An End by Paul Hughes Read Free Book Online Page B

Mother deftly avoided the dutiful slaves, and her grasp on Fleur’s hand tightened as they floated up to the underside lock.
    [gary!] Mother shouted with all of her mind. [let us in!]
    US? WHO’S “US”?
    [me and fleur, gary. let us in!]
    FUCKIN’ A.
    Mother visibly blushed, much to Fleur’s amazement. [gary hasn’t been properly trained yet.]
    The underside lock began to cycle open. Mother towed Fleur along behind her as they rose up into Gary, who was spouting a string a silverthought expletives into the void.
    As the lock slid shut below them, Fleur took in her surroundings. She had expected a cavernous interior, but it would appear that most of the bulk of Gary was taken up with the phase drives and megascale mechanics that would launch them into the Outer. The room into which they floated was another simple construct of Mother’s mind, a suburban living room with a comfy couch, beanbag chairs, even a pool table and wet bar. Instead of a cockpit, Fleur found herself in domestic tedium. Instead of a control panel, Fleur found a twenty-seven-inch television. As Mother descended and as her feet touched the shag carpet, Fleur could have sworn she heard music. Elevator music.
    [welcome to your new home, Fleur. we’ll be spending lots of quality time together.]
    GIRL, YOU CRAZY.
    Mother frowned. [gary, be quiet.] She walked over in the restored gravity and threw herself down on a beanbag.
    Fleur stood, taking it all in, then remembered her own passengers. She released her clenched first and threw the three silver projectors into the air, where they sparked to life, emitting Hank, Whistler, and Nine in perfect emulation.
    MOMMA, WHAT THE FUCK—
    [gary! i’d like you to meet whistler. whistler, gary. gary, hank. hank, gary. nine, gary. gary, nine.]
    AND A PARTRIDGE IN THE MOTHERFUCKING PEAR TREE?
    Whistler flattened the front of his robe. “Mother, what is this?”
    [this, whistler darling, is gary. he’s our new home.]
    Nine walked to Fleur’s side, his cold projected hand engulfing hers, fingers looping through fingers. She smiled, but not before catching the icy gaze of the five-year-old in the beanbag chair.
    “Gary is a vessel. Where are we going?”
    [somewhere marvelous! i know that you’ll enjoy it.]
    Hank took in his surroundings with his trademark scowl, reached into his pocket and was pleased to find that Mother had been kind enough to emulate a pack of smokes for him. He pulled one out and found in that dreamlike sense of hazy possibility that was the new life of the recently-uploaded that the cigarette was already burning. All he had to do was place it to his lips and inhale.
    NO SMOKING ON THIS WARSHIP!
    A bubble of nonspace erupted around Hank’s hand and the cigarette was gone, along with a large portion of the hand itself. Hank frowned silently, retrieved his projector from his pocket with his remaining hand, shook it a few times. A new hand faded into place with a little burst of static.
    “This is gonna be a long flight without no smokes, Mother. Where we goin’?”
    Nine and Fleur sat on the loveseat beside Mother, and Hank and Whistler plopped unceremoniously down on beanbags of their own. The television flickered to life, displaying a field of stars.
    [the extinction isn’t over yet, my children.] she sat forward as she spoke, eyes glimmering with an interior silver. [you could say that the jihad was just a test run.]
    GIRL, YOU SO COLD-HEARTED.
    Mother glared up at the voice from nowhere. [there are people who hurt me, long ago. they sent me here to get rid of me, and now it’s time to go back.]
    “She’s the Exile.” Fleur looked down at Mother with sad eyes. “They hurt her. And now she’s going to use us to hurt them. Not just a war or a jihad. Not just an extinction.”
    [little flower—]
    “She’s going to use us to destroy Heaven.”
    The pleasure displayed on the child’s face was unmistakeable.
    [that would be a fitting end to this charade, wouldn’t it? what divine