Pages

By Zach Larson

11 chapters of bonus content at the end of the ebook.

 

Every avatar has a Lifebook. 

 

They are the home of the soul, the story of a life, the birthplace of personality, and where bonds are signed. Lifebooks have existed as a sacred, interconnected part of avatar life since the beginning. Avatar society has never known another way, but society is crumbling. The government wants control of the Lifebonds, but so do the velo bosses. The fight for control will leave every soul on Pocalypse scarred.

 

As fewer and fewer avatars manage to keep their Lifebook unbonded and remain free, the sanctity of the Lifebook itself will change forever. Factions collide. Bonds are broken. Memories are stolen. Identities are lost.

 

But, avatar kind can always depend on one truth: Every avatar has a Lifebook…

 

Every avatar except one.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Living Words Press
• Release date: May 10, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201070632

Book preview

Pages

Zach Larson

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Living Words Press

Copyright © 2022 by Zach Larson

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Stay in the know and claim your free extras by joining the LWP community newsletter at www.livingwordspress.com.

A special thanks goes to my wife and kids. You put up with many late nights and long mornings to see this book to the end. I love you.

I also thank my heavenly father for blessing me with a love for the written word and more ideas than I can ever put to paper.

Contents

1. Chapter 1

2. Chapter 2

3. Chapter 3

4. Chapter 4

5. Chapter 5

6. Chapter 6

7. Chapter 7

8. Chapter 8

9. Chapter 9

10. Chapter 10

11. Chapter 11

12. Chapter 12

13. Chapter 13

14. Chapter 14

15. Chapter 15

16. Chapter 16

17. Chapter 17

18. Chapter 18

19. Chapter 19

20. Chapter 20

21. Chapter 21

22. Chapter 22

23. Chapter 23

24. Chapter 24

Afterword

Acknowledgments

About Author

Bonus Content: Pages, Early Draft

Early Draft C1

Early Draft C2

Early Draft C3

Early Draft C4

Early Draft C5

Early Draft C6

Early Draft C7

Early Draft C8

Early Draft C9

Early Draft C10

Early Draft C11

Chapter 1

It is curious how the writing in Lifebooks manifests differently for each soul. Does this not prove that there is more to avatar kind than the stories in their Lifebooks alone?

Dozens of electric motors purred in the background as she flipped through the pages of her Lifebook. She pinched each page between her fingertips, energy crackling against her skin. Eighteen years of life filled many of the pages, but hundreds more lay waiting for her story to ink itself onto them. Potential hid there, in the unwritten life. Lifebooks contained many potentials, really: paper to animate, stories to imbue, bonds waiting for consent, and the Lifebond itself. Potential hid everywhere she looked.

Except, potential was what she used to see; she couldn’t see her life the same way anymore. All those possibilities would be gone in a few minutes’ time, which essentially rendered them inert already, drained away by future impossibility. Would she still have her powers after? Would her Lifebook crumble away to dust or simply lose connection to her body? These were the new potential energies, eating at her soul like an ink blade.

She sensed someone behind her and shut the book, placing it inside a plastic box. She put the lid on the box and pressed down. Air squelched out like the last wheeze of the dying. She shivered and hurried to set the box on the table. She wondered briefly if the claustrophobia was from placing her soul in a miniscule tomb, or from the death of possibility. Did it matter?

It’s time, a male avatar said from behind her.

She closed her eyes and nodded.

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Atmospheric gases tinged the lawns purple, dotted here and there by the dimming of a passing cloud. A soft breeze pulled at Djee’s black hair as he lay in a thicket of estheria grass. The powdery stalks irritated his skin, but he remained still, resisting the urge to scratch. Senator Kana’s estate spread around him like an overly elaborate chapter heading that demanded attention. It was one of the largest private properties in the city. Granted, the Senator also controlled one-third of the vote in the Chamber of Conduct.

He wondered how much fusion power the house sucked from the grid as he studied the little domed security bots. They circled in regular intervals. The building tapered into a teardrop shape, seamless windows lining the first and second floors, with the tip jutting out over the ocean cliff. There was no getting inside from the cliff, even with his climbing grapple. The walls were slickstone, harder than diamonds and completely smooth. Djee knew his kit could hack the front door. He just needed to get past the bots first.

