REVISIONIST
EPISODE 02 | SCENE 05
19 YEARS LATER • YEAR 347
Wick’s hand spreads across the comforter, his head buried in the pillow. His eyes stay shut as he retraces his dream: he was running through the city, a man in black chasing him. He darted through alleys, slipped into a hidden children’s clinic. Then he was caught. Gunfire—he remembers that now. Sparks had burst from the stranger’s arm before the man vanished into the shadows. Wick thought he was safe after that.
Another figure appeared—the scarred-faced man. Wick thought he was being rescued until that man leveled a gun at his head. That’s all he remembers.
Wick reaches for Alexa, but his fingers grasp only air. One eye cracks open. She’s gone. Wick shifts, knowing he has no choice but to wake. With a low groan, he rolls onto his back, rubbing his palms over his eyes before blinking them open.
Soft, warm light fills the room. These aren’t his walls. He turns to where his bay window should be, but there isn’t one. There are no windows at all. He sits up and looks down—these aren’t his sheets.
Then it hits him—the coin. Wick pats his pockets. Nothing. He digs deeper. Still nothing. Tearing the sheets aside, he plants his feet on the floor and scours the bed, the drawers, every corner.
It’s gone.
Where is he? Wick shuts his eyes and steadies his breath, though his heart won’t slow. He moves toward the bedroom door, hand closing around the handle. He hesitates, uncertain if he wants to see what waits beyond.
After a long breath, the door opens on its own. Wick’s eyes widen, nearly bursting from his face. A man stands before him—a face charred from the top of his bald head to well beneath his collar. The burn distorts his features; one side of his upper lip is gone, exposing teeth in a fixed, ghostly grin. His skin has melted and solidified, creating a grim, beastly appearance.
“I thought I heard footsteps,” the man says, voice calm, almost casual.
The tone disarms Wick, but only for a heartbeat. He stares at the man’s pale grey eyes. “Where’s the coin?”
The scarred man rolls his eyes. “Oh, that. It’s been taken from your possession.” He leaves the door open and turns down a short hallway.
Wick stands frozen until he hears the man call back, “You coming?”
Another long breath, then a short nod for self-reassurance. After which, Wick pads after him. “So it wasn’t a dream?”
The man doesn’t look back. “Nope.”
“And that stranger has the coin.”
A pause. “No.”
Wick’s voice flattens. “So you have it.”
The man sighs and drops into a kitchen chair facing him. “Stay a while.”
Wick doesn’t move at first. Though, he does eventually sit down.
“How’d I get here?” he asks, settling into the chair opposite, eyes darting across the unfamiliar room. The kitchen, like the bedroom, has no windows.
“Listen. The coin is safe,” the man says.
“Why’d you take it from me?”
“The real question is why I let you have it in the first place. Stupid me.”
“You?”
The man lifts his brows in confirmation.
“Were you the one following me to the breeding station?”
“I should admit,” the man leans forward, “I expected you to be more clandestine.”
“Who are you?” Wick demands.
“Me?”
“Yeah, you. You’ve been stalking me throughout my life. I saw you in my memory.”
“You’re free to think what you want.”
“Don’t be so underhand,” Wick snaps.
“Tone.”
“You’re the one who kidnapped me.”
“You’re not a kid anymore, Wick.”
“Looks like you also weathered some years.”
The man rubs the back of his mangled neck.
Wick lowers his gaze. His voice softens. “Sorry.” He draws a breath, waits a few beats. “Could you just let me go?”
The man spreads his arms. “Does this look like kidnapping to you?”
“I don’t even know your name.”
The man claps his hands together. “Hi. I’m Merchant. What would you like to know?”
“That’s a name?”
The man scoffs, leaning back in his chair. “At least I wasn’t named after a candlestick.”
Wick’s face hardens. “What do you want from me?”
“That’s a big question. So little time.”
“We have plenty of time,” Wick shoots back.
“That’s where you’re wrong, my friend. We actually don’t have much time left.”
“I’m not your friend. I’m a victim.”
“Are you going to play that card, Wick? Really? That’s just sad. You know—you didn’t have to leave your apartment tonight. You didn’t have to lie to Alexa.”
“Keep Alexa out of this!” Wick spits.
“You chose to go on this journey.”
“But you’re the one who gave me that coin, hoping I would.”
“We all make choices, Wick. Good ones. Poor ones. Maybe you’re wishing you hadn’t followed that compass. But you did. And now you’re here.”
“All that, just so you could take the coin back?”
“Okay, so I also had made a poor choice. I shouldn’t have let you hold onto it.”
“You were coaxing me here. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“This place isn’t where I wanted you,” Merchant says. “I wanted you safe. In reality.”
“Is this not reality?” Wick glances around the cramped space. “Am I dreaming?”
Merchant meets his gaze. “No.”
“No, this isn’t reality—or no, I’m not dreaming?”
Merchant swallows. “You’re somewhere in between.”
“In between? What do you mean?”
Merchant’s face grows heavy. Their stares lock as the kitchen begins to fade—walls thinning to vapor until blackness consumes everything.
Wick rises, eyes tearing from Merchant to scan the void. “Where am I?”
