"All that work just for three seconds of garbage and 'cle'?"
"We'll have to decode all the clusters and combine them to get the full message." Lucy said.
"Sixteen was crazy... crazy good at encryption, that is." Rebecca said jokingly. There was something in her tone, in the way Lucy looked away when she said it, that unnerved Alexis. And not just the fact that she'd used the past tense.
"He... or she... had mental health issues?"
There was a significant pause before Lucy answered. "Subject Sixteen experienced... adverse effects... from prolonged Animus usage." She was looking at her keyboard, avoiding eye contact.
"What kind of effects?" Alexis probed, warily.
"...Self-injurious behavior. Manic episodes. Mental instability... He became unable to distinguish between himself and his ancestors."
"Goddamn Bleeding Effect..." Alexis recalled Desmond's panicked screams the night they'd slept together, the way he'd almost said "my family" instead of "Ezio's family" the other day. Alarmed, she asked, "What about Desmond?"
"He's already had some brief hallucinations, but taking frequent breaks seems to be the key to staving off the worst of it."
"Speaking of which..." Rebecca checked a clock on her screen. "Yo, Des! You're about due for another break now."
"A'ight." His eyes, which had been roaming about, looking at Rome, became focused and still as he returned to himself. Sitting up, he caught sight of Alexis, distress apparent on her face. "You okay?"
"Never mind me, what about you? Are you having any more of those Bleeding Effects?"
"Wait, you already know what it's called?" Shaun asked, confused.
"I guess I did mention it to her before," Desmond recalled.
"Yeah, but I thought it was limited to your dreams!" she said, sounding irate. "You didn't tell me you were actually hallucinating!"
"Can you blame me? Come on, you were already skeptical about the Animus, the Apple, the Assassins, and Abstergo," he unintentionally alliterated. "If I'd said I was having visions of people from hundreds of years ago, you'd have really thought I excaped from the loony bin!"
"Oh... you got a point there," she admitted.
"It hasn't happened for a while, though." He thought for a moment. "The last bad one was... that second night I went to see you."
"It's possible that Alexis is helping to keep your mind grounded in the present day." Lucy hypothesised. "I'm guessing you have a lot of memories of her, memories that are clearly 21st-century. So when she's around, you can more easily stay anchored to yourself, to 2012."
"Sweet, I'm actually helping." Alexis made two thumbs up. "Without even knowing it, even."
The next day was Sunday, and the group was taking a break. Out of all the religious concepts promulgated by their zealot adversaries, the cultural designation of Sunday as a day of rest was one that the Assassins had never deemed worth fighting.
The last memory Desmond had synced had been Claudia's initiation into the Brotherhood. "Why did they all jump into the river at the end?" Alexis wondered.
"Eh, it's a tradition. At Masyaf, Al Mualim would have Assassins publicly leap to their death so Templars would fear his army's fearlessness. Except they weren't leaping to their death. They landed safely in piles of hay."
"Oh, interesting... When you do that in the Animus, does it feel like you're really jumping, really falling?"
"Yeah, it really does."
"If you want, I can adjust the pain settings to make it even more realistic," Rebecca offered. "You know, for when Ezio gets injured. Or when you're halfway up a tower and miss a handhold, and you smash into the gr-"
"No thank you!" Desmond cut her off. "Pain settings are fine the way they are!"
Shaun only half-listened to the conversation, paying more attention to his computer screen. Alexis had tried asking what he was doing, but he hadn't elaborated beyond "Oh, just reading some boring historical dossiers, you wouldn't be interested."
"Do any of you guys use the Animus ever? Or just Desmond?"
"I tested it out a bit," Rebecca said. "My ancestor was some Prussian military grunt. Boring!"
"You only looked at one of your ancestors? Couldn't you just switch to someone less boring?"
"You have to sync pretty well with the first one you get before you can move on. I didn't want to put in all that time. Like I said, I was really just testing it."
"What do you mean, 'the first one you get'?"