Watching carefully, he memorized the path of each little sentry. They looked like harmless cleaning drones, but he knew firsthand how badly their stun charges made a body hurt. After three sweeps of the bots, Djee spotted an opening in the pattern. It was short, maybe thirty seconds, but he was certain his kit could hack the security system in about twenty seconds. Reasonably certain, anyway.

He waited another fifteen minutes, resisting an increasing urge to scratch his tingling neck, to ensure the pattern continued. It did. When the next opening came, he pushed himself to his feet and dashed quietly across the yard to the front door. Eight seconds down and he placed the magnetic end of the cord against the keypad. He looked down at the code screen and watched the numbers crawl top to bottom. Fifteen seconds. The low whirs of a bot grew louder behind him. He clenched his jaw as the codes continued to scroll. Twenty-five seconds. The light on the keypad turned red. An alarm would sound if the correct codes were not entered within ten seconds. Dealing with law enforcement would be the least of his worries if that happened. He heard the bot just a few feet away along the wall. Twenty-eight seconds. The keypad light flashed once, then turned a soft green. With a click, the door swung forward. Djee pulled the magnetized cord with him as he stepped into the mansion and eased the door shut. The lock clicked, and he heard the bot whir by outside.

His lungs expanded in a slow, deep breath as he listened for an alarm. Silence. The tension in his jaw eased, and he scanned the space in front of him. It was dark, with only the barest hint of purple coming from the skylights above. He stood in a wide foyer, bare except for a long couch that faced a writing table. The carpet was white, so Djee checked his shoes for dirt that might leave a track. They were clean. He moved farther into the room, creeping between the thicker shadows near the wall.

Stairs rose to his left and right, leading to second floor landings that ran the length of the mansion. Djee pulled up mental images of the maps he’d memorized. Beyond the foyer, the hallway widened to accommodate a swimming pool and narrowed again as it reached the tail end of the architecture. The Senator’s suite should be on the second floor above the cliff. He remembered a second set of stairs at the opposite end of the mansion, so he continued through the foyer and into the central hall.

The skylights let in enough astroglow to avoid the sparse furnishings. He could already detect the faint shimmers on the walls coming from the pool. His steps and breaths were slow and deliberate. His ears strained for avatar noises, but all he heard was the quiet sloshing of the pool water as he drew nearer. Darkness receded as he reached the pool. Its night-time gray waters were lit from below, exposing him as he passed along the nearby wall. He pushed himself as fast as he dared until he was safely in the shadows once again.

The mansion funneled Djee directly to the last set of stairs. Their metallic surfaces gleamed even through the darkness. Pausing, he listened again, but the mansion remained silent. If the sensors throughout the property had been active, they would have already identified his biometric signature as foreign. Tonight, the house was an eggshell housing an electronic corpse. That was the downside of connecting every biometric system in the structure; one hack corrupted them all.

He moved up the stairs, treading with light, silent steps. At the second story landing, a large white door greeted him. Only the hairline seams marked it as different from the rest of the wall. Djee sidled forward and ran his hand along the wall just to the left of the seam until his fingers brushed another, much smaller deviation. He pressed his fingers against the latch and slid it up and away from the compartment housing the entry pad. Even in gloves, his fingers deftly inserted the cord from his kit into the calibration slot. The door slid open almost immediately with a soft whoosh.

He stowed the hacking kit back in his pack as he stepped into the room. Air pulsed behind him as the door sealed itself again. Purple light bathed the walls around him, sending shadows skittering across the plush carpet. The ocean view immediately drew his gaze. Glass walls came together in front of him, completing the teardrop architecture of the building. A veranda meandered around the outside, encompassing the room. The churning ocean waters below cast light in through the windows in such strength that Djee didn’t think he could fall asleep in the room if he tried. To him, it was nearly as bright as daylight.

The shuffle of fabric brought his gaze whipping back to his immediate surroundings. A huddled mass on the bed shifted under the blankets. Once her breathing deepened again, Djee drifted over to the side of the bed. Senator Kana’s face was turned away from him, but her silvery hair flowed over the pillow and shimmered in the dancing light. She was in her mid-twenties, young for a senator. The House of Conduct only appointed her a year ago, which meant she was one of the last senate avatars left who still defied the veloes. Her cooperation was crucial to tip the balance in the faction war. Gurnney had been smart to hire Djee. Took him long enough.

