The Eye of Minds

^{CHAPTER 22} IN THROUGH THE OUTHOUSE

The space on the other side of the door was pitch-black and completely still. No sounds, no stir of breeze, nothing. Just complete darkness. But Michael didn’t hesitate. He pulled the door closed behind him.

The air changed instantly, as if his senses had been robbed and now returned. A wind swept by, carrying something gritty like sand that stung his eyes. It rapidly grew warm, then hot. As he wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, he sensed a brightness, and when he looked again, his breath caught.

He stood in the middle of a desert.

The door had disappeared, and grand golden sand dunes extended in every direction, the crisp lines of their peaks against the cloudless blue sky so perfect they seemed impossible. Billowing clouds of sand blew into the scorched air like the trailing smoke of an old steam-engine train from the movies. The land was utterly barren, not a tree or shrub in sight—nothing in all the world that was green. Only sand for miles.

Except one thing.

Nearby there was a shabby little building the size of a closet, made from warped gray wood with rusted nails poking halfway out along the sides. There was a door that hung loosely on broken hinges, creaking with movement from the stiff breeze. The drab structure couldn’t have looked more out of place, as there was absolutely nothing in any direction for as far as the eye could see.

Michael headed toward the door, feeling a pang of regret that he hadn’t chosen to go home.

The sun beat down on Michael as he pressed through the sand to the small building. His thoughts were dark, but he did his best to empty his mind—he’d made his decision, and he could only follow it now. And something told him it was almost over, one way or the other. He just hoped it didn’t include his demise.

Sweat poured down his face as he walked, and he felt the hot sun on his neck. It seemed as if his hair would burst into flames at any second, and his shirt felt like laundry straight out of the dryer. He approached the little building, hoping it had something more than a bucket inside its shabby walls. That it held some answers.

He was just bringing his hand up to open the door when a man spoke behind him.

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Michael spun around to see a person dressed in a dirty wrap of some sort—a huge piece of tattered cloth that swept around his body from head to foot. His eyes were covered with a pair of dark sunglasses.

“Excuse me?” Michael asked. Could this be Kaine? he wondered.

“I’ll grant you it’s windy on the dunes,” the man replied, his words muffled through the cloth. “But you heard me, and you heard me fine.”

Michael had indeed. “You don’t think I should go inside this building? Why not?”

“Many reasons. But I’ll tell you this—go through that door and your life will never be the same.”

Michael searched for words. “Well… couldn’t that be a good thing?”

“Everything is relative.” The man didn’t move a muscle as he spoke. “A knife is a godsend to the man tied in ropes, death to the man in chains.”

“Very profound.” Michael wondered if the guy was a Tangent sent to toy with him.

“Take it as you will.”

“Where’d you come from, anyway?”

“You’re in the VirtNet, are you not?” the man asked, still not moving. “I come from where I came.”

“Just tell me why I shouldn’t go through this door.”

The man didn’t answer, and the wind whipped up a little faster. A spray of sand hit Michael in the face, got into his mouth. He spit and coughed, wiped the grit away. Then he repeated his question. The man answered this time, and his words chilled Michael.

“Because if you don’t, your headaches will stop.”

It was Michael’s turn to go silent. He stood, frozen, as he stared at the man with no face. Nothing sounded better than having his headaches stop.

“Don’t go through that door,” the stranger said. “Come with me to a land where ignorance will be your greatest blessing.”

Michael finally found his voice. “How?”

The man shook his head. It was the first time he’d moved enough for Michael to notice. “I can’t say any more. I’ve said too much already. But my promises to you are real—come with me and leave Kaine alone, leave the Mortality Doctrine alone. You’ll spend the rest of your days in a place of pure happiness and ignorant bliss. Make your choice.”

Michael was mesmerized by the stranger. “What is the Mortality Doctrine?” he asked. Then he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “What happens if I go in?”

