Haven (The Last Humans Book 3) (7 page)

The woman lunges at me.

I duck in time to dodge the knife-like blades of the fan.

The contraption whooshes across the crown of my head, slicing a chunk of my hair off.

Unperturbed, the ivy-clad woman gracefully swings the deadly fan at my throat.

I
pivot back
to save my life, but the blades still connect with my throat.

A sharp stab of pain radiates from where the fan scratched me. Stunned but happy to be alive—or still exist, or whatever the proper term is for my state of being—I scramble backward and yell, “Who are you? Why are you attacking me?”

The woman doesn’t respond; instead, she executes a somersault.

It looks as though she’s doing a handstand that’s been recorded and played back at a super-fast rate. By the end of this flashy maneuver, she’s beside me.

She folds up her fan so it’s a solid stick once more. I begin to gesture for my own weapons, but the woman is faster and jabs her stick into my side.

The pain forces me to abandon my gesture. The metal of her weapon feels so cold that I’m reminded of my last moments in Oasis when I was freezing to death. When I glance down, bile rushes up my throat. Half an inch of her weapon is stuck inside my stomach. She rips the fan out, splashing my luminescent blood onto the grass and redefining what pain really means.

I’m on the verge of fainting. White stardust specks dance across my eyes, and through the haze, I see the woman unfold the fan again.

The sharp points of her weapon fly at my throat.

I suspect Phoe takes over my body again, because I move. Had she left me on my own, I would’ve curled into a little ball.

With superhuman agility, I dodge the fan and grab my attacker’s slender wrist in a white-knuckled fist. At the same time, I slam the side of my other hand into her inner elbow.

The sharp blades of her fan pierce her throat instead of mine.

Not pausing, I punch the handle of the fan, pushing the steel spikes through her throat.

The woman’s gurgling scream sounds like someone is using a rusty saw to play a majestic harp. As she falls, her body disintegrates into pixelated blotches and disappears.

Breathing hard, I stare at the upturned basket and the mushrooms on the grass—the only proof the woman was here.

“What the hell was that?” I ask, turning toward Phoe. My eyes widen. “Wow, you have a body now?”

“Yes.” Phoe touches my elbow with her very real fingers. “I’m as substantial as anyone else in this place. Jeanine’s resources were instrumental in that. As to what happened—well, she attacked us. Since I have her memories, I can show you why, if you’d like.”

I check my stomach wound and then my neck. There’s nothing there. Not even a scar.

“Everyone heals better here. It’s part of the game-based infrastructure,” Phoe says. “I just sped up the healing for you again. Now let me show you her memories.”

I manage to plop down on the grass before I find myself in a stranger’s head again.

I’m walking toward the meadow.

It feels odd because my body is too slender, has curves in all the wrong places, and my gait is completely wrong, with my hips moving oddly from side to side.

My name is Jeanine.

Phoe mentioned this name in passing, but in these memories, it’s more than a name.

Like when I was in Brandon’s memories, I’m not just aware of Jeanine’s thoughts as we’re walking; I’m also aware of her entire history and can recall it if I wish. Some of her memories flash through my mind. I remember a little girl back on Earth, boarding a ship that isn’t yet the Oasis I know. I remember the illness that took her life and her waking up with the first wave of Forebears in Haven. Particularly interesting, I see Jeanine’s entire life here, including the centuries of leisure and pleasures. She knew Brandon, the man we Limbofied. She knew him so intimately—

“Focus, Theo, or you’ll miss what she was thinking when she saw us,” Phoe says. “It’s what you want to know, isn’t it?”

I look through Jeanine’s eyes. I’m walking on my island, collecting mushrooms for Brandon’s favorite stew. I walk into the meadow and see a new face.

Jeanine’s thoughts are frantic. She remembers what Brandon said before departing for the cathedral—the secret he shared about the grim task the Circle gave him—and why.

A quick chain of reasoning fires through Jeanine’s mind. This new person must be part of the group Brandon is supposed to neutralize. Yet he’s here.

She’s in danger. The whole of Haven may be in danger from this person who escaped Brandon and his Guardians.

She needs to act swiftly.

Her heart heavy with worry about Brandon, she summons her weapon, grateful for his lessons.

“I don’t want to experience stabbing myself in the throat,” I think at Phoe as the memory of the fight unfolds from Jeanine’s point of view. “Please—”

I’m back in the meadow, in my body, and my head is spinning.

“She was dating—”

“The big guy we Limbofied.” Phoe squats next to me and hugs her knees. “It’s sad. They really loved each other. You can see it in their memories. In a way, it’s almost better that these events turned out the way they did. At least they won’t miss each other. Hopefully, they’ll get reinstated together at some point.”

