Chapter 17: Amahle’s Plea

I was wholly unprepared for what Amahle did. As much as I wanted to run around the city to find her, I was a criminal whose face was imprinted on the impressionable, innocent minds of the citizens of Echo City. I was limited, which meant I had to be creative. Before I went out in a disguise, however, I had to figure out where she could have gone. My first instinct was Antler Headquarters, but before I had to resort to guesswork, Hadrian stepped in.

“Hand me your phone,” they stated. I tilted my head.

“Why?” I asked.

“I can find her.”

“Wait, you can do that? Does Anders knows where she is?” I suddenly felt quite uneasy about Hadrian, despite the lack of handcuffs around my wrists.

“No, he doesn’t. What I mean is I can find her. Not the Perma Tech inside her.”

“Okay, but how?” I prodded. Even if it wasn’t some tracking capability in the Perma Tech, I was suspicious.

“Nathaniel, I can tell what you’re thinking. I’m not hacking anything. It’s really not that crazy. I’m just accessing the footage around the city to pinpoint where she was last recorded.”

“That’s not crazy? That’s…” I paused, considering all of Antler's antics, “Actually, I should have guessed you could do that. Still, it’s creepy.”

“Give me your phone.”

I obliged. Hadrian worked quickly and calmly, a distinct look compared to Amahle and her furrowed brows. Soon, Hadrian had an answer.

“Found her,” they said. Hadrian studied my phone one more time, either to decipher the address or because they were just confused. “She’s in the middle of the city.”

***

A crowd had formed around Amahle, listening to her words more intently with each passing second. She stepped up on a curb to separate herself. Those who wanted a better look just stared at their phones. One audience member, braver than the rest, spoke up.

“How do we know you’re immortal?”

Those surrounding him stared as if they weren’t allowed to interrupt. Amahle, however, was expecting this. She was hoping for it. To convince people that Antler was not to be trusted, she had to prove what they had done.

“When I woke up from the surgery I was subjected to, I was confused,” Amahle explained. She decided to take a page out of Anders’ book with her explanation. After all, he was persuasive. “I felt different, but I didn’t know how. I felt no pain, but that could be explained in a thousand different ways. How do I know I am immortal? The answer should be obvious.”

Those watching collectively pondered what she meant. Some realized it immediately, others slowly, but they all eventually reached the same conclusion. It was a depressing, frightening thought, one that had never invaded the mortal minds surrounding Amahle. It was a dread she didn’t wish to give anyone; however, she had to.

***

I cursed under my breath as I ran in disguise. Considering what I had on hand, it was a fine way to camouflage. I wore Hadrian’s sunglasses, a hat I purchased from the owner of the diner, and a discarded curtain ripped in two as a scarf. It was a curious look, but people knew me for my face, and this covered enough.

Still, it was annoying to run in my disguise, and Hadrian was much faster than I expected. We were heading to Amahle, who was in one of the most crowded areas in Echo. It was risky for me to show my face, but it was riskier to not know what she was doing. I considered taking a taxi, but running was nearly as quick a route, and it was much easier to escape the authorities on foot in case it came down to that. We crossed the bridge, and I took out my phone to the sudden noise it blared. I saw Amahle’s face and attempted to sigh, but I wasn’t in good enough shape to do that while running. I stuffed my phone back into my pocket before I tripped.

Appearing on screen once was effective, shocking the city with a message they didn’t expect. The second appearance was an expected counter-strategy, one that sparked a debate among the citizens between myself and Anders. A third time, well, that was repetitive. Amahle should have known that. I doubted she could capture the attention of the masses as I had. In fact, I imagined they were all a bit tired of the theatrics at this point. They cared, sure, but only so much.

I continued behind Hadrian, wondering if Amahle was able to cover the distance because she didn’t tire. There were many advantages to being immortal it seemed, but I had my reasons for disliking Perma Tech. Amahle had hers.

We turned the corner onto the street Amahle was on, and I spotted the large crowd and the traffic stopped nearby. People were listening, and listening intently. Hadrian and I approached. At first I was worried I would be discovered, but no one was paying attention to me. Not anymore.

I heard her words from my phone and from her. She talked about what I had assumed before, what she asked me not to question. It was how she determined her immortality. I understood before everyone else, this depressing experiment she conducted in her frantic uncertainty.

***

Amahle waited for those present to mumble understanding at her words. She didn’t like the story, but it needed to be told.

“I started with small injuries, which quickly repaired on my body. Stubbing my toe, scratching my finger—these things I can show you.” Amahle held up her hand and dug her teeth into the skin until blood was drawn. As quickly as she was hurt, she was healed. The audience made noises of admiration and confusion.

“Even this did not convince me,” Amahle continued, preemptively countering any doubts the audience might have. “And it shouldn’t convince you. It could be an illusion. A magic trick. For me, I couldn’t be sure it would work for everything, and I had to be sure. I had to know if my life had been manipulated. So, I tried to die.”

Amahle paused to give the viewers a chance to consider her words. None of them could understand why she went to such lengths, but that wasn’t important. They didn’t need to know her, they needed to know what happened to her.

