Day 5

The journey to Riot’s apartment in—surprise surprise—the Sunrise District took a little under an hour, but few a word was shared between the pair of them. Each of them had a lot to think about. For Sham, he had Asa’s business arrangement with Gresley to think about. Whereas Riot, Sham suspected, was dwelling on the idea of having a voice in her head; a theory that her fiddling with the skill vial would seem to support.

Riot had them alight the tram at a stop near the centre of Haven, barely out of the Commercial Zone, and Sham could see from the exteriors that this was a posh part of town even for this particular district. The buildings were almost offensively clean, with white paint not faded or dirtied or peeling, with woodwork sealed and as fresh as the day it was built—which couldn’t have been recently, this close to the centre of the city.

Sham looked down from the building to see that Riot was tapping her foot impatiently at the door, holding it ajar. But when Sham strolled over as quickly as his tired body would allow, Riot did his the grace of saying nothing, her irritated expression softening, even.

It was taking every ounce of willpower he had not to down the Vigour vial on the spot. Soon, he told himself. Very soon, he’d have it.

If the exterior of Riot’s apartment building was painful for Sham to see, it was nothing compared to the interior. The main living space took up the entirety of the building’s top floor, spacious enough to serve as a fancy dining hall for the rich and famous but populated instead by pristine furniture; a sofa long enough that Riot could lie down on it, a dining table with over a dozen seats, a large and elegant rug which spoke of distant cultures.

Once again, Riot turned to glance at him as Sham compulsively came to a halt.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.

‘You didn’t tell me you live with other people,’ he replied. ‘I think it might be best if we—’

‘I don’t.’

Sham pulled his eyes away from the room and snapped them to his host. ‘What?’ he asked.

‘I live alone,’ Riot reiterated.

‘But…’ Sham started, gesturing to the area around him. ‘Why do you have—’

Riot shook her head. ‘Don’t, Sham.’

It was enough, this time, to make Sham snap his mouth shut. But only because there were bigger fish to fry. They’d definitely be revisiting the matter of her grotesque wealth some other time.

‘Straight to bed, I think, then,’ Sham said, pulling his Vigour vial free of his jacket. ‘After we take these.’

‘Sham…’

‘Yeah,’ Riot replied, doing the same with her own Recollection vial. ‘And you’re sure it’s fine?’

‘That really depends on your definition of “fine.”’

Riot shrugged.

‘I’ll take the sofa,’ Sham said, beginning to hobble over.

‘Sham, you don’t need to do that,’ Riot replied.

He smiled at her. ‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘I don’t mind. To be honest, I think this sofa looks more comfortable than my own—’

‘I mean,’ Riot interrupted. ‘You don’t need to do that because I have more than one bed.’

‘Two bedrooms?’ Sham instinctively answered, the tone in his voice making it abundantly clear what he thought of such extravagance.

Riot didn’t reply, and something about the way she didn’t answer made Sham suspect there were more than two bedrooms, but he let the matter rest. She turned, leading the way for Sham towards the nearest bedroom—a room larger than Sham’s entire apartment. ‘This will suit you, I assume?’

‘Err,’ Sham answered, ‘Yeah. It’ll suit me.’

‘Good,’ Riot said, fiddling with the vial in her hand.

‘So, should we—’

‘No, you bloody shouldn’t.’

‘Why, Sham?’ Riot asked, cutting him off. ‘Why did you do it? Why did you risk your own vial for this one?’

Sham shrugged. ‘What’s the alternative? Having to spend every Loop explaining to you the same stuff? Having to have the same conversation again and again and again and again? And having to have you look at me every time, like I’m mad? Because that’s how it would be. Besides… there was always next Loop. Could’ve got what I wanted then.’

Riot nodded to herself, but something was keeping her from making eye contact.

‘You don’t have to take it, you know. You don’t have to—’

‘No,’ Riot said. ‘It’s fine. I got it.’ She held the vial up to her eyes, swilling it around in front of the light.

Sham looked down at his own.

‘Drop it! Drop the fucking vial, Sham. You don’t want it—’

‘You sure you’re good?’ Sham asked.

‘—You don’t need it. You have me. You have—’

Riot smiled back at him, a lot of sadness in her eyes. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.’

‘—me! This’ll ruin you, Sham. This will—’

Sham shot Riot a reassuring smile of his own.

‘—ruin you! You won’t be able to take it! You won’t be able to…’

‘Oh, shut it,’ Sham finally said, letting the living skill get to him. ‘It’s happening.’