Stone walls form around them. Figures take shape—men, women, even infants. Then, towering above them, a statue materializes: an unclothed man seated on a throne, his head serpentine, mouth gaping, tongue extended as if licking the air.
“Where are we?” Wick demands.
“You’ve been here before,” Merchant says. “In your vision. Remember?”
“Did you take me to the future?”
“The past,” Merchant answers.
“I didn’t know this was in Penumbra.”
“Oh yes,” Merchant replies. “Penumbra hides many secrets like this. But Penumbra isn’t all there is. And where you’re standing now—it isn’t Penumbra. That city didn’t exist yet. We’re in a temple that stood over four thousand years ago, certainly not anywhere near here.”
“But the world has only been around for—”
“347 years?” Merchant finishes. “That’s what she wants to make you believe. Oh no, the world is far older than that.”
“She?” Wick says.
“More like an it. A database of artificial intelligence wrapped into a super hive mind and personified as a woman.”
“An AI woman?”
“A revisionist.”
“How do I know you’re not the revisionist? You’re making some audacious claims, and you expect me to believe them.”
“I’m bringing you to reality, Wick. Revisionists don’t create. They only twist what’s already there.”
“I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but I do know this: you are the one trying to topple my reality.”
Merchant shakes his head. “I’m toppling the illusions already imposed on you, Wick. That’s what I’m doing. That’s why I gave you that coin.”
Wick opens his mouth to argue, but his words falter.
“Even before that,” Merchant continues, “you already doubted the system—if you’re honest.”
Wick’s gaze lifts, meeting his.
“Why didn’t you transfer with Alexa, Wick?”
The words hang thick between them.
“She begged you,” Merchant presses. “Over and over. Yet you didn’t. Did you not understand how the Anima system worked? Or was it that you didn’t trust what it claimed to do?”
Wick’s breathing clots.
“How does the Anima logic fare in light of the vision you recently had?”
“I’ve had many strange dreams,” Wick finally says. “This being one of them.”
“As I said,” Merchant replies, pacing a few steps away, his eyes scanning the ancient room, “this isn’t a dream.”
“Then what is it?” Wick snaps. “If it’s not reality, either? Can you be clear for once?”
Merchant turns back around. “We’re in your mind.”
Wick freezes, fists tightening at his sides. His face drains of color. “I must be dead.”
“You’re not dead.”
“You shot me. You raised your gun!”
“I didn’t shoot you, Wick,” Merchant says, lowing his voice. “If you were dead, why would you be here right now? You couldn’t have gotten a category of an afterlife from anywhere in Penumbra. So, where’d you get that?”
Wick watches as Merchant slips something from his pocket. A metallic glint catches the firelight. He tosses it through the air. Wick snatches it, feeling the familiar weight, tracing its etched surface.
Merchant presses further. “That vision you received is the true reality, Wick. You were given a great gift. How much were you able to comprehend?”
Wick’s eyes darken with sorrow. “All of it. But I can’t understand why I’m able to. Or what this all means.”
Noticing Wick’s discouragement, Merchant walks back and places a steady, fatherly hand on his shoulder.
Wick keeps his head low, voice trembling. “If I accept your reality, I’d have to reject mine.” He swallows hard. “And that would mean…” The words die in his throat.
Merchant’s hand stays firm on his shoulder as Wick grips the coin tighter, knuckles whitening. At last, he lifts his gaze, tears glittering in his eyes. “She’s dead, isn’t she?” he whispers.
Merchant’s gaze sink. He gives a slow, regretful nod.
Wick turns away, jaw set, holding his breath. His eyes burn, trying not to let the tears spill. Merchant steps in, gripping him tighter.
The scene fades to black, and the windowless bedroom returns.
Wick quickly rubs away the few tears that escape. “She seems so real.”
“They all do,” Merchant says quietly. “They were made to make you believe they never left.”
Wick shakes his head. “That stranger who tried to kill me—he’s an anima, too, isn’t he? That’s why there were sparks.”
“Yes.”
“If animas aren’t real people, what are they inside? Why did he want the coin so badly?”
“She doesn’t tolerate any narrative that challenges her own.”
Wick frowns. “Who are you talking about?”
“The Mother,” Merchant says. “All the androids and animas in Penumbra are connected to that artificial hive mind. They’re conduits. Through them, she acts and speaks. That’s how she wields omniscience and omnipresence. Her goal is simple: total control.”
“So I’ve been living with the Mother.” Wick’s eyes dart up at him. “She’s been watching me. She knows about the coin.”
“She’s long known.”
“Why did she wait ’til now?”
Merchant reaches out a hand. Wick delays, but places the coin in his palm. Merchant raises it into the firelight. “Every coin leads to a different enclave. She knows that there are coins—but not how many. And she doesn’t have access any of them. At least, not that I know of.”
“She’s searching for an enclave?”
“Mine,” Merchant says. “The one your coin pointed to. That’s why I had to intercept you—before she traced your route and found me.”
“But she saw you. You fired at the Anima.”
“She knows I exist,” he replies. “She just doesn’t know where I hide.”
“Isn’t that impossible if she sees everything?”