“Wait, Phoe. Let’s back up. Dating? I saw it in her memories, the taboo things they did together.”

“Not so different from what we did.” Phoe winks at me salaciously.

“But we were breaking all sorts of rules,” I say. “These are Forebears. For them to have sex…”

“I know. It’s not the first time these people have proven to be hypocrites. In this case, I think they’d argue that Haven is a form of afterlife, so the rules can be different. From what I can tell, they look back on their lives in Oasis as a form of extended childhood. The way the Forebears who were born in Oasis see it, you only truly mature after you’ve lived a life. If you look at it from their point of view, there’s no harm in a two-hundred-year ban on sex when you’ll have millenniums in Haven to make up for it.” She grimaces. “For the other Forebears, the ones who originally came from Earth, sex was never a taboo. I think they allowed it here because they couldn’t live without it, and the Oasis newcomers benefitted—”

Phoe stops talking and looks at the sky in shock—an expression I don’t think I’ve ever seen on her face before.

At first, I think she’s looking at the crows flying by, which does seem odd outside the Zoo, but then I see the real source of Phoe’s concern.

The clouds that normally float all over the sky have gathered together in one spot, forming a distinguishable shape.

The clouds have become a face.

There is a face made out of clouds in the sky, like something out of an ancient story.

I fight the urge to rub my eyes. Human beings tend to see faces in random patterns. Phoe once explained to me that facial recognition is something human beings are so good at that sometimes the mechanics of it backfire, and we see faces in a patch of dirt or in the ripples of water. However, in this case, since Phoe is also looking up at the clouds, I know it’s not a visual self-deception. The face in the clouds must really be a face—which makes as much sense as the floating islands surrounding it.

The face is male. His eyes look wise, and his firm jawline gives him an air of nobility.

The cloud’s lips part, and in a voice that booms louder than thunder, the face says, “Haven. Hear me.”

The crows scatter, and even the forest looks subdued, as if pummeled by the sound.

“The Circle will speak in an hour,” the booming voice continues. “Everyone should gather. We have dire news.”

With a theatrical flash of thunder, the face is no longer discernable. The clouds float away, scattering across the sky.

“What the hell was that?” I ask.

Phoe’s gaze becomes distant for a moment; then she says, “According to the memories at my disposal, this is the way the Circle calls for rare town-hall-like meetings. Haven’s citizens will gather on one of the largest public islands, in a place they call Haven Hall. This usually happens once every century of existence or so, and involves someone from the Circle giving them a pep talk. This time, I suspect they will tell them what happened in Oasis.”

I get up and say, “Okay, how does that fit into our plans?”

“Let’s run the rest of the way,” Phoe says and gets up. “We still need to make sure the Guardians don’t spot us.”

As I run, I notice my muscles have completely recovered from my fight with Jeanine. Phoe runs next to me, clearly relishing her new body.

“So yeah, the plan,” she says before I even open my mouth to remind her. “You won’t like it.”

My laugh borders on hysterical. “When have you ever come up with a plan I liked?”

“I know, right? You’re a hard man to please.” She chuckles. “Seriously, though, this plan is so daring I don’t even know if
I
like it.”

“Let me guess. You want to go to this meeting,” I say, dodging a branch. “Am I warm?”

“Listen,” she says, her tone serious again. “To learn about the virus, we need access to the people who unleashed it: the Circle. Unfortunately, the members of the Circle don’t hang around Haven willy-nilly. They stay in the Sanctum, a place everyone’s memories depict as a rather unwelcoming area for anyone outside the Circle. During this meeting, though, someone from the Circle will be in attendance.” She glances at me. “I won’t sugarcoat it for you. I want you to get close to this Forebear from the Circle and Limbofy him or her. My hope is that this person’s memories will contain information about the virus.”

I stop running, my legs going weak. Phoe stops too.

“So your plan is to assassinate one of the rulers of Haven?”

“
Y
ou make
it sound uglier than my actual goal, but sure.” She takes a step toward me. “I want to get the son of a bitch.”

“And you want me to do this in front of every citizen here?” I step backward.

“No, nothing so suicidal.” She reaches for my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “I want to attend the town hall meeting in the hope that we’ll get the opportunity to do this unpleasant task stealthily.”

“Stealthily?” I pull my hand back. “They’ll recognize us as strangers as soon as they see us. You accessed the same memory as me. Jeanine knew I wasn’t a member of Haven because she knew everyone—”

“I have a solution for that,” Phoe says. “If I use all my current resources, I can disguise you as one of the people we Limbofied. I would be reduced to a voice in your head again, but it would be worth it.”

“You’ll make everyone think they’re seeing someone else?” I resume walking.

“No, it would be like shape-shifting from the fairy tales,” Phoe says, falling into step next to me. “You’ll have a different body. It might be interesting.”

