The Man Who Cannot Be Remembered

Chapter 5: The Data Broker's Price

"Seraya, your hand is literally glowing. Pull over. Give me the wheel before you faint and drive us into a canal."

Kaiven reached for the steering wheel, but Seraya swatted his hand away with a grunt of pain. Her grip was white-knuckled, the silver fluid seeping through her fingers and staining the cracked leather of the Chevy’s wheel.

"I’m not going to faint," she hissed, though her voice was thready. "And we aren't pulling over. Not until we’re off the main grid. Orven’s sensors track heat, movement, and digital signatures. This truck is old enough to be invisible, but only if we keep moving."

"Invisible? Seraya, you’re bleeding liquid moonlight! It’s dripping onto the floorboards! If he’s a 'Curator,' he’s probably got a Geiger counter for whatever the hell is in your veins."

"It’s not radiation, Kaiven. It’s... focus. Just find the first aid kit. It should be under your seat. Most of these old farm trucks have one."

Kaiven shoved his hand into the dark, greasy space beneath the passenger seat. His fingers brushed against a rusted jack, a crumpled fast-food bag, and finally, a plastic box with a cracked lid. He hauled it out.

"I found it. But it’s mostly just crusty Band-Aids and a bottle of antiseptic that expired when the Berlin Wall was still up."

"Duct tape," Seraya gasped, her head lolling back against the headrest for a brief second before she snapped her eyes back to the road. "There’s a roll of silver duct tape in there. Use it. And the gauze."

"Duct tape? On a wound? That’s going to hurt like a bitch when you try to take it off."

"I don't plan on taking it off for a while. Just do it, Kaiven. Stop talking and start wrapping."

Kaiven popped the lid, grabbing a roll of heavy-duty tape and a handful of yellowed gauze. He moved closer, his shoulder brushing hers. The heat coming off her was intense, like a fever, but her skin where the silver blood had dried felt strangely cool, almost like glass.

"Hold your arm still," he commanded, his voice softening despite his nerves. "I’ve never patched up a... whatever you are."

"I’m a girl who’s trying to save your ungrateful life," she muttered, though she let him lift her arm. "Ow! Watch the pressure!"

"Sorry! I’m trying! It’s hard to be precise when the patient is doing eighty in a sixty zone. There. That should hold the gauze in place."

"Tighter, Kaiven. It needs to be a compress. If the flow doesn't stop, the 'glitch' effect will start leaking out. You’ll start seeing things that aren't there. Or worse, the world will start seeing us."

Kaiven tugged the tape, securing the makeshift bandage. "There. Done. Now, are you going to tell me what that stuff is? People don't bleed mercury, Seraya. Not even in the weirdest parts of this city."

"It’s not mercury. It’s Ichon. It’s the medium the system uses to write reality. Think of it like... the ink in the printer. I’m a high-resolution agent, so my 'ink' is more concentrated."

"Great. I’m being rescued by a human fountain pen," Kaiven said, leaning back as he watched the silver stain begin to dull under the layers of tape. "And Orven? He has the same stuff?"

"No. He’s a Curator. He uses Void. He doesn't write; he deletes. That’s why his eyes look like that. He’s literally staring into the space where things used to exist."

"This is insane. I was a guy who couldn't get a muffin order remembered, and now I’m in the middle of a war between stationary supplies."

"Turn left here," Seraya ignored his sarcasm, her eyes fixed on a crumbling brick warehouse district. "Down the alley. Behind the dry cleaners."

"Where are we going? This looks like the kind of place where people go to get their kidneys harvested."

"We’re meeting a friend. Or at least, someone who hates the Curator more than he hates us. His name is Merek Vahl."

Kaiven steered the truck—Seraya had finally let him take the wheel for the final stretch—into a narrow gap between two buildings. The air here was thick with the smell of scorched ozone and old grease.

"Merek Vahl. Is he another 'agent'?"

"He’s a Broker. He deals in the things the system misses. If Orven is the eraser and I’m the ink, Merek is the guy who collects the scraps of paper from the floor."

They climbed out of the truck. Seraya stumbled, and Kaiven caught her, his hand lingering on her waist. She didn't pull away this time. They walked toward a heavy steel door with no handle and no keyhole.

Seraya didn't knock. She leaned her bandaged arm against the metal. The silver blood, even through the tape, seemed to pulse. A second later, a series of heavy mechanical bolts retracted with the sound of a falling guillotine.

"Enter," a gravelly voice boomed from a speaker hidden in the masonry. "And leave your 'glitches' at the door. I just had the floors waxed."

The interior was a labyrinth of shelves. Thousands of them, stretching up into the shadows of the high ceiling. But they weren't filled with books or electronics. They were filled with ledgers. Massive, leather-bound volumes, scrolls, and loose-leaf binders, all organized with obsessive precision.

A man sat at a heavy mahogany desk in the center of the room. He was short, wearing a green visor and a tattered waistcoat, a fountain pen tucked behind each ear. He didn't look up as they approached.

