Meridian

Every time I closed my eyes I felt them hurt me. Screaming all the way from the past.

My brain wanted to have this thought loop. I didn’t have a choice.

I couldn’t sleep.

I couldn’t help but realize it was because Dvar Olmedo plagued my thoughts.

I spent most of my time with Hunters… the occasional Ghost pretending to be a Hunter. I rarely ever spent any time with Knights and that was only for endurance training.

And by endurance training, of course, The Silence meant: ‘Stand there and let a six-foot moosie beat you up for twenty minutes a week.’

And no. Not training. Just beating you up. Being a clone for The Silence was like a ninja turf war. We lived in Meridian together. No parents. Very little guidance. Lord of the Flies hierarchy. Clan war constantly. It was probably the best and worst idea I’d ever seen.

We had commerce, stores, jobs. The Silence ran our small communities tightly, they assigned roles, but we made our own rules. You get a bad reputation like I had and it’s basically societal game over. You get beat up every day.

Every. Day.

You were small?

They made you show up big.

You were weak?

You got strong.

You were soft?

You got tough.

Thrown off a cliff tough.

Like Zolotov, which was a self-reliant penal colony turned military, men turned the illusion into an almost galactic philosophy of might makes right.

At least this part of the galaxy.

It’s how the strong got stronger and the weak got weaker. And how they picked Ghosts. We were usually the smallest ones who were still alive at twelve.

Or the clone equivalent, technically. So a lot more years than that. Make it make sense in your head, I don’t have a calculator.

They forced us to channel the One Logic. To infuse it and hold it in our bones. In our skin. Or risk being peppered with bruises. Beaten unrecognizable.

I had eleven bones broken before I mastered it.

Ask me how I learned to stop crying.

Different season in my life.

Take that how you want.

I’d been to the soft tissue clinic more times than I cared to. They couldn’t replace a limb but they could make you pretty again for the next moose that wanted to take you apart. Limbs were different juju.

We had that.

What I never had was a handle on pain. I still feel it so vividly.

And in a side of the galaxy mostly inhabited by men… Men didn’t have sympathy for pain. Especially not when they’d all been in my shoes before. Especially when they expected a face like mine to cry.

Pretty Boy’s cry.

All I ever heard was:

“Stop fucking crying, Pretty Boy.” Some other boy would say.

“Suck it up you little bitch.” Some master would say.

“What is this mad and shameful quiver in your lip? You fear pain?” Mido would say.

Before I was given more.

As a Hunter, being smaller meant you learn to take pain like communion. If ever we ended up in the clutches of the enemy, we would die before we outed our client. Even if we felt every second of what we got.

Vividly.

All that mattered was our client. Our money. The center of my worth.

Our client.

Our master.

Our lord.

Our liege.

Whatever the client wanted to be called. None of us ever wanted the alternative. They taught Hunters and Ghosts to endure the kind of pain that would break most people. And that meant the punishment they devised for treason was worse.

Nobody wanted worse.

Taken to that horrible mausoleum… laid to rest alive on a cold metal slab, slid into a coffin sized prison cell. Let out for two hours a day to eat, shower and use the bathroom. Left to live inside of your head, going mad or breaking through. Re-educated by the One Logic to be a perfect machine of war.

And then your re-education really started.

Every day, the test victim for Knights, Hunters and Ghosts to perfect their non-lethal craft.

Only to be returned to your living coffin.

Absolute torment. Endless. Brutal.

And no one cares.

Dharma Yogs lived a really, really long time, did I mention?

Let’s just say I’ll never disobey a client again.

Even hard heads like me learn lessons.

“Captain. You’re thought spiraling.”

I’d never been so happy to get snapped out of a hole. I blinked several times in my pilot's seat, realizing I was sitting there, staring out of the window of my frigate.

I really had to stop doing that. Where did my day go? I got out of the shower, threw on a fresh white button up, fucked up a new tie, threw on some jeans, my Jordans and…

Then?