He asked the questions because he suddenly had an urge—a consuming urge—to follow the guy’s advice, to follow him. The Path had taken it all out of Michael, had emptied his heart. And somehow he knew that the promises the man had just made were real. Things were going on outside the sphere of Michael’s understanding. He could go with this guy and never know the truth, live a life of happy ignorance.

But there was a taint there, like a sheen of oil on an otherwise crystal-clear lake. Slick and greasy and wrong, and he couldn’t ignore it.

“No more questions,” the man said. “Come with me, Michael. Come now. All you have to do is say the word and we’ll vanish from this desert and go to the place I call home. Say the word.”

Michael wanted to. Desperately. He wanted to go with this man and not find out the truth. The truth about what? Who knew? But Michael wanted to go and never learn what it seemed Kaine was determined for him to know.

But he couldn’t do it. Something told him it was a choice that didn’t lead back to his friends and his family.

“Sorry, man,” he finally said. “I’m going into the outhouse.”

The stranger didn’t argue as Michael turned away. The wind pulled at his clothes, the sand bit at his skin, and potential regrets filled his mind as he reached out and grabbed the handle of the door. He opened it and stepped inside a dank, smelly building.

There was a muffled thud when he closed the door, and all went dark. Michael knew that he’d entered a Portal—that outside the little building, the desert was gone, his self transported. Uncertainty fluttered in his chest as he waited for the light to return. When it did, it was warm and comforting.

He stood inside a low-roofed hallway of stone, with torches burning in sconces along the walls. Worn tapestries were hung along the way, depicting medieval battle scenes that reminded him of games he used to play. He looked left and right, wondering which way to go. Both directions seemed about the same, and he was about to make a toss-up choice when he heard the faintest sound of voices coming from his left. Like the whispers of those who’d died in the ancient halls. A glimpse of the code revealed nothing.

Michael decided to follow the sounds.

He kept to the shadows as he walked—following the hallway’s curve. As he pushed ahead, the voices got louder, and there was one in particular that seemed to overpower the others. There was something terribly familiar about it, and not in a good way. It sparked the feeling of entering the same nightmare that’s haunted you for years.

It was Kaine. Michael had no doubt in his mind. He would never forget that voice.

He couldn’t make out the Tangent’s words—they bounced along the stone corridor and blurred as others tried to speak. It sounded like some kind of meeting.

The hallway gradually became brighter and Michael slowed, pushing up against the wall and inching forward. Ahead the hall curved to the right, and he rounded the bend carefully to see that it opened up into a balcony, overlooking a space shining with light. Kaine’s voice boomed from below, filling Michael’s gut with something like burning oil.

This is it, he realized. He’d made it to the end. Things were about to change.

Michael dropped to his knees and crawled to the balcony, peeking through the railing.

An old, hunched man stood at some sort of makeshift pulpit. He’d gone silent for a moment, seemingly listening to his audience. Thirty or so men and women sat on curved benches that faced him, most of them shifting in their seats as if they disagreed or were being made uncomfortable by the man’s words. He wore a green robe, a small sword belted to his side. Michael found it impossible to believe that the Tangent terrorizing the VirtNet was this withered man at the front of the crowd. But there was no question in Michael’s mind when he heard his voice again.

It was Kaine.

And surely the Tangent knew that Michael had arrived.

Kaine held up a frail hand and everyone in the crowd went silent. The only sound was the crackle of flames from the fire burning in the enormous fireplace. Michael’s breath had caught in his throat, and he almost coughed to get it loose.

Kaine spoke again. “The power in this room is indescribable—it would have been unimaginable just a few years ago. We can’t waste what we’ve built, what we’ve become. Independent. Aware.” He paused. “It’s our time to lead.”

There was a halfhearted cheer from the group of Tangents. Michael wanted to study them, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the figure at the front of the room. The one he’d been sent to find.

When the audience quieted again, Kaine spoke, almost in a whisper.

“We’re ready to become human.”