‘That’s the skill, is it?’ Riot asked. ‘In your head?’

Sham nodded. ‘It’s fine, though. You get used to it.’

Riot didn’t seem the least bit reassured, but pulled the cork from the vial none the less. Sham did the same.

‘Last chance to back out…’

‘Well…’ Sham started, raising the Vigour vial as if giving a toast. ‘Bottom’s up.’

NEW SKILL: Vigour

A strength grows inside. The ability to exact your will upon others, through brute force—that’s a skill worth having. But where does the strength end and the soul begin?

And down, at last, it went.

Sham walked down the long, winding corridors of his apartment, peering in each bedroom as he passed by its door. Each of these rooms was empty. Each of them was larger than the last. Each of them spoke to him.

‘You know where you are, don’t you, Sham?’ Recollection murmured, his voice echoing around the walls.

Sham ignored him. Continued on. Maybe the next room…

‘You do… remember, don’t you?’

‘I remember,’ Sham grumbled.

‘Then what is it you expect to find, here?’

‘She’s here, somewhere,’ Sham replied, finding his voice oddly spirited. ‘I know She’s here. She didn’t leave.’

‘She left, Sham,’ Recollection continued. ‘You know this, really. You remember this.’

A woman with a cigarette burn for a face peered over Sham. He felt the comforts of his bedsheets below him.

‘You want me to show you the memory again?’ the living skill asked.

‘No,’ Sham replied, and with a blink She was gone. And the bedsheets, too. And again he was walking the infinite corridors of his apartment, peering again into another room, this one bigger now that the bedroom Riot had showed him to.

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘Riot.’

‘What about her?’ Recollection asked. ‘What about her is worth dwelling on? What about her made you think her a suitable vessel for my sibling?’

‘She needs to know.’

‘Know what, Sham?’

‘She needs to… remember.’

‘Why, Sham? Why does she need to remember? What good does it serve her?’

‘She doesn’t like to be ignorant. No. She likes… She likes.’

Recollection spoke louder, this time. ‘You’re losing yourself, here, time boy. What does she like? Stick with the thought process. Keep remembering. Don’t let Him take you.’

‘Him?’ Sham asked, pausing in the doorway to the latest room. ‘Him who?’

‘No!’ Recollection snapped. ‘Keep remembering. Don’t think of Him. Why does Riot need to remember the Loops? Tell me, Sham. Why? Remember.’

‘No, I don’t…’

‘Tell me, Sham!’ Recollection roared, and the walls of Sham’s apartment seemed to shake, the window panes rattling in their frames. ‘Tell me!’

‘Why? Why do I…’

‘Why?’

‘Why do I need to remember? Why can’t I think about… Think about…’

There was someone there. Someone he wasn’t supposed to think about. He’d escaped Sham. Escaped Sham’s mind.

‘You teeter on the edge of reality and unreality. You risk breaking yourself. You risk breaking the world. This paradox must be resolved, Sham. The Conflicts must find a way to co-exist. They must—’

‘Or…’

‘Or we lose, Sham. We lose! I’ve told you. You remember this. I’ve told you not to take that vial. That you risk—’

A distant roar. Down the infinite corridor.

‘Think of Riot, Sham,’ Recollection screeched. ‘Remember her. Remember her. Remember—’

‘She has to remember,’ Sham said. ‘She has to remember the Loops. She can’t… She doesn’t like to be ignorant. She deserves to know. She deserves… I deserve…’

‘Stick with this, Sham,’ Recollection said. ‘It’s working. Just keep remembering. Keep remembering. Keep…’

‘Or what?’

‘Or what?’ Sham said.

‘No, Sham, that’s not your thought. Think your own thoughts. Remember—’

‘Or what?’

‘Or what?’ Sham said again.

A fire erupted at the end of the infinite corridor.

No. Not a fire.

A rage.

‘I remember…’ Sham started.

‘Remember!’ Recollection roared.

‘I remember…’

‘Remember!’

‘I remember…’

The inferno of rage erupted down the infinite corridor. It consumed Sham, muffled the screeching voice of Recollection.

‘Let me guess…’ a new voice chuckled. ‘You remember pain. You remember being weak. You remember not having the strength to take what you know should be yours.’

‘Remember Riot, Sham,’ Recollection screamed through the blistering wrath.

‘Fuck Riot,’ the new voice continued, ‘Fuck all of them. Where has caring for others ever got you, Sham? When has this pathetic selfishness ever benefited you?’

