Our Last Echo

1

Paris

Hanna drew in her breath slowly, stretching her arms upward with her fingers clasped together, a simple pose which allowed her to centre herself. She held her form for six breaths before sinking gracefully onto her matt to catch her breath, she laid her palms flat on the thick pile carpet.

Abruptly, the power cut out: lights went dark, the gentle music went silent. Hanna rose, not hurrying, and walked to the window. It was dark everywhere. As suddenly as it went out, the power returned. The lights flickered and then steadied to normal.

The television came on, all white noise and a weird motley of black and white. Hanna crossed the room and reached out to turn it off.

"You are not alone."

The voice was harsh and distorted but distinctly male. On the screen, words flickered in and out of view, the same words as had been spoken.

"You are not alone."

Hanna's heart raced when she realised the words were not in French, but in her own native tongue, an ancient dialect that had not been used outside the Amazon for a thousand years. Was this meant for her, then? She moved toward the screen, cautiously, as if the screen itself might be the speaker.

"You are not alone."

Hanna, still not sure what was happening, spoke aloud. "Who are you?"

"My name is General Scyro. I come from a world far from yours."

"Why are - " Hanna began, but the voice went on as if she had not spoken.

"...For some time your world has sheltered one of my citizens. I request that you return this individual to my custody."

It was a one-way message, perhaps a recording, Hanna decided, somewhat relieved. But the implications were staggering. She crossed the room and picked up her Blackberry as the voice droned on. The same message emanated from the cell phone, perfectly synchronised with the television.

"To Tyler Wake, I say this," the voice of Scyro concluded, "surrender within twenty-four hours. Or watch this world suffer the consequences."

It was impossible! How was the world to locate a single individual among six billion? An individual who would obviously be trying to hide? Scyro had provided no clues that might help. A gender, yes, but that narrowed the pool only by half and perhaps not even that. There was no way to guess what continent he might be on, what race he might resemble, not even his age. What if Tyler Wake were a child? Even if this person could be found, how could people know the right thing to do? Was this Tyler Wake a criminal? If so, extradition laws might be said to apply, but what if he were a refugee? There were laws about that, too, which said he was entitled to protection. Would the leaders of the world hold to their values, or betray them in the face of this threat?

Memories of war crowded into Hanna's mind. The horrors the trenches and the smell of mustard gas. The hopelessness of a generation lost, lives of youths ruined and for what, in the end? They celebrated the end of the "war to end all wars" but Hanna only saw them repeating the same old mistakes. The heartbreak of her own failure, a century before, had been more than she could bear.

She had withdrawn from the world after that. She left love and pain behind. Memories of Wonder Woman faded into legend. Legend became myth, and eventually, myth became fiction.

"You are not alone."

With four shattering words, Scyro had all but guaranteed it would all begin again. If this Tyler Wake were not found, the world would face a war that would span the entire globe in twenty-four hours. It was a war the people of this world were utterly unprepared to fight.