Lucy clarified. "Not all genetic pathways are easily accessible, especially for new subje... users." She cleared her throat, slightly embarrassed at almost slipping back into Abstergo terminology. "The Animus system contains a subroutine that tries to select an ancestor who's similar to the user. Same gender, same language, not too far back in time, and so on. That way it's less jarring to relive them. Once an adequate level of synchronization is established with this 'alpha ancestor', other, more distant ones become somewhat more manageable."
This was news to Desmond. "Is that why I had such a hard time of it at Abstergo? Because they were dead-set on having me relive Altaïr?"
"You got it. It would have been a lot easier if you started with someone from 19th-century America, for example, instead of 12th-century Syria. But Vidic didn't want to waste time on syncing your alpha; he just wanted Altaïr's map."
"On the plus side, your high synch with Altaïr allows you to connect to Ezio much better." Rebecca added.
Shaun then spoke up. "Would you be interested in taking the Animus for a spin, Alexis?"
"Ahh... maybe? You're sure it's safe?" She did wonder what it was like to use the machine, but the possibility of those "adverse effects" was putting a damper on her curiosity.
He waved off her concern. "Oh, a couple short sessions can't hurt. Look at Rebecca: she came out of it unscathed. She's always been a weirdo, the Animus didn't make her that way."
Shaun seemed uncharacteristically upbeat, and Desmond looked askance at him, wondering what was up.
"Uh, okay, I guess." Alexis said. "Do I have to, like, do anything to prepare?"
"Nope," Rebecca answered, rummaging in a box under her table. "Just lie back and lemme stick this in ya." From the box, she held up a device. It looked like a USB cable or power cord. One end had several short sharp pins coming from it.
"I thought you didn't have to be plugged in!"
"When you go on your maiden voyage, you do. Baby has to read your DNA to get to your genetic memories. Desmond's is already on file."
"Ah, oookay. And you're sure I won't bleed out?"
"From this little thing? No way, unless you're hemophiliac or something."
"No, I mean, like Subject 16."
Desmond rolled his eyes and chuckled. "I get it. 'Bleed out'. She means the Bleeding Effect, but she made it into a verb."
"You'll be fine. The system tracks your vital signs and whatnot," Rebecca assured her. "I'll pull you out after about an hour, or sooner if it looks like you're having any problems."
"All right..." Her fears allayed, Alexis settled into the metallic contraption and offered her arm, into which Rebecca jabbed the Animus input. "Ah." Just like getting a shot.
"Okay, now stay still. This part might take a few minutes." Messages began appearing on Rebecca's screen.
New genome detected. Create new ancestry file?
She hit "Y" . The system worked for a few moments, then Alexis cried out. "Dahh! I can't see anything! What happened?" Her eyes darted back and forth in vain.
"It's all white, yeah? Relax, that's just the loading screen," Desmond informed her.
Scanning neural patterns...
Compiling ancestral pathways...
Searching for relevant memory data...
Alexis waited with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation while the Animus analyzed her.
Memory match found...
She noticed she no longer felt the lingering pain in her forearm. Then she realized she couldn't feel her body at all. The hum of the computers, which she had grown accustomed to these past couple of days, was gone. The only thing Alexis sensed was the surreal whiteness surrounding her.
Accessing memory...
There arose an eerie chorus of crackling. The blank void reconfigured itself into a dense metropolis as block letters projected on her vision.
DETROIT
1860
"1860," Desmond reflected. "That's... Civil War, right?"
"Not quite," Shaun replied. "Didn't kick off until '61."
Her viewpoint shifted, jumping to another perspective, then shifted again. Alexis felt like she should be getting nauseous, but somehow she wasn't. This is so bizarre.
Desmond watched, fascinated. He unknowingly echoed his girlfriend's sentiments. "This is kinda bizarre. Seeing someone else use the Animus, I mean. Like, I almost wanna say, 'Hey, you're in my spot!'"
"Don't get all jelly," Rebecca teased. "You'll be back in there soon enough."