I feared that was what she meant but had to check. Taking deep breaths to calm myself, I remember what it felt like when I was in Brandon’s and Jeanine’s memories; shape-shifting sounds like it’ll be similar.

“Exactly,” Phoe says. “And I’m thinking it should be Jeanine. Brandon would be a great alternative, because he had access to the Circle, but since some of the Guardians saw you Limbofy him in the cathedral, we can’t risk it. I could make you look like Jeff or Bill instead, the two other Guardians we Limbofied, but that’s still risky. The other Guardians might ask questions about their pursuit of you and why they didn’t come back.”

“Why do you even need me to shape-shift? Can’t you make yourself look like Jeanine?”

“Not with the resources I have. I’m basically operating on scraps. You, like every other legitimate Haven citizen, have a whole chunk of Haven’s computing power allocated to
you
. What I have are some unallocated resources left over from when the system tried to reclaim what belonged to Brandon, Jeff, Bill, and Jeanine. The good news is that I have more than one way I can have you shape-shift. For one thing, I can rerun the selection process you experienced when you entered Haven and guide you to make the choices that would result in a Jeanine-looking Theo. But that might put us on the radar of an anti-intrusion algorithm, assuming this place has one.”

I shudder, recalling what Phoe told me about the Test’s anti-intrusion algorithm’s capabilities.

“I doubt there’s one here,” Phoe says and turns slightly off our path. “It would be risky for the Circle to employ one, given how far this place has strayed from its original purpose, which, given all the weapons, I assume was entertainment rather than life extension. Still, better safe than sorry, so I’ll use the other option and simply tweak your existing body.”

She stops walking when she reaches a clear puddle of water. It’s too clean to be a rain puddle. Maybe it’s an underground spring? Since these water entities didn’t exist in Oasis, I’m not sure.

Phoe is looking at me expectantly, waiting for my answer.

“I get your logic for using Jeanine,” I say. “But what if I meet someone she knew?”

“Not if, but when.” Phoe gestures, and an empty water bottle appears in her hand. “Jeanine knew every single person in Haven, and you’ll need to know everything she knew about them, which will be a lot of information to take in. You have to keep in mind how long these people have lived together. Even if time here were one to one relative to the real world, many centuries have passed for most of these beings.”

“What do you mean if time—”

“Remember my earlier simulation of the beach?”

I nod.

“Well, similar to that scenario, thoughts occur much faster here, because our minds are simulated, not biological. That means that in a second of real-world time, the citizens of Haven might experience minutes, hours, or even days, depending on Haven’s computing resources allocation and the efficiency of the simulations.”

She bends down and fills her water bottle with some of the clear water. Despite the seriousness of our situation, I can’t help admiring her body in this position.

Straightening, she continues. “Without access to the outside world, it’s hard to say what the difference is. Based on Jeanine’s memories, it’s been a monumental journey. I can’t say how much time has passed because there are intentional gaps in her memory, which I don’t have enough resources to undo. So yeah, after all this time, she definitely knows everyone. Despite the Forebears preferring to stay on their islands, Jeanine’s had plenty of time to get to know every single person in Haven and vice versa.”

“Then I’m screwed, because I don’t know anyone here,” I say and watch Phoe take a small sip from her bottle.

“But we have access to Jeanine’s memories.” She hands her water bottle to me. “I will set up a link for you, and you’ll be able to recall the things you need. If necessary, I’ll help too. Though we still have to be careful to avoid in-depth conversations with people who knew her well, since accessing the amount of data that comprises Jeanine’s life is computationally challenging. She simply lived too long, and our resources are limited.”

“All right.” I take a careful sip from the bottle. The water tastes better than any drink I’ve had in my life. “I guess this idea is not as reckless as it first seems.”

“It’s pretty desperate, but beggars can’t be choosers,” Phoe says and disappears. The bottle in my hand also disappears. “Are you ready to turn into Jeanine?” her voice in my head says.

I shrug. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Phoe says, and a strong sense of vertigo hits me.

Once the world stops spinning, the sensations are similar to when I was accessing Jeanine’s memories, only much more vivid. I stick out my arms; they’re slender and feminine, with thin, manicured fingers. I look down and see ivy-covered curves, which makes me panic, so I look forward again. I decide it’s better to explore my new body through touch. My soft hands cup my even softer breasts, and the feeling isn’t unpleasant. I can’t help but touch myself between the legs—for good measure. I quickly pull my hand away. The lack of my usual equipment is terrifying.

Crouching, I look at my reflection in the puddle.

Jeanine’s symmetrical face looks back at me, her classical features contorted in fear.

“Phoe?” I say, my voice sounding like a harp.

