Free The Participants by Brian Blose

motions, Zack swiped the keys
from the counter and went out the kitchen door. He ran to the
truck, clawed the door open, leaped inside, jammed the key into the
ignition, twisted hard, shifted into drive, and hit the gas.
    The truck bounced the
entire length of the dirt driveway, then shot into motion when it
reached the road. Zack’s heart raced faster than the truck as he
split his attention between the road ahead and the rear-view
mirror. He took route twenty-eight south towards Pittsburgh,
slowing to five over the speed limit. Can’t get pulled over now. I have to find a bus station or
something. Zack punched the seat. He
didn’t know where to find a bus station in Pittsburgh or anywhere
else. He didn’t know where to find anything. In the past five
years, he had rarely traveled more than ten miles from rural
Sarver.
    He tensed every time he saw
headlights behind him, until he was hunched over the steering
wheel. I don’t know where I’m going. I am
tired and confused and emotional. I need a map and some
rest. One of the false memories that came
with the identity of Zack Vernon recalled itself suddenly. It was
of a road trip taken with his parents. They had stopped at a hotel.
While his parents went through the process of checking in, Zack had
perused a display on the local attractions, paying particular
attention to a map of the area.
    Now where is a
hotel? The answer to that was easy. Along
route 28, just south of Tarentum, was a shopping complex known as
the Pittsburgh Mills Mall, a beautiful facility full of retail
locations suffering from lack of business. A hotel sat behind the
mall. Hopefully he could discover the location of a bus terminal
there.

 
Interlude 2 – Hess / Iteration 143
    Hess paced while Elza read the document. They
were inside their private sanctum, the central chamber of their
palace. Outside, bells called out the hour. Elza's eyes rose from
the parchment.
    “They want to surrender,” she said. “Sidon
is sailing at us with an army, but his administrators write to
request our aid.”
    “It's a hedging tactic,” Hess said. “Their
King is away, the people are restless, and we keep winning battles.
So far, at least . . . .”
    Elza compressed her lips. “You want to
introduce liquid fire.”
    “King Sidon has a superior navy.”
    “Using a weapon like that undermines the
principles of our Empire. How can we preach humanitarianism while
introducing this world to chemical weapons?”
    Hess crossed his arms. “It was never going
to be perfect.”
    “The Empire might fall short of its ideals,
but we don't. You agreed that we would walk away before we violated
the rules. No technological breakthroughs allowed. Sorry.” Elza
crossed the room to wrap her arms around him. This world saw her in
a body most kindly described as mature, while he was perpetually
stuck in the final days of puberty. He sometimes suspected the
Creator had a sense of humor. The age difference bothered Elza more
than him. She always worried when his form was more attractive than
hers.
    “Then we'll have to move our ships into the
harbor and prepare for a siege. King Sidon can't beat us on land
and we can't match his fleet.” Hess planted a kiss on Elza's nose.
“I ever tell you I have a thing for bossy noblewomen?”
    “I smell mead. Did you open a fresh jug
while I was meeting with the federal reserve chairmen?”
    “I thought you might need a drink after
manipulating the currency.”
    “Math doesn't give me headaches.”
    “It doesn't cause me pain, Elza. I just
don't think those types of studies are something an Observer needs
to know.”
    “I thought you were an Emperor.”
    “That’s more of a hobby,” Hess said.
    “You couldn't do this without me. Conducting
wars and giving speeches are very nice, but this Empire keeps
running out of money. Your welfare state doesn't have the resources
to fight wars. Fortunately, our trading partners are as bad at math
as you are. Reserve banking and derivative