Another jump, and then Alexis was navigating a crowded street. She was walking quietly but with some urgency. A slightly fetid breeze pushed into her nostrils. Stepping over a murky brown puddle, she moved into a small side street, then down another even smaller alleyway. Alexis seemed to have no control over this body. Just as well; I have no idea where I'm- where she's going.
Finally she arrived at an unassuming wooden door, produced a key from her satchel, and deftly unlocked it, glancing around briefly before passing through.
The interior appeared to be a small cafe or restaurant, bereft of customers or staff. Alexis- or rather, her ancestor- continued into the kitchen.
A sour-faced young man leaned against one of the grungy walls, but his expression turned to cheer when he caught sight of Alexis- no, not Alexis, not me, she reminded herself. She didn't know who she was yet.
The mustachioed man's greeting serendipitously provided an answer to that. "Leda! Another successful run, I take it?"
"Yes, Martin. Five more persons transported to freedom."
Ohhh geez this is freaky! Alexis felt herself talking, but in someone else's voice. Leda's voice, which carried a foreign accent she couldn't identify. She was so thrown off by those eight words that she didn't catch the beginning of Martin's next sentence.
"... may not be needed in the coming years." he said, and then brought a folded paper out from his slightly tatty trousers. "On another note, our esteemed benefactor wishes to meet with you again. The details are written here."
Leda took the message and read it. Her heart rate accelerated slightly.
LS
Once you have returned from your current expedition, I should like to speak with you. Disregard the spot we used for the previous meeting; AB tells me it is no longer secure. M's Church should be a suitable replacement venue. Send word when you arrive in Detroit and meet me -alone- in the shadow of the bell tower at the next dusk.
Yours,
Z
She looked up from the letter and nodded to Martin.
"I should like to know what you two betalk in such secrecy," he said, a bushy eyebrow raised.
"If 'twere meant for your ears, you would already know." Again the strange feeling of speaking words that were not hers. "Any further news?"
The burly man shook his head, and Leda walked past him into a pantry half-stocked with foodstuffs. She bent down and lifted a floorboard to reveal a hidden stairwell. What? Alexis was beginning to get a strange feeling about this Leda person.
As Leda began to descend, Alexis tried, hesitantly, to assert some control over her ancestor's movements. She stumbled in the half-light and nearly tripped. Whoops. Instinctively, she extended an arm, and was glad to find a handrail to stop herself (though not her actual self) from tumbling. She took a moment to find her balance and gauge the distance between the steps before continuing down.
The narrow stairwell led to a brick-lined corridor, which in turn led to a heavy-looking metal door. There was no handle, so she knocked. In response, a peephole slid open to reveal a pair of large brown eyes. The eyes regarded her for a moment before they disappeared and their owner unbolted the door.
Alexis didn't hear Desmond's surprised intake of breath when he saw the area beyond. The trappings were very different, far less opulent than Isola Tiberina, but the atmosphere was unmistakably the same. This is an Assassin den. No doubt about it. Why didn't I realize before? Secret meetings, escorting people to freedom, no fucking duh!
He turned from the monitor to address her. "Lexie, your ancestor is an Assassin!" When she didn't reply, Lucy said, "I'm guessing she can't hear us. Her brain's probably overwhelmed by all the unfamiliar experiences in the Animus, so outside stimuli aren't registering. It's common for this to happen the first time."
There were several rustic wooden tables furnishing the dimly-lit underground chamber: a mess of books and papers on one, a hearty meal of stew in tinware on another, an unidentifiable mechanical device on a third. Around each table were people, standing, sitting, leaning. Fifteen, perhaps twenty people in all. Alexis noticed many of them bore pistols at their belts. A couple of them looked up at her arrival and called out greetings. Leda nodded in reply, and approached one of the room's occupants in particular.
"Ester." The curly-haired woman looked up from her soup. "I need you to telegraph the Senator, that he may know to meet me on the morrow."