Merchant chuckles, the sound thin and uneasy. “Damn near.”
“I’m surprised she didn’t just let me follow the trail.”
“She knew I’d go after you.”
“How could she know that?”
“You were so brazen with it,” Merchant says. “Too visible. That’s why you’re not getting it back.”
“It still doesn’t add up,” Wick mutters. “That android at the diner—it had the coin. Then it just handed it back to me.”
“That was a public setting. She didn’t want to make a spectacle of it.”
“But Alexa—she could have taken it while I was sleeping.”
“Yeah, well,” Merchant says, letting out a short breath. “You see, I’ve come to learn something about the Mother. She’s far from mindless. She has…tendencies. Call it sadistic, if you like. She enjoys the game. Sometimes she lets people think they’ve won, gives them just enough rope to hang themselves. If Alexa had taken the coin or refused to return it, sure she could find me out; but then you’d know something would be wrong. And the Mother’s power lies in remaining unseen.”
“How do you know about her?” Wick presses.
“A lot of people know. Just not the ones who matter. Not to her, anyway. She makes that very clear.”
“I matter to her?”
“Not anymore. Unless you’re willing to play her game.”
“I’m not going back there.”
“You need to.”
“I can’t! I won’t!”
“You must,” Merchant says flatly. “End of story. Alexa’s been expecting you for hours.”
“She knows where I’ve been this whole time—if she’s just one of the Mother’s vessels.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what?”
“The Mother doesn’t yet know that you know,” Merchant says. “As far as she’s concerned, you’re still the naive one—just following a compass south.”
“Yeah. And chased down by an anima and nearly killed,” Wick mutters.
“But still, you didn’t know she was behind it all.”
“So you want me to go back and pretend nothing happened? Wouldn’t that be playing her game?”
“I’m not asking you to stay,” Merchant replies. “Just a few days. I still need time to get some things in order.”
“Why did you give me that coin if you weren’t ready? Did you not want me to find you?”
“Honestly, Wick, I didn’t expect you to follow the trail so soon. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours. Anyway, I couldn’t have waited. I was looking for an opportune time to give you that coin—when you were away from Alexa. And you didn’t go anywhere when she was transferring. You’re really attached to her hip, I have to say.”
“How long have you been watching me for?”
Merchant only grins.
“Well, Alexa found out. I showed her that night.”
“That’s where I slipped,” Merchant admits. “Shouldn’t have trusted a twenty-four-year-old kid with it.”
“I’m not a kid,” Wick asserts. “You said so yourself. And if it was that dangerous, why not reach me like this—inside my mind—from the start?”
Merchant shakes his head. “I tried. Your apartment’s too far. The signal couldn’t reach.”
“The signal?”
“My equipment doesn’t allow such a far distance. I needed you closer.”
“Equipment?”
“What? Do you think I’m some type of magician?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.”
Merchant grips Wick’s arms. “Just know this: things are about to change for you. But I need you to be patient. I need you to go back and act like everything’s okay. Forget about the coin. Be deeply, madly in love with Alexa. And then, when I’m all set, we’ll make a break for it.”
Wick doesn’t blink. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll know,” Merchant says quietly. “In time.”
“Why not now?”
Merchant paces the bedroom. “Patience is a virtue, Wick.” After this, he mutters, “Not that you were taught anything like that.”
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“Do you not believe anything we just talked about?”
“How do I know you’re real? Apparently, I don’t even have the coin anymore to tell me so.”
“You went broke, right?” Merchant inquires.
“Sure. Which reminds me, it’s going to take me forever to get back to my apartment!”
Merchant shakes his head. “You won’t need to walk.”
“We can’t transfer funds. Alexa and I’ve tried that. When you go broke, you’re broke. And it’ll be nearly a week before it resets.”
“Let’s just say,” Merchant smirks faintly, “you don’t have to worry about that.”
The two stare at each other. Wick shakes his head in disbelief. “Who are you?”
Merchant’s eyes glint. “An angel.”
“You don’t seem like an angel to me.”
“Good.” Merchant taps his temple. “You know.”
“And about that—how am I suddenly able to understand all this stuff? It definitely felt different than a dream.”
“Patience,” Merchant cuts in. “We’re out of time. You need to go. Remember the plan and stick to it. And get a new shirt. You don’t want to go home to Alexa looking like you were just torn to pieces.”
“Wait,” Wick blurts. “Where are we meeting?”
“Oh, right.” Merchant snaps his fingers a few times. “Do you know Dono’s?”
“Cantina? That’s in East Two.”
“Exactly. Let’s meet at eight thirty. At night, obviously. Although, I am tired of all these nocturnal escapades—it’s not good for your eyes. Oh, and make sure you pick up some charcoal. For your face. If you’ve never traveled to the far East side, all these people like to wear dark makeup. And not just on their lips. So make sure you hide that bruise on your face.”
Wick touches his cheek. Bruised?
Before he can ask, the room begins to dissolve, walls swirling into vapor as Merchant fades with them.
“Wait!” Wick shouts. “How many days should I wait? Merchant!”
But he’s gone. Everything’s gone. Darkness takes hold, and Wick plummets into its depths.