‘It’s not supposed to benefit—’

‘Good, Sham,’ Recollection said. ‘Fight it.’

‘It lost you your friends,’ the voice said. ‘It lost you your income. It lost you your lover.’

A faceless woman appeared at the end of the infinite corridor, both close and far. Within grasp but a whole world away. Sham recoiled, and with it he felt the new voice’s power over him fade.

‘So my ol’ pal Recollection has been keeping that from you, has he? You don’t remember her face. You don’t remember her significance. You don’t remember—’

‘Kept it from him, Vigour, yes,’ Recollection suddenly shouted, his voice cutting through the inferno now that Sham had withdrawn from the new sentient skill. ‘For our own survival. Don’t think his mind could handle the truth right now. It might… break. And without a mind…’

‘...We cease to be,’ Vigour finished for him. ‘Hmm.’

‘I…’ Sham started, but the skills continued to talk about him as if he wasn’t there.

‘You don’t know he’d break,’ Vigour went on, ‘It might make him stronger. The rage… Rage is a powerful motivator. Rage can achieve more than apathy. More than ignorance. More than…’

‘You’d gamble with our lives? For what?’

The inferno began to quieten. The corridor shrunk—down from infinity to suffocatingly close. Claustrophobic.

‘There is nothing to gain, Vigour. Nothing.’

Vigour remained quiet for a moment longer, the flaming pillars of rage quietening too into lingering clouds of smoke.

‘I see. Yes, I see.’

Though Sham could see neither of them, he felt as though Vigour’s eyes had returned to him.

‘Giddy-up, cowboy,’ Vigour said. ‘You’re in it for the long-run now. And your journey don’t end til your mind gives out.’

Sham awoke to screams.

He stumbled down the corridor, expecting his legs to buckle beneath him at such exertion, but found he had only solid foundations.

‘Yes, Sham,’ the new voice of Vigour lauded him, ‘Feel that strength coursing through you. Use it. Channel it. Make yourself be feared.’

Sham had practice, by now, ignoring the voices in his mind. But that didn’t stop his gut twisting, repulsed by such an inhuman experience. Still, he continued on, charging across the apartment towards the source of the noise. Towards Riot.

He found her in the grandest of bedrooms, sat bolt upright in the centre of a bed fit for a queen. She didn’t turn as Sham collided with the doorframe, didn’t move a muscle as he approached the bed—only screaming at the ceiling with eyes held wide. It was only now that Sham was close that he could hear a word in that inhuman howl.

‘Help,’ she was saying.

‘Shh,’ Sham said, crawling across the silk bedsheets towards her, doing his best to keep a respectable distance. But still he howled, and only when he reached out and touched her did Riot flinch, quietening.

She turned to him with wide, fearful, bloodshot eyes. ‘I remember, Sham,’ she croaked.

‘Shh,’ Sham said again, touching her at the shoulder. ‘It’s OK. It’s OK.’

‘I remember.’

‘What do you remember, Riot?’ he asked.

‘My mother, I…’

‘Your mother?’

‘I… I remember her death. Can’t… Can’t stop thinking about her death. Can’t stop seeing it. Can’t stop unlocking…’

‘Slap some sense into her, Sham,’ Vigour roared in his ear. ‘Only thing that’ll help.’

‘I know, Riot. I know. You’ve got to try to ignore it. You’ve got to—’

‘I can’t!’ she cried out.

‘You can, Riot. If I can do it, you can definitely do it.’

‘I—’

‘Listen to me. I’ve known you a little while now and I’ve never seen you take shit from anyone. So why start now? Force it out of your mind. Ignore it. Show it who’s boss.’

‘But I keep seeing—’

‘Then that’s all the more reason to do it!’ Sham interrupted, shouting now, determined not to let Recollection take a hold of Riot as it had him, towards the start.

Riot crunched her face into a ball, the extreme effort evident not just in her expression but in the beads of sweat dripping down the sides of her face. ‘Sham…’ she croaked.

He pulled her in tight, held her, did her best to make her feel safe though he knew that pretty much anyone else would have been better placed to do so.

She roared again, not with terror, not with sadness, but with rage.

‘I like this girl…’ Vigour whispered.

‘You got this,’ Sham said again. ‘You got this. You can—’

Riot breathed, finally, a sigh of relief. A sign that it was over. For now, at least.

He released her. Let her breathe. Let her clutch at her bedsheets as she grounded herself in reality once more.

‘Sham,’ she gasped. ‘I think I… remember something. I think I know where Kryl is.’