At this, Shaun's ears perked up, though the other Assassins took no notice.
"My... he's rather taken a shine to you, Leda."
"What do you mean?"
"I... Never mind." Ester shook her head very slightly. "It's nothing. I'll telegraph him after I've finished my supper. Have you eaten?"
She had not, and went to help herself from a large soup pot in the corner. So this is clam chowder. Not bad, Alexis mused. She'd never had it herself, since she had a terrible allergy to most shellfish. When Leda finished her meal, she went to a side chamber and collapsed onto a rickety bed. As she closed her eyes, the scene lost focus, and Alexis found herself alone in the whiteness again... the 'loading screen', Desmond had called it.
She took this opportunity to look down at the body she was inhabiting. Slender, yet strong-looking fingers, tipped with slightly grubby nails. A thin scar, about four inches long, marred one forearm. Wonder how that happened... Wait, I've got her memories. Shouldn't I remember the story behind the scar? And shouldn't I know who she's going to meet tomorrow? I guess it doesn't work that way...
Alexis had expected the memory to pick back up from Leda's awakening in that same bed, but instead the void gave way to the bustling streets of Detroit again. Her ancestor had changed from the utilitarian and slightly tomboyish riding habit she'd had on previously, to a much more cumbersome getup which included a bulky skirt. A corset enhanced Leda's petite bustline, and Alexis was glad it wasn't drawn too tightly. In her left hand she carried a light parasol, though the sun was almost set. I suppose we're all dressed up to meet the mysterious Senator Z now... at M's Church, wherever that is...
Alexis tried to mentally "hang back" and let Leda navigate, as had happened in the first part of the memory. However, it didn't work this time and she simply stood, buffeted by other Detroiters as they passed her. So I have to find my way myself? She stepped haltingly down the street, peering upward from beneath the parasol, looking for a bell tower. All she saw was the slate gray evening sky and the unfamiliar storefronts.
"Looks like she's lost." Desmond pointed out her apparent predicament to Rebecca.
"Shaun, do you have a map I can import?"
"Great, more work for me. This is supposed to be my off day..." he grumbled, clicking through a seemingly endless maze of folders. "This is from '64, not '60, but it should do." He selected a file and keyed a command to send it to the Animus workstation.
"Got it." Rebecca tapped a rapid sequence of keystrokes.
Converting geographic data...
Extracting landmarks...
Mapping to genetic memory locale...
"There we go," Rebecca beamed. "HUD minimap enabled."
Maybe I can ask someone for directions... or would that mess up my synchronization? Alexis was thinking, when she was suddenly surprised by the appearance of a circular inset in the lower right quadrant of her vision.
"What the?!"
She was doubly surprised when her shocked exclamation came out of Leda's mouth. A couple passing her on the street turned to look at her strangely.
"Ah, pardon me! I was just... stunned by this marvelous display!" Alexis adlibbed, gesturing to the products in the front window of a shop. This seemed to convince them she wasn't insane, and they continued on their way.
She looked more closely at the circle now. It was a map. A small one, only showing a couple of blocks surrounding her, but a map nevertheless. Right when I was feeling lost. That's handy. On the border of the map was a green marker, which she headed for. Soon, a stately house of worship came into view. She drew closer and saw someone at the foot of the bell tower. A sharply-dressed man- well, I suppose that's normal dress for this time period, actually- with a short cropped chinbeard, and hair that swept out on both sides of his head.
When she came near, he bowed and greeted her. "Lady Sisinis!"
Interesting surname... "Senator Chandler," Leda replied, curtsying. Wait, that's... is he also my ancestor?
It hadn't escaped Desmond's notice. "Senator Chandler?"
"Yes. Zachariah Chandler. 1813 to 1879," Shaun elucidated. "A prominent businessman who later turned to politics. He was known for his anti-slavery stance and take-no-bullshit personality. Some say the 'Blood Letter' he wrote to Governor Blair was the spark that ignited your Civil War."
"Assassin?"