Djee slipped a bundle out of his bag and unwound the outer rag to reveal a small stoppered bottle. He checked his mask then unstoppered the bottle and poured the clear liquid over the cloth, careful not to spill. He stowed the spent bottle in his bag and placed the soaked cloth over Kana’s mouth and nose. She stirred slightly, shifting her shoulder at the touch of the cloth, but she did not wake. Satisfied, Djee turned to the safe that was pretending to be a nightstand beside the senator’s bed and knelt in front of it.

It looked like a solid cube of metal, no markings, no keypad, no nothing. Anyone looking at the safe would mistake it for a side table, unless they were rich and up to date on black market Lifebook tech. Djee had the tech part covered, even though he had never encountered this particular safe before. It was brand new, nothing else like it on the market. He had already checked the waiting list for it. The list was long. Really long. It impressed him that she had one.

Djee put his face to the floor, but couldn’t see underneath. He got to his knees and considered the smooth box. He could try moving it, but that might trigger a failsafe that would lock him out completely. It was unlikely that the entry hatch was on the bottom, anyway. The rich wouldn’t expend any more effort than necessary to access the thing. His gut told him the door was staring him in the face. He risked touching the smooth surface with his gloved hands but found only unyielding metal. His hands fell back to his sides. There was only one logical way to open it. No doubt safeguards were in place to prevent an unconscious host from activating any mechanisms, but unconscious problems were Djee’s specialty.

He stood and pulled the sheets away from Kana’s sleeping form. He held the cloth to her mouth, gripped her shoulder, and pulled her onto her back near the edge of the bed. Her head rolled lazily, revealing half open eyelids that Djee ignored. Leaving the cloth in place, he lifted her right arm and pulled the sleeve of her nightshirt above her wrist. The mark on the back of her hand was one he had seen countless times, the prime lines, straight and unmarred. Carefully, he bent her arm down and placed her hand flat against the metal cube. A grid of lines flashed against her hand, silhouetting it in the dim room. With a click and a flash, the safe swung open. There were no lights inside, so Djee placed the senator’s arm back on the bed.

Djee leaned close to the woman’s face and whispered, I need you to give me permission to touch your Lifebook, Senator Kana. Please say ‘permission granted.’

Permission granted, she muttered. Her voice was slow and monotone.

He knelt and reached into the dark compartment with both hands. His fingers closed around the Lifebook, then he stood up and turned towards the bed. His stomach turned just a little as he clutched the woman’s Lifebook. Over time, he became accustomed to the work. He hid his guilt, now, even from himself, but the tremors from touching another’s book refused to disappear completely.

Kana’s cover was moss-green with her name written in silver letters the same shade as her hair. Around her name, a picture of a full grown parchment tree, roots and all, spread from the top to the bottom in light brown lines. Fortuitous, as the senator was the linchpin in a dangerous game.

He opened the book to the first page, blank, and put it on the senator’s stomach, as if she had been reading it when she fell asleep. From his pocket, he produced a thin, red pen with an inky black tip. He brought the senator’s hand to hover over the top of the blank page and placed the pen between her fingers.

Hold it, he whispered.

The senator’s eyelids fluttered as her fingers contracted on the pen. Her arm remained in place when Djee released it.

He took a moment to check that the pen had correctly punctured the senator’s skin to extract the ink in her veins. When he knew all was ready, he leaned close to the senator’s ear and muttered.

You are happy to write the following: I, Kana Kjin, give explicit authority for Gurnney Kaslam, her fingers guided the pen over the page, leaving her ink in looping letters with each stroke, over the soul and pages in my Lifebook. I allow my Lifebook to connect with his in the Paetrite bond. He waited for her to finish the contract; entranced avatars were so slow. Sign it with your name.

Once the senator finished, Djee lifted her hand away from the drying ink and returned the ruby pen to his bag. Her hand glared at him. Two looping circles had already joined her prime lines. Infinity. Gurnney’s mark. He left the Lifebook open as he strode to the balcony doors and slid them apart. A briny breeze caressed his face as he made his way to the railing and attached a thin rope to it. He took the rest of the rope and tossed it over the side, watching as it unwound itself until the end dangled just above the waiting boat.

