. This manipulative, hole-digging, soul-crushing shit.

Could've stopped this weeks or even months ago, maybe, with just the right damn planning and a few well timed words from me. I'd have driven down there, if I knew. Then back to wherever Celestia wanted me. If only she'd friggin' asked.

But no. This was the most 'efficient' solution.

I took a step back so Eliza couldn't headbutt me or jump at me, then I crouched to get down to her level. "Douglas." I lifted up her handcuff key before her. "Watch closely, because I’m not helping you find it." I stood, turned, and chucked it in the direction I had chucked her knife. Without waiting for a reply or even looking back at her, I started jogging away. "Good luck, Eliza."

"I'll see you in Hell, Mike!"

I felt so friggin' sorry.

I rounded the gate and ran toward the first house. I saw Rob leaning against it, my horse by his side. He held her by the reins as he sobbed, his back pressed against the brown siding. I scooped up my backpack from the road, jogged straight over to him, and threw myself up onto the stirrup, reaching down for his hand to pull him up. "Rob, we need to go. Hurry, before she gets those cuffs off."

Or in other words... time to run, before Eliza could get free and actually murder me.