"Natch. Although he wasn't much for the 'killing Templars' side of things, his financial support was instrumental in the success of the Underground Railroad. You know what that is, I presume?"
"Yes, I know about the Underground Railroad," Desmond replied, slightly aggravated. "Excaping slaves, Canada, Harriet Tubman, all that jazz. But, he's got the same name as Alexis. You think-"
"Think she's related to him? It's possible. The history books show he only had one surviving child, and she was born sometime before 1850... but you've seen for yourself how wrong the history books can be." Shaun put on a high-pitched, mocking voice. "De Sablé died in 1193! The Templars were disbanded in 1312! Da Vinci never built a working war machine!"
"It has been too long," the senator said, looking warmly at Leda.
"It has been scarcely a month," she replied, almost monotone.
"Shall I take that to mean you have not missed me?" His face bore a strange expression, somewhere between a smirk and a pout.
"In honest truth, my work has occupied the vast majority of my time as of late."
"Ah." His face relaxed a bit. "Precious few idle moments to spend pining after an aged politician."
"You are not as aged as some, Senator." Are they ...flirting? "And I do admit surprise that you have any idle moments yourself to meet with me. Are you not presently consumed with ensuring the vote for Mister Lincoln?"
The man let out a small sigh. "Yes, the presidential campaign consumes my schedule, but at the same time, thoughts of you consume my mind. If I may be so bold." He added this last part hastily.
Leda looked away, turning her gaze to a tree on the church's grounds. "What of your wife?" Her voice had grown quiet. "Are you not content in your matrimony?"
He didn't respond right away, and when he did, his words were quieter as well. "Leticia is pious to a fault... The Church teaches that the sole purpose of amorous congress is to 'be fruitful and multiply'. We are both past our fruitful years, and thus she will no longer take me to bed. Yet, I remain a man... with all that entails."
"Is it not written in Scripture that a wife should be dutiful to her husband?"
"Yes, and she is, in all ways save this one. She caretakes our house and our child, she assists me with preparing orations... She loves me. And I do still love her. But I also love you, Leda."
"This, then, is the purpose for which you have called this meeting?" Turning back to face him, Leda raised her voice, while still being careful not to draw attention from passersby. "To justify taking me as your... pallakída? That I may slake your lust?"
"Palla-what now?" Desmond looked to Rebecca.
She shrugged. "It's Greek to me. Whatever language that was, Baby isn't set up to translate it."
Zachariah pressed on, undeterred by her anger. "It is more than mere lust I feel for you, Leda. It is respect. Admiration. Trust. I see in you a kindred spirit to myself. A kind heart, with strong moral fibre, and unflinching courage. Passion, and the boldness to take action when the need arises."
Leda replied snippily. "You do flatter me, but are these not qualities shared by all Assassins?"
So she is an Assassin. Alexis' suspicions were confirmed.
The senator let out a short soft laugh. "An astute observation. But among all the Assassins I have had the pleasure of meeting, I harbor a singular attraction to you, Leda. Who can fathom the whim of the wind that guides Cupid's arrow?"
"Cupid's arrow is but a metaphor. Dispense with your rhetoric. Tell me straight out what you intend."
"As you wish." He took a breath. "If you would allow it, I would continue our romance, in this same clandestine manner. It does pain my honest nature to add another secret to the one I already guard. But the social mores of today do not allow for a man's love to be shared among more than one woman. So it must be, that I remain sworn to Letitia in the eyes of God and the law. Know this, Leda: my passion for you is not lessened by the unofficial nature of our relationship." His eyes were fixed intensely on hers.
A long minute passed in silence. Alexis wished she could tell what her ancestor was thinking.
She finally spoke. "And if I do not agree to such an arrangement?"
His expression was unreadable in the fading light. The sun had gone now, and streetlights provided only faint illumination. "You are, of course, free to avoid me... I would pine for you, but I would not pursue you further. Our interactions would be limited to what is necessary, being that we are within the same chapter of the Brotherhood."
