Chapter Nine: The Pariah’s Ambition

I grinned widely. My smile was a sheepish little thing that I’d never cared for. As a child, I actually went out of my way to avoid smiling. I didn’t like how it made me look in the mirror. I’d never found myself attractive and somewhere between starting college at sixteen and my graduation, I’d come to accept that. Beauty was unimportant to me. All that mattered was Sunsoul, back then.

I was lonely. But the loneliness was worth it if I could accomplish my dreams. If I could show everyone else what I saw in the sun. That hadn’t gone well. Oh, they’d believed. One dream accomplished. Then when I didn’t get to go on the Array, everything went wrong. No more science, and worse, I could no longer look at the sun, because my Array had… broken it. Unleashed a paper thin ribbon that had been protecting us from it, or so my best guess would have me believe. So I received my just rewards. I was an ugly, aging woman, doomed to die alone and disgraced.

Now I couldn’t stop smiling, so much so that my cheeks were beginning to ache. What a wait. It had only taken forty five years.

I scowled at myself, annoyed at the girlish squeals of glee that were firing off inside my brain. My lips still tingled, and my knees were still wobbly as I leaned against the door of my apartment.

I’m too old for this.

Apparently not. I stole over to the window and snuck a peek outside and down to the indoor parking garage below. I spotted Matt as he walked back out to the beat up Bonneville he’d picked me up in earlier this morning around 1:00 A.M. It was hard to tell from three stories up at night, but I thought he had a little grin on his face, too. It had been a good date.

I flopped down onto my bed in a daze and let loose. Sunsoul seeped from my fingers, as if aching to be released after so many days spent holding it in. Green light burst around the room, and I played with it, heedless of the frivolous waste of power, as I made illusions of light on the walls. I changed the colors, using the study of countless hours of trial and error for the most mundane amusement I could fathom. Sunsoul. The stuff of magic, of wonder. The substance I’d devoted my life to solving, wasted in a fit of euphoric giddiness that would be childish if a teen did it.

I can paint with all the colors of the wind!

I amused myself for a few minutes more before I started feeling embarrassed, even though I was entirely alone. I stopped playing with Sunsoul, and the lights faded as I chastised myself. It shouldn’t be squandered. I’d never actually found any limit on how much I could use and draw, but that didn’t mean there was no limit. Most who could see it seemed to need to strain their backs for even the slightest ounce. Even Scarlatti, the traitorous hag, couldn’t touch it like I could. Manipulating Sunsoul had always felt like second nature to me; easy and light. I felt like a master artist, in a world filled with finger painters. I had never met my equal, much less my better.

Sunsoul was my refuge, my protection, my reason for being. Without it, I wasn’t sure what I would do.

Drown myself in even more games and books I’m sure.

And yet it was still more of a mystery to me than I cared to admit. It didn’t follow logic. It didn’t run out. Nor did it burn out. I grew tired when I manipulated it for too long, and it came from the sun. In all my years of study, those were the facts. Everything else was as mysterious as the northern lights must’ve been to explorers a thousand years ago.

I’d been more devoted to my studies a few years ago, but when it became apparent that no one would ever listen to me, even if I had unfurled the secrets to returning the sun to normal, my drive had finally died. I no longer cared to study, save in idle dreams about somehow finding a way to get to the Helios Array and find out what the hell went wrong. Science was dead to me.

But Sunsoul remained. Unexplained even now, it filled people and plants and animals alike. Randomly. Why one human could touch Sunsoul as easily as they could breathe while others couldn’t even see it, made even less sense to me than it ever had.

Some expert I was...

Scarlatti claimed to have discovered the reason, but if she truly had, I couldn’t see how. When she’d stabbed me in the back, she’d been nothing more than a child playing in a sandbox. Her towers. Her stopgap attempt to save the world was probably the best shot we had, but every time I dwelt on them, I couldn’t help but think of what a colossal waste they were. Treating the symptoms rather than the source. Yet, here I was, about to benefit from that waste.

I couldn’t help it. I... wanted to stand in the sun again. Well. Without creating a shield of Sunsoul to protect myself anyway.

I sighed, feeling a little disgusted with myself as I powered on my computer’s monitor. I never turned the thing off these days.

Once, I would’ve gotten online and immersed myself in some sort of scholarly article on Sunsoul, physics, astronomy, or some other esoteric dialogue that would further my knowledge and understanding. I didn’t even feel guilty as I started one of the more popular Massively Multiplayer Online games that had exploded in popularity now that going outside was no longer recreationally possible.

I might’ve had my first date in ten years this evening but that didn’t mean there weren’t still orcs to kill. And there… there I could be someone else. There I didn’t have to worry about mobs or enraged citizens who blamed me for destroying the world. Online, I could almost be–!

I jumped, startled by the sound of a firm knocking on the door.

I quirked an eyebrow. Matt? It… could be him coming back after dropping me off, but that felt out of character for the man. But who else would be knocking at my door? The only other person who made any sense was Natasha, my government-assigned handler. She’d actually saved my life by moving me out of Philadelphia a few months ago when the riots got bad, and set me up here.

