Eos, Chapter 4: An Offer

For those just tuning in, Dameon is not from this world. He fell through to this post-apocalyptic world from a parallel dimension three years ago, only to discover that various versions of himself and his brother from other dimensions are in complete control of the government here. He doesn't like this, and is currently falling in with an underground rebel group his friend, Jade, introduced him to.

For the regular readers, if the pacing feels weird with two rebels scenes right in a row, I'm sorry - there was actually another scene in between with Gregory and Dameon talking about the state of the government of Eos, but I realized the numbers and statistics discussed don't work at all and the scene as a whole would just take readers in the wrong direction. So I've skipped it.

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A week later, Dameon swayed with a crowd wreathed in shadows from the same flickering candles, listening to Anita give a speech in a roaring fire of words and passion. Grievances, taken from the bowl, wove neatly into her fluid invocation in the name of freedom, democracy, and the people.

“It starts with you,” she concluded. “Each and every one of you, in little ways, in your own homes on your own time, can resist. Little by little, until we are a juggernaut larger than any force can stop. Talk amongst yourselves — commit to doing what you can and before we know it, our day of reckoning… will come.”

Anita lowered the microphone and the room burst into cheers, bubbling with an expectant energy that did not wane as people broke into groups and the conversation level grew to a dull roar.

Dameon grinned in spite of himself. A fire roiled in his stomach, and he didn’t want to let it die. He was alive here, electrified by the power of so many voices united in protest. Rationally, he knew this was a bad idea. He knew that this little rebel movement would never go anywhere and that his status as a Dameon wouldn’t protect him if he got caught associating with them.

But God, couldn’t he dream?

The room around Dameon was packed full, with dozens more people than he had seen last week. They were in the same location as last time, though Jade told him that word on the grapevine was that the leaders would be moving it soon. Police activity had been stepped up in the area — someone was getting suspicious, and if they became aware of how much that hole in the wall was being used, it would get patched.

Dameon turned to Jade and her group of friends, not sure of what to say, but was saved from having to suggest something by a voice calling his designation: “D-7?”

Dameon glanced over his shoulder and involuntarily took a step backwards. It was Isa herself, the masked resistance leader, accompanied by Martin and Anita. Jade raised a hand to her mouth in surprise, but quickly lowered it and elbowed Dameon in the ribs.

“You’re special,” she whispered. “They don’t talk to just anybody.”

“It’s good to meet you, D-7,” Isa said. Her voice was low and melodious and her hair curled, delicate, around her shoulders. “I am sorry we couldn’t speak to you last week.”

“Call me Dameon, please.” Dameon extended his hand. All three of them shook it in turns. Good, firm handshakes — Dameon liked that about a person.

“I must say, we never thought we’d have one of you on our side,” Anita told him bluntly. “Jade deserves a commendation for good networking.”

“He didn’t get any of his radical opinions from me,” Jade shook her head, unusually modest. She was actually blushing, Dameon noted with amusement. “I just saw an opening and took it.”

“Either way, we’re very glad to have him,” Isa said, lingering on Dameon’s face. Her mask was plain and wooden, with eye slits but no mouth slits, and Dameon could only just see her eyes, shadowed by the mask and the dim lighting.

Who are you? He couldn’t place her voice, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t know who she was.

Isa seemed to sense his curiosity, for her stance shifted. If Dameon could have seen her mouth, he was certain one end of it would be curved upwards in a sort of gentle mockery. My real name, my real face, are mine, she seemed to say.

“What do you think about what you’ve seen so far?” Martin asked, sweeping his arms wide to gesture at the crowd around them.

Dameon met his eyes. “Do you want my honest opinion?”

“Always,” said Isa without pause.

“We are the voice of the people,” Anita said. “We can’t represent you if we don’t know what you think.”

“Fine,” Dameon said, lowering his voice and glancing, apologetic, at Jane. “Words are pretty, but they’re not going to change a damn thing in the system. Samuel was smart enough not to set it up so little things like the people’s will would get in his way. You need action. But you’re what, a few hundred, a thousand in number? Hardly enough for a protest, let alone any real change.”

“We’re growing,” Jade interrupted. “And that’s why we’re thinking of individual ways to resist.”

“It’s not enough,” Dameon repeated. “And what’s going to happen when you get caught? Imprisonment. Slaughter. For nothing. God, being here feels good, but it’s not going to do anything in the end.”

“Very good,” Isa said wryly. “Since you’ve clearly identified all of our weaknesses, maybe we should step down and let you run this show.”

Dameon was about to make a retort when Anita’s hand shot out and grasped his wrist. “Don’t,” she told him, an edge of steel to her words. Her jaw was firm and her eyes shuttered. “Don’t assume we don’t understand the risks. Martin and I have been doing this for a decade. Ask me what happened to the last group of freedom fighters we led.”

Her fingers dug into his arm. “What happened?” Dameon relented.

