James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel. My use is in no way meant to challenge their copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned (or any other) copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons, either real or fictional, is unintended (and would really be sorta whacked, given some of the events and persons depicted herein)
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XI – Reporting Live From GethsemaneLogan Cale sat staring at his computer screen, the cursor flashing, alerting him to the fact that his cable hack was ready to go. He only needed to push a button, and he would be online with the entire city. And this report, like all of my recent reports, will be recorded and recast nationwide, he knew. Ever since McElroy had come out with his compromise proposal, the national networks ate up any bit of transgenic reporting they could get their hands on. It was only a couple of days before Eyes Only had become a nationwide sensation. Logan knew the reasons for this were twofold – first, he was constantly in possession of the most recent information regarding the transgenics, and second (and more importantly, he felt), as an underground cyber-journalist he made no claim regarding the intellectual property of his reports. This meant that anyone could re-air them for free, and in the post-Pulse economy, free was the best thing on the market.
His right index finger moved to push the button, but just as his skin made contact with the plastic key, Logan thought better of it and snapped the digit back as quickly as if he'd touched white-hot glass. Not yet, he thought, part of his mind pleading with him not to start the report. Not now. Not ever. He shook his head, trying to physically chase away the fear and doubt that had steadily been growing in his gut.
The very moment he accepted that first phone call from one of Lydecker's soldiers, as he drew breath to confirm that he was, in fact, Kilroy, he knew that it would all come down to this. He was shocked when, in his quieter, lonelier moments, he had compared himself to great leaders like Martin Luther King, Jr., and Ghandi, and Bobby Kennedy, and Nelson Mandela… the list went on and on. Every time he thought about them, he pondered what they must have thought when times got rough, when they had to have wondered whether the personal price they were paying was too high.
They did what they had to do, Logan reminded himself. They may have feared it, but they did it. And so will I. Without really thinking about what he was doing – and thus providing himself with another chance to back out – he pushed the key and started the hack. An almost imperceptible gasp escaped his lips when he realized what he'd done, but his years of experience kicked in and he started speaking the words that had become as easy for him to recite as his address and telephone number.
"Do not attempt to adjust your set. This is a Streaming Freedom Video bulletin. The cable hack will last exactly 60 seconds. It cannot be traced, it cannot be stopped, and it is the only free voice left in the city." Logan stopped to catch his breath and recall the memorized words of his report, and with one last mental nudge he began to say the words he'd never wanted to say.
"President James T. Ashton recently announced that the United States government was reversing its stance on the transgenic issue, and that he was offering all of the transgenics clemency. The president should be congratulated, not only for correcting one of the great injustices of our time, but for having the personal courage to see his error, admit to it, and to correct it – to do what he felt was right no matter the cost. Politicians with such profound integrity and commitment are unfortunately few and far between. President Ashton also made reference to the Familiars, and their threat cannot be overstated. But it's also important that everyone know about two transgenics, men known only as Zack and Kilroy. Each of them has assembled a personal army and taken their war to the Familiars. Despite goals which may dubiously be referred to as noble, each man has undertaken his covert war without regard for the danger and destruction that's wrought on a daily basis. Both men are petty criminal warlords playing at heroics. Innocent men, women, and children – callously referred to by these domestic terrorists as collateral damage when they're caught in the crossfire – have been made to suffer so that Kilroy and Zack can fight a war that's not their responsibility to fight. This must end immediately if there is ever to be a lasting peace between humanity and the transgenics."
Logan pushed the button that ended the cable hack and leaned back in his chair, unaware of the nervously relieved sigh that escaped his chest. It's done, he told himself, surprised that it had been easier than he'd expected. Suddenly sensing he wasn't alone, he whirled in his chair, coming face to face with Syl. The horrified expression on her face said it all, though her words left no doubt as to what she thought.
"What have you done?" she asked, her voice starting out weak and then cracking, ending only as a whisper.
"What I had to," Logan answered simply. She had to know it was coming, he decided. She couldn't have thought Kilroy could just disappear. The people won't allow it. Even as he thought over the problem, he could see in her eyes that she was working it all out in her own mind.
"You're done for tonight?" she asked. An almost imperceptible nod answered. "Then come to bed." Logan saw so much in Syl's eyes – pain, sorrow, anger, disappointment, betrayal. He could only imagine how she felt.
"You know I can't," he told her.
"One last time," Syl responded, her voice on the verge of pleading. "Just give me this last time."
"Syl…" How can I say no? he wondered. But then again, how can I say yes?
"Let me make it easier for you," Syl offered, crossing to him and softly grasping his hand, gently pulling him to his feet. "Just come with me, Logan." She led him from the room and down the hall, into the bedroom. "When you wake up tomorrow morning, I'll be gone," she whispered to him as she nibbled and kissed his earlobe playfully. "So there's no chance of this going any further than tonight."
"I don't want you to le--"
"Shhh," Syl interrupted. "I know what you want now, Logan. I understand it all. I'll come back . . . eventually. Once it's time," she assured him. "Just let tonight be tonight. Okay?"
"Okay," Logan muttered, feeling the familiar heat start to build up within him. Just this one last time, he told himself. And then she and I are done for good. He wrapped his hands around her waist, then slipped his hands under her shirt, running his fingertips over the soft skin of her back as he kissed her. The last time, he thought, almost shuddering with misery as he was struck with the full weight of what he'd just done. He wanted to slip back in time, to undo the report he'd just made, but even as he considered such a ludicrous possibility, he also chased the thought away. What's done is done, he reminded himself as Syl jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist as he carried her to the bed. It's only a matter of time now.
To be continued………………………………