The Immortality Game

«I can’t see you. There’s a scary-looking bastard down there waving—»

«That’s me! Someone used one of our injector cards on whoever this guy was.»

«That’s…‌you know that’s not possible. It never—»

«I know, I know, but I’m telling you it worked this time for god knows what reason. Hey, we’ve only tested on chimps. Maybe there’s something different we don’t yet understand about human minds? Whatever, just get back here.»

«I don’t know. This doesn’t ring true to me. I have a lot of trouble believing what you’re telling me.»

«What can I say? I understand completely. All I know is that I woke up like this. It’s a hell of a painful experience. I need you. I need a friend right now to help me get through this.»

The air car banked slowly around.

«I’m coming down. But listen, I need you to talk to me, convince me you’re for real before I let you in the car.»

«Yes, of course. Oh wait, you’ll need to bear with me. My tongue isn’t working right so far, so I’m having trouble speaking aloud. It’s much easier to talk this way.»

«Perhaps, but there’s no guarantee I’m not speaking with someone else. Take your time and get your tongue working.»

The car came to a stop a meter above the ground a few paces from Tyoma. The front window slid down a few centimeters and Kostya’s wary eyes peered out. “You sure are one mean-looking son of a bitch.”

Tyoma had been practicing as the air car had descended. Now he took a deep breath and focused hard on forming his tongue into the proper shapes. “I- It’s mmm- me.” His voice was oddly high-pitched. Another breath. “Ree- really.” As awkward as it felt, he could already tell it would get easier pretty fast.

“Quick,” Kostya said, “what’s our favorite game?”

“Ch- chess on T- T- T- Tuesdays. Swords and Sc- scrolls any other day wh- when we h- have t- time.”

Kostya stared at him a long time, the look in his eyes changing from wariness to compassion. Finally he shook his head. “I just can’t believe it worked. It’s…‌it’s crazy. Come on, get in.” He told the car to open the door, and it slid upward.

His new body still felt wobbly, so Tyoma took great care to ease himself into the front seat next to his friend. He sighed when he was at last able to drop his head onto the head rest.

Kostya grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “The guys are going to go nuts over this! They won’t believe it.”

“Not…‌not t- tonight,” Tyoma said. “Please. Just…‌need help getting home.”

“Of course, of course. You look tired. It’s just…”

“What?”

“Well…‌you—I mean the original you—you’re in trouble over there at The Pyramid.” Kostya pointed at the nearby resort.

“I’m alive?” Tyoma forced his thick lips into what he hoped was a grin. He recalled many debates over the years as to whether the universe would allow two versions of the same person to live at the same time. Seems I’ve been right all along.

“For the moment,” Kostya said. “You’re hurt, though. I’d like to get you out of there. I’m just not sure how to do it.”

“I m- may be able to help. Th- the guy who was w- with me…‌I th- think he was a mobster from…‌from there. He seemed to th- think I was a colleague.”

Kostya told his car to head for The Pyramid. “I guess it makes sense. The only card that could’ve been used on you was the one these mobsters stole from us. If they still think you’re, you know, one of them, then maybe we have a shot at getting you out of there.”

“Even b- better,” Tyoma said, “th- the guy didn’t seem to ex- expect me to speak. M- maybe this guy was a mmm- mute.”

Kostya smirked at him. “You look like someone who was used for muscle, not brains. Just stay quiet and look scary. We’ll fake our way through this.”

Tyoma nodded. He smiled at the thought of meeting himself. We’ll have so much to discuss! I wonder if I can beat myself at chess?

Moscow

Sunday, June 8, 2138

10:45 p.m. MSK

Everything seemed a blur now to Zoya. And not in the same way as when her heart was pounding and the combat card seemed to slow everything to a crawl. She could focus during the blur caused by the card. While everything else melted away, she was able to concentrate on any one area of her choice and make decisions…thoughtful decisions. Now her heart wasn’t pounding and the blur encompassed everything.

She saw things in flashes. The young American man Marcus, overcome with exhaustion, asleep leaning against the car’s door. Ira constantly glancing back at Zoya from the front seat, her face pale, her attempts to offer a wan smile failing. The glow of the giant pyramid and its curved towers filling the view screens. I’m getting what I thought I wanted and all I want to do now is throw up.