"Zachariah..." Her voice softened. "I would be lying if I were to say I had no feelings for you. I am yet unsure the exact nature of those feelings, and whether I could tolerate the relationship you propose... I will need some time to think on this."
"But of course." He nodded in understanding. "I will pay a visit to the café in two days' time to meet with Uriah. You may give me your answer then. Until then, I wish you... asfáleia kai eiríni." He smiled proudly.
Alexis was confused, as were the Assassins monitoring the feed.
Leda's eyes widened in surprise. "You have been studying Greek?"
"It is a fascinating language. How do you rate my pronunciation?"
"Satisfactory... It will take more than reciting a few words of my native language to win my affections, Senator." She turned and began to retrace her steps, calling out to him as she retreated into the night. "Safety and peace to you as well."
"This seems like a good stopping point," Rebecca said. "Time to return to the present." She exited Alexis from the memory sequence.
She was unexpectedly back in the void again, and then back to her own body. "Woah..." Alexis rubbed her face with her left hand, not feeling ready to sit up quite yet. "That was... quite a trip."
"Yeah, it's something else, all right," Desmond said. "So you have Assassin ancestry, too. Who'da thunk?"
"Lots of people are descended from Assassins." Shaun said, dismissively. "It doesn't mean she's special or anything."
"Hey, at least it was an entertaining way to spend an hour," Rebecca said. "Like a soap opera. Except this was actually interesting."
"Are you feeling all right, Alexis?" Lucy asked. "Any dizziness, headache, nausea?"
"I think I'm good," she said. "Can you unhook me from this thing, Rebecca?"
"Hey, 'this thing' is my Baby!" she retorted, extracting the Animus input and slapping a bandage over the small wound.
Lynette Moseley logged into her Amail account and scanned the inbox as she sipped her tea. She made herself check the fool thing once a week, just in case there was anything important, which there usually wasn't.
It seemed there was nothing important this week either. She checked the box beside every message and was about to hit "Delete Selected" when she saw that one of them was from Alexis. Lynette's daughter usually emailed her a few times a year to keep her apprised of what was happening in her life. Yeah, I haven't gotten an update from her since January... She unselected it, and trashed all the others before clicking the subject line: "Latest news"
Hi Mother,
I hope you're doing good. I've got a few new things going on. For one, I'm not answering phones at Health Assure anymore. That job was sapping my life force. Also, things fell apart with Desmond a while ago, but I met a new guy over here. Oh, yeah, I'm in Italy now. It started as just a vacation but I think I might stay with Vinny for a while. He speaks English pretty well and he's teaching me Italian. He also runs a pretty successful winery. It's beautiful out here, check these photos. After living in New York so long, this place is amazingly relaxing.
Give my regards to Marco and Adrian. Hope the weather isn't too hot over there.
Alexis
Lynette thought it a little odd that Alexis would suddenly move overseas, but she'd always had an impulsive side. Didn't work out with Desmond, huh? Hope this Vinny isn't just a rebound. Of the two attached pictures, the first showed horses grazing in an open field, and the second showed rows of grapevines stretching into the distance.
What the woman didn't know was that the email had not really come from her daughter's Yahoo account, and the images were not of Alexis' current location. The headers had been forged by Shaun to conceal any traces of the message's true origin. The photos had been skillfully shopped from Animus visual data.
The vintner named Vinny was also a fiction, of course.
Endnotes:
- "Alpha ancestor" - This is a concept I made up.
- "M's Church" - Mariner's Church, built 1849
- "amorous congress" - Thanks to Mental Floss for their article "17 Euphemisms for Sex From the 1800s".
- "pallakída" - παλλακίδα - mistress/concubine
- "asfáleia kai eiríni" - ασφάλεια και ειρήνη - safety and peace
- "Amail" - I think Abstergo exists instead of Google in the AC universe. Like, imagine if Google didn't have that "Don't be evil" motto. Well, actually, Templars don't think that they're evil...