Back in the room, he closed the safe door and shoved the senator’s Lifebook into his watertight pack. He replaced the bedcovers and removed the rag from her face. She didn’t move or close her half-open eyes. The trance would last for at least another twenty minutes. Djee gave the senator a sorrowful bow and returned to the rope dangling from the railing.

Custom carabiners on his suit attached to the rope in three clicks. With a quick breath, he hoisted himself over the railing and let the mechanics in the carabiners control his descent on the rope. He pendulumed around the boat a few times before his feet hit the deck. A quick twist and tug released the rope from the railing. It coiled into the surrounding water with a hiss. He shoved the end of the rope into a retracting machine and hit the switch. The rope sizzled behind him as the motor pulled it from the ocean.

Djee walked calmly to the console of the craft and fired up the engines. He smiled as they purred to life. In one night, he had shifted the entire equilibrium of the faction war. He wasn’t sure he liked the way Pocalypse was headed, but the entire world was a corrupt clout heap anyway, so what did it matter?

Chapter 2

I have always found our obsession with the prime lines to be unwise. Avatars focus so intently on those little lines on the back of the hand, that, when the book mark changes with a bond, our very attitudes change upon seeing the altered mark. Does it matter if an avatar has bonded to another? What business is it of ours if that was their only means of living? Yet, I must abide by society’s standards.

Sparks. Fssssssssssss. Warmth. Pain.

Touch. Sparks. Warmth. Pain.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Tap, tap, tap.

See, Sim, it doesn’t give any mention of it in her chart.

Really? Let me see.

How can she not have a mark?

Might be part of a new velo.

A book mark would still be there. That patch of blank skin staring up at me sends a shiver down my spine every time.

I wonder if it’s because she doesn’t show any mental activity. Could that wipe her clean?

Can’t be; we’ve had patients with similar readings before. The marks are always there.

Well, I added a note to the chart. Not sure what else we can do. Do you know much about animators?

Not really. They scare me, too.

I have been reading about themmmmmmmmm…

Light.

Crash.

Did you see that? Rapid breathing.

What?

She just opened her eyes, only for a second, though.

That’s impossible. She has almost no brain activity. This avatar is essentially dead. The only one who doesn’t know it is her book; wherever it is.

I know what I saw!

Daydri–

Sim!

Okay, she opened her eyes. It was probably just a muscle spasm. This whole ‘no mark’ thing really has you riled.

Thump, thump, thump, thump.

Can you hear me? Sim is the floor cynic, but I think not having a mark makes you special…

Pain. Sharp. Lasting. Deep.

Blurry shapes moved overhead as the light poured in again. Something beep, beep, beeped nearby. One of the moving shapes above stopped, then grew larger. Some features solidified, and they seemed familiar. It jerked away.

Sim, look!

Shreds!

Sim!

Sorry, it just caught me off guard. How can her eyes be open?

Could her book be regenerating?

Maybe.

The shape moved in again, growing larger.

Disanya, can you hear me? Do you know where you are?

Pause.

Well, that was anticlimactic.

Wait, Sim, she’s tracking me with her eyes.

Another, much brighter, light flashed, and all went black again.

Sim, get the Binder.

Silence.

The light flashed again, back and forth. Her vision shifted from a blur of colors to a face she didn’t recognize, though she thought she should. It was a… man, an ancient one. The black veins just below his skin layer appear in stark contrast to the fading his body took on as he aged. He was completely bald, and his yellow eyes regarded her with a measure of both surprise and wariness.

Daydri. The man’s lips moved as he pronounced the word—the name.

Is she awake?

He nodded and moved aside as a young female appeared. She smiled, showing bright white teeth. Her skin was smooth and tan with youth. Hardly any of her veins were visible. She used her hand to push a stray lock of long purple hair behind her ear. Her eyes were white inside a ring of gray.

I am so glad you’re awake, Disanya, the woman said. We’ve been waiting for hours. The binder barely believed me when I told him—

A harsh cough cut her off. The man nudged Daydri out of his way and stared down his thin nose. Can you hear me, Disanya?

More of the room came into focus. A device with a flashing screen caught her eye. She watched it until the man cleared his throat.