“Anyone who was here five years ago remembers,” Martin broke in. “For months, it was all over the news. Half of us killed in a single blow. The rest of us were hunted down. Ruthlessly.”

“We went into hiding, but we never gave up hope,” Anita let go of Dameon’s wrist. “And when we met Isa, we knew we could start building momentum again.”

“The First Democratic Party of Eos may only be a few months old,” Isa added, “but I’d thank you not to underestimate it.”

Dameon had never heard of the event they were describing, but judging from Jade’s nod, she had. “So you do have plans.”

“Yes,” Isa said. “But for now…” she spread her arms, “recruitment. A place let it out. A place to breathe away from the weight of Samuel’s rule. We’ll move often to avoid discovery, but few people would have any motive to sell us out. And if they do…” she shrugged. “I can manage one or two of them.”

“I see.”

Isa inclined her head. “Then we will take our leave of you for now. Can we expect you at the next meeting?”

“Of course.”

“Good.” Isa twined her fingers together, fixing Dameon with her gaze. “Don’t abandon your concerns. You’re a skeptic. Watch. Evaluate. You’re uniquely positioned, a… bridge between the government and the people. A Dameon who has abandoned his ‘duty.’ Use it to see clearly.”

The summons Dameon expected came at the tail end of the meeting, after a last speech from Anita. Some people swept toward the door quickly, while others lingered. Jade glanced at him. “Ready to go?”

Before Dameon could answer, a hand tapped him on the shoulder.

“Dameon?” The short, Indian man spoke quickly and quietly. “Isa would like to talk with you in private. Follow me.”

Of course she does. When a wildcard like Dameon joined your organization, you harnessed him, and quickly.

“You go ahead,” Dameon told Jade, following the man through the crowd to the back of the room. A doorway led to a narrow hallway with peeling, faded wallpaper. At the end of that hallway, a set of stairs led down into a cellar.

“She is waiting there,” the man said.

“Thank you.” He took a step down and the wood groaned underneath his feet. Another step, and then another, and he descended into darkness, testing each of the ancient planks before he put his weight down. At the bottom of the steps, a door loomed. It was unlocked. He opened it and stepped inside.

The brightness caught him, forcing his eyes shut momentarily. Light blazed from an electric lantern hanging in the center of the large, worn room. Isa hovered over a stack of papers on an ancient table in the center of the room. Even in private, she wore her mask.

She looked up at the click the door made as Dameon closed it behind him. In a smooth motion, she turned the papers face-down on the table and straightened up, waiting with calm poise. “Thank you for coming.”

Dameon leaned against the door, folding his arms in an effort to appear nonchalant. “I was expecting your call. What’s your offer?”

“Ah. So I was wrong.” Her posture shifted almost imperceptibly — she didn’t relax, not quite, but… changed. She picked up a pen from the table and twirled it between her fingers. “I thought you were a believer, not an opportunist.”

Dameon made no response.

“We have connections in the black market. Any item of your choice, free of charge. Alternatively, a thousand chits of any type, untraceable.”

Dameon crossed the room in two strides, looming over Isa. “Not money,” he hissed. “Never money. I want proof. I want to believe. So convince me. Convince me that whatever you want me to do will make a difference. Swear to me that the three of you are genuine.” Let me believe in something again.

Isa took a step backwards, but Dameon couldn’t read her with that damn mask on. He had surprised her, he hoped. “What can you give me?” he pressed.

“What do you think I can give you?” She threw out her arms. “No, I can’t guarantee success. I’m not about to tell you all our plans, though believe you me, we have plans. You’re right. Legal political change will never happen. It’s not built into the system. I think I can testify to that even more than you can.” A trace of bitterness laced her voice.

“We’re planning a more direct approach. But for that, we need you.”

“What if I don’t like what I hear? Can I walk away?”

Isa’s hand twitched as if she was used to carrying a weapon. Dameon didn’t see on on her at the moment, but every nerve in him grew tense.

“You can walk away,” Isa confirmed. It sounded as if she said it through gritted teeth. “But consider this, Dameon. Everyone knows you’ve turned down your rightful position in Samuel’s government. But I know that even today, you only need say the word and they’ll usher you over with the press of a button. You’ve resisted them — will you resist us?”

“Tell me,” Dameon said.

“Your assignment is here.” Isa handed the stack of papers to him. “Including instructions on where to leave us messages. Leave a message there, and we’ll know you’ve accepted. Leave it empty, and we’ll assume you have declined. You have three days to make a decision.”

“Understood,” said Dameon, accepting the papers. A jolt shot through his heart as he glanced down the page. At first glance — spying. Not unexpected, but to spy on Gregory…

“Read the papers here. Destroy all marked ones before you leave.”

Isa strode past him to the door, but paused. “Tell no one of this. Not even Jade. And Dameon?”

“Yes?” Dameon said, forcing himself to look her in the face.

“At some point, you will pick a side. Make sure it’s the right one.”