“It was like a brief nap, where I woke up feeling completely fine. In fact, it’s the only way I can ever sleep. It’s the only respite from existence, the brief nothingness of death. This might sound fantastic to you. It might sound like a dream. To me, it was frightening. Not because I actually wanted to die or that I wanted to be fragile, but because I wasn’t in control. I won’t try to convince all of you that life should be short. It should last as long as you want. All I want is for life to be as incorruptible as possible. As soon as Antler decided to control immortality, corruption was part of the deal.”

No one spoke up. Amahle met my eyes, which almost caused her to lose focus. I could tell she didn’t want me to interrupt. The others wouldn’t notice it, but she was slightly annoyed by my presence. She had to know I would come, though, so perhaps it was part of her plan.

“I think I still have something to prove to all of you,” Amahle continued. I looked at Hadrian, who kept a neutral expression. I was sure that they were as puzzled as I was. “You still don’t have proof I am immortal.”

My mouth went dry. Those surrounding me, even those who clearly doubted her, expressed their hesitance to see anything so extreme.

I averted my eyes. The crowd gasped.

***

The headquarters of Antler was being quickly surrounded by protesters, who berated those exiting and entering the building. Inside, there was just as much of a ruckus. Will was busy organizing the security to keep any unruly protesters from causing damage while also directing calls from a thousand different angry consumers. As much as he wanted to be annoyed at Amahle, Will had confidence she was doing what was right. No one had the interests of others in mind more than Amahle. He was trying to play his part, though it wasn’t clear if she had assigned him one.

Upstairs, in his throne room, sat Anders Askeland. He was quiet. His face revealed no worry. His thoughts twisted so tightly and rooted so deeply that the meaning was impossible to decipher. Amahle’s Imada finished playing on his monitor. Anders, for all his complexity and earned arrogance, found Amahle’s words incomprehensible. The most influential man stood up and gazed out of the window. There was a noise growing beneath. There was unrest infecting the city he built. There was also a distinctly dense group moving closer to his headquarters. He knew who was there.

***

Amahle strode at a fast pace, surrounded by her ardent believers. No one stopped her. She had proven herself in a way no one should ever have to. There was one location left for her.

I followed along, waiting for an opportunity to speak to her, but there was none. Amahle was playing her last card, one I didn’t think she had, nor one I think she should have played. I decided to play my last card too. I nudged Hadrian, who was contently walking with the crowd of ardent supporters.

“Hadrian, the update that went through the other day, does it also affect the Perma Tech I stole? The one in the phone?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Hadrian answered. Before they could ask me anything else, I took out my perma-tech-infused phone and made a call.

As she found herself on the same block as Antler Headquarters, Amahle was surprised to see people already shouting at the company. Once they turned to see her, they went silent. She walked by them and up to the entrance, opened the door, and entered. The followers stayed behind, including myself and Hadrian.

I was still considered a criminal despite Amahle’s influence. My plan now was on a timer, and I had to stay free for the countdown. I walked away from the headquarters as more and more people swarmed around. There was a growing chance I would be recognized and stopped. I had to buy time. I didn’t know what she was going to do, but hopefully she stayed alive long enough for me to help.

Inside, many eyes were shocked to see Amahle Imada. One was overjoyed.

“Amahle!” Will exclaimed. He hung up the phone and ran out to talk to her. The lobby security approached, but Will put himself between the two. “She’s allowed to be here,” Will explained. “Anders wants to talk to her.”

The security guard raised his eyebrows at Will. “You sure?”

“Absolutely.” Will watched the guard back away before speaking to Amahle. “What are you doing here?” He whispered.

“What you said. I’m here to talk to Anders,” Amahle replied in a regular volume.

“I made that up! He doesn’t know you’re here. Plus, I’m not sure he would be happy to see you,” Will reasoned. Amahle smiled.

“Trust me Will, he wants to talk to me.”

Will’s phone rang, and he answered it only to hear a distinct voice on the other end. He nodded once, then twice, and the call ended. Amahle raised her eyebrows.

“That was him,” Will admitted. “He says you can go talk to him. His office.”

“That’s what I thought.” Her lips didn’t quiver, her posture didn’t sink. For some reason, and for the first time since he was just a child, someone was confident at the prospect of seeing Anders. She even appeared happy. It was a perplexing sight.

Amahle moved past Will, who was overcome with worry. He knew the extent Anders would go to succeed, and how desperately Amahle wanted to do what was right. It was a terrible match. He didn’t expect to see both of them alive after this.

“Amahle,” Will said. She turned around.

“What?” She asked.

“What should I do?”

“Make sure Nathaniel doesn’t mess anything up,” she answered, still smiling. Amahle made her way to the express elevator and went to meet Anders Askeland. Will stood frozen as the phones continued to ring and protesters shouted.

Amahle arrived at the top floor, going down the hallway and opening Anders’ door without a moment's pause. She found Anders sitting with his eyes closed and hands crossed.

“Anders.”

“Amahle.”