Do you understand me? He watched her expectantly. When nothing happened, his features relaxed, and his frown turned into a small smile. Daydri, record in the log that the avatar reacts to stimuli but shows no logical awareness.

Yes, Binder. Daydri moved to the end of the bed and picked up something flat. Her hand twirled over the surface in sure motions—writing something.

Disanya? the male said, waving his hand.

She looked at him. Dis-sanya. Her eyebrows pulled together at the thought and her lips pursed.

Interesting, the man mumbled. She is already showing facial expressions. This truly is remarkable.

Daydri finished and replaced the flat object. She smiled as she caught Disanya’s eyes watching her. Are you comfortable, Disanya? Do you need anything?

She swallowed and rolled her tongue around the inside of her mouth. Need—something. The muscles in her neck tightened, and her head bobbed back and forth slightly.

The woman’s eyes widened as her hands flew to her mouth. Skies! Does she understand me, Binder?

Frowning again, the man moved closer and studied her carefully. His yellow eyes made her feel cold all over. Do you understand, Disanya?

His voice reminded her of ripping pages. Her throat convulsed and relaxed as her head continued to bob back and forth. She wanted… something. They needed to understand. The man’s face never wavered from hers, but soon, his frown lessened, releasing the wrinkles on his forehead from their vigil.

The avatar is definitely responsive, the binder commented as he finally turned away, but I see no sign that she has any real comprehension. Daydri’s shoulders crumpled at his words. Teach her as you would a child. She might progress quickly, or not at all, but–

S a n-y a. Her voice came out in a dry whisper, but it brought Daydri’s eyes back instantly and turned the binder around midstep.

W-what did you say? he asked.

Her throat convulsed again. Sanya. Her voice remained breath-quiet, but she controlled their full attention.

The binder glanced quizzically at Daydri. She smiled when he finally caught her eye. It’s her name; don’t you see?

Her name? Disanya–

Sanya, Daydri corrected, she wants us to call her Sanya.

The frown returned to the binder’s mouth. He reached into his pocket and pulled out something small and square. He found… a pen in his other pocket and placed it on the… writing pad. Its tip scratched faintly in the open room. Sanya’s eyes focused on the writing pad. It was made of paper; she knew that instantly. The pages did not seem quite right; quality paper was white, tan was okay too, but this was a dull gray. It felt… wrong when she looked at it. Impurities speckled each page, and the edges ended in jagged, flaky lines, not clean and straight like they should be. Despite that, it was paper, paper in an otherwise dull room–

Sanya? Are you back with me yet?

She looked up to find Daydri smiling uneasily at her. New shadows stretched along the walls. Sanya scoured the room as quickly as her stiff neck would let her. The binder was gone, and the lights had been dimmed significantly. She looked at Daydri, fear bubbling like tar in her stomach.

The woman’s smile faded a little, and when she spoke, it was barely above a whisper. You have been comatose for hours. It was like you just shut off, except your eyes were still open and you were breathing and everything. The binder got so flustered he stormed out the door stomping like a madman.

At the word ‘comatose,’ Sanya’s heart stuttered. She felt the wrongness of the word with the wrongness of her lost time. Why?

Daydri looked up. Why? Why did the binder storm out? Oh, he’s–

Sanya shook her head, cutting the woman off. Why… Unsure what to say, she lifted one arm and touched a finger to her temple.

Sadness filled Daydri’s eyes as her smile faltered. She set the pad on the blanket below Sanya’s feet and moved to the side of the bed. I asked the binder that same question. He didn’t know. No one seems to know. She wiped a tear from her eye. As she raised her arm, Sanya glimpsed Daydri’s nearest pocket. A piece of white paper was sticking out of it. She let her arm fall again, covering the paper. Your brain might just need time to reset itself after stimulation. Maybe your mind was damaged and your book is attempting to repair you. We won’t know much without access to your Lifebook.

Sanya almost knew what a Lifebook was, but as she tried to recall the information, her thoughts scrambled. Where…

Where is your book?

Sanya nodded.

Oh, Ava, don’t you know?

She shook her head slowly.

What about family?

Family? She shook her head.

A mate or prospect?

She shook her head again. She couldn’t remember.

Scribes watch over you, Ava. Daydri squeezed her hand then jerked back. Sorry, she said, seeing Sanya’s question on her face. Just a little shock. Nothing to worry about.