"Seraya Elune," the man said, his voice like dry parchment. "You smell like a kinetic discharge and failure. I assume the Oakhaven job didn't go as planned?"

"Orven showed up early, Merek. He’s using a Mercy of Silence. The whole block is probably a parking lot in everyone’s memory by now."

Merek finally looked up. His eyes were magnified by thick, round glasses, making him look like an owl. He ignored Seraya and fixed his gaze on Kaiven.

"And this? This is the anomaly? The boy who isn't there?"

"My name is Kaiven," Kaiven said, stepping forward. "And I’m standing right here. You can see me, right?"

Merek stood up, walking around the desk to circle Kaiven like a horse trader. "I see a smudge. A blur in the peripheral vision of the universe. Fascinating. You don't have a signature at all, do you? No anchor, no weight. How do you even keep your shoes tied, boy?"

"I manage. Seraya said you have records. Things the 'system' forgot."

"I have everything," Merek said, gesturing to the endless shelves. "Digital data is a joke. A breath of wind can blow it away. But ink on paper? That has soul. That has memory. If it’s written here, it happened. No matter what the Curator says."

"We need to know about the fire," Seraya said, leaning heavily against a shelf. "Oakhaven. Elias Mordel. And the key he was supposed to have hidden."

Merek sighed, rubbing his temples. "Elias was a fool. He thought he could outrun the audit. But you don't want to talk about the fire, Seraya. You want to talk about the Omission."

"The what?" Kaiven asked.

"The Great Omission," Merek whispered, walking toward a particularly dusty section of the library. He climbed a rolling ladder, pulling down a ledger that looked like it was bound in human skin. He slammed it onto the desk, sending a cloud of dust into the air. "It’s a list, kid. A list of people, places, and events that were deemed 'unnecessary' by the powers that be. Errors in the grand design."

"I’m in there, aren't I?" Kaiven asked, his voice low.

Merek flipped through the pages, his finger trailing down columns of names that seemed to shimmer and fade as he touched them. "Let’s see... Mordel... Mordel... Ah. Here. Kaiven Mordel. Age ten. Marked for deletion following the Oakhaven Breach. Status: Pending."

"Pending?" Kaiven's heart hammered. "It’s been a year! I’ve been living like a ghost for a year! How is it still pending?"

"Because you’re a stubborn little stain," Merek chuckled. "The eraser didn't take. You’re like a typo that keeps reappearing every time the document is refreshed."

"Is that why Orven is after me?"

"Partly. But there’s something else," Merek said, his expression turning grave. He looked at Seraya, then back at the book. "Usually, the Omission is reserved for things that shouldn't exist. Mistakes. But sometimes... someone is put on the list because they know too much. Or because they are too much."

"What are you getting at, Merek?" Seraya asked, her voice tight.

"I’ll tell you," Merek said, his eyes narrowing behind his spectacles. "But information of this caliber isn't free. I see you’ve been leaking, Seraya. That silver of yours... it’s pure. I want a vial. Three ounces of your Ichon, and I’ll tell you what’s on the next page."

"Merek, don't be a vulture," Seraya snapped. "I’m already light-headed."

"Three ounces, or you can go back outside and wait for Orven to find you. Your choice."

Seraya looked at Kaiven, then at her bandaged arm. She nodded slowly. Merek produced a glass vial and a needle with practiced ease. Kaiven watched, stomach churning, as the glowing silver fluid filled the tube. It looked beautiful and terrifying all at once.

"There," Merek said, corking the vial and tucking it into his vest. "A pleasure doing business with you, light-bringer."

"The information, Merek," Kaiven prompted, his patience wearing thin. "What’s on the next page?"

Merek turned the page of the Great Omission. He ran his finger down the list, his brow furrowing. He stopped, his eyes widening slightly.

"Well. This is awkward."

"What? What is it?" Kaiven leaned over the desk, trying to read the fading ink.

Merek looked up at Seraya, his gaze unreadable. "You said you were the 'administrator,' didn't you? The one sent to fix the glitch?"

"That’s my job," Seraya said.

"Then why," Merek said, turning the book so they could both see the ink, "is there a second name listed right under Kaiven’s? A name that was added the same day as the Oakhaven fire?"

Kaiven squinted at the script. It was elegant, written in the same shimmering ink as his own.

Seraya Elune.

The room went deathly silent. Kaiven felt a cold chill wash over him, worse than any kinetic blast Orven had fired. He looked at Seraya, but she had gone completely still, her face a mask of pure, unadulterated shock.

"It says I’m... I’m part of the Omission?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"It says you were marked for deletion ten years ago, just like the boy," Merek said, his voice surprisingly soft. "Which means, my dear, you aren't the one sent to fix the glitch. You are the glitch."

Kaiven took a step back, his head spinning. "Seraya? What does this mean?"

She didn't answer. She was staring at her own name on the list of things that weren't supposed to exist.

From the shadows of the warehouse, a low, familiar hum began to vibrate through the floorboards. The smell of falling ash filled the air.

"Oh, dear," Merek said, closing the ledger with a heavy thud. "It seems the Curator just found out I was hosting a reunion."