Dreams Of The Shattered World: Part Three

by Alex SisterWolf

I could hear the shower running in the background as I made coffee, relying on the familiar habit to numb my mind.  The last thing I wanted to do was think.  To think would be to feel, to feel would be to deal with the confusing emotions of grief and guilt and relief that lay tangled in the back of my mind.

I turned on the news channel.  "Now with an update on the situation on the stock market today-"  I muted the sound but left the video on.  The red light on my Interface unit was flashing urgently, telling me I had messages waiting, but I couldn't deal with them yet.  Not yet. 

Emma Frost emerged from the bathroom and stopped dead, staring at the TV.  "Turn the sound up," she said urgently.

"-biggest stock single-day market drop in over fifty years.  We now go to Trish Tilby, standing by in our nation's capital.  Trish, is the President expected to take action to freeze the market temporarily?"  "It certainly appears-"

Emma grabbed the remote and switched the channel to one I'd never paid attention to before.  I realized it must be something to do with the stock markets but the constantly shifting numbers were a mystery to me.  Emma stared at the screen, frowning.

"What is it?" I asked. 

All she would say was, "Bad news."

The coffee finished percolating.  I poured a mug for myself.  "Emma, would you like some?"

She shook her head absently, all her attention on the TV.  I sat down with my coffee and contemplated my Interface unit.  First, get messages.  Then figure out what to do about Warren's death.  Lawyer.  Yes, tell Warren's lawyer.  He'd know what to do.  He'd handle all the arrangements.  The decision made, I felt slightly better.

The first message was from Dr. Essex, in his usual cryptic abbreviations.  "Dr. Winston: Check in immed.  Have priority info w/ impact on project.  Essex."

The second was also from Dr. Essex.  Strange, that.  He'd normally never leave a second message when his first went unanswered.  Something drastic must have occurred.  "Dr. Winston: Call as soon as receive this message.  Imperative.  Essex."

I sighed, not really wanting to deal with my boss at this point.  I'd call him once I got the rest of my messages and called Warren's lawyer.

The next message was video.  Warren's mistress, Betsy, appeared on the screen, looking almost· worried, which was a far cry from her usual attitude of icy calm.  "Dominique, I've been trying to reach Warren at his apartment all day.  He's not answering his mobile, either.  Please let me know if you've heard from him."  She paused, clearly considering saying more, then cut the connection abruptly.

Shit.  Maybe I could have Warren's lawyer notify Betsy of his death.  She'd probably take it better from him.  She and I had never really gotten along.

Sighing, I dialed Warren's lawyer, Cameron Hodge.  An automated voice answered cheerfully, informing me that Mr. Hodge was not available.  Would I like to leave a message?

"Cameron.  I have some bad news."  I paused, cleared my throat.  "Warren's dead.  He died in the riots last night.  Could you· could you take care of the formalities, please?  His body should be at about Nicollet and Eighth."  I took a deep breath.  "Please also inform Betsy that he's· dead.  Thank you, Cameron." 

Waiting to connect through to Dr. Essex, I watched the columns of numbers and cryptic abbreviations roll across the television screen.  It might as well have been code, for all I could understand of it.  I switched to watching Emma.  She looked more than worried. She looked disbelieving, like a mountain climber just as she hears the first rumblings of the avalanche rushing down the mountainside.

"National Genetic Research Center, may I help you?"

Startled out of my reverie, I quickly asked for Dr. Essex.

"And whom may I say is calling?"

"Dr. Dominique Winston."

"Oh, Dr. Winston, I'll put you right through."  A few moments of silence, then Dr. Essex answered.

"Dr. Winston.  Report to the Center immediately.  We have a crisis situation."

"My husband was just killed in a riot last night, Dr. Essex.  I need some time-"

He interrupted me, his voice cold and emotionless.  "Dr. Winston, as of 1300 Eastern Standard Time today, the United Americas and the Pan-European Alliance will officially be at war.  I will have a car sent for you.  Be ready for an extended stay at the Center.  We are under isolation protocol for the foreseeable future.  Essex out."

I stared at the blank screen, blinking in shock.  I had known it was coming, had thought I was prepared, but the reality was something quite different.

"Dominique, you wouldn't happen to have any alcohol around here, would you?"

Startled out of my thoughts, I looked over at Emma.  She smiled at me, a tight little smile that spoke of extreme self-control.  "Of course.  I think I could do with one too· gin and tonic alright?"