As Daydri turned to grab the pad, Sanya saw the paper again. Her hand reached out of its own accord and brushed the paper with the tips of her fingers as Daydri moved away. The nurse didn’t stop for her notepad, though; instead, she walked to a small closet and rummaged inside. When she came back, she held a small hand mirror.

I cleaned your face and brushed your hair while you were, uh, sleeping. Take a look!

Sanya accepted the mirror in trembling hands and held it up to her face. The avatar in the glass was a stranger. Her skin was smooth and pale with youth, no ink veins showing. She had white hair that went down just past her chin and stuck up in the back. Amidst all that, her teal eyes looked wide and fearful. The mirror shook in her hands, so Daydri carefully took it back. Sanya closed her eyes and felt a tear slide down her cheek. Would anyone come looking for her?

Daydri cleared her throat. It is late, and my shift is nearly over. You should try to get some rest, so we can talk more tomorrow. She was watching as Sanya’s eyes flew open at the thought of unconsciousness. Rest. If your brain needs to repair itself, rest is the best way to get that done. My mother was always fond of that phrase.

Sanya felt the fear drain away; her mind was already growing sluggish. She nodded and watched through closing eyelids as Daydri left the room.

I’m surprised they let us keep doing this, with her waking up and all.

This was an unfamiliar voice. It pried Sanya from unconsciousness like rough hands pulling at her hair. Her eyelids were twice bound book covers, too heavy to open on their own. It was hard to focus.

Are you finally growing a conscience? That was the binder’s voice.

She tried to move, to open her eyes, but her body refused.

Nah. It just seems like they would care now that she is coming back.

Sanya felt it as something sticky was pressed onto her forehead.

They do care, the Binder said nearby. Yirina says the tests are more important now than ever. We must know how she is doing this.

She felt more areas of stickiness and pressure on her head, chest, and arms.

Do they really think it’s possible that she doesn’t…

You forgot to plug in the machine, Silan. Do I have to do everything myself?

Sorry, boss. Just a sec’.

A shuffle and clack came from below Sanya. She tried to open her eyes again, but her body refused her will. Would she stay like this now? Never coming back to full consciousness? She tried to scream but only managed a slight tensing of her neck.

Ready to go, boss.

Good, begin.

The pain hit Sanya without warning. It stabbed into her brain like a hot knife. Her muscles spasmed, her back arched, and every part of her body shook. Suddenly, she felt connected to every sinew and cell, and every part of her was on fire. She heard shouting nearby, and the pain ceased. Her body slumped back onto the bed, still twitching. She wanted to sob but only managed a soft groan.

...never done that before. The nervous system is receiving more signals now.

Looked like it hurt.

Shut it and check the straps. I can’t have her moving like that again. Strap her head and torso, too.

I can’t with the electrodes on!

Then take them off!

There was a pause. Sanya could feel her heart beating fast, pummeling her ribcage, racing to get away.

But, don’t you need those to–

Why can’t you just follow orders, Silan? I need more direct scans of the activity in her brain. The electrodes aren’t enough.

So, what are you going to do? Just curious.

There was a sigh. What you are is sick.

You know you like talking about it. I may be sick, but you like to showboat.

Sanya felt her legs jerk to the side one at a time as Silan tightened the straps. He tugged absently at her arm straps then moved to put a new strap over her stomach, cinching it so tight it made her wheeze.

I am going to try needle probes first. If I stick them in the corners of her eyes, I can insert them directly into the brain without having to cut her head open.

Someone was near her head. She felt her skin tug as they ripped the first electrode off. She felt a shot of warmth flow down into her toes. The next one came off, and tendrils of feeling began wriggling up her legs.

You can reach the brain through the eyes?

Yes, but it might not be enough. If not, then we will–

Ouch! Silan yelled in pain as he pulled the last electrode off Sanya’s head.

A pulse of energy rolled through Sanya’s body. Her right leg twitched.

What is it now?

She… shocked me as I pulled the last electrode off.

It probably just had a latent charge built up. Put gloves on and secure her head; I’m nearly ready with the needle probes.