“You should think at me from now on,” Phoe responds as a thought. “It’s best if you get used to communicating that way again, since we can’t have Jeanine speak to an imaginary friend in front of people. No subvocalizing either—nothing that can draw unwanted attention.”

“Okay,” I think and rise to my feet. “This is really weird.”

“I know,” Phoe replies. “Move around and get used to this body. Let’s test your proprioception and kinesthetic awareness.”

“My what?”

“Touch a finger to your nose.”

I do as Phoe says. The motion is smooth and easy, and my nose looks smaller if I focus on it.

“How did you know where your nose was?” she asks.

I shrug, which draws my attention to how narrow and slender my shoulders are.

“The sense that allowed you to touch your nose is called proprioception. Pick up that pebble, throw it in the air, and close your eyes.”

I do as she says, but a second later, as the pebble is about to hit me on the head, I dodge it, my eyes still closed.

“As you guessed, it was kinesthetic awareness that allowed you to avoid that pebble,” Phoe says. “Proprioception is closely tied to kinesthetic awareness. Let’s walk for a while.”

I open my eyes. My eyelashes are strangely visible. Must be because they’re longer.

I start walking. This time, the movement of my hips doesn’t feel odd, even though they’re swaying in a way that’s unusual for me.

“Try to summon her weapon, but with the most unobtrusive gesture you can,” Phoe suggests.

I open my right hand and will the weapon to appear. The iron fan—Jeanine’s weapon of choice—shows up in my hand. I half-expected it to be one of my flaming katanas, but I guess this makes sense.

“Yeah, I don’t do half-measures,” Phoe says. “You should be able to use this weapon by relying on Jeanine’s muscle memories. I just made them available to you.”

Acting on instinct, I unfold the fan and thrust it at the nearest branch, cleaving it in two. At the same time, I repeat the handstand somersault Jeanine used during our fight, and leap closer to the tree trunk. I slash at the oak, leaving deep gashes in the wood.

“This is going great so far,” Phoe says. “You’re getting the hang of that body.”

She makes me jump, run, dance, and perform a whole range of other tests, all of which I complete to her satisfaction.

“You’re very lucky Brandon is dead.” Phoe mentally chuckles after I perform a formal bow that everyone gives members of the Circle. “We won’t need to worry about you kissing a man—or worse.”

Though I’m no longer an innocent virgin, the idea of having to kiss or “worse” anyone as Jeanine didn’t enter my mind. I’m still not used to thinking along those lines. Now that Phoe mentioned it, though, I’m grateful we eliminated that possibility—quite literally. I can’t imagine kissing anyone but Phoe, and especially not a man.

“I’m so flattered that you can’t picture yourself kissing a man over me.” Phoe’s thoughts brim with mirth. “I think we’re ready to get into conscious, long-term memory retrieval. I’ll set up the link if you’re ready.”

“I’m ready,” I say and close my eyes, preparing for
something.

“It’s done,” Phoe says. “How do you feel?”

I open my eyes. The feeling overcoming me isn’t unfamiliar. This happens when I forget a factoid and spend an eternity trying to recall it, even though it’s on the tip of my tongue, and then I suddenly remember whatever it was. What makes this different, though, is the sheer amount of factoids.

One example is the smell of forest air. Before Phoe linked Jeanine’s memories to mine, the smell was in the background. Now, however, I know that the smell was carefully formulated by Jeanine to be the exact scent of the springwoods she recalled from her childhood on Earth.

Every tree, every bird, and every animal—even the mushrooms—was carefully crafted over the years to make Jeanine feel at home as she strolled through her domain.

“She made this place?” I inadvertently ask out loud. Then I mentally add, “Sorry about speaking.”

“The Forebears, including you, can reshape Haven to their will in certain limited ways,” Phoe explains. “It’s another parallel to how the IRES game operated. Only that game shaped itself based on its user’s subconscious fears, but Haven was hacked to reshape itself based on conscious control. I can tap into some of this interface, which is how I sped up your healing. The limitation is that Haven accommodates multiple users at once, and thus multiple wills can clash. You can’t walk up to someone and will them to have horns—not unless it’s something they desire and other members of Haven don’t mind. On their private islands, though, the Forebears’ only limitation is their imagination.”

I start walking, attempting to hold off the flood of memories as I try to internalize the implications of such a strange setup.

“No time for awe, I’m afraid,” Phoe thinks at me. “Now that you don’t look like yourself, we don’t need to hide in the forest or fly under the island for cover. You can fly straight to Central Island. Can you recall where it is?”

As soon as I think of the island, memories come pouring in. If I fly to my right, passing by the ten closest neighboring islands, I’ll reach Central Island.

“Go then,” Phoe urges.

“Fine,” I think and spread my/Jeanine’s giant owl wings. “Let’s fly.”