Agents of the Demiurge Read Free

city and frequent its largest park
every morning. When things became truly primitive, he simply
covered as much ground as possible. But a world like this made
things simple. They would both scatter electronic breadcrumbs to
lead the other to their online presence, then establish contact and
decide where to locate themselves.
    Dear Jed Orlin, Hess's identity, had achieved
financial independence at forty years of age, which gave him the
opportunity to move anywhere Elza desired. And he had precious
little in the way of family to wonder where he had gone. Very
convenient.
    “Mr. Orlin? Do you still want to meet? The
architecture firm sent over the preliminary plans for the warehouse
expansion.” The speaker was Gwen Furman, with a job title his
identity could never remember, whose nebulous role included serving
as an efficiency expert. The misremembering bugged him. Hess never
forgot anything he consciously experienced, but the memories he
inherited at the start of a world were as fallible as anyone
else's, as if at the moment of creation he had been plugged into an
established role in place of the true actor.
    Apparently, among the details Jed Orlin had
forgotten before Hess inherited his memories was a warehouse
expansion meeting. He frowned. He didn't remember anything about plans to expand the warehouse. “Sure,” he said. “We'll meet
in my office.”
    While they relocated, Hess probed at his
memories, trying to determine if his identity regularly forgot
meetings. Every recollection presented evidence to the contrary.
Jed had been a master multitasker largely because he didn't miss
the little things.
    Gwen sat after him, the movement causing a
religious pendant on her necklace to slip free of her shirt. Hess
stared. Emblazoned on the surface of the pendant was a raised fist
instead of the sacred eagle emblem he expected. Based on his
memories, it should have been a sacred eagle.
    Is the Creator messing with me , he
wondered. But that made no sense. Jerome had revealed to him last
Iteration that the Observers were pieces of the Creator. Why would
anyone turn against a part of himself? Of course, another piece of
the Creator was Erik, who wanted only the worst for Hess. Did their
desires balance out to a net zero? Did the Creator even care about
the rivalry among its components?
    “Are you OK, Mr. Orlin?”
    “Oh, sorry, Gwen. I just noticed your
pendant.”
    She squinted at him. “What about it?”
    “It just occurred to me that I don't know
much about it.”
    Gwen sat up straighter, losing the submissive
slouch. Her eyes darted to the door. Lips lifted every so subtly
towards the suggestion of a sneer. Hess knew he had said something
wrong. Very wrong. If he wasn't mistaken, Gwen planned to sell him
out.
     
    He soon learned that the Church had
contracted with TFK Motors to use its logistics network and
warehouse facilities – a fact that should be well known by the
Director of Logistics. Following their meeting, Gwen scampered off
and he brought up a facilities map on his monitor.
    Fully a quarter of the warehouse was
dedicated to the Church's use. The inventory list looked better
suited to an arms dealer than a religious institution. Nine
millimeter handguns, five point seven millimeter rifles,
flashbangs, canisters of CS gas, tasers, body armor, and tons of
ammunition.
    Hess switched back to the facilities map. The
section used by the Church had reinforced walls. An armory occupied
a quarter of his warehouse and he remembered nothing about it. Hess
sent a message to his assistant letting her know he was taking off
early, then snuck out to his car.
    He kept one eye on his rear view mirror until
the campus of TFK Motors disappeared into the distance, then hit
the gas. His neighborhood sat atop a bluff overlooking the city,
which gave it a nice view but made commuting annoying as hell. Hess
drove the winding switchback at twice the speed limit, racing
around the tight bends that led up the gentler incline at the