Realization grew in her mind. The binder was going to stick a needle into her brain. Every particle of her rebelled! She tried to move her tingling legs, to no avail. A moment later, Sanya’s head was pressed backward into her pillow as Silan ratcheted down the binding. No. No. No. Her breathing sped up.

She is ready, Boss.

They forced one of her eyes open; the room came into focus. She saw the binder with his black veined cheeks leaning over her. He was all she could see. He looked at her and smiled with half of his mouth.

This is going to hurt, he whispered.

One of his hands was holding her eye open, but the other one came up into her vision. Something long, thin, and metallic glinted in the light. She tried to scream, to thrash her body, but all she felt was the slight flexing of her fingers. The needle descended on her slowly, like it had to poke through each layer of air to get to her flesh. She pushed with her mind, pushed hard against the numbness that bound her. The needle was barely an inch away when the wall in her mind finally broke. A scream ripped from her mouth just as her arms slammed against their bindings, shaking the bed. The binder jumped back, dropping the needle as he did. Sanya thrashed on the bed, eyes fully open, screaming her fury at them.

Quick, the binder hissed, tighten her straps and muzzle her while I head off the nurses. He hurried out of the room.

Silan, a short man with red and yellow stubble on his head and amber eyes, shuffled over as he watched her struggle. His eyes studied her carefully as she screamed. A smile split across his face as he reached down toward the strap on her arm.

Don’t touch me!

Her yell froze him in place, hand only hovering just above her arm. She didn’t wait. She reached up and gripped his wrist. Anything to delay him from holding her down. Her heart stuttered as her skin found his. Energy crackled across the back of her hand as heat rushed into her palm and up her arm. Sanya’s screams had died away, but now Silan was screaming. He dropped to his knees, his other hand trying in vain to pry Sanya’s away. The numbness faded, burned away by the new energy coursing through her. Power flooded her veins, and new thoughts filled her empty mind, memories she never knew she had. Images of working in the hospital, of working alongside Binder Tarse, flickered disjointedly. She saw flashes of the city, of walking home every night, laughing silently at the tomes as they scavenged on the streets. She felt amusement, and anger, and annoyance, and disgust.

Beyond the images racing through her mind, she saw Silan’s eyes roll back in his head and ink dribble out of his nose. She loved the power she felt, the crackle of energy off of Silan’s skin, but she knew, deep inside of her, that it was too much. A stinging pain erupted in her shoulder, and numbness deadened the area. With a yell, she broke contact with the man and watched as his body slumped, unconscious, to the floor. The binder backed away from her, syringe in hand. Sanya growled and tried to lunge at him, but the bindings pulled her short with a squeal of metal supports. How dare he attack me, after all I have done for him!

The binder’s eyes widened. How are you fighting the sedative?

She growled in response and tugged at the strap again, testing its strength. The metal on the bed creaked as she pulled at the binding, ignoring the ache in her wrist. Finally, the nylon strap split apart with a loud snap. The binder yelped and spun around, rummaging through the drawers to find another sedative. Sanya unbuckled her other hand just as the binder lunged for her again. Her muscles responded instantly. One hand gripped the wrist that held a new syringe, and her other hand closed around his neck. There was no crackle of energy this time, but Sanya didn’t care. Using the binder’s momentum, she twisted and tossed him across the room and into the wall. Cracks spread along the wall from behind the binder’s body as it struck with enough force to leave a streak of black ink as it slid to the floor. The binder crumbled on the tiles, ink oozing from the back of his skull.

After ripping the monitors and IVs off, Sanya unlatched her legs and stood. The tile floor seeped cold into the soles of her feet, but she liked it. Shouts were coming from the hallway. She guessed they’d heard the ruckus. Shreds. She searched the room frantically, eyes landing on the electrograph they had been trying to use on her. It was a heavy piece of equipment. Expensive, too. With a grin, she rolled the machine to the door and heaved it onto its side with an echoing crash. For good measure, she tipped the bed against the door, too. That should buy some time to think.

She had to get out of here. Law Enforcement would not like that she had attacked a binder. Someone pounded on the door, shouting to be let in, but she ignored them. She definitely wasn’t getting out that way. Twenty nurses and a security pad on the maglift made it implausible. The entire building would be on alert before she made it down two floors.