The entire time? Come on- oh…

I saw it grow out of the distance of my viewfinder.

There it was.

“We’re on approach.” NORA said as I saw the unbelievably large expanse of Thread grow out of hyper space, smearing to a stand still of unbelievable beauty.

The place I’d only ever seen on video or from a distance.

Something always came up.

“Butter chicken and ramen…” I sighed.

“One day, Captain.”

Thread was a flat celestial disc of rock with an ocean of water on it. A lake really.

But crystalline blue. Water clear enough to see the white sand at the bottom. To even from here see teams of large creatures swimming its depths.

Forty million people living in relative harmony, if not for the constant yakuza wars. Thread wasn’t perfect, but it was designed to be close to it when the illusion was first woven.

I remembered reading stories about the real.

Fragmented information from the past.

They had videos from the old internet.

Not gonna lie, I kinda watched them obsessively.

Stuff seemed so much cooler during the collapse.

To think about it… billions of people all living in mouse utopia and they didn’t even know it.

“I swear, every time I see this place I think of that one spot…"

“From the old holo libraries?”

“Yeah… Near the gulf of Mexico.”

“Miami.”

“Miami!” I exclaimed, excitedly snapping my fingers, smiling almost instantly. “Yeah… Thread’s kinda like Miami. I mean, less naked people, definitely. But… I dunno, kinda looks the same.”

“Yeah… I see it. Kind of like Miami at 6 o’clock. All the time.”

“Alllll the time,” I said, dragging the word out with a smile. “If Miami sat on a dinner plate the sun wouldn’t set there either.”

“Truth.”

My attention moved from that massive platform world, over to the halo of the sun, blocked out for us in low atmosphere by the small moon that made up Meridian. Even from our approach, I could see its dark side, tidal locked with Thread, its gorgeous monastic temple-like side shown to the world.

The dark side was a mining encampment.

Further out I could see the cluster of mini-moons in the blackness, some grazed by enough light from the sun to be visible. They weren’t that far off. Thread wasn’t big by the way we compared planets.

More like the size of Africa, with a weird wobble orbit.

None of the illusion made physical sense. But then again we all knew it wasn’t meant to. The One Logic held this place together. It was the glue. The binding note that kept this reality cohesive. Whatever it was. Records only went back so far after the collapse.

“It’s crazy most of the batteries and power source conduits in the entire system come from one small colony of moons. Meridian’s got to be the richest place on our side of space and all they ever do is stay here, on the one,” I said, gesturing at Meridian, the smallest moon orbiting Thread’s disc.

“They dedicate their lives differently. The illusion is a world governed by dharma. Very little isn’t. You know that.”

“Yeah… I never got it though. Even though I came from it. Getting up every day, dedicating yourself to excellence in one thing. Just one thing… and hoping one day it kills you. I hated every day of my life living here."

“Seems insane.”

“It does… but maybe that’s because it doesn’t call me.”

“What does call you, Captain?”

“I dunno yet… Maybe that’s why I’m not a very good Dharma Yog.” I smirked in spite of myself.

At myself.

“You should grab your things. We’re about to enter approach vector. You know the runway’s a crowded place on Meridian.”

“Yeah,” I nodded, standing up from my seat, flipping the auto guidance switches above me as I turned to head into the body of my…

The… frigate.

That thought kind of made me sad.

“Another ship.”

“I know, Captain. One day you’ll have your own.”

“I appreciate you… But please don’t sell me hope.” I whispered.

Genuinely.

The fact that I had to mean it felt terrible.

The tears of a clone. And I couldn’t even shed them anymore. They took that from me too.

“Sir.” NORA gave her audible nod of understanding.

The weight of my life hung over my head like a crooked moon in an evening sky… I could look at it.

Meridian. My crooked moon.

