Chapter 130

Chapter 130

James activated the Miracle with a single Aeviternum.

Serenity, the Brooklyn street, all of it fell away as his vision shifted and became blank. No; he could still see - but now he gazed out over an endless white plane of pearlescent material covered by white skies.

A blank slate.

Intuition and knowledge filled him. He could change this space to match whatever place he desired. The scope was limited. He couldnt recreate Manhattan in here, but a city block? Sure. An apartment, maybe. A large room.

Or a bar.

This was the kind of decision some people would agonize over for ages. But for James it was simple. Serenity was hurting. They needed a safe place. A place to heal, to restore their spirits. And while hed only been to Hermans a couple of times, it had had an outsized impact on him.

A place of safety, illusory as that had been. A place where they could catch their breath. Restore.

James willed it back into existence.

The white infinite plane was replaced by a smoky room, a narrow slot with a bar running down its length and a single row of tall tables pressed against the opposite wall. Thousands of beer mats were stapled to the ceiling, and the place stank of smoke and alcohol. An old TV was affixed in the back corner, and the bar had been painted over so many times it was glossy and without any edges at all.

Herman didnt appear behind the bar, but everything else was perfect. Better than it had been. Where the real bar had been dingy and worn, this version had a patina of nostalgic gloss over it all. The bottles glittered, the bar surface looked well waxed, the worst of the odors were gone, and the jukebox was playing mellow rock with plenty of reverb and a driving melody.

Fuck, even the TV in the upper corner of the room was playing Matlock instead of depressing news.Ñøv€l--ß1n hosted the premiere release of this chapter.

James inhaled deeply. A shudder of emotion passed through him. The world as it had been. As it would never be again. For a moment his throat tightened into a knot and he wondered if this was a mistake.

But no.

They had to remember what they were fighting for.

How things had once been.

So thinking, he left through the front door and emerged again on the street.

Serenity stared at him, wild-eyed. Whered you go? What happened? I swear to Jesus-fuck I was about to -

Here, said James, extending his hand. Cmon.

Serenity froze. What?

James smiled. Take my hand.

This is some weird shit, James. She wiped the hem of her coat over her tear-stained cheeks, then took his hand.

James turned and the entrance to Hermans appeared behind him. Looked like the original expenditure of Aeviternum for the creation of the joint extended to a first genuine entrance.

You know, I took this class in college once. James leaned back on his elbow. History of World War I. After it was all over, this poet called Auden toured France, went and looked at the trenches. Some folks traveling him asked why those men had been willing to die by the millions. How theyd stayed month after month, without hope, fighting on and on in what must have felt like hell.

Serenity raised an eyebrow. And this Auden dude had an answer?

Yeah. James stared down into his glass. He said they fought for everything English. Christmas pudding and carols, pubs and pints of beer, stuff like that. Commonplace things. Normal things that made them proud to be Brits. Nothing fancy. The stuff that made up their lives. The good stuff. The small stuff.

Id laugh, but like, a lot of them died for that shit, right? Serenity frowned at him. Like over five thousand of them?

James stared. Over -? No, Serenity, more like -

She threw a coaster at him. Im kidding! Jesus, how uneducated do you think I am. She raised her glass to her lips. I know that over a hundred thousand people died in the first world war.

James made a sour expression at her.

Serenity set her glass down. They were silent for a spell, listening to the music, enjoying the mild buzz, the warmth and atmosphere.

You ever get this weird feeling that youre not even yourself any more? She looked up at him hesitantly.

How so?

I mean, the woman who danced on this bar six years ago she feels like a complete stranger. Even the woman who met you in that ER when this all started. I can barely remember who they were. Now I can turn invisible, turn into a demon, merge with the avatar of Fortitude, summon angels

She slowly shook her head, marveling. I can walk around with two autocannons strapped to my arms and rain down hell on actual demons in hell. I mean, who are we? Im not that woman who danced here, a thousand years ago. I understand her better. Ive got so much clarity on her fucked up problems its like I got a therapist cheat code and read the instruction manual on myself. She met Jamess gaze. I mean, for fucks sake, I felt like an actual star after absorbing that cube. Im not that Serenity. That Serenity is dead and gone.

James pursed his lips and lowered his chin. Thought on who hed been when the Nem1 had first accosted him in that subway station. Half drunk, stinking to high heaven, obsessed with preserving his backpack full of accumulated crap. With nowhere to go, a past he didnt want to think about, and a general sense that hed not last another five years.

Now?

Yeah. He rolled his glass around on its base, watching the whiskey flow within. I dont know. Maybe this happens to everyone who fights in a war long enough. You forget who you were before it. Become a stranger to yourself. But you dont yet know who youve become. Maybe you cant be that new person till the war is over. Till you have enough time to process what happened to you and decide what matters to you now.

So youre saying we gotta put this question on hold till we win this war?

James grinned. Something like that. A raincheck. Lets see who weve become after we defeat the 27th floor. Ill give you an answer then.

Ha, fair. Serenity pushed her empty glass forward. One for the road?

One for the road.

Hotel California came on, and they drank in silence, listening. James took in the atmosphere. Let it sink in deep and replenish a reserve hed not realized he was running short of. Took it all in, from Hermans randomly framed newspaper stories about a local fire station that had won a ladder-carrying race to faded polaroids stuck around the bar of random nights at the bar, groups of friends leering and flicking off the cameraman.

Lets go, he said, setting his empty glass down.

Sure. Serenity stood up. This place is dead anyways.