"Sounds heavenly."

I poured glasses for both of us and brought them back over to the couch.  "A toast?" I suggested.

Emma quirked an almost-smile and said, "Here's to the end of the world."

I clinked my glass against hers and took a sharp swallow, grimacing at the taste.  "To the end of the world."

Emma swirled the ice cubes in her glass, looking pensive.  "I've lost pretty much everything I had in the stock market, Dominique.  I've still got my hard assets, gold, diamonds, that sort of thing.  I'm certainly not a pauper, unlike most of the poor sods shooting their coworkers on Wall Street today.  Before this, though, I was well on my way to being obscenely rich.  Now· who knows?"

I laughed mirthlessly.  "The bitch of it is, Emma, I'm probably filthy rich right now.  Or will be, as soon as Warren's will is read.  And I don't know that it really matters.  We've gone to war with Europe.  If it goes nuclear, the cockroaches will inherit the earth."

She shook her head sharply, platinum hair swishing against her jaw.  "It won't.  Nuclear war is a lose/lose proposition.  Even if you get the drop on your target and their retaliatory strikes don't go off, you've still got possible nuclear winter to deal with.  Not to mention, it doesn't do you much good to conquer territory that's going to glow in the dark for the next couple thousand years."

I nodded, conceding the point.  "We've got other options now, though.  My position-well, there's not a whole lot I can tell you, but I work for a military subcontractor.  I've heard things through the grapevine.  Biological warfare· let's just say that there's stuff out there that's starting to rival nuclear in terms of destructive capability."

She smiled secretively, a Persian cat sort of smile.  "I've heard of some such things, yes.  DawnStar Corporation has some rather· varied interests.  If there's money to be made, you can be sure we've got a finger in the pie.  Speaking of, I really need to get in touch with my home office.  Do you have a scrambled ground line?"

I showed her how to hook her Interface unit up to my data line, not entirely surprised by her revelation or by the fact that she wanted an encrypted connection.  DawnStar Corporation was, in an extremely quiet way, one of the most powerful economic entities in the world.

I left her in privacy and went to pack.  Dr. Essex had indicated that I should expect an extended stay at the Center.  At least the hectic workload would keep my mind occupied.

Packing finished, I walked out into the living room as Emma disconnected her Interface unit.  "Did you reach your office?"

Emma nodded.  "I've been promoted.  Sort of a battlefield promotion, I guess," she said dryly.

"Congratulations.  Have you got transportation out of the city?"

"Yes.  They've arranged everything."

"Well, then.  The Center is sending a car for me.  It should be here any moment.  You can let yourself out whenever your transportation gets here."  I set down my bag and made an awkward gesture.  "It was nice meeting you, Emma."

"It was definitely interesting."  She paused a moment and then gave me a quick hug.  "Good luck, Dominique."

***

My mobile rang as I waited for the elevator.  "Hello?" I answered, wondering if Cameron Hodge had gotten my message.

"Dom."  Silver's deep voice was immediately recognizable.

"What do you want?" I asked wearily.

There was a pause.  "I wanted to know if you were all right."

"No, not especially."

"What's wrong?"

"Warren's dead.  He was shot during the riots last night."  The elevator pinged at my floor and I got on, leaning against the back wall.  I felt bone-tired, as if I could sleep for days.

"I'm sorry."

"Keep the sympathy," I scoffed.  "You thought Warren was a useless rich boy."

"He was.  But I know he meant something to you, and I'm sorry that his death hurt you."  An impatient sigh.  "Dom, I didn't call to fight with you."

"Fine," I scowled.

"Do you need some company?"  He almost sounded uncertain.

"No."  I felt guilty for snapping at him, so I explained, "I've been called in to work.  I'm probably going to be staying there for a few weeks."

"Why?"

"Because I work there."  The elevator doors opened and I walked out into the lobby.

"No, I meant why are you going to have to stay there?"

"I can't tell you that."

There was a pause.  "We're declaring war, aren't we."

"I'm hanging up now.  Goodbye."

"Don't hang up.  Dom, you can't go back there."

"Yes, I fucking well can."

"No, you can't, you know what they're going to use the Project for-"

"Goodbye, Silver."  I hung up on him. 

An armored hovercar with the seal of the National Genetic Research Center pulled up at the curb and I walked to it, putting the conversation with Silver out of my mind.  We were at war now.  There was no time left for worrying over moral dilemmas.

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