“Fuck.” This time… resigned. To everything. To today. To my fucking shitty life. To… “Being a product. Just accept it and move on. You’re not a someone. You’re a some… thing. Consciousness… for humans it's the cosmic joke. For clones…”

“The comic punchline…” NORA finished.

“Yeah.”

I heard it in my voice and hated the sound.

Curling my lip I irised open the door of my room and went in, grabbing my backpack. I’d packed everything that mattered. I knew the drones would grab whatever I left and see it to my new place of residence.

Whatever ship, closest, storage facility, jail cell or cargo hold that was gonna be.

It still kinda ate at me though. I looked over at my unmade bed. I felt like nothing about me mattered. Empty and hollow without a purpose. Maybe I should just give myself one?

What if my purpose was to make beds?

“I really gotta start making my bed in the morning.”

But I didn’t earlier today. And I didn’t still.

I just left.

You had to have meaning to have purpose.

My meaning was out there, greeting me soon

Meridian was an interesting place. I looked out of the forward window as I made my way back to the cockpit, watching Meridian get bigger than life.

Opulent white curving buildings sat in front of me. Varying heights, all with the same kind of purple-blue windows. Like tall arched doorways. The entire place was shot through with the ancient runes of The Silence. Their purple-blue flag waved over the monarch building as we flew over The Court of Silence.

A massive citadel of movement, even late in the forever evening. I had to check my watch, tapping its face to update the time to Meridian Standard.

Thread time.

Cus the sun never set there. It was permanently golden hour.

And what a show. That beautiful wave of golden light spilled over Thread below like a mango blanket.

The entire thing lit up, like an Old Fashioned at a bar.

A twist of citrus.

I kinda loved it.

Moments later I felt the grapple arms pull us into the wide open archway of the receiving yard. It was a smooth circular disc of white with that same speckled, flecks of silver running through it. Several other ships were sitting on docked arm grapplers, housed like knickknacks on a shelf.

I felt the trundling shake of the craft coming to rest.

Where it would be parked until the next unlucky Hunter got assigned.

Fresh out of training. More like fresh out of hell.

On to the stars to move products, to fight wars they didn’t care about… Whatever the client paid for. We belonged to whoever signed the contract.

In any capacity they wanted us for.

Guess I should have known my day would come.

I took a deep, sobering breath.

“Well. Here we go.”

Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I threw my braid over behind it and headed for the opening docking ramp. I felt gravity pull me forward at the angle of the plate’s decline. I finished my march down and thumped onto the deck, feeling the hollow weirdness of knowing my future.

Out into the landing deck I marched, following the lights to those massive hangar doors.

An automated AI gave the most disembodied speech of all time. Like a robot taking a trip through uncanny valley on a heroic dose.

“Outworlders, please proceed to check-in, 2 o’clock. Proceed from check-in to baggage carousel if you’d like your luggage delivered to your quarters, 8 o’ clock. Thank you for your business and welcome weary traveler to Meridian. Your Deal Coordinator will attend to you shortly.”

I blew a sigh and ignored it all. I knew where I was going. Heading through the arrival dock I followed the light crowd, most of them head and shoulders above me.

Like always I got bumped around in the crowd. All men. A few women, but mostly they were heading to administration. Most of them didn’t care to associate with murder-clones.

Except the ones who were turned on by murder-clones.

I liked the ones who were turned on by murder clones.

I liked them a lot.

Everyone here knew who I was. At least everyone except merchants, or allied factions who’d arrived for the first time.

Everyone knew a hunter when they saw one. Home turf made our eyes glow.

Inside of the radius of a Meridian Call Tower, all clones' eyes lit up. Mine were like amber lights in the evening for the hunter squads.

No one else’s were. Everything else was green knights, blue admin clones… droids were silver.

I was the only one preventing forest fires every time I blinked.

“Hey, Light Bright.” I heard a familiar voice call and looked in its direction.

I saw her standing by the rotating walkway in.

“Hey, Shell.” She was a service droid. LifeLyk Model.

