ROGER (Read Until 7/31)

T H I R T Y - T W O

The west end of Provincial Hall went up in flames. If Xerses had been around, he would've described the beauty of it. The perfect mix of bright and dark hues, the heat that warms even the coldest moments, the ability to destroy and create anew; fire.

Me? I saw no beauty. As the sides of the building crumbled within its old structure, I saw hurt; pain. My pain.

Matthews dragged me through the mess, outside, and sat me down across the street. He tried to talk to me, touch my face and search my eyes, but I couldn't hear him. The sound of the world around me was lost in the loud screeching that filled my ears; a disconnect. Like a program had lost connection to its host.

Roger, losing his connection to me.

Or, was it the other way around?

Eventually, Matthews gave up and moved to help, but I couldn't. I simply sat, dazed; I watched everyone. I know in the beginning, I'd been so hands-on, so willing to help with every detail, every plan; this, I couldn't help with this.

The freed minds of the citizens may have signified our victory, the building's fire etched it in stone, but we hadn't won yet; it wasn't over. No one cheered, no one smiled. Instead, they moved; frantic and urgent.

Peace members pulled bodies out from the flames and checked them. Medics announced that the Codes within them were gone. Their eyes were normal, their bodies free.

Other members shouted for trucks, ambulances; anything with working supplies. The fire needed to be put out, the victims needed proper care. Even me; medics came to my side and checked me. They asked what I needed, if I felt any pain, but I wasn't sure how to answer them. So, I didn't. I simply looked past them, at the fires, and listened to the dead noise that backgrounded the team; I listened out for him.

They said I was in shock, that I needed time, but that wasn't true. And Matthews knew it. That's why when the sun lifted its head over the city and basked us in its bright light, he came back to me. His bandaged hands cupped his knees as he dropped down in front of me. His worried eyes searched mine. But he didn't speak; he waited. His stare said, 'say something,' but I couldn't—what could I say? There were no words.

"Clara." He touched my hand.

I looked behind him as Peace members talked amongst each other.

"Clara, you all right?"

Matthews inched closer, his face near mine. I looked at the blood on his lip, the dirt on his cheek; there was a gash that started near his ear and dipped down his neck. He wasn't in pain, but he was beat. The way he looked physically was how I felt inside.

I closed my eyes. "The Hosts are gone?"

"Yes."

I rubbed my face. "And the Codes?"

"Yes, and no," Matthews said. I finally opened my eyes as he closed his and took in a breath. "They're not in control, yeah, but they're still alive. We got to get back to the Dome; that's their chance. And Roger, maybe Roger would..." He stood and turned back towards the building, hands on his head.

Roger... "Is everything backed up?" I asked as the building's doors opened once last time. "Every file? He'd said there was a backup somewhere, right?"

Matthews didn't answer me. His eyes followed the four Peace members who pulled out the two men who guarded Polk's lab—and Bessel. They were covered in soot, unconscious just like everyone else. One by one, they were placed in line with the others.

"Gon' be hard to forgive him, ya know? How can we go back to that?" Matthews covered his head. "What he's done... to everyone... just..."

I tugged at his elbow because he hadn't answered my question. He also refused to look at me. "Matthews—" my fingers dug into the folds of his sleeve, "—is everything backed up?"