The southern states had more reason to hate me, but it was the coastal cities that had to fear the ocean’s boiling hurricanes where things were truly getting bad. Contrarily, West Steppe was about to become one of the safest places in the world. Much as I hated being so close to Scarlatti’s next seat of power, I was grateful for Natasha’s willingness to put her job over her personal animosity for me.

But it was still rather unusual for her to come knocking so close to sunrise.

Cautiously, I grabbed my taser, and made sure my knife was ready in case there were more than one. Sunsoul was a last resort. It could be… deadly when used offensively. I’d never had to kill anyone, but that didn’t mean there weren’t plenty of people out there who wanted to kill me. I’d come close more than once.

I opened the door slowly. I couldn’t help a small sigh of relief when I found only one squat little man standing in the doorway, smiling a politician’s grin.

“Doctor Violette Fontaine, as I live and breathe!” He said boisterously. “Good morning, good morning!”

His unnaturally pleasant attitude put me on edge faster than three men with guns might’ve.

“What do you want?” I asked, not really caring how rude it was. No one was ever happy to see me. No one wished me a good morning.

Matt did.

I scowled, trying to silence the traitorous thought. Matt was different.

This might be too.

“Ahh yes. Apologies. I know it’s early. My name is Elias Hundley,” he said, his good humor never faltering for a moment. He wore a suit that he looked comfortable in. He was short, with a wide face, a body to match, and dimples that made his cheeks stand out. He had no visible facial hair, and probably never had. Black hair peeked out beneath a black and gold trimmed hat that was completely impractical in this age. All hats were really, though they’d been making a comeback since the three northern towers had come online.

Everything about his mannerisms was disarming and inviting. He carried no weapons that I could see, which was a point in his favor. Instead, he carried a small black briefcase. That could be used to bludgeon me, but if that was what he wanted, there were better ways to go about it. That suit looked expensive, too.

For the life of me, I couldn’t tell what he was doing here.

“Are you a Jehova’s witness? Because I haven’t believed in a long time,” I ventured, semi-seriously.

He gave another boisterous laugh that made me think that his every word could be described as such. “No no, my dear. I am here representing Sirahn Industries, LLC, and I come with a rather unique, time-sensitive, business opportunity.”

He actually said L, L, C, out loud.

“Sirahn… the parts manufacturer?”

He smiled, the first hint of slyness creeping into his expression. “We have diversified significantly since our involvement with the Helios Array, Miss Fontaine. Much of our business comes from constructing Hubs these days, but we still have several contracts with NASA. May I come in? I promise, I mean you no harm.”

It spoke of his research on me, that he’d added that last bit. There had been plenty of people who had meant me harm. Usually, they’d regretted it. With Sunsoul, I was never unarmed, and thoughts were faster than trigger fingers.

“I… suppose,” I said. I opened the door and he stepped inside with a polite gesture, only to promptly snort as his eyes fell on the video game splash page I’d forgotten to close on my computer screen.

I flushed vividly, and hurried to my desk to close the program.

“I apologize.” He said, immediately contrite. “That was rude of me. It can’t have been easy living through what you have. I’ve no right to judge your indulgences, especially when I am no stranger to dungeon crawlers such as that one. They are quite enjoyable, yes? Do you play Dark Knight?”

I brightened, “That’s my second class! You play?”

“Often and avidly!” He said, his own enthusiasm bleeding through in a way that was beginning to convince me that he always sounded this way. “I suppose I just didn’t expect to find a genius like yourself enjoying something that I waste far too much of my own time on, Doctor Fontaine.”

I grimaced. “Don’t… don’t call me that, please. People mock me with it. I’m not… if I were a genius this wouldn’t have happened.” I gestured upwards helplessly, knowing he would understand.

He did. “I’m afraid I cannot comply. I have, and will always, look up to you as Doctor Fontaine. You have more supporters than you know. Many people feel you were, how shall we say… shafted? That actually brings me quite close to the topic I came to discuss.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “And that is?”

“A planned mission to the Helios Array. A mission to fix what the last craft broke.”

My eyes widened. My fingers trembled. “Th-there must be some mistake. NASA told me there were no planned missions to the array because–!”

“Because there was no guarantee anything could be corrected, or that the Array could even be found given its volatile nature. Yes I know. I read the same manifests,” he interrupted. “It has been some time since then, however, and a mission has been on the table for the past three years. Funding is slow. The bureaucrats are not fond of another mission to the sun. They fear the unpredictable nature of Sunsoul is too volatile and that tampering at the source might further disrupt whatever the Helios Array unleashed. The reason they feel this way, however, is their annoying confidence in a certain power company.”

I growled. “Telilro…”

“The very same,” He said confidently. “In fact, while our businesses are quite different, we often find ourselves competing for tax dollars with Scarlatti’s ever growing empire, and its subsidiaries. Why build hubs when you can build one tower and walk in the sunlight again? Why worry about the sun when you have a big blue dome protecting you!?”

He grew incensed, and his large cheeks heated. “Why worry about the people who will burn alive as long as you are safe behind–!”