Sighing, she reached up to run a hand through her hair and felt the back of her gown pull open. She looked down at the thin fabric in confusion. Why was she wearing this? Oh, well, no time to dwell. A quick rummage through the cabinets produced a set of soft gray pants and a shirt for patients. These would do, for now. She ditched the gown and pulled on the new clothes, cinching the pants to fit. A blue light on the ceiling started flashing as she finished. Moments later, a repeated alarm blared over the speakers. Great, she was already locked in.

She took another look around the room, surveying her options. Two unconscious bodies and a bunch of scattered medical equipment. Not much to work with. The alarms suddenly stopped, along with the shouting at her door. Curious. In the silence, she realized for the first time that it was raining hard. She looked out the window. The other hospital skyrise was barely visible through the downpour. She could see that and a skybridge two stories below.

A skybridge… No! It was a stupid idea. Sounded fun, though. Multiple voices were talking just outside her door. Now or never. It was the only way. Quickly, she turned back to the cabinets and grabbed a discarded scalpel, then she ran to the window and slid it open. Cold air and sporadic water droplets assaulted her. She sliced the nylon screen easily with the scalpel and peeled the mesh aside.

The skybridge looked a lot farther down with her head out the window. Someone shouted from the hallway and something heavy slammed against the door. Sanya climbed onto the windowsill, then, with a last shrug, she flung herself out into the night.

Chapter 3

What would life be like without a Lifebook? I find myself obsessed with this even more so than finding the first Lifebook. I yearn for that freedom, but it is impossible. No avatar has survived a broken Lifebond.

Sanya fell through the air in the rain, cool droplets pelting her skin and pummeling her thin shirt. For a single breath that lasted an eternity, she saw the lights of the city spiraling around her like a great whirlpool. She could pick out individual lights shimmering in a sea of colors that ate up the night sky. Then her stomach flipped over as gravity sucked her down. She screamed; she couldn’t help it. The speed and wind and color of the fall squeezed the sound out of her.

The roof of the skybridge flew up at her far, and she barely got her feet under her before she hit the reinforced glass. Her knees absorbed most of the impact, but the curved roof was smooth and wet. Her right foot slipped, wrenching her ankle and throwing her towards the side of the bridge. The length of her body hit the glass with a painful crack. Her hands scrabbled for purchase, but there was nothing to hold on to. Her legs dipped into open air, then her hips, then her stomach. As her chest slipped over the edge, she swung the lower half of her body towards the bridge. Her hands slipped off the roof, and she watched as the lights of the walkway flashed past her eyes. Then her hands slapped against the railing, fingers closing around metal bars. Her weight caught, pulling against the muscles of her hands, but she held on.

Before her hands could get tired, she pulled herself up high enough to brace her feet along the edge. She closed her eyes and sucked in lungfuls of cool, moist air. Her body trembled, muscles screaming in pain, but she had to keep moving. She opened her eyes and glanced down the walkway of the skybridge. It was empty. She scanned the protective bars of the open air railing; they were too close together to fit through and rose nearly to the glass roof. She took another look at the gap near the roof. It was not large, but it was that or climb along the outside and hope a nearby window was open. She shimmied up the railing and grabbed the top bar. A minute later, she had squeezed through the gap and slipped down to the inner walkway.

The moment her feet touched the floor, pain shot up her leg and sent her stumbling. She let out a hiss and clutched at the railing for balance. After a few breaths, she pushed away from the bars and limped toward the second hospital skyrise. A set of glass doors at the end of the bridge slid open as she approached, wrapping her in warm air. She slipped inside and peered into the hallway. Like the bridge, it was empty, but a soft blue ‘Mag Lift’ sign shimmered near the nurses’ station. Sanya checked the other direction again, swallowed, then crept out toward the lift.

Her bare feet padded on the tile floor, and she glanced over her shoulder every few seconds. As she neared the lift, she spotted a door to her right. It was a staff supply closet, and someone had left it cracked open. With another glance behind her, she opened the door just enough to slip inside. She shut the door and turned on the light. There were clean scrubs, gloves, trays, syringes, and other supplies for the nurses. Sanya hurried over to the scrubs and found a set about her size. She changed, throwing her wet clothes in a nearby bin. There was some binding gauze on a shelf, which she grabbed and wrapped around her ankle. The tight wrap eased the pain, though she was still walking with a limp.