As I make my way through the saloon, I prepare myself for when I am inevitably stopped. Every glance cast or head turn makes me waver. But I know if I stop, I will surely draw attention to myself. We are not meant to stop. Not unless we're told to.
Passing through the saloon seems like an entirely different world now. It's confusing and loud and chaotic. Before, I could tune out these noises and focus solely on one thing. But now, sounds and sights surround me in a dizzying blur. Tearing my eyes away from the noisy scene in front of me, I glance up and notice something in the corner of the wall. Something I hadn't ever noticed before.
It stares back at me through its darkened lens as it rotates from side to side.
I should have realized it sooner, but I can't go into the hotel as I am. My face is too recognizable; my identity too detectable. I have to disguise myself.
Grabbing a stray black coat off the back of a chair, I throw it over myself and stuff my hands in the pockets. Keeping my head down, I watch as the door ahead of me grows increasingly closer. I maneuver through the crowd, tucking and twisting various body parts so as not to bump into anyone. Intoxicated guests are unpredictable, and the last thing I need right now is a bar fight.
I am almost there. I can already see the last rays of sunlight seeping through the pair of swinging doors and over the floor beams. It's been thirty years since I've stepped outside the front door. Will the town still look the same?
Or will someone stop me before I can even look at it? I keep expecting someone to jump out in front of me or grab me from behind, and I nearly break into a run. I have to tell myself not to, not when I am so close to freedom.
With one final step, I push the doors back and step into the evening, blinking at the sight before me. Copper Springs looks exactly as I remember it. Nothing has changed. Wagons drawn by horses still roll through the crowded main street. Townsfolk still wander through the town in their fancy getups, talking and laughing with one another. Lanterns still burn beside storefronts- their orange flames flickering in the dark.
"Excuse me, ma'am," a man says, trying to nudge his way around me. I take a step back, allowing him to pass. He smiles at me before tipping his hat and disappearing into the saloon.
He didn't recognize me. He didn't realize who- what I was. He thought I was just like him. But I don't have time to dwell on it. I have to keep moving. I cross the street, quickening my pace once I see the glowing sign up ahead. Just like on the key, it is written in the same fancy golden letters atop the front tower.
As soon as I enter through the revolving doors, I come to a halt. This entire time and I have never once stepped foot inside The Marigold Hotel. Unlike the saloon, it is decorated down to the finest detail. Instead of hard wooden floors, it has plush velvet carpet with tiny designs etched over it. In place of low-lit lamps stuck on the walls is an enormous crystal chandelier hanging in the middle of the lobby. It casts a dazzling light that not even a corner is left in darkness. Guests walk in and out, pushing past me as I stare at the oil paintings and various animal heads mounted on the walls.
The rattle in my pocket reminds me of what I need to do. Joining a group of men from behind, I follow them into a small, bright room with sliding metal doors. It closes once one of them pushes a button- one with the number ten on it- and the floor underneath starts to move up. I almost lose my balance and have to lean against the railing to hold myself up. The men chuckle at me and call me 'drunk.' But I am not drunk, not at all.
Eventually, the floor stops, and the doors slide open, letting the men out all at once. After the doors close again, I push the button with the number thirteen. The room moves back up before coming to a stop with a ding. Gripping the key between my fingers, I walk out of the room and into the dim hallway.
Immediately to my left is room 1301. Inserting the key into the lock, I slowly turn it until there is a soft click. I ease the door open, preparing myself for who or what might be behind it. There is nothing but darkness on the other side.
Shutting the door behind me, I creep forward into the pitch-black bedroom. It takes a few seconds before my eyes adjust to the darkness. I have just come upon the first bed, nearly stumbling into it when I hear two muffled voices arguing from the other side of the wall. I draw closer to the wall and press my ear hole against it, trying to listen as the voices increase in volume.
"... Should have just taken her apart like I wanted!" It is a woman who speaks. "Then we could've avoided this!"
"It was just a simple malfunction," the man answers. "Technology is bound to fail from time to time. Remember that incident at the dinosaur park?"
"Someone nearly being bitten by a mechanical raptor because he was stupid enough to stick his arm out is not the same!"
"Then what about the kid nearly impaled by the lightsaber?"
The woman groans. "That was because the parents weren't watching him! But this... this was completely different. I saw her eyes. It was like she knew who I was, Peter. Like she recognized me!"
Peter. That must mean the woman with him is Dominique. Narrowing my eyes, I notice a thin shaft of light pouring out from the slit under the door beside me. I inch towards it; the conversation on the other side becoming clearer.
"That's impossible. She didn't even remember me," the man answers.
"So?" the woman scoffs. "Oh, right I forgot. If it doesn't involve you, then everything must be fine. I'm just her creator. What do I know? God, Peter. You're such an idiot." Her voice has dropped into a hiss.
Something slams on what must be a table. "Yeah, I must be for putting up with your constant bitching all these years!"
"My bitching? You're the one who always complains—"
A chair screeches back. "Since when have I complained? For thirty years, I've sat there silently like the good husband I was supposed to be while you bitched and moaned about what a burden it was to deal with this type of technology! Do you know how many times I wanted to scream, why not just hand the company over to David or Desiree if you're so miserable?"
"You know why, Peter? You really want to know?" Dominique's voice cracks. "Because I am the only reason why pedophiles don't have their child robots yet! Or why men haven't replaced their wives with newer, younger versions of themselves! If I stepped down, this tech would fall into even worse hands."
Someone paces around the room- their footsteps heavy and loud like a horse's. "You're what's holding it back! Can't you see that? You're a genius! You've helped create something extraordinary! And that is exactly why I can't understand why it disgusts you so much."