He cut himself off abruptly. “I apologize. Scarlatti’s company is… a sore spot with me.”

“Preaching to the choir,” I said, as the true implications of this evening were becoming clear to me.

Is this real? Could this really be happening?

“I knew I would find myself in good company,” He said with a grin. “Anyway. The project is nearing completion, and we would like you aboard.”

“I… I…” Every fiber of my being screamed to say yes. To scream it at the top of my lungs. A chance to fix it. A chance to save everything. To redeem myself. To maybe make up for a little of the devastation and ruin I had wrought.

“But there is a problem. Tellroan, obviously,” he said with a sneer. “Confidence in Telilro’s towers has reached an all time high, and with every tower they build, the demand for them increases tenfold. There are seven under construction in the United States, but a further fifty eight more towers are scheduled to be activated worldwide over the next three years.”

I think he expected astonishment but he received none from me. I was well aware of Scarlatti’s not so subtle attempts to begin covering the globe. They would work, too, the people never knowing just what they were truly giving to her.

“You need money, and support. Backers. Attaching my name to the project probably causes a few hackles to rise, but if there really is a project, then it’s got to be nearing cancellation, with or without my name. The government is throwing its support behind Telilro, and everyone knows NASA hasn’t really been funded since the Array.”

I was missing pieces of the puzzle. They wouldn’t contact me, not unless the mission was already a go, or I could make it possible, but I didn’t see any way I could help them.

“Clever, but not quite accurate, my dear. In fact it's quite the opposite. The mission has already been greenlighted. The Helios Array is closer than ever, actually outside of Mercury’s orbit whenever it appears now. We would like you to come, but your attendance is neither necessary, nor is it guaranteed. We would require something in return.”

I stiffened a little. The catch. Because of course there was a catch.

“But… I can’t think of anything I could do to help you. You surely don’t think I have any money, right?” I asked, feeling the chance of a lifetime slipping through my fingers.

He laughed. “No no, nothing like that. It is, indeed, a catch. But one I think you will actually enjoy. How would you like to get back at your ex-protégée, and earn your trip to the stars at the same time?”

…This might just be the best night of my life.

“How?” I asked, feigning disinterest. I suspected my acting was poor, since I couldn’t have pried my grip off the couch’s armrest with a crowbar.

“Scarlatti has given you an open invitation to all activation ceremonies for her Towers, has she not? We would like you to take her up on it. Surprise her, and distract her. Make the biggest commotion you’ve made in years. Draw everyone’s eyes.”

I gulped. I tried to play it cool. Pretend like I hadn’t dreamed of doing just that for weeks now. But this didn’t sound like an idle boast. They had a real plan. A real idea that might actually work. They just needed the average American taxpayer to be a little less confident in the towers. What better way than to have one of them fail?

My inner hatred for Scarlatti warred with the knowledge that thousands of people who had staked their lives on a new home in West Steppe might be ruined or even lost if Tellroan failed. I gulped, suddenly aware that I was privy to information that could cripple an international company with an annual budget in the billions. Could Sunsoul protect me from bullets?

“A-And if I were to refuse? If I... Wh-what’s to keep me from just calling the police and telling them about this plan?”

“Please, my dear. Any law enforcement agent would arrest you for suspicion of living before listening to anything you have to say. And admittedly, if the plan fails, you are an incredibly convenient scapegoat.”

I grimaced. A scapegoat. Of course… they wanted fallback insurance. Who better than me? Who… who better than me?

To my surprise, Elias continued, his tone going low, and grave. “But to be honest, I’m not lying. I am trying to help you, us, and the world. I’ve read your blogs, VoiceofSouls, and I believe you. The towers will not save us. The sun is behaving strangely, and no one is sure why. At any moment it could grow a few degrees hotter and burn Scarlatti’s towers along with the rest of the world, or snuff out like a blown lightbulb and freeze us in an instant! I’m trying to keep a dying world alive, while the towers are only going to help us die comfortably.’ You wrote that, did you not? Your words may not have been printed in the Solar Physics Journals for a decade, but they are still heard.”

A lump formed in my throat. Guilt and belief and above all hope. “I– you–! You read my...?”

“Many, many times.”

A small voice in the back of my mind told me he was playing me. He knew exactly what to say. Exactly how to say it. To make me yearn. But… If this failed, what did I really have left to lose? A kiss with the owner of a rundown bar in St. Louis? Was that enough to balance my chance at redemption?

I looked at Elias’s pleading face, searching for any trace of a lie. Any hint of malevolence, but I found none. I wasn’t an expert on people. I was, in fact, bad at reading them. But even if this was a lie, it was one I’d been waiting to hear for almost twenty years.

“If… if you’re lying to me, it will break me, Mr. Hundley. If this is a trick, I won’t survive it,” I told him, trying to emphasize how much he was truly asking of me.

He smiled again, making even his bittersweet sadness look boisterous. “I see the writing on the walls, Miss Fontaine. My dear, if something isn’t done… I fear none of us will survive at all.”

I was quiet for a long time.

Sooner or later, as the warning bells signaled dawn was approaching, I asked in a small voice, “What do you want me to do?”