The oddest thing about the illusion was its bizarre technology.

The world only allowed so much. Like it had rules. It wouldn’t create swords with sharp edges, but it would make swords. You could make drones and droids, but you could only make so many smart phones.

Most people- myself included- we had flips. I rifled through my pocket and pulled out mine, flipping it open. Soon as I reached the tower array service returned.

19 Missed Calls.

I clicked through them to see who they were from.

“Don’t worry about it. It was Shell. She wanted to make sure you didn’t go get Butter Chicken and Ramen first… he’s still here.”

“Whose still here?” I asked no one, NORA speaking to me in my head.

I actually felt relieved she could still reach me. That I hadn’t wandered too far from the ship. But then I remembered it was the Meridian Call Tower she was reaching me from.

“Dvar.” She answered.

“Dvar.” Shell said at the same time, the service droid pulling the door open wide on the opposite side of the rotating entry.

I stepped up onto the rotating center plate and let it carry me round to Shell, stepping off in front of her.

She looked like somebody’s completely disinterested daughter. Black hair, the most razor straight and boring bangs someone could summon. Pencil skirt business suit.

Efficient.

Just like Mido.

“I wanted to make sure you didn’t-“ Shell started and I finished with her.

“Go get butter chicken and ramen. Yeah. I heard,” I said, pocketing my phone and stepping through the open door.

Shell followed.

“You’re alright?”

“What do you mean?” I asked her, walking into the building like I owned the place.

The foyer of the The Silence arrival deck was massive. They had old fighter ships dangling from the ceiling on impossibly thin cables, simulating a battle from the past.

The actual mini-fighters.

There were several animals, long extinct, eradicated by Silence Made weaponry that they’d turned into animatronic pets. Miniature versions of them prancing about on desk tops in this almost crudely corporate landscape of work pods.

Efficiency.

Service droids.

Productivity.

Y’know… Major boring shit…

Past the foyer of typing. On typewriters. Actual. Fucking. Typewriters. Clacking away endlessly like a mad droning sound as The Silence coordinated news feeds throughout the galaxy. They used old world tech to prove it wasn’t AI made bullshit. And they used old morse code to send the message.

It reminded me then that The Silence were neutral. You had to be truly neutral to want to use morse code.

Or fucking insane.

You know which one I think.

That meant anything impartial came through this place. Even the news.

“I heard you got beat up again at Indo-Japan.”

“What? Pcch… no.” I lied, looking around, my amber eyes ticking about like pinballs, brushing off the comment as if she’d lost her mind. “Just a little misunderstanding. Y’know.”

“Wullorie beat you up.”

“No he didn’t!” I snapped, lip curling as I turned my high beams on her.

“Light Bright. Relax. I don’t care… remember? Service Droid. I don’t even have the ability to care.”

“Why are you so mean?”

“… Pretend like I repeated the last thing I said to you again. Listen to me, I need you to keep that cute little mouth of yours shut. Okay? Dvar is here, you’re leaving with him. I suggest you don’t piss him off.”

“What? No I’m not. Fuck that guy! I’ll leave when I’m ready.”

“… That’s what you think,” Shell said as we stepped through the back half of the large lobby and right up to the double doors leading into the war room’s inner sanctum.

“That’s what I know.” I said, stopping at the door, my hand on it. “I’m gonna go in here… put my thing down… let this asshole know I don’t roll like that and I’m leaving.”

“You’re so cute.”

“I’m not cute. I’m dangerous.”

Shell laughed.

“W… c’moonnn… Thought you didn’t feel anything.” I whined, shoving the door open as I pushed my way inside.

“Did I hurt your feelings?”

“Assholes do.”

“How ‘bout a Whaaa-mburger and so-..”

“Some french cries. Joe Dirt. Eat dick.” I snapped back, stepping into…

“You’ll eat one before I do.”

“Fuck, touche.” I said, stepping into the war room, looking left and… “Shit. Hey, it’s Pop.”