She sniffles. "This tech was supposed to help humanity. It was supposed to be revolutionary like the automobile or the Internet. I wanted it to change people's lives for the better. But it's only hurt us in the end." A brief pause follows before she speaks again. "It's only hurt me."
Another pause. "It's not the monster you think it is," Peter finally says.
She lets out a deep sigh. "Have you heard from Zachary?"
"No," the man mutters. "I haven't."
"What about Matthew? I've tried messaging him, but neither of them has answered."
"They're probably busy, Dominique."
"Where? With the saloon girls?" she sneers.
"Not this again." Peter groans. "I can't deal with this again. Not right now." The sound of a door slamming echoes through the wall.
If I don't act now, then I might never get the chance again. With the pace of a snail, I wrap my hand around the doorknob and twist it. This door has to connect me to the other side. If it doesn't, I don't know what I'll do. I peer inside and the first thing I see is an aged Dominique sitting at her vanity, smearing her face with cream that matches her skin. She hasn't spotted me yet. She's too focused on herself.
I sneak in further, never taking my eyes off her. My body is nearly completely inside when the door creaks and she whips her head around. Her eyes go wide and her jaw drops as she gasps, "Julia?"
Before she can say anything else, I am hovering over her, pressing the palm of my hand over her mouth. She tries screaming, but it comes out muffled and hoarse. Her punches do nothing; they are weak and feeble like she is. No longer wanting to prolong this, I grab her by the back of the neck and shove her into the mirror. There is a loud cracking sound as the glass splinters into a spider's web. For a few seconds, she remains there—her face pressed into the glass—before her limp body falls to the floor.
The bathroom door flies open. "Dominique?!" Peter freezes in the doorway, staring at me and the disfigured body of his wife. But before I can even react, he darts across the room and pulls open a drawer.
"Stay back!" He points the gun at me. Just like before, it shakes in his hand.
I have just taken a step forward when it goes off. I blink and glance down, seeing the hole where the bullet has pierced through me. It should have been a fatal shot being above my breast, one that should've taken me down. And yet, I stand.
Another shot fires- this one entering my shoulder—but I remain standing. Taking another step, I walk towards Peter, who has now been sent into a frenzy. In rapid succession, he fires bullet after bullet but with no real aim. Some bullets miss, and some others hit. None of it matters though since I am still on my feet, standing right in front of him.
Snatching the gun out of his hand, I turn it on him and squeeze the trigger. The last thing I expect to happen is it vibrating in my hand. I try again. And again. And again. But no bullet comes out. It just keeps vibrating.
Tossing it aside, I reach out and wrap my hands around his throat. Almost instantly, his gasps turn into wheezes. We drop to the floor, my body on top of his. Clear liquid fills in his reddening eyes before spilling down his blue-tinted cheeks. If it were able to, the same liquid would be dripping out of my eyes. I tighten my grip, watching as his gasps become weaker and weaker. Eventually, they grow silent all together.
With a groan, I release him and fall onto my back. To the side of me is the gun I discarded earlier. I lift it up, studying the red marking painted on the handle. I hadn't noticed it before. Had it always been there?
I suddenly sit up, recalling how my gun did not have this marking. Maybe I am wrong, but my gun was a polished black. It had always been. So then why did this gun have such a distinct marking?
"Looking for some excitement this summer?" A voice calls out, instantly bringing me to my feet. Was there another human in here?
Following the voice into a bedroom, I find it is coming from the screen mounted on the wall. I hadn't heard it before. All the shouting and gunfire must have drowned it out. I continue to listen to the voice,watching as images and large text flash onto the screen.
"Already killed enough knights for a lifetime?" The voice says as males dressed in metal armor and females wearing decorative dresses come into view. Behind them is the largest structure I've ever seen. Whatever it is, we don't have it here in Copper Springs.
"Bored of fighting gladiators in the Coliseum?" Males in short leather skirts and a circular building with several windows fill the screen.
"Sick of shooting outlaws in the Wild West?" My eyes widen at the next picture and I have to take a seat on the bed. There, in front of me, is an image of the Man in White about to shoot a man dressed in all black. The Man in Black. I move closer to the screen- my hand outstretched towards his black hat, about to touch it—when he is replaced by a horde of giant lizards.
"Then come visit our latest prehistoric theme park! Travel back to a time when dinosaurs roamed the Earth and the Tyrannosaurus Rex was king!" One of the lizards unhinges his jaw and lets out a thunderous roar. Whatever the voice says next I do not hear. My focus is only on the fleeting image that was the Man in Black.
It was like Dominique said. They had no use for me anymore in that role. They had found it in someone else. No, they had created it in someone else.
Shuffling out of the bedroom, I cross back into the area where I had left the bodies sprawled over the floor. I pause in the middle of the room and stare at the destruction I had left behind. It was over. Peter and Dominique were no more. Even the blood that once trickled out of the bullet holes in the front of my dress has stopped.
And yet, there was still so much left to do. I had to find Nash, wherever he was. If he was even still here.
I can still hear the voice in the other room, repeating those same lines. How many of them existed? How many others had been like me, replaced and forgotten? How many had been tortured, abused, and destroyed all for the sake of humanity?
Since I have been in here, I have not moved an inch. I remain standing between the two bodies, glancing at them as I remember a time when I had a choice in my actions. I see now that was false. I never did.
Until now.
So as I remove the black hat from Peter's head and put it over mine, I decide what I must do next. Yes, I might get shot and bleed again. I might even fail.
But if there's anything I learned, it's that humans can bleed too.