The Architects Chapter Four: Three Days

Alexei studies me.

“Ah, yes,” he says. “Of course. Vith your.. amnesia, you must not remember zis part. Vatch and learn.”

He presses his hand into the wall and I stare at the space. His hands make the steel glow red, like he’s burning up inside and anything he touches melts.

When there’s a sloppy airbrushed red ring around his hand, the door slides into the floor, opening into a contemporary office.

I hope he won’t expect me to open that door.

Of course he will. Eventually. Until then, I’ll have to be extra careful. I don’t want anyone to suspect me, and it seems like everyone here has some kind of superpower.

What will happen when they find out I don’t have any?

A fate worse than death.

We’re rebuilding the world here, right? Rebuilding. Making it better.

So all I have to do... is build something. Build something that can get me out of here. Because here, where what you build becomes real... I could build myself a spaceship, or something. I could get out of here.

But that won’t help me get Amanda back. It gets half of it done. But until I’ve got it at 100 percent, I’m not taking any chances. I’m not getting out of here until I know I can save both of us.

Per Alexei’s request, I don’t ask any questions until the door slides back into it’s place, no more red-hot handprint to be seen.

“So... what happened to your mortal body? The one you were in out there? The teenage girl?”

“She will wake up, eventually, with no memory of me and feeling like she just woke up from a terrible dream.”

“A bad dream? Why? Why not give her a good dream?”

My heart throbs for Amanda. She’s always had a vivid imagination. What sort of dream monsters will she think up?

“A bad dream, because she won’t go searching for memories. If she woke up from a good dream, she would try to remember what had made her so happy. If she went searching, she might accidentally unlock something that would clue her in to all of this. And then we would have to kill her.”

“So... she’ll wake up? Right away?”

She must be freaking out. Maybe she thinks I left her. Oh, God, don’t let her think I left her. I don’t want to live without her. I don’t want her to leave me because of this whole mess.

“No. She should be still asleep. Using her as a vessel will drain the host. But she will awaken in a few days.”

“A few days?” I’m honestly not sure if that’s good news or bad news. On the plus side, I have time to get out of here. But on the negative side... days is a long time. What if something happens to her?

And on the other negative side, I have about three days to get back to her. Three damn days. And that’s probably the optimistic side. For all I know, she could wake up tomorrow. And then... we’re in the future. How will I get back to her?

We’re in the future. Damn, that thought is only just sinking in. Not only do I have to get back to Earth, I also have to go back in time.

So... I have to build a time-traveling spaceship?

And also... if I build a spaceship, Alexei will figure out I don’t belong here. We’re supposed to rebuild the earth, not advance human technology. I’m probably supposed to make something using the limited powers humans already have, not any new and improved ones.

At least... I think so. That’s what their business sounds like, anyway. Of course, I have no way of knowing that.

This place is giving me a headache. I don’t know why. Maybe I’m in so much shock that my head is just throbbing.

So... I have to build a time traveling spaceship that looks like a normal building, and somehow manage to not clue in my creepy “boyfriend” and also not get caught by a company full of gods. Oh, and I also have to pretend not to have amnesia, and simultaneously pretend to have amnesia.

Easy-peasy.

“Vell, Meester Kerpetski, sit down. We have much to do, and much to discuss.”

“Yes sir.”

“Oh, I love it when you play the submissive role.”

I wince.

Maybe this will be even harder than I thought.

And I was already thinking it would be pretty hard.

I would say something like “God help me,” but right now, God is exactly my problem.

Or rather, gods are my problem.

Maybe I should start praying to Satan, though I bet he’s just laughing at my sorry ass.

No immortal